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“Sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“Everyone start packing,” Killian said. “We’ll fly this afternoon.”
“I’ll arrange a hotel for us in Geneva,” Jet said. “And keep searching for info on this guy.” She looked at the screen and Weber’s picture. “Who are you?”
That was a question Cain also needed answered.
* * *
A few hours later,the Sentinel Security jet touched down in Geneva.
In the seat beside Cain, Jet’s nose was pressed to the window.
“It’sbeautiful. God, look at the lake. And the mountains.”
Cain flicked a glance out the window, but then his gaze moved back to Jet. He’d been to Geneva before, but watching the expressions flit across her face was more interesting.
She didn’t hold anything back. She showed exactly who she was, and what she was thinking and feeling.
“I got us suites at the Beau-Rivage Genève,” she said. “It’s this fabulous historic hotel right in the city center.”
He nodded. “I know it. Great views of the lake and Mont Blanc.”
Jet had spent the short flight running searches on Weber. Cain, Devyn, and Killian had spent it tapping all their contacts. Cain had put a call through to Langley to see if anyone could work out who the hell Markus Weber was.
So far, nothing.
“Shade, I suggest you and I head out to do a little recon of Weber’s estate,” Killian said from his seat across the aisle. “Get a feel for the security.
“Good idea.”
Jet puffed up. “Oh, and what should us ladies do? Go to the spa?”
Devyn crossed her legs. “Actually, we’re going shopping.”
“What?” Jet said.
“The event at Weber’s is black tie. We need dresses.”
Jet blinked. “Oh.”
As the plane was taxiing, Devyn’s phone rang. She took the call, her face sharpening. Cain watched her.
Whoever she was talking to, they had something.
A minute later, Devyn tucked the phone away and smiled. “Markus Weber is a broker. You want something, he finds it, makes the deal, and takes a cut.”
“I assume he brokers not legal things,” Jet said.
“Sometimes legal, sometimes not according to my contact,” Devyn said. “You want a painting from a museum? No worries. Security schematics of a building? Done. Weapons. Missiles. Drone tech.” She tilted her head. “For the right price, apparently he can get anything.”
“Why have we never heard of him?” Killian asked.
“Oh, we have.” Devyn met Cain’s gaze. “Or the name he uses for his business, Flèche D’or.”
Cain sucked in a breath. “The gold arrow.” He rose from his seat, and pressed a hand to his hip. “Flèche D’or has always stayed under the radar. He’s never targeted important US interests.”
“You know him?” Jet asked.
