Point of No Return (29 page)

The men exchanged glances. Her ID was returned. Badge wallets were retrieved from jacket pockets and held at eye level for her to read.

Honey stuck the leg of her glasses into the corner of her jacket pocket and secured her cover into the waist of her pants. “May I?” She held out a hand to Meyer. He shrugged and passed the wallet over. She stood, hand out, until Carpenter followed suit. Badges in hand, she checked the photo on each ID to the face of the owner, then ran her thumb over the badge. Satisfied, she handed the wallets back.

“You didn’t bite them,” Carpenter said, smiling as he attached the wallet to his belt.

“Mind telling me what that was about?” Meyer, said replacing the wallet in his jacket pocket, displaying the badge.

“You can buy fake badges on the net.” They knew she was yanking their chain. “It’s about being diligent, SAIC Meyer.” She found that Special Agent thing odd but knew bureau men appreciated being addressed appropriately. “I’m an intelligence officer, cautious by training.” Contrary to what he’d said, they’d confirmed that already. Before they left her house, Jack had given an agent the deets of where he was and who he was with to facilitate clearing them.

“Take a seat, Major.” Meyer gestured to a sofa. Honey caught the official, all-business tone shift in his voice and she sat in the middle of the designated piece of furniture while the agents sat in separate chairs.

“What’s your connection with the family?” Meyer asked casually. It wasn’t a casual question.

Honey ran her index finger up and down the clef in her chin. “No connection with the family. I met Jack O’Brien four days ago.” She watched for any detection of her stretch of the truth. The two exchanged glances and Carpenter threw in a raised eyebrow.

“Would you call yourself a friend?”

Honey pursed her lips and shook her head. “Acquaintance.”

“You stayed three days in a cabin with Jack O’Brien and he spent last night at your home in Georgetown,” Carpenter said. “Mind explaining what you were doing?”

Honey took a moment. “As a matter of fact I do.”

“Major,” Meyer said and shifted in his seat, “a child has been taken. I’d think you’d want to do all you can to help.” He took a pen and spiral notepad from his jacket pocket.

“Agents—” She paused and gave them both a deadly serious look. “I said I minded explaining what I’d been doing the last three days. I never implied I wouldn’t help.” She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her thighs. “I don’t want to dick around and waste your time. I’ll tell you what I can. I was sent by the DoD to interview O’Brien about his brother and sister-in-law’s deaths.” By the time they could ferret out she’d been at Global this ordeal would be over.

“Why?” Carpenter said, an edge to his voice. “That was a car accident.” Honey smiled. The man was an easy read and it was clear he knew the circumstances of the couple’s death.

“You know the O’Briens weren’t killed in a car accident. It’s a simple leap to understanding what I’m working on.” She straightened. “Today I was going to meet with high-level personnel and recommend investigations into the deaths be reopened. I suggest you”—she gave Carpenter a hard look—“consider doing the same. And you”—she looked at Meyer—“look carefully at the reports on the O’Briens’ deaths. In particular, the who and why the investigation ended. You’re the guys in the white hats. I’m telling you, if I have a microscopic dot of information that would help you to get that child back, I will tell you.” She meant that. If there was a way in hell they could act, she’d spill everything she knew right now. The
guys in the white hats didn’t stand a chance against Global or getting Ali back. They were law enforcement and this was a combat zone. She leaned back. “I doubt I’m a suspect. I understand you have to clear both O’Brien and myself. Let’s get that done so you can move on to finding leads.”

Carpenter and Meyer exchanged a look. “Tell us about the last twenty-four hours,” SAIC Meyer said.

She gave them the spiel she and Jack agreed on. Jack would say the same with enough variation to keep it from sounding rehearsed. “I was ready to leave the cabin and my rental car was a nonstarter. He’s in the middle of fucking nowhere. A tow wasn’t available for twenty-four hours. I needed to get back. O’Brien offered to drive me to Nashville in his truck.” She paused. “And I use the term
truck
loosely. He suggested he come with me, attend the meeting and lend weight to my recommendation the case be reopened. And . . . it had been some time since he’d seen his family.” Both men scribbled notes. “We got in late. It was storming. My place was close. He stayed in a guest room.”

“Did he tell anyone he was coming?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Why didn’t he check his phone before this morning?”

Honey gave Agent Carpenter a
how the fuck should I know
look but said, “I can’t answer for him. I don’t think the guy was expecting a call saying his niece had been kidnapped.”

“If you were in different bedrooms, how can you be sure he didn’t leave your home?”

She displayed an appropriate amount of indignity. “I have a high-end, obscenely expensive security system. It was armed. If Mr. O’Brien had attempted to leave
I would have noticed
.” All accurate statements.

“Maybe you went with him,” Carpenter said.

“There is a time stamp recording system and video cameras at entrances. The time stamp documents on and off, in and out, on a system in my home and at a secure, tamperproof, remote location the security company maintains. If it comes to needing the proof we were there, your techs can have access.”

Carpenter nodded.

Jack appeared in the doorway. “You through questioning the major and ready to get out and find my niece?”

Meyer stood. “We’re done for now.”

“Major, before you leave, I’d like you to meet my mom.”

“Then we’ll need to speak with you too, Mr. O’Brien,” Meyer said.

“Yeah,” Jack said, his voice sounding hollow. He gestured for her to go down the hall and he followed to a family room/kitchen area that took up the back of the house and smelled of fresh-brewed coffee. A trim attractive woman with a rottweiler beside her looked up, put a hand to her throat and sucked in an alarmed breath.

“Mom?” Jack went to her side.

She shook her heard. “I’m sorry, it was seeing a woman in the uniform. For a moment I thought . . . I thought you were Becca . . . Sorry.” Mrs. O’Brien patted the dog’s massive head. The dog accepted her attention but kept its eyes trained on Honey.

“I’m Major Thornton.” Honey walked to the woman, offering her hand, but stopped when the dog’s lips curled back.

“Sasha. Behave.” Mrs. O’Brien tapped the dog’s head with a well-manicured hand. The dog snorted and looked up.

“Clare O’Brien.” She reached out and took Honey’s hand, encasing it with both of hers. “We’re all jumpy.”

“Understandable, ma’am.”

“Can I get you a coffee?”

“No, thank you. The agents are through with me. I should be going.” Honey looked around. A woman in a dark suit with a bureau badge hanging on a lanyard sat at the kitchen table working a laptop. A man in a windbreaker emblazoned with FBI sat before an array of electronics.

“They’re set up to listen in on calls and whatever the FBI does,” Mrs. O’Brien offered. “No one has called.”

Honey nodded. “Have they”—she gestured to the window, where outside a line of men and women combed the yard—“found anything to help?”

Jack shook his head. “They came through the back and used the air-conditioning system to deliver a knockout gas.” Honey noticed the female agent was taking an interest in the conversation. “The alarm system was bypassed by an expert and they scrambled the camera feed,” Jack said.

The agent pushed her chair back and stood. “Mr. O’Brien, we’d prefer you not share details.”

“She’s okay.”

“Sir, I have to insist.”

Jack shot her a look over his shoulder and waved dismissively.

“I should leave,” Honey said.

“Please stay,” Clare said politely, but her eyes pleaded. “It would be nice to have another woman here. They won’t let any of my friends in.” She shot the agent a look.

“They’re right, ma’am. Too many people here can contaminate evidence and redirect your memory, complicating their investigation.” Honey looked at the female agent, who was eyeing her. “They’re the good guys. The ones who’ll bring Ali home. I don’t want to get in their way.” Honey took a business card from her pocket and handed it to Mrs. O’Brien as Carpenter and Meyer joined them. “If you want to talk,
and
the agents say it’s okay, call me.” She handed cards to the men and they reciprocated. “You need me for anything else?”

“Not now.” Carpenter looked at her card. “This a twenty-four-seven number?”

She patted the phone in her pocket. “Yes.” She looked at Clare. “Ali will come home
safe
,” she said with resolve.

Clare said nothing.

“I’ll walk you out,” Jack said.

Honey shook her head. “Not necessary.” She turned and walked away without another word. No sense taking a chance on the agents picking up their body language or a vibe between them.

Honey threaded her way through the early lunchtime traffic back to Georgetown. A sensation resembling the after-effects of a bad dream mixed with the dull pain of a hangover overcame her. She braced her elbow against the window and rubbed her forehead but couldn’t erase the feeling.

She and Jack knew the truth. If they shared info with the bureau, the agency would immediately be removed from the investigation because of Global’s connection with the DoD. A supersecret black ops organization would swoop in. Their priority would not be rescuing Ali. It would be hiding Global’s activities. Government powers would never allow the details of the Global debacle to see light. It would be perceived as a blow to the public’s confidence in those who govern. Bring demands for investigations of secret legislative committees. The operation would be quietly shut down. The doers would leave, unfettered by prosecution, move to a country supportive of their operations and start a similar venture.

Jack once called her a flag-waving, card-carrying patriot, and it was true. Serving, doing the right thing for country had been ingrained into her since infancy. It was a clear driving motivation. Thoughts of powerful men employing dark operating procedures for ulterior motives constricted her throat. She’d been damned naïve to think she could change anything. Not everything in her career had been done exactly by the book, but she’d never overstepped the law. If she saw tomorrow’s dawn she’d be considered a rogue. An officer not to be trusted.

None of that mattered. As long as Ali
and Jack
were safe.

Chapter 23

Honey pulled the SUV into its spot in the garage and took the stairs to the kitchen two at a time.

“She’s good,” Buck called.

“We’ve had eyes on since you called,” Gunny said as she pushed by.

“Show me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Coop tapped an iPad screen and held it for her to see. “She’s in a part of the training room. She slept until an hour ago. Likely, they drugged her. They’ve brought her food and bottled water. Now she’s practicing moves.” Honey looked carefully. She was in PJs and socks, practicing punches, blocks, and air kicks that were pretty good. She looked okay. She swept a finger over the child’s image on the screen and let out a long breath of relief.

“We’ve been freaked about leaving the kid in there,” Gunny said, his normal impassive expression gone. “Knowing she’s there and what they’re capable of . . . Damn.” He rubbed the top of his head and took a deep breath. “Can’t imagine what O'Brien’s going through.”

She was barely keeping it together thinking the same thing, worried they would attempt to fly her out of the country. Ruben had learned the company leased planes on an as-needed basis to ferry men around the world. Planes that accommodated men and machinery. But this morning Global had ordered a twelve-passenger executive jet with an international crew for departure in the morning. “What’s the plan to get her?”

She quickly outlined Jack’s plan. A plan of desperation she’d agreed to knowing her guys would have something better mapped out by the time she got home.

“That’s it?” Cooper said, eyebrows climbing his forehead. “The big CIA agent could only come up with the standard make-them-pay, attack-back plan?”

“With two people we needed to keep it simple.”

“That you did,” Gunny said, sounding like Yoda.

“Did you really think we weren’t going in on this?” Santiago said, hands on hips, giving her a wicked evil eye. “Since you called we’ve been getting ready.” Heads bobbed in agreement.

“Couldn’t count on your help until you knew everything.”

They lined up shoulder to shoulder, arms folded across their chests, waiting. Five sets of determined eyes stared her down. Kara looked like a child posing to have her picture taken with her favorite action heroes.

“O’Brien is not letting Nelson walk away.”

“Suits me just fine,” Buck mumbled.

“Getting Ali out is the priority. Nothing supersedes. You go in on this you will be the ones getting her out. O’Brien has no illusions of getting out alive. My job”—her mission impossible—“will be getting him out. There’s no telling how this will go down. Tonight could be a clusterfuck and earn us a go-directly-to-jail forever card. Consider this before you say you’re in.”

“We are going to help get that kid back,” Coop said in a steely voice.

“Dude, no way to sugarcoat this,” Buck said. “We don’t go in and it gets turned over to the good guys”—he looked around—“everyone in this room knows the pricks go free.”

“The go to jail forever?” Honey said.

“A few days maybe,” Santiago said and flashed a smile, “but not forever. I posed some hypothetical stuff to a friend, an attorney with an international cyber crimes organization. She said if a
real
case like this comes up give her a call, they’d be very interested in helping.”

Yes, and she was not without her contacts. Her family was owed many favors and for this chosen family she wouldn’t hesitate calling in every single one of them.