“A bullet to the head would be a nice way out,” Kyle said coolly. “Just say the word, sir.”
“Not yet.”
Which didn’t mean itwouldn’tbecome an option in the future. Sean wondered who was wearing down the president for that authorization. Justifying the legal authority for the president to authorize the targeted killing of a United States citizen wouldn’t be unheard of, it would just bemessy.
In more ways than one.
“We’ll look into it,” Nazari promised. “See what we can glean from chatter. If it’s anything like what we’re currently piecing together, I’m not going to like it.”
“Sir?” Jamie asked.
Nazari tapped at a command prompt on the computer embedded in the conference table. Multiple holopics unfolded in the center of the table, projected into the air above for everyone to see. Several were duplicated in their individual terminals. Sean reached out and adjusted the data windows into an easy-to-see grid.
Several contained surveillance stills taken from CCTV. Others looked to be photographs taken by satellites of long-haul trucks on desert highways. One contained fifteen seconds of video from a security feed, and Sean focused on that first. He expanded it, watching as the SUV with tinted windows drove through a toll gate on a highway in Dallas.
The man driving had been identified as one of the ex-Special Forces operatives who had escaped the raid on North Star International and thrown their lot in with Declan, according to the note tagged to it. Sean wasn’t interested in him, but the two people sitting in the middle seats. The camera angle wasn’t the best, but it caught a woman with her face turned toward them at a three-quarters angle, though her eyes were looking at the man beside her.
Dark hair tied into a functional braid, fashionable if serviceable clothes, and no fear on her thin face. She didn’t look like a victim, wasn’t bound in any noticeable way, but neither did she look like a fighter. If she was riding with Declan—and Sean would bet her seat partner was Declan even if the camera hadn’t gotten a clear shot of his face—then she was important.
“Who is she?” Sean asked.
“Ella Blanchett. A French socialite from a radical family with ties to theLibération Nationale Français. She was last seen in the company of the Dutchman,” Nazari said.
In the center of the conference room table, a holopic of Nikolaas Jansen snapped into existence. A facilitator of all things illegal, he was a metahuman with an empathic power beholden to Stanislav Pavluhkin and thePresnenskaya Bratva.
“Don’t tell me, sir,” Katie said flatly. “Jansen introduced them.”
“That’s the leading theory.”
TheLibération Nationale Françaiswas a terrorist group with the same goal in mind as thePresnenskaya Bratva—funding illegal Splice labs to create their own metahumans. The group had been responsible for taking Alpha Team hostage nearly two years ago and removing them from the country by way of a teleporter. That mission had resulted in Kyle and Alexei’s secret status as metahumans coming to light.
Sean remembered that time very clearly—the way everyone who could be recalled to base was ordered to help track them down. Dying in the field was always a possibility, but no one in the MDF had been prepared at the time to leave the missing behind. In the end, Alpha Team had made it back with information that had put them on a road that felt more and more like one Stanislav built, and not their own.
“Is the LNF negotiating an alliance with the Sons of Adam?” Jamie asked.
“It’s a possibility, but the EAMSG hasn’t seen any evidence of the LNF outsourcing their people. Blanchett may be an exception, but she’s a dangerous exception,” Nazari said.
The European Alliance Metahuman Security Group was the MDF’s equivalent across the Atlantic. Sean had worked several joint missions with their people and trusted what conclusions came from them.
“Metahuman?” Trevor asked.
“Yes. The EAMSG believes she holds a nullification power.”
Sean flattened his hand against the computer screen, ignoring the data streaming away from his fingertips. “Do you think she was the one deployed in Boston, sir?”
He could talk about Boston now outside the confidential walls of his therapist’s office, without feeling thrown off balance. Dr. Elizabeth O’Malley had helped him and Alexei immensely by guiding them through much-needed therapy for months after being rescued last November.
Of all the details Sean had read about the fight in Boston, the metahuman with the nullification power had stood out. That particular power was capable of disrupting other metahumans’ powers within a specified area. The null power acted as a kind of biological EMP and could be targeted or used in a broadly directed attack. Either form resulted in metahumans temporarily reverting back to a kind of human baseline, their powers disrupted and inactive.
Nazari nodded, mouth pressed into a grim line. “We believe that is the case.”
“Then what’s the plan?” Annabelle asked. She tucked a piece of her red hair behind one ear, keeping her hazel eyes trained on the director.
“Considering the firepower Declan had at his fingertips when running North Star International, we have to assume he kept back any number of military-grade weapons through falsified paperwork. Using the cruise missile in Arizona the other day proves the Sons of Adam and Declan’s people have access to weapons they shouldn’t.”
“So what is their target?” Madison asked. “They’re obviously on the move, but any idea on their final destination?”
“Washington, D.C.,” Jamie said, voice flat and even. “It’s where my father has been most often recently, it’s where I am, and it’s our nation’s capital. Stanislav is out for revenge, as is Declan. Attacking us here would send a powerful message.”
