Calder boarded with six men. I'm counting at least fourteen now.
"Was there an updated security count before departure?"
Dom's voice cuts in. "We clocked twelve additional personnel. They came with Marchetti."
"Are you sure?"
A beat of silence. Then Cat: "Verifying now."
The clock hits 10:45.
Calder excuses himself from his conversation and moves toward the lower deck. The guards go with him. Not all fourteen, but more than half—and I'm not among them.
He did tell me to keep eyes on Keira tonight, but still, something about this doesn't sit right. I was meant to be on his watch for this entire event. Me and Marchand.
He's here too, though, so that brings me a bit of comfort. If Calder was up to something, he would definitely bring Marchand in.
"Target One is on the move," I murmur. "Heading below."
"We've got eyes on him," Aaron says.
11:15.
11:20.
11:25.
The party is getting louder, bigger, more chaotic by the minute. Exactly what we want. People distracted, drunk, enjoying thenight, completely oblivious to the bloodshed about to unfold beneath their expensive shoes.
Cat moves through the crowd like she was born to it, playing the perfect hostess while subtly herding network heads toward the lower deck. Dom shifts position, ready to lock down the security systems. Marco's already disappeared into the conference room to prepare.
Twenty minutes until Keira's extraction.
Twenty minutes until I fuck up Calder for good.
I need one final status check on Hale, just to ease my mind.
"Status check on the small package," I mutter.
Static.
"Can I get a status check?" I turn my back, pretending to check an empty corner.
Nothing but silence.
"Zoe, do you copy?"
Crickets.
My comms better be down, because this isn't fucking good.
I'm about to walk over and grab Cat when her voice comes in through my ear. "She might be in a dead zone. We're on water, and she's far away. Give it a minute."
No chance in hell I'm sitting and waiting around for anything tonight.
"Or something's wrong."
"Stand by and take a deep breath."
