“Five more minutes. Tops.” He stroked her arm briefly. “Trust me, it’s worth the effort.”
He’d said much the same in the Jeep as they’d driven a mile to the boat rental. He’d sworn this place was totally secure, no risk of listening devices. And it was where he’d hoped to reach the day before, but they simply hadn’t arrived before dark and he preferred not to travel out here at night.
She just wanted to lay eyes on Brandon and be sure he was okay. Someone had actually tried to shoot him and Catriona in a drive-by. That would have been inconceivable a mere month ago, but now anything seemed possible. Thank God, Brandon and Jose had been around to protect Catriona—an unsuspecting, complete innocent in all of this. Although for someone who’d been shot at, Catriona had been surprisingly composed on the phone as she’d shared the details of Tabitha’s flesh wound with Rachel. At least her dog was okay, treated quickly thanks to Catriona’s training as a vet tech.
Rachel drew in a humidity-laden breath, her shirt sticking to her back. A gator scrambled onto the shore and snapped up a wood duck. Or at least she thought it was a gator. This was a rare place in which alligators and crocodiles cohabited. Hopefully she would never be close enough to one to check the shape of the jaw to distinguish one reptile from another.
She secured her hold on the dogs. “And you’re sure Brandon’s meeting us out here?”
How was even he supposed to locate this place?
“With Cuervo. Don’t worry. Cuervo can find his way.” He steered the craft, the monstrous fan in back powering them over the murky surface. “They’re also bringing the dog-sitter along to keep her safe.”
“Catriona?” Her friend hadn’t mentioned that, but they hadn’t been able to talk long and the connection had been sketchy.
“Uh-huh. That’s what Jose said.” Liam whipped the craft around a narrow bend in the marsh. An osprey flapped away from its perch.
“What happened to all the dogs at her place? My dogs are there.”
“What does she do if she has to leave home?”
“She rarely goes anywhere.”
“She’s a recluse?” Morning rays beat down on his sun-burnished face. His bristled jawline was taking on a look actors worked to cultivate. Tall and lean, Liam’s raw masculinity came naturally.>Bernard stopped in front of a utilitarian chair. “We really had no reason to hold him. He and the woman were well within their rights to walk out.”
Sullivan took his seat behind his desk, a position of power. “In an official military vehicle? I don’t think so, Captain.”
Sylvia waved away the comment. “A minor infraction, easily explained away. We have the Suburban back in our possession.”
“Picked up at the airport,” Bernard said through tight teeth, not a smile in sight, with his job on the line. “Even though there are no signs they left the country. I’m not so much concerned with the fact they’re gone as I am with why they felt the need to leave. What made them run, sir?”
“We’ll have those answers when we find them, and we will. But Harris has to be our first priority. Your office does not need him going to the press and firing up conspiracy theorists, especially not this week.”
Bernard nodded. “Understood, sir.”
The plan was too deeply in motion to pull back now. Too many under him had already assisted in gathering the information, setting up the shielded leak. They expected their payback. He couldn’t afford for even one of them to doubt his ability to lead.
“When you find Harris, I want him committed to a mental health facility.” He trusted Sylvia to dispense with due process where necessary. “And do so immediately.”
Harris would be discredited until a staged suicide could be arranged.
As for McCabe and his too-curious girlfriend, Rachel Flores? He would need to tread carefully in eradicating them, especially after the recent failed attempts on their lives.
But he had that covered. When he leaked the data about satellite data collection to the Chinese, it would be all too easy to ask for a little something extra in return. No one would question Liam McCabe’s assassination, especially if the public believed he was a mole simply caught up in spy games gone wrong—his girlfriend an unlucky casualty by association.
He looked from Sylvia Cramer to Captain Bernard. “Is that all you have to report?”
Bernard nodded. “For now, sir. And thank you for your support in keeping this quiet. We’re going to make this right. Sir.”
Ted smiled, then looked to Cramer. “And you’ve got people watching the rest of McCabe’s team to see if he contacts them?”
“Of course.” Her hand gravitated to the leather portfolio tucked under her arm. Some might have thought she wanted her iPad. He knew she was craving a smoke. She always did when under stress.
But if she found his need for frequent updates stressful? Tough shit.
“Fair enough, then. Dismissed.” He waved them out of his office.
He knew the underlings whispered behind his back, complaining, calling him a micromanager. They were too small-minded and inexperienced to understand the importance of being detail oriented. He even had an ace in the hole here at Patrick Air Force Base, someone he’d cultivated right away to be answerable first and only to him. A good leader always had troops on his side, loyal to the death. He left nothing to chance.