"It's only a quick hop to Hanscom," she said. "I'm good."
I almost whimpered. Hanscom Field was west of Boston and half an hour to my brother's house. There was only one reason we'd fly there. Only one reason to head for the sleepy seaside town Will and his wife called home.
I blew out a breath but I paid for it with a sharp surge of pain from my side. Goddamn fucking gunshot wound. Almost as annoying as the fucked-up arm. "Why Hanscom?"
"Because you need to lie low, Wes," Kaisall replied. "CIA hasn't figured out how to clean this one up yet but they need you to stay the fuck away from anything with facial recognition."
"And my cover?" A wry laugh passed my lips as I thought better of the question. I knew the answer. We wouldn't be hiding out in Canada and sneaking into the States if my cover was intact.
Kaisall and April exchanged a sharp glance. He shook his head. "CIA isn't taking responsibility. They're sticking with your original story—Navy veteran turned cultural attaché buying up antiquities—but the FSB has you on video taking out one of their operatives. It's not good video but it's video and they're not afraid to air it."
Once more for the cheap seats—fuuuuuck.
* * *
Kaisall twistedopen a bottle of water and pressed it into my good hand. "Another hour and we'll be on the ground," he said.
It was his best attempt at lightening my mood but it wasn't working. Everything hurt like fire and I was cold sweating straight through the clothes April had snatched for me. The nurses had loaded me up on painkillers after applying fresh dressings to my wounds but it didn't make a dent. If I had to be thankful for something, it was the posh comfort afforded by this private jet. I could dig deep but I didn't think I had it in me to endure two hours in the belly of a C-130 transport plane right now.
"Since we have some time together, why don't you explain how you came to be involved in this situation," I said, offering a jerky nod at April and Kaisall.
Kaisall scowled at his phone before setting it facedown on the glossy table between us. "We picked up an increase in chatter earlier in the month."
"By 'we,' you mean Shaw," April added.
Kaisall tipped his head toward her. "Yeah, Jeremy Shaw. Tracking and deciphering chatter is his ball game. He's our intel guy." He lifted his brows, silently asking her approval. She nodded in response. "Kept listening. Noticed some movement on the chessboard. Kept watching. Then we—Shaw—heard through some friends that your local contacts were missing. Then you and Veronica dropped off the radar."
I stared at him, allowed a stiff smile. "Is there anything you're not watching? Anywhere you're not listening?"
He shrugged a shoulder. "Eyes and ears are the name of the game."
"You're not wrong about that," I muttered. "How'd you find me?"
"Shaw," April said. "He was on the desk when it all went down."
"I gotta meet this Shaw kid," I said. "Buy him a beer or two."
"If you can get him out of the office, you're welcome to it." Kaisall barked out a laugh. "We opened some back doors and grabbed some traffic camera footage near the port cities. We figured you'd head west, head toward the water. The holiday meant fewer ships leaving port so the options were narrow. From there, we ran down manifests and hacked into comm systems to take a listen. It was a process of elimination and chances were good we'd chosen incorrectly but…" His voice trailed off as he reached for his phone.
"But Will sent you in," I supplied.
"Hell no." April shook her head. "We didn't tell him until we'd been there and back again."
"Oh. Oh, okay," I murmured. My brother was a saver. He saved people. He did it as a SEAL and now as the commander of a private military force. I couldn't say for sure but I imagined he did a fair amount of it as a husband and father too. I didn't harbor any illusions about my importance in the world but I knew he'd show up if I needed him. He'd save me too. He couldn'tnotdo it. "How'd you manage that if he knew about the chatter, the movement?"
"He's been out of pocket. He went dark around the same time you did," Kaisall said. "Shannon had the baby a few days ago. You're an uncle. Again."
I closed my eyes. One new development at a time. "I tried to get to the bridge," I said. "I figured I could fire off a message to Langley. Maybe hook onto an NSA channel. But I never got a clean opening. Hell, any opening. Armored guards kept a twenty-four-hour watch and I had to choose between taking them out and not bleeding to death."
April leaned back, crossed her legs as she studied me. "How'd you get that bullet out? The flight surgeon couldn't find it but said it wasn't through-and-through."
"Pliers," I replied. Remembering the pain of fishing the bullet out of my flank was only slightly better than incurring the injury itself. "Wasn't pretty but had to be done. Sepsis is the least interesting way to go."
She pivoted to face Kaisall with a smirk. "Told you."
He rolled his eyes. "Say thank you to April for saving your life. She HALO jumped onto that tanker in less than favorable conditions and I'm still unhappy about it."
"Thank you, April," I said. "If that's your real name."
