Critical Density

by Desiree Holt

  It wasn’t as if they hadn’t planned it out well, leaving markers for people to follow when they investigated. Grabbing her off the remote site, hauling her back to Lowden Tactical and stashing her in the hotel had been a seamless operation. So how had it blown up in their faces?

  The people with the money behind this were less than happy, and that was putting it mildly. Henry would be showing up any moment, as frantic as an old lady. What a fucking pain in the ass he was. If he didn’t have contacts that no one else could connect with, Diesel would have cut him loose. The people he reported to would chop off his head without blinking if he let Henry fuck things up. Except, short of killing him, he wasn’t sure how he would do it. The man was a fucking ball of nerves.

  He did have to admit, however, that having Hannah Modell literally vanish into thin air wasn’t doing anyone’s nerves any good.

  Okay, he’d destroyed all the video of the flight. They often kept the discs of drone flights for their records in case they needed them, but some flights like this one needed to disappear into thin air. Everyone involved in the project had been fed the line that Hannah had fucked up big time and they were taking care of it. But if he didn’t find her and resolve the problem soon, his ass was grass. No, he was a dead man. The people he owed everything to would eliminate him without blinking an eye and find someone else to replace him. He wouldn’t even be a fond memory.

  He finally gave in to the urge and poured a healthy shot of bourbon into his juice, then slugged back a mouthful. He had no plans to turn into a drunk over this, but he definitely needed the drink to deal with Henry. As the liquor slowly burned its way down his throat, he heard the sound of a car in the driveway. Okay. Show time.

  He had the front door open before Henry could even ring the bell.

  “Well?” Henry demanded. “Have you got her? I haven’t heard a word from you since yesterday.”

  Diesel tamped down his temper. He hated to admit that he shared Henry’s unease. They were on a specific timetable here. Step one had been executed correctly, the fallout was being manipulated and the plans were in place for step two. The one thing no one had expected and so hadn’t planned for was that Hannah Modell would somehow manage to escape. Henry couldn’t remember the last time anyone had gotten away from Paul Santos or caught him off guard. That was why they had chosen him for this particular assignment.

  “I have people quietly scouring the area for blocks around the hotel,” Diesel said. “How about a glass of orange juice, or some coffee?”

  “How about a shot of that bourbon? I hope I don’t become an alcoholic before this is all over.”

  “So do I,” Diesel muttered under his breath. “I promise you these people are good. The Boss handpicked them. He’s used them on other delicate assignments. They know what they’re doing. Plus, he has an added ace in the hole.”

  “What?” Henry demanded.

  Diesel shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him. Meanwhile, I have people combing the records of her cell phone for the past eight years and reaching out to see if her contacts have heard from her.”

  “They’ll get suspicious,” Henry complained. “And what about the people in Houston? Aren’t they going to think something’s weird when people are questioned if they saw her?”

  “Not the way they do it. They have a very believable cover story. I’m telling you. The Boss has a smooth black operation, second to none.”

  Henry studied him for a moment. “Doesn’t it ever bother you calling him the Boss?”

  “No. He is, and I’m damn grateful for him.”

  “Henry.” Diesel took another swallow of his drink. If the man didn’t calm down fast, he might have to drink the whole bottle. Or hit the man over the head with it. “It’s barely been forty-eight hours. We have a cushion of time here.”

  “Not much of one,” he objected. “You know as well as I do that the people satisfied with phase one of our plan are expecting the next one to happen within the next two weeks. If Hannah Modell is out there like a loose cannon, there’s no telling who she’s talking to and what the fallout will be.”

  “Her disappearance has complicated things.”

  “And whose fault is that? I don’t want to hear excuses. Just find the damn woman and get rid of her before she ruins everything. We need to discuss that next step and our role in it. I’ve got a lot riding on the success of this whole thing.”

  Diesel wanted to point out that they all did, but he kept his mouth shut. After all, the man had some major financial situations that could fall apart unless there was a successful outcome to this situation.

  “I want to know what you’ve heard in Washington,” Diesel told him.

  “I know our friends in the sandbox are pleased. A threat has been eliminated and a key principle is safe. The next step is a drastic one, but if it’s done right, no one will connect the two incidents. Then we’ll be on to number three.”

  “I remind you,” Diesel said, “that there is going to be a lot of pushback when that happens.”

  “Not if we handle it right. The power of the opposition will have diminished, making it the right time to strike. That has to happen.”

  Diesel barked a humorless laugh. “The fact that you will be next to the seat of power has nothing to do with it, right? Or that a number of lucrative contracts will come your way?”

  Henry narrowed his eyes. “We all have our reasons for doing this. I wouldn’t be throwing mud at anyone if I were you.”

  “Fine.” Diesel counted to ten in his head. “We all have our personal goals. And, I point out, the end result will be extremely rewarding for all of us.”

  Henry paced for a moment, hands shoved into his pockets, forehead wrinkled.

  “I just wish we could find that fucking woman. She could blow up the whole thing. We’ve planned this for two years. This will be our only chance.”

  “Henry, get your shit together.” Diesel was tired of the other man’s whining. “Go home. Go to your office. You have things to get ready for. Go do them.”

  Henry glared at him. “I want regular updates.”

  “You will get them whenever I do. Now get the hell out of here.”

  “I’ll get, but don’t you forget whose money is funding a big part of this.”

  “And who will make millions after everything is in place,” Diesel reminded him.

  Henry looked like he was about to say something, then changed his mind. “I’ll be calling you.” He slammed the door behind him as he stomped out.

  Diesel rubbed his forehead, hoping to ease the headache that was brewing back there. He was glad Henry and the others didn’t know the other reason why they were all so panicked at Hannah Modell’s disappearance. Not only had they lost their fall guy, but she had knowledge that, if she pieced the facts together, could destroy this complex project and land them all in prison forever. A drone accident could be explained away by incompetence or mistakes. What they were planning? There was no explanation but the real one, and they couldn’t let that get out. Not until they reached their goal.

  He’d never thought, when the Boss had come to him with this idea, that it could even work, but holy hell! They just might pull it off.

  He refilled his coffee mug, took out his cell and pressed a speed dial number. After two rings, Ed Fletcher, the man in charge of the search, answered.

  “Nothing yet,” he snapped out. “That bitch has vaporized. That’s all I can think of. But we’re not finished yet. I never give up.”

  “And that’s why the Boss keeps you around,” Diesel pointed out. “But not even a sniff?”

  “I’m giving it another hour. If we don’t get any response, we’re sending Caleb around with an enhanced sob story and a reward.”

  “But it’s been three fucking days already.”

  “We’re working the plane angle hard. We’ll turn something up. Don’t worry.”

  “We’re running out of time,” Diesel reminded him.

  “I know. I’ll get it d
one. I haven’t failed yet, have I?”

  “No, you haven’t.” Diesel had to agree that was true. Ed Fletcher could find a nail in a field of dirt. “Okay. Keep in touch.”

  He disconnected the call and shoved the phone into his pocket. Fletcher better get results soon. Zero Hour was approaching.

  * * * *

  Rocket always liked visiting Tom Hernandez. He had been recommended to them by their former SEAL team leader, which was as good a blessing as anyone could get. He had drawn up the legal papers for Galaxy and, in their meetings with the attorney, they had discovered that Tom was probably the most connected person in Florida, maybe in the entire southeast. Whatever a person might need or want to find out, Tom Hernandez was pretty sure to get it for them. He had given Galaxy a key piece of information when they’d been hunting for the killer of Peyton West’s brother-in-law. They were hoping he could do the same for them now.

  When Rocket had finally hooked up with him and told him what he wanted, Tom had said he’d see what he could do. The Galaxy partners had learned that when the man said that, it meant the attorney would turn over rocks others might not even know existed.

  “You guys do get interesting clients.” He grinned as he and Rocket shook hands.

  Rocket nodded. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. So. Got something for me?”

  “Don’t I always. Let’s grab a cup of coffee.”

  They sat in two chairs in a comfortable conversation grouping. Tom took a sip from his mug then launched into what he’d found out.

  “Background on Lowden Tactical first, which is very sketchy. Eric Lowden has a very thin public bio for a person in his position. He has a degree in Unmanned Systems Engineering from Lewis University in Romeoville, New York. Not a top school, but still rated very good.”

  “He’d have to have gone to one to acquire the skills to run an operation like his company. Right?”

  Tom nodded. “Agreed. At least to know how things in his company work. I dug as deep as I could to see if I’d missed anything about his work at Bright Star or the time between when he left there and emerged as the head of Lowden Tactical.”

  Rocket frowned. “Just like that?”

  “Just like that. Then, the next thing anyone knew, he was heading Lowden Technology and dealing with government contracts.” He paused. “And not necessarily our government.”

  Rocket lifted an eyebrow. “Exactly what does that mean?”

  Tom looked as if he was searching for words.

  “Like what? Come on,” Rocket urged. “This is me. You don’t have to watch your words.”

  “Yeah, I know.” The man sighed. “I’m just always very careful talking about shit like this. The stuff I learned—after practically taking a blood oath, I might mention—is unsettling. This is not speculated about except in very dark, soundproof rooms with the windows shuttered. But…”

  “But?” Rocket urged.

  “Dark gossip has it that a lot of Lowden’s money comes from doing projects for foreign governments. That his seed money came from someone or some ones who don’t pass the smell test. He did things for them that adversely affect the United States. Not necessarily within our borders either, for example, but those that ultimately disrupt our foreign policy.”

  “Like dropping the explosives on Senator Mark Hegman instead of who the real target was supposed to be.”

  Tom nodded and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

  “Rumor has it that person is Hassan Atef, leader of the uber radical Sword of Allah.”

  “Fuck.” Rocket raked his fingers through his hair. “They’re everywhere. My SEAL team had to rescue prisoners from one of their camps in the Sudan. You can’t believe the condition those people were in. And two of their group had been beheaded for propaganda videos.”

  “Makes me sick. And the dark word is that while Atef was the accepted target, Hegman was the real one.”

  “But why?” Rocket shook his head. “Who would want to get rid of a guy who’s done so much good for this country?”

  “That’s what people want to know. There’s something really screwy going on here, and beneath the surface, plenty of questions are being asked. Like, was Lowden getting something out of this? Was someone putting pressure on him, and how and why? Or was this something they did willingly and if so, why? What’s their involvement?”

  “Yeah, well.” Rocket blew out a breath. “That’s what Galaxy wants to know, also.”

  “Also, Hegman as chair of the Senate Armed Services Committee was fond of hearings targeting people he thought did not have the best interests of the country at heart. Could be he had his eye on someone that’s a Lowden client that set this in motion. Or that Lowden itself is involved in funny stuff. There are a ton of possibilities, and I’m still quietly digging into them. When you called, you said you have a client. I’m guessing, based on what you guys do, that client is Hannah Modell.”

  Rocket nodded. “I know people always say their clients are innocent, or being framed, or both. It’s part of the mantra. But in this case, it’s true. Tom, I listened to every bit of her story and compared notes with what the others have dug up so far. The whole situation stinks to high heaven.”

  “Well.” Tom leaned back in his chair and rested the ankle of one foot on the opposite knee. “I believe it because it’s coming from you, someone I trust completely. And also because Eric Lowden is involved and something about him bugs me. His company is highly sought after, but from my end, after everything I’ve heard, something’s wrong.”

  “I agree. That’s why I’m here. Something smells. We need all the help we can get in this, Tom. Do you think you can dig any deeper and find out who the real players are? And where Lowden’s money actually came from? Anything you can dig up, even the smallest fact, will be a help.”

  “Working on it,” he said, “but I warn you, it could take some time, which I know your client doesn’t have. I just have to be very careful digging into this. It could rattle some cages that could be disastrous.”

  “Listen.” Rocket held up a hand. “I know how dicey political situations can be, but I also know you’re the best at doing this. You’re a very good friend, and I hope you know we all appreciate everything you do. However, the last thing we want is for you to get your dick caught in a wringer. If this is going to be too sticky—”

  Tom laughed, a soft chuckle. “Don’t worry. I’m an expert at keeping my dick safe. Let me see what I can do. I’ll text you the minute I have anything at all.”

  * * * *

  When Viper’s cell rang, he looked at the screen to see Peyton trying to Facetime him. He hollered for Hannah to come into the kitchen so she could get in on the conversation, too.

  “Go ahead, Peyton,” he told her when he pushed the Answer button. “I’ve got Hannah here with me, too.”

  “Good. Hi, Hannah.” Peyton smiled.

  “Hey, Peyton. Thanks again for helping.”

  “Hey.” She flipped her hand. “I know what it’s like to be up against impossible odds, so I am truly glad to do whatever I can.”

  “We both thank you,” Viper told her. “So what did you get?”

  “First of all, I really thanked Senator Franz for taking the time to speak to me. He’s a very busy guy but he still took my call.”

  “And you know we appreciate it,” Viper told her. “Did you get anything? Was he able to help at all?”

  “In a way. A lot of what he told me was veiled, because he can’t put his foot in his mouth. But he gave me at least a place to start. Enough to point us in a direction that you guys will have to follow.”

  “Okay. Let’s have it.”

  “So we know Mark Hegman was the chairman of the Armed Services Committee. They hold a number of hearings throughout the year on different contractors and their activities. The word is he was death on anyone he thought was doing something to damage our country. He was apparently obsessed with maintaining our safety and security. Since Lowden Tactical does w
ork for foreign interests as well as ours, they get checked every so often to make sure there’s nothing shady going on.”

  “Do we know if they were on a list to be asked to testify at a hearing?” Viper asked.

  “The word is they were—also, the list is not public yet. Which, by the way, it would be shortly.”

  “The drone flights we did never looked to be anything but normal,” Hannah told them, “but then I wasn’t suspicious of any of them. Why would I be? Besides, they’d keep that kind of stuff away from the employees, right?”

  “Yup.” Viper blew out a breath. “What next?”

  “Franz says there’s a very dark rumor that Hegman was right,” Peyton went on. “That something hinky has been going on with Lowden and people are keeping their mouths shut tight. Those that he thinks might know something about whatever this is just aren’t saying a word. About that or about Hegman’s death. Just calling it a devastating accident caused by a drone pilot not paying attention.”

  “What else?”

  “Some people want the committee to launch an investigation, but without a chairman, they can’t seem to get a handle on things. They need to elect that new chairman first. It’s very weird.”

  “No shit,” Viper agreed.

  “He’s sure Hannah was set up as the fall guy but doesn’t know why she in particular was targeted.”

  “Yes, why me?” Hannah echoed. “What did I ever do to them that they decided to make me the fall guy? I did my job—and damn well—and kept my nose clean.”

  “I can answer the last one,” Viper told them. “Hannah, you spent all your time with your job. No family, no social life, and that is not a criticism. Just a fact.”

  “The senator said you were the perfect fall guy, Hannah,” Peyton told her. “The word he used was…disposable. Ugly word. But you had no visible support system, so they figured they could dump it on you and get rid of you and no one would squeak.”