"How did they know about the resort?" The booking was made through a secure channel. Jordan and I are careful about operational security, even on holiday.
"That's the question. Either they hacked the booking service, or they had access to credit card records, travel data, electronic communications that should have been encrypted." He pauses, and I hear him take a drink of something. Coffee, probably. "There's more. The explosives they used—C-4, military grade, with a chemical signature that matches three other attacks across Europe in the past six months."
"Same supplier?"
"Same network, at least. Paris in July—a French prosecutor investigating human trafficking. Barcelona in September—an Interpol agent who specialized in arms dealing. Rome in October—a journalist exposing illegal weapons sales to African militias." Sawyer's voice drops. "All dead, Fitz."
I look through the window at my sleeping wife. Her dark hair is spread across the white pillow, one hand tucked under her cheek. Bruises shadow her face. Her split lip has reopened slightly in her sleep, leaving a small smear of blood on the pillowcase.
She survived tonight, but for how long?
"We need to find out who's behind this," I tell Sawyer, my voice hard. "And we need to make sure they can't try again."
"Already on it. Sully's tracing the financial connections. I've got Malcolm coordinating with Major Adeyemi—apparently she's also been investigating these attacks through her unit. The Nigerian government has an interest in anyone targeting people who help the Chibok survivors."
That's useful. Major Adeyemi struck me as competent and well-connected. "And the team?"
"Wyatt's preparing to bring you home as soon as the Swiss authorities clear you to leave. He's coordinating transport and security. Ghost is running background on every person at that resort—staff, guests, everyone. If there's a mole, we'll find them."
"How soon can we leave?"
"Day after tomorrow at the earliest. You're both witnesses in a major criminal investigation. The Swiss aren't going to let you leave without full statements and probably depositions." He hesitates, and I know there's more. "There's something else. One of the hostiles survived. The one you knocked out in the corridor. He's talking."
My mind flashes back to the combat. First guard, throat strike, dying. Second guard, rifle to the temple, unconscious. "And?"
"He says Warner was expecting backup. A second team that didn't show—maybe got delayed by weather or Swiss police activity on the roads." Sawyer's voice is grim. "They're still out there, Fitz. And they know you and Jordan are still alive. They know the operation failed."
Christ. More assassins with a grudge. "What does Swiss intelligence think?"
"They're taking it seriously. Increased patrols, watching the airports and train stations. But we both know that if these people are professionals, they'll find a way to try again when the attention dies down."
"Double security at the hotel. I want eyes on all approaches—front, rear, service entrances, everything. I want someone watching our door at all times." I pause. "And Sawyer? Find out who's funding this. I want names and locations. I want to know who decided my wife needed to die."
"On it. How's Jordan?"
I glance back through the window. She's shifted in her sleep, reaching for where I should be, her hand patting the empty space before settling back. "Asleep. Bruised. Still the most stubborn woman I've ever met."
"She saved a lot of lives tonight. That warning she gave during the video—Major Adeyemi confirmed that several of theescaped girls have already gone dark. Changed locations, new identities. Jordan bought them time."
"She also nearly got herself killed. Again." I run my hand through my hair, gripping hard enough to hurt. "I gave her a direct order to follow my lead. She agreed. And then she threw herself in front of a gun the first chance she got."
"You married a crusader, boss. Comes with the territory."
"Don't remind me." But there's no real heat in it. I knew who Jordan was when I put that collar around her throat. Knew she'd never be the kind of submissive who stayed put while others were in danger. "Keep me updated. Any new intelligence, I want it immediately."
"Will do. Try to get some sleep."
"Not likely."
We disconnect, and I stand in the freezing cold for a few more minutes, trying to get my head straight. Someone powerful wants my wife dead. They've demonstrated they have resources, intelligence, and the willingness to kill dozens of innocent people to get to her. They've been watching her for months, learning her patterns, exploiting her nature. And they'll try again.
The question is—do we run and hide, or do we go on the offensive?
I already know what Jordan will choose. She doesn't know how to hide. Doesn't know how to back down or compromise when she thinks she's in the right. She only knows how to fight.
Which means we fight. But we do it smart. With planning, resources, and Cerberus backing her up instead of her running off alone like some kind of vigilante crusader.
Assuming I can convince her to accept help. To work within a structure instead of operating solo. To trust that Cerberus can protect her while she does her work.
