Eliza shook her head. “Never met her until today.”
Greenlee frowned. “So why did she call you?”
“She didn’t.”
For a second, Greenlee looked nonplussed. Then understanding dawned. “I take it that’s not your phone?”
“You don’t have to answer any of these questions without a lawyer present,” Hannah intervened. She jerked her chin back when Greenlee swung on her with a look so slicing she wouldn’t have been surprised to feel a cut open up on her face.
“You watch too muchLaw & Order,” he snarled.
“Hawaii Five-O. The original show. Not the new one,” she corrected and then shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a night owl. I catch a lot of reruns.”
“It’s okay,” Eliza told her. “We don’t have anything to hide.” To Greenlee she added, “Agent Beacham called one of our mechanics, Hunter Jackson. This is his work phone, which is why I’m sure you saw the number was registered to Black Knights Inc.”
Greenlee scribbled in his notebook. “And where is Hunter Jackson now?”
Eliza shrugged. “He knew you guys would be coming to look for Agent Beacham, and he didn’t want the rest of us to be dragged into any legal entanglements. Which means he didn’t apprise us of his itinerary or destination. Just left his phone and hauled ass for parts unknown.”
“How did you say Agent Beacham and Mr. Jackson knew each other?” Greenlee inquired.
“She didn’t.” Sam’s tone was flat, his expression even more so.
When Greenlee glanced at Sam, it was clear his patience was wearing thin. The muscle under his left eye ticked in time with the one working in his jaw. “Then would you mind telling us how Agent Beacham and Mr. Jackson knew each other?” The words were snarled from between his clenched teeth.
“Sure.” Sam shrugged. “But it’sMajorJackson. Hunter spent a decade as a Green Beret. Let’s give the man the respect he’s due, huh?”
Hannah watched, fascinated, asbothsides of Greenlee’s jaw started twitching along with his eye. He was seconds away from losing his shit, and honestly? She’d kind of like to see it.
“How didMajorJackson and Agent Beacham meet?” Greenlee asked, nostrils flaring.
“A few years back, Agent Beacham needed anin”—Sam made air quotes—“with the Michigan Militia. Hunter is a born and bred Michigander. He has a cousin who’s part of the group.”
Greenlee narrowed his eyes. “And who knew about Agent Beacham’s need and connected her to Major Jackson?”
Sam shrugged. “Beats me. You’d have to ask him.” He seemed to revel in stating the obvious. “Unfortunately, he’s not here.”
Greenlee glanced around the large space at the equipment. “You all sure have a lot of computing power for a simple motorcycle shop.”
The woman who’d introduced herself to Hannah as Becky Knight had stayed downstairs to work on one of the fantastical bikes. Her voice echoed up to them now. “There is nothingsimpleabout this shop! My motorcycles are state of the art, and I need state-of-the-art computer aided design programs to make them that way!”
Hannah’s backpack sat on the table in front of her. She dropped her gaze to the zipper and fiddled with it. Cesar always said she had a terrible poker face, and she didn’t want Greenlee to see the truth in her eyes.
Becky was lying.
As a bona fide computer nerd, Hannah could say with some authority that Black Knights Inc.’s wall of hardware wasn’t just for designing custom Harleys.
She could see LAN Turtles sticking out of various USB ports, giving the Black Knights stealth remote access to the web and the ability to gather network intelligence without anyone being the wiser. Stuffed into a space between two monitors was a Raspberry Pi, a minicomputer that was the cornerstone of any hacker’s tool kit. And situated around the room were various Wi-Fi Pineapples used as rogue access points. They allowed the Knights to employ targeted man-in-the-middle attacks.
In fact, the stuff along the back wall made the hardware she’d brought with her in her backpack look like child’s play.
“Welp”—Sam slapped the top of the conference table—“since you’ve seen what you came to see, and since we don’t have the answers to your questions, I’d say it’s time for you boys to make like a scrotum and haul balls. This is a place of business, and we’ve all got work to do.”
Eliza took that as her cue. She pushed up from the table and extended her hand toward the metal stairway. “After you, agents,” she told the G-Men, her smile cordial although it didn’t reach her eyes.
Greenlee hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something more. But it was beyond obvious he’d gotten all the cooperation he was going to get. He was left with no recourse but to jerk his chin toward the two junior agents and head down the stairs.
Hannah pushed up from the table and walked over to the railing to watch the agents cross the lower-level shop floor and exit out the front door. After Eliza followed them outside, undoubtedly to make sure they didn’t stumble into the little cottage by accident—whoopsie—she swung on Sam.
