“What are you saying?”
She ran her hands along the frame of the bag, then turned it over and pulled out the telescoping handle. A yank, and one side of the handle popped off. “There’s a stock integrated into the bag’s frame—invisible unless you know what to look for.”
“A disassembled sniper rifle,” London said.
“Yeah, whoever designed this knew exactly how to beat airport security. It’s professional grade. The kind that breaks down to pass through airport security. Ceramic and polymer components—wouldn’t trigger standard metal detectors. I’ve only seen this level of design from Bratva armorers.”
The word hung in the air. Bratva.
“But if this was Dakota’s bag, why did he give it to me?”
Silence.
“And it seems like a woman’s bag.”
“Yeah, I hear that. I suppose it could be a trick. To make it look like a woman’s bag if anyone searched. And with you carrying it, he wouldn’t get in trouble if anything was found.”
But . . . she’d been about to leave him. Wait . . . and then he’d suddenly wanted to tag along.
A stone dropped through her heart. “You’re right. He might be using me to keep the weapon close.”
“I’ll have Nimue do a scan of the manifest of the original flight, see if we can get you a description. The other bigger question is . . . who has your bag?”
The cold knot in Jayden’s chest tightened. Her bag. The one with her neurotoxin analysis, her mission intel. The one she’d been carrying since Hawaii.
“I don’t know. It got swept up in the switch. Maybe . . . this ?. ?. has it.”
“You need to find it.” London’s tone shifted—harder now, the voice of a handler giving orders. “Stay with that tour group. Someone on that bus brought in a sniper rifle and is meeting Alan Martin. And it could be your friend.”
“What about Dakota?”
“Stay with him. See if you can work out what he knows.”
“What do I tell him?”
“Aren’t you two already friends?”
Jayden closed her eyes. Saw Dakota’s face—the way he’d looked at her in the hallway, like she mattered.
Like Jayden Pierce was real.
But he wasn’t Ian. And she wasn’t the same person she was three years ago, naive and weak.
“According to Nimue, the tour continues tomorrow,” London said. “Great Barrier Reef diving excursion. Full day on a boat. Close quarters with the entire group.”
“You want me on that boat.”
“I want you embedded. Watch everyone. We need to identify the threat before the president’s speech.”
“So what’s the timeline?”
“A little under a week. The tour arrives in Sydney in four days. That gives you five days before the president speaks to find out what’s going on—assuming nothing goes wrong.”
Something always went wrong. Jayden had been in this business long enough to know that.
“Understood.”
“And Lynx?” London’s voice softened slightly. “Whatever you’re feeling about this man—use it or lose it. Either way, don’t let it compromise the mission.”
