This corridor’s lighting was markedly different from the others—warmer, more subtle—with three doors at the end. They walked through the central door into—
“Wow.” Angel couldn’t shut her mouth at the sight of the massive high-ceilinged living space, with a circular wall of windows overlooking the ocean at one end. At the other end, doors opened onto what appeared to be a central patio, complete with fire pit and—“Is that a pool?”
“Sure is.” Eric laughed his deceptively lazy Paul Newman laugh. “You like?”
“This is amazing. It’s like a cruise ship or something.” Angel spun just as Leo entered behind them. She was beautiful, but no-frills. Her hair was a very short, dark halo. Simple, no-bullshit hair that went with her no-bullshit personality.
“You see the rooms yet?” Leo asked.
“No.”
“Don’t even think about stealing mine,” she said, looking for all the world like she didn’t have an ounce of humor—until she winked. She was followed in by Jameson and Pam, who’d apparently flown in the day before.
“Oh, we all know better than to try to take your room away.” Zoe threw an arm around Leo’s shoulders, which the pilot appeared to suffer through with an affectionate look. “Besides.” Zoe glanced back at Ford. “This guy picked your room ages ago.”
“Come on.” Eric led the way through a side door into a smaller room, where Ans and Von awaited.
They all stood to kiss Angel on the cheek, then the men bro-hugged Ford—on his good side—before pulling chairs out around a pitted, ancient-looking wooden ship’s table.
“Thanks for coming out, everyone. Got some new intel we need to brief everyone on.”
Ford seemed to sharpen, and suddenly Angel could see exactly how he’d fit in with this bunch. “New intel?”
“Couple things.” Eric looked around. “You’ve probably all heard that Clive Tenny died in federal custody.”
Silence. A couple nods. The man may have been an asshole, but nobody was happy about this development.
“As far as you two, we thought you could keep your heads down out here for a while. At least until the nation is finished mourning the deaths of Angel Smith and Ford Cooper.” Angel caught Ford’s eye. He looked different with his new dark hair and thick-framed glasses. So did she, as a redhead. But they’d adjust.
“Now, we know from what Tenny told us in his debrief that Chronos has teams searching the globe for the virus.” Eric was the last to sit. “Ans, tell us what else we’ve got.”
Ans, shorter than the other men at maybe five eleven or six feet, had one of those thick builds that looked packed hard with muscle. He was darkly handsome—and he knew it. His black hair was shorn—about the length of his beard—and gelled up.
“Here’s what we’ve got. We believe that Chronos Corp’s CEO and director, Katherine Henley Harper, is head honcho in all this. Tenny named her personally. Said he answered directly to her.” He looked around. “But this goes higher than that.”
Von broke in. He was scarred and mean-looking, rougher than the other guys, his accent pure Texas. Or Deep South, maybe, Angel couldn’t tell the difference. “My contacts at Defense are bein’ extremely tight-lipped about everything.” He gave Angel and Ford an apologetic look. “They’re blamin’ the murders of Jamie Cortez and Alex Stickley on Tenny and Sampson. No mention of Chronos involvement.” Another look around the room. “Murders, kidnapping, Tenny’s so-called suicide in lockup. Cover-ups like this… It’s some high-level shit.”
For a few seconds, nobody spoke. The four Burke-Ruhe survivors exchanged long looks.
Ans took over. “Good news is there’s new intel from a possible inside source.”
“To be verified.” Eric broke in, before pointing at Ans, letting him know he should carry on.
“They’ve got digging locations elsewhere.” Ans paused. “So far, we know of Colorado. The North Sea, off the coast of Scotland. Siberia. We’re trying to get more on those. And now we’ve got a possibly related incident in Alaska.”
“This one’s mine.” Zoe interjected happily. “When we quietly put out word that we were looking for info on Chronos, we got a few bites. This is from a friend of a friend of a friend, but she works—worked—for a private eye out of LA. Says her boss disappeared a few weeks ago. For over a decade, he’s been on retainer. Not for Chronos per se, but for a nameless honcho over there. Apparently, he was pretty excited about finally getting a lead and followed it to some remote place in Alaska.”
“Bermuda Triangle,” muttered Ans in a ghost story voice.
Leo threw him an affectionately annoyed look. “Well, all she knows is that the guy her boss was after stole something from the Chronos bigwig years ago. Says a few days after she notified the client, the entire office was shut down, taken over by some unnamed government agency. Now she’s out a job. And she’s scared. Weird shit’s been happening.”
“We’ve gotten her to safety,” Eric said, chiming in. “In the meantime, word is a security contractor’s sending a team for a big operation in Alaska. Major firepower. Could be a coincidence.”
Ans snorted.
“Anyway, we’ll send someone as soon as we pinpoint where.” Eric finished up, then looked at his brother.
“For now, our sole mission is to put a stop to this thing before Burke-Ruhe’s up and running again,” Von said, his voice almost as gruff as Ford’s and totally in keeping with his entire persona—a big, scarred, mean-looking warrior.
