Sherrilyn Kenyon - Silent Truth

“Could be,” Retter said. “But why’s he leading you to him? Why not just tap the prime minister and not play this game?”

“Remember the Fratelli code about ‘no unnecessary kills’?” When the agents nodded, Hunter said, “Killer calls himself Jackson and talks as though he holds to the Fratelli rules of no unauthorized kills. Makes sense. If not, he’d have shot me when I found him at Abbie’s apartment.”

Korbin scowled. “Knew you had her the whole time.”

“Her mother’s dying,” Hunter explained for the benefit of some in BAD. Korbin’s opinion didn’t count. “Abbie went to the Wentworth event to talk to Gwen about finding out what happened to her mother, because her mother had been healthy when she visited Kore almost two weeks ago. Jackson just told me he gave her mother a cocktail of some sort and gave Abbie something similar last night before she coded.”

Rae uncrossed her arms and leaned forward. “Is that how you got the data?”

“Not the way I wanted to, but yes,” Hunter said. “We had to have Abbie’s fingerprint and her blood sample taken through their machines at the same minute we accessed the Kore computer systems. So if we get her out of this we all owe her for those records.”

Rae smiled slightly.

“About the killer,” Gotthard said, pressing him. “Finish explaining why he wants to play this game.”

Hunter walked over and leaned against the door frame. “Jackson sounds like a bored killer, handcuffed by too many Fratelli rules. He wants a challenge. Like Dr. Tatum. Jackson must have put him in a no-win situation and threatened to harm his children if Tatum didn’t take the pills and commit suicide. Jackson gets his rocks off by watching people make life-and-death decisions. I’ve thought back on the mission in Kauai four years ago. Jackson wouldn’t consider Eliot’s death a kill since he shot Eliot in the shoulder, which wouldn’t have necessarily been life threatening. Jackson knew there was no way for someone with a blown shoulder to get down. That bastard laughed after Eliot cut the rope.”

“Eliot?”

Hunter tensed, taking in the faces in the room. “Yes. Those of you who were here then know the intel had changed by the time Eliot and I inserted into the Brugmann house. Once we found the CIA list and plans for a terrorist attack in the UK, we had to fight our way out. We’d just started rappelling when the estate went silent too soon for the FBI to have arrived. Eliot knew something had gone very wrong and that we might be the only two who knew about the terrorist attack if someone got to Brugmann’s before the FBI. Eliot’s leg was broken, too. When he realized he couldn’t get down, he wanted to make sure one of us could prevent the attack planned for the hospital in Britain the next day. He cut his rope so I could get down.”

“Fuck.” Korbin summed up the room’s reaction.

“Jackson was the shooter.” Hunter could hear the laugh echoing in the back of his skull. “He wounded me to toy with me, to let me know he could have killed me, but I must not have been part of the sanctioned hits. It’s as if he couldn’t give me too mortal a wound to climb down or he’d have broken his oath to the Fratelli.”

“You went to the Wentworth party looking for him.” Rae had spoken her thoughts out loud.

Hunter had nothing left to shield from these agents. “Yes, but I had no idea he’d try to make a hit on Gwen. After dropping Abbie at her apartment with a transmitter I’d planted on her, I drove away, parked down the street, and doubled back. I was inside the building when I heard Jackson grab her. He wanted to see my face, but he didn’t kill either of us. He popped a flash bomb and released a tear-gas canister. I carried her out and took her with me.” He looked at Retter and said, “I was bringing her here that night until she told me about her mother dying. In hindsight, I should have put Abbie in protective custody and dealt with the guilt of pulling her away from her mother, because now he’s got her.”

Hunter turned to Rae in the silence. “That’s why I didn’t want you to be connected to me at the Wentworth party. I had no doubt of your ability to pull off being my companion. I was putting the mission first, but if the opportunity presented itself I was not going to pass up a chance to take down Eliot’s killer. I didn’t want you or anyone else hurt because of me.”

Rae gave Hunter a look he hadn’t expected. Her eyes softened with understanding.

Korbin said nothing, but the glare subsided.

“Abbie was in play before she met you,” Gotthard said.

“Why do you say that?” Hunter crossed his arms. Felt damn good to utilize the expertise of this group to find Abbie. Gotthard had tried to get him to realize they were greater as a team than as individuals. Too bad Hunter hadn’t accepted that sooner.

“Rae figured out the Jackson Chameleon puzzle,” Gotthard said. “Jackson disappeared from the U.S. at three years old, but Abbie’s mother had to donate blood for him five years later. I searched customs for that period of time and found clearance within a couple hours after she’d donated. The blood was delivered to a hospital in Shanghai for a child with the last name Jack.”

Rae picked up the thread. “In the Asian culture a male child is called Son of, as in Jackson, meaning Son of Jack.”

“So what did that give us?” Hunter asked.

“That opened up a world of information on one Sigmund Jack who lived in the United States at the right time to have gotten Abbie’s mother pregnant.”

“Where is he now?”

Gotthard took over. “Dead. We traced his son’s life until Jackson went into MI6 in his early twenties then disappeared two years ago. Joe tapped his UK contacts to find out MI6 is after Jackson, too. They think Jackson is behind the death of two powerful supporters of the former prime minister and possibly behind the former prime minister’s death.”

“So why would Jackson kill the current one, who basically opposes so many things the prior prime minister supported?” Hunter wondered aloud.

“Only the Fratelli can answer that one,” Rae said.

“Then we have to find him.” Hunter stood away from the desk. “He wants me there for some reason. I’m going.” He looked at Retter to let him know he wouldn’t be stopped.

“We’ll let you go,” Retter countered. “But I’m telling you now if you make any move that doesn’t put the security of this nation first I’ll take you out myself.”

“Done. I’ll leave for Colorado tonight.”

Retter added, “You’re not going anywhere alone.”

Hunter started to argue, then realized he needed someone with him. One agent in particular. “Do I get to pick who goes with me?”

Korbin looked at Rae, then at the others. No one spoke up.

Retter said, “That’ll be up to the agent.”

Hunter stopped hiking within a stand of bare aspens protected from the wintry winds by a snow-capped granite ridge rising on his left. A single mountain chalet straight ahead sparkled bright as a spotlighted diamond in a dark room. The helicopter had deposited him and Brendan “Mako” Masterson two miles away, where they’d donned winter gear. The temperature plunged into the thirties, mild for nighttime in the Rocky Mountains in spring.

He studied the brightly lit trilevel lodge positioned innocently in a dip in the mountains north of Idaho Springs, Colorado.

A perfect spot for a private party to celebrate the visit of an international dignitary.

A perfect spot for an assassination attempt.

Mako dropped his pack alongside Hunter’s, white puffs striking the cold air when he breathed. He read his watch and quietly said, “Time: twenty-one oh two, sixteen seconds.”