“Bodie’s right.” Nick leaned on Dalton, hints of blood already showing through his shirt. “Besides, I’m just getting started, so sit. It’s my turn.”
Bodie pressed his hand against the small of her back, led her over to a vacant chair. She all but fell onto it, that image glaring at her. A reminder that she’d been reckless. Had possibly cost her father his life, despite what Bodie and Nick insisted.
Bodie sighed, leaned in. “We’ll still go back. Scour whatever’s left. Okay?”
She nodded as Nick tripped his way over to Bodie’s desk, leaned against it.
He scanned the room, stopped on Avery. “What I’m about to tell everyone is far more than a breach of protocol. If anyone has any issues with that, now’s the time to back out because this wouldn’t just get me fired. It’ll get all of us a one-way ticket to Gitmo.”
Avery snorted. “You’re obviously directing that at me.”
“I either personally trust everyone else, or I know they’re invested enough, they don’t care how the case gets solved. If we have to get creative with some of the paperwork. But you… You’re the dark horse.”
Avery relaxed against the chair. “You just said you asked Sloane for a favor. That she got you that image, and we both know she broke ranks to do it.”
Nick didn’t flinch. “She’s working a joint case with the Defense Intelligence Agency. I needed one of their satellites, and that’s not the kind of access I could have acquired in time.” He shrugged his good shoulder. “It’s not as if I haven’t done the same in return when she needed intel for people she cared about.”
Avery groaned. “Shit, that was you, wasn’t it? Who helped my brother? Christ, no wonder Sloane wouldn’t tell me who she’d turned to — what it cost her soul.” She carded her fingers through her hair. “Regardless, I’d never put Sloane at risk, and you know that. Just get on with it.”
Nick stared at her for a few moments, though Rowan wasn’t sure if the guy was weighing her statement — trying to decide if he believed her — or if he’d simply passed out on his feet. He blinked, seemed to get his head back in the game.
Bodie cleared his throat. “You look like you’re about to get a concussion from my desk. Maybe you should rest, first…”
Nick huffed. “I’ve been hurt worse than this and still taken out a terrorist cell. I’m just getting it all straight in my head.”
Avery chuckled. “We’ll all be dead before you’re close to being sane, Colter, so spit it out. We’ll make sense of the gibberish.”
“And Sloane wonders why everyone doesn’t appreciate your charm the way she does.” He shifted, damn near fell, Dalton’s ninja-like reflexes saving Nick from getting that concussion. “There’s a lot to unpack, so buckle in. We’ll start with some backstory.”
He tapped his phone, launched a few images onto the screen. “Turns out, Dr. Alistair Scott received a DARPA research grant nine years ago to investigate neuro-regenerative compounds, similar to ones he’d come into contact with overseas. His task was to find a successful treatment for traumatic brain injuries in soldiers — one that would spill over into the civilian sector in advancing Alzheimer’s research amongst other diseases. Veridian Biologics won the bid to be his designated corporate partner.”
Bodie pushed out a rough breath. “That’s the V Bi shorthand from Alister’s text to Rowan. He must have been interrupted before he finished their full name.”
Nick nodded. “And it’s easy to see why they wanted it kept secret. Meet their CEO, Dr. Miles Walsh…”
“Walsh?” Rowan surged to her feet. “The same Miles Walsh who used to drop by the house? Ask my dad for help on his own research? The M. W. that’s all over the files? That Miles Walsh?”
Nick sighed. “Afraid so, though, I doubt his interest was ever truly genuine. Walsh is a former-U.S. Army Colonel and flight surgeon attached to JSOG. He served in high-intensity conflict zones, where he witnessed, firsthand, the devastating effects of TBIs on elite operators. It’s my understanding this experience drove him with an almost messianic obsession to find a cure.”
Rowan cursed. “Obsessive is putting it lightly. My dad always said Walsh saw science as a hammer, and every problem as a nail. That he had no appreciation for the art of research, only the outcome, regardless of the financial or moral cost.”
Nick nodded. “Based on the projects Veridian has backed over the past decade, your dad was right. Walsh views regulations, ethical boundaries, and human rights concerns as bureaucratic obstacles to progress. Which is why he hired this guy…”
Nick uploaded a grainy image of a man in profile, the angle obscuring most of his face. “Sloane pulled this off that body cam footage. It’s not the best photo, but she was able to get a few matches, which, with the name from the video, we quickly narrowed down to one. Meet Holt Graves. Former-DEVGRU operator. He disappeared off the grid after a messy op in ‘18 resulted in numerous civilian casualties. He’s rumored to have gone private.”
Bodie grunted. “I’d say it’s not a rumor, anymore. I assume they met via a JSOG mission?”
Nick snorted. “It’s like you don’t even need me here, Page. And yeah, they were on a number of joint missions. It seems Graves shares Walsh’s views on winning at all cost. Sees official channels and rules of engagement as a liability. My guess is, once Alister isolated Neuravive as a promising treatment, Walsh piggybacked his own research. Learned your father had also uncovered a secondary compound, the Lethe toxin, which severed neural pathways instead of healing them, and decided it was a financially superior endeavor. He then began a series of unsanctioned human trials with the aid of an unknown source inside the Agency.”
Rowan scrubbed her hand down her face as she fell back onto the chair. “Jesus. If my father found out about this, that they’d weaponized part of his research…”
He would have started hunting, and she knew he wouldn’t have stopped until he’d burned it all down.
Nick sighed. “Your father wasn’t naive. He must have suspected Walsh had ulterior motives, likely heard whispers in the dark-site chatter. As you can imagine, an ethical scientist with a high-level clearance asking questions about an illegal human experimentation program made him a catastrophic loose end.”
Bodie glanced at her. “So, he had our friend Graves take him off the board. Graves faked Alister’s death and, based on that video, made him their primary research subject.”
Rowan pinched the bridge of her nose in the hopes of stemming her growing headache. “And you’re sure this Lethe toxin is a viable threat? That it’s progressed past what we saw on the tape?”
