If someone broke into the safehouse to hurt Charlie, they would want to get her out of there if they weren’t familiar with the security system. Chances are that Charlie won’t be at the safehouse much longer. Unless she’s in the tunnels, in which case she’s on the move.
I dial her number. The line rings and rings before cutting off.Maybe there’s no reception in the tunnels. Or the phone is still in the safehouse.
Charlie doesn’t have a tracking device on her.Ifshe has her phone with her, I could have been able to locate herifwe had shared locations.Damn.
There are too many variables to make any educated guesses. I mount the phone again and get pedaling. I fly down the mixed-use sidewalk, swerving to avoid early-morning runners. Then I think of a way into her phone to track her: hack it. I skid to a stop and find Ian in my contacts. I’ll ask him if he can help crack into Charlie’s phone to find where it is. It’s illegal, and hacking her phone would usually fall under the behavior of someone with trust issues, but it might save her.
Ian’s contact card is easy to find and I am about to hit send when something tickles in my mind. Ian has shared his location with me, but I hardly ever need to use it myself. I enabled it so he could track me while on missions. My brain is telling me to look this time.
I click over to his location and see that he is at the safehouse.
There is no way he arrived there to help Charlie already. He must have been therebeforethe alarm went off. Charlie would have let him in and then . . .
I play back the past months in my mind.
Ian – who called me to make sure I was in place for the Mexico City rendezvous.
Ian – not able to get us a clear license plate on the motorcyclist who shot at me and Charlie.
Ian – who lost the footage from the Castillo mission.
Ian – who rescued me and Charlie from the storage unit.
Ian – who provided me with images when I needed to identify the buyer from Copenhagen instead of giving me access to the database.
Ian – defensive when Charlie hypothesized a hole in our firewall.
I try to tell myself this can’t be true. He has had plenty of opportunity to eliminate me or Charlie or Oliver. Why make a move to capture Charlie now? We’ve trusted Ian with so much of our operations; he is in the perfect position to do the most damage.
My gut is telling me that Ian has been our mole this whole time. My head is telling me that he can’t have been so easily swayed by the Order. But so many already have.
I can only hope that Charlie is in the tunnels and isn’t trapped in there with Ian.
I need to think. I need a plan.
I need to save Charlie.
42
CHARLIE
It feels as if I’ll never escape when I feel a small torque. It’s not much, but it is something. I’m sweating through my clothes. The hot air is working its usual evil magic on me. My hands are slick, a line of sweat meandering its way down my forehead, threatening to sting my eyes. The hair let loose from my bun is sticking to my face.
Another twist and the wheel gives a bit more. I grunt and will the lock to move with everything I have.
The lock releases and I push open the hatch.
Air.
Open air.
Sunlight.
I pop my head out of the hatch and come eye to eye with a perplexed rooster. He pecks at the ground and then struts away. I pull myself out and close the hatch behind me. I want to lay down on the ground and soak in the beautiful daylight, taking gulps of the fresh morning air, but there’s no time. I need to figure out where I am so I can get to safety. I can’t stay here. Because Ian certainly wasn’t acting alone. The sooner I can get to Declan, the better.
I spin and see a monument in the center of a park square. Centennial Park.
Ybor City is known for several things. Nightlife, but the bars and restaurants in my eyeline are closed. It’s also known for cigars, hence the safehouse in the rehabbed warehouse. It is a couple miles from Downtown Tampa. If I keep moving, maybe I can catch Declan on his way back to the safehouse.
