“And no word on how many he might have or where he’ll house them.” Riley came down the grand staircase in scarred hiking boots. “Eight bedrooms in this place, including two master suites. One’s more masterful than the other, and you can take it to the bank Malmon would pick that. The bathtub’s freestanding, natural stone, and big enough for a party. I want it for my own, but more to the point I vote for a bug in there.”
“I agree with that. He won’t have meetings in there,” Sawyer added. “But he’s likely to use it—it’s pretty princely—to make calls, send out orders, get sitreps.”
“I don’t know that word.”
“Situation reports,” Doyle told Annika. “Shorthand for it. Prime location would be where he’d meet with his team leaders.”
“Yeah, Sawyer and I talked about that. Main level—that’s how we see it.”
“And you know him, we don’t,” Bran put in.
“Yeah.” Still Sawyer looked around. “We did, like I said, a quick sweep. We should spread out, do a more thorough one.”
They rejected the kitchen, the main-level bedrooms, a game room, and took it down to a spacious parlor with windows looking out over gardens and out to sea or an office and library combination with an elaborate antique desk, more dark, heavy wood, lots of rich Italian leather.
“What’s your instinct?” Bran looked at Riley and Sawyer. “Which strikes you?”
“He’d like lording that view over his underlings,” Riley began. “And he might use the parlor deal, or the big terrace down here for a meet. But . . .”
“Office—that desk.” Sawyer nodded at her. “It’s command center. It’s ‘I’m in fucking charge here.’ That’s Malmon.”
“Do both.” Doyle scanned the office. “You’ve given us a clear sense of him, haven’t you? He’s not doing serious work above this level—not having his soldiers come into what he’d think of as more personal areas. Rooftop terrace, the pool, the setup? It’s an ass-kicker, but main level, that’s business.”
“Two down here, one in the bedroom. I should’ve made more bugs.”
“Whatever we might get is something we wouldn’t have had,” Bran pointed out.
“Okay. Agreed? And done,” Sawyer said when he got nods. “Bookcase is handy behind the desk. They will sweep.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Bran assured him.
After studying the shelves, Sawyer picked up a small silver box, opened it. “Pretty much tailor-made.”
As Sawyer slipped the device inside, Bran held a hand over it. For a moment it glowed cl
ear, cold blue.
“A kind of shield,” Bran explained.
They repeated the process in the parlor, in the bedroom they believed Malmon would claim.
“I want to test it. I need one of you at each location. I’m going to shift back to our villa. Y’all give me, we’ll say three minutes, then I need whoever’s in the office to say something, a couple of sentences. Give it ten seconds, then same thing from the parlor, another ten, bedroom. If it works, I’ll be back right after. If it doesn’t, give me about two minutes for adjustments, go through the round again.”
It took two rounds before he was satisfied. Careful to leave everything as they found it, Sawyer traveled them back to the villa.
“You look a little beat-up,” Riley observed.
“No, just used up some. A lot of traveling in a short span. It takes it out of you.”
“I’ll make you a snack.”
He started to brush off Annika’s offer, thought better of it. “You know, that’d be great. I’m a little low on juice.”
As Annika hurried to the kitchen, with Sasha behind her to supervise, Sawyer sat under the pergola. “Now we wait.”
“I’ll keep trying to find out where he’s housing his troops. If I get a hit, we might be able to screw something up for him. In fact, I’ll—”
Riley broke off when Annika ran out. “Sasha says they’re coming. From the sky. They’re coming.”