“Calgary’s a big place,” Omar observed.
Ryan met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “True. Good thing I reached out to CSIS.”
“You have a contact there?” Jake asked, sitting up straighter.
“No. You do. I used Poppy’s name and said I heard they’ve been tracking some chatter related to a potential attack on Canadian soil.”
“Where’d you hear that?” Trent wanted to know.
“From your wife.” Ryan grinned. “Poppy told her and Marielle.”
“Why didn’t they call us?” Omar groused.
“Because Marielle knows I am second only to her in my ability to do something with that information, you man-baby. Speaking of wives—Chelsea wants you to call her tonight.”
Jake nodded. “She’s been blowing up my phone asking what Poppy’s like in person.”
“Can we get back to McCloud?” Trent asked.
“Right, when I mentioned Cal’s special forces background, his current—er, recent—employment, and the fact that he’s in the wind, they got very interested very quickly. Found him in less than an hour.”
“That’s fast. Where was he?”
“They reviewed the CCTV footage from the airport, public transit, traffic cameras, parks, security feeds for private buildings, the whole deal. They tracked him from ground transportation at the airport to a vacant warehouse, last used by a wholesale plumbing supply company. He’s been living in the break room.”
“Huh.” Omar digested this fact.
“What kind of attack?” Jake asked.
“That, they don’t know. That’s why Poppy wants access to Hanna. Her family may be involved.”
“Well, that’s great for CSIS, but it doesn’t do us any good.” Jake’s voice was sour.
Omar grimaced at his tone, but Ryan was unbothered.
“It does, though. Because in exchange for a copy of his personnel file, they agreed to let us have a video interview with him.”
Jake reached over and thumped him on the back. “Good work, Hayes. When can we talk to him?”
“Tomorrow morning, their time. They’ll give me the details once he’s taken into custody and processed. They said they’d give us thirty minutes.”
“That’s not much,” Trent said.
“It’s what we’ve got.”
Omar cracked his knuckles, thinking. “What about Annapolis? When’s that happening?”
Ryan glanced at Trent in the mirror. “The day after tomorrow. I used Jake’s name to call in a favor with Commander Peterson at the Naval Academy. The President is giving a private speech to a select group of midshipmen … and midshipwomen?”
Trent shook his head. “No, they’re just middies, too. How long do we get with POTUS?”
“The commander thinks he can swing five minutes during the reception afterward.”
“Five minutes to convince the President his Vice President is planning a coup,” Omar said flatly. “No pressure.”
“We work best under pressure,” Ryan said. “Isn’t that your thing?”
“My thing?”
