Sam stepped forward, shoving Cameron behind her, though she only covered up to his chin. It galled Cameron a little to have a woman protect him, but it only took a second to acknowledge how stupid he was being. She was far more qualified to face down an armed man. Hell, it’s what he paid her for.
“Calm down, sir,” Sam said in a steady voice, holding out a placating hand though the man stood at least ten feet away.
The man grunted and shifted the gun so it aimed at Sam. “What do you want?” he growled. “If you’re lost, you can fuck off back to the highway until some sucker can give you directions.” The gun didn’t waiver.
But Cameron did. He knew that voice. He searched the man’s face for something—anything—familiar, but all trace of the man he’d known had disappeared.
“Frank, it’s me,” he said, projecting his voice across the dishevelled garden. “Cameron. We met a couple of times.”
The old man squinted. “You’re the upstart that took my job,” he said, jabbing the gun in Cameron’s direction.
“Uh, I was told you retired?” Cameron said, the words ending on a question.
The gun drooped a little. “Well, that’s true enough. But you gotta get out of here. Now,” he added, eyes darting around as if looking for danger.
Sam cleared her throat. “Mr. Franklin, we want to talk to you. We think you might have some information we’re after.”
Frank glared in her direction. “Don’t you get it?” he hissed. “You need to leave. Before they track you here.”
Cameron’s heart plummeted. What had happened to the Frank he knew? Where were these paranoid ramblings coming from? Had Frank been retired not of his own free will, as Cameron had always been told, but by force?
“Who’ll track us, Mr. Franklin?” Sam asked in her steady voice.
“Beaton, of course,” he said, stepping off the porch and down the path towards them. “They probably followed you here, or have a tracker on your car, or whatever the hell technology is used these days. You’re not safe. I’m not safe. So get out of here before they kill us all.”
Sam straightened, leaning towards Frank. And then Cameron understood. Frank wasn’t crazy. He just knew Beaton best of anyone. If people at Beaton were after Cameron, maybe they were after Frank, too.
Slowly, Cameron pushed Sam aside and held up his arms, showing trust and vulnerability. He had to hope the paranoid old man wouldn’t let off a shot and kill them both. “Frank, they’re already trying to kill me. That’s why I’m here. I need your help.”
Frank stared at him for a long moment, the gun still embedded in his shoulder, a myriad emotions playing across his face. Cameron stood there, letting the man process.
The gun dropped back to Frank’s side. “Goddamn it. You better come inside.”
He turned back towards the house. Cameron shared a look with Sam before they followed him into his den.
◆◆◆
They perched on couches in his lounge. The cabin aesthetic continued inside, with comfortable sofas, hand-woven rugs slung over the back, and hunting trophies decorating the wall. Frank propped his shotgun against the couch in easy reach as he settled opposite them.
“So, they got to you, too, huh?” he asked as he leaned back.
“Why do you say that?” Cameron asked. “What did they do to you?”
Frank shifted. “Well, first they forced me to resign.”
“They told me you’d resigned voluntarily,” Cameron said.
Frank shook his head. “Nope. I made some noise about not being happy with some of their decisions and policies—I don’t imagine those have changed much since I left.” Cameron shook his head and Frank paused, then scoffed. “As you can imagine, they weren’t so impressed.”
“So they asked you to resign?”
He nodded. “I told them I’d go public with what I knew if they fired me.”
Cameron leaned forward, keen to hear about what happened to Frank—about what might happen to himself. “And that didn’t go over well?”
Frank’s expression darkened. “You could say that.” He stood and walked to the window, peering into the wilderness surrounding him. Cameron and Sam twisted to watch him. The stark light of the midday sun played over the crevices in his cheeks.
“They killed my wife,” Frank whispered into the glass.
Cameron felt the colour drain from his face. “They what?” he asked, his voice rising. Sam’s hand slipped into his and squeezed, and a band loosened around his chest.
“I can’t prove it, of course,” Frank continued, turning back to them. He leaned back against the wall. “But I know.” His voice was definite, his eyes dark. Cameron believed him.
Sam shifted, leaning her arm along the back of the couch. The other hand fiddled with something in her pocket. Cameron blinked, knowing Sam wasn’t much one for fiddling, but then forgot about it as she spoke.
“So, they used that to keep you in line? Threatened if you talked about what you knew, you’d be next?”
“Yeah, something like that. Which is why you guys need to leave, before they find out you’re here.” He stepped forward, his arms out as if to usher them to the door.
Sam leapt to her feet. “We can’t. We need to stop them. Before they kill Cameron. Before they kill all of us.”
“If I talk to you, I’ll be dead tomorrow,” Frank growled. “I can’t help you.”
Sam shook her head. “You can help us. And by helping us, you’ll help yourself.”
“They’ll kill me,” Frank hissed, twisting fear evident in his eyes.
Cameron glanced around the house, searching for something he could use to convince Frank to help him. His eyes landed on a photograph on the mantle, of a woman in her thirties with her arms around a little girl that looked just like her. They both had enough of Frank in them that Cameron figured they must be his daughter and granddaughter.
Cameron turned his gaze back to Frank. His terror was clear, but perhaps it wasn’t his own life he wanted to protect. Frank had also lost half his body weight since Cameron had seen him last. Whether through constant stress, or through not eating healthy, Cameron couldn’t tell—probably both. It was no way to live.
“What about your daughter?” Cameron asked, guilt twisting in him like a knife. He shouldn’t play on the older man’s fears, make judgements about his life. But worry for his own life, and Sam’s, gripped him. And justice for his brother was within reach.
Shock drained Frank’s face of colour. “What about my daughter?” he whispered.
“Who’s to say Beaton won’t come after her next? Or even your granddaughter? We need to stop them, before they hurt anyone else.”
“You leave them out of this!” Frank shook with fear and rage.
“It’s not me you have to worry about. Beaton is ruthless. They’ve already killed people. My brother, and some rich folks in the city. They might come for your daughter next. They could put a bullet in her brain without blinking, or worse. They could even kill her slowly.”
Frank blanched.
“Cameron…” Sam admonished, but he ignored her. Scaring Frank like this was cruel, but he said the truth. She could be in danger. Beaton might go after her any minute to keep Frank in line.
“She’s all I have left,” the old man told him.
“Then quit being a coward and do something to protect them,” Cameron hissed. “Hiding away here for the rest of your life won’t make them any safer. We need to destroy these people so your daughter and granddaughter are safe.”
Frank narrowed his eyes. “I live like I do to protect them. Sure, I can’t see them much—can’t see anyone much—but I can’t give Beaton a reason to come after me.”
“And what’s the point in that? Of living a half-life to protect people you can’t even see?”
Cameron glanced at Sam, and a deep furrow had etched itself on her brow. She wasn’t impressed by his line of persuasion, and it was like an unpleasant kick to the gut. Cameron knew, deep down, he w
as being selfish. He’d stayed here after Frank had warned them it endangered his life. And he talked about threats to the man’s daughter not because he wanted to protect her, but because he needed Frank’s help for his own ends.
Cameron turned back to Frank, hardening his heart. He needed this man’s help, no matter how he got it. For himself, and for his brother.
He shifted to a different strategy, hoping it might get the results he needed. “I’m scared,” Cameron admitted, a sliver of vulnerability. Maybe if threats wouldn’t work, he could inspire Frank’s empathy. “I don’t want to die. And right now I’m out of options. I need your help,” he pleaded.
“Son…”
“Just tell me what you know, so I can be on the lookout. Please.”
Frank squeezed his eyes shut. “You shouldn’t have come here,” he told them. He opened his eyes, expression filled with defeat, and Cameron knew he’d won. Triumph raced through his veins, and he bit back a smile.
“Thank you,” Cameron said.
Frank dragged his feet as he walked back to his couch, slumping into the chair. “What do you want to know?”
“Who’s the mastermind?” Sam asked before Cameron could get a word out.
“Oh, Erica and the other one. Thick as thieves, those two. Danny just does what they say. He knows his strengths, and thinking isn’t one of them.”
“Have you ever met the ‘mysterious one’?” Sam asked, using her fingers as air quotes.
Frank shook his head. “Not that I know of.”
Sam made a sound of annoyance and sat back, so Cameron shuffled forward until he perched on the edge of the couch. “Do you happen to remember…?” he began. “About five years ago. Some of the Beaton mercenaries—private contractors—and a soldier’s death?” He held his breath as a thoughtful look stole over Frank’s face.
“The young, quiet guy, right?” Frank asked, eyeing Cameron. “You two related?”
Cameron nodded vigorously. “My brother. I want to find out what happened to him.”
A knowing look settled over Frank’s face. “Ah, I see what this is all about. I remember the incident, of course. I didn’t have much to do with the international side of the business, but I think I had to issue a statement.”
“You did. I remember it word-for-word.”
Frank’s gaze grew pitying, and Cameron looked away, unable to deal with the emotions it inspired. His gaze landed on Sam, and her expression didn’t convey pity. It conveyed admiration, deep and steady. It took Cameron’s breath for a brief moment, and he had to look away to fill his lungs again.
Frank didn’t seem to notice. “Right. Well, I remember being told we’d made a mistake sending that crew over unsupervised. Despite the official version of events saying whatever happened was an accident, Erica knew she’d messed up and brought too much heat down on the company. She purged all the records she could. Wiped the files, the whole shebang. I knew then, things weren’t as they seemed at Beaton, that something deeper was going on. I tried to ignore it for as long as possible—you already know what happens when you don’t—but in the end, it got to be too much.”
Silence fell between the three of them for a few moments, until Sam spoke again. “What happened to the men? The private contractors?”
Frank shrugged. “As far as I know, Erica redistributed them to roles back here in the states, but I wasn’t in charge of personnel.”
Sam coughed lightly. “You mean, they might still be on the payroll?”
“Oh, undoubtedly,” Frank replied. “Unless they’ve gotten themselves killed in the meantime.”
Cameron shifted, drawing their attention. “Would you be willing to testify?” he asked Frank. “Tell the public what you know?”
Frank shook his head. “There’s no way. I got a kid, and a grandkid. Maybe I can’t see them often, but I want them to know I’m still alive. And I want to be alive. I go public, and I’m dead, or they’re dead, or we’re all dead. No question.”
Sam leaned toward Frank, earnestness in her expression. “I work for a security company. We can protect you.”
He snorted. “For what? The rest of our lives? Don’t be ridiculous. I have to stay out of this one. I hope you get ‘em, I really do. But I can’t put my neck on the line for you guys.”
His expression hardened, and Cameron knew he’d lost. This man wouldn’t be persuaded.
“Thank you, anyway, for everything you’ve told us,” Sam said to Frank. She stood, and Frank did, too. They shook hands while Cameron reluctantly eased to his feet, then held out his hand for Frank.
“I appreciate it,” he said to the older man. Frank nodded once, and they shared a moment of understanding.
He and Sam left, and headed back to the car. They were back on the road before Sam spoke.
“Well, that was worthwhile.”
“How? We still don’t have any solid proof.” Cameron rapped his knuckles against the door, trying to dispel the restless energy surging through him.
“We have a new lead. We find those mercenaries, and we find truth. If they are still on the Beaton payroll as he said, the information has to be somewhere.”
Cameron sighed, knowing she was right. They couldn’t give up yet. He slanted her a smile. “Private contractors,” he corrected her playfully.
She rolled her eyes and swatted his arm in amusement.
He settled back into the seat, ready for the drive, and refocused his mind on the mission. His goal was far too close to give up now. He just had to hope he’d solve this puzzle before Beaton killed him, too.
Chapter 15
They stopped at a diner for a late lunch on the way back to the city. The food was bland, but edible, mostly because of the salt content. While making their way through their burgers, they discussed their next steps.
“I assume you’ve tried hacking the computer files?” Sam asked, waving a fry in Cameron’s direction. She popped it into her mouth and chewed on the unhealthy goodness.
He nodded. “Of course. I tried that first, but it’s locked tight. Particularly since a break-in a few months ago when someone took data—they’ve been paranoid ever since.”
“Man, Blake really stirred the hornets’ nest,” Sam muttered.
“Hmmm?” Cameron asked.
“Nothing, just a friend of mine. Go on.”
Cameron picked up a piece of lettuce that had escaped the bun and dangled it into his mouth. He swallowed. “I even paid a hacker to come in and find the information, but she couldn’t get through. It’s a fortress.”
“So, that’s why you focused on the hard copy files?” she asked. They paused as the waitress stopped by to refill their coffee cups. She didn’t look at them, just moved on to the next table with tired eyes.
“Yeah. Seemed easier,” he continued. “And I was told they hadn’t been looked at in years, so thought maybe there was a forgotten piece of information in there I might stumble across. Though, of course I know if the security is so tight on the digital files, that’s where the secrets will likely be.”
She nodded. He looked defeated, and Sam found she wanted to wipe that expression from his face. She preferred his driven moments to this weariness.
Her hand slipped into her pocket, clasping her phone. On it, she’d recorded the entire conversation with Frank so she could play it back later if need be. And, potentially, to release publicly. She hadn’t informed Cameron she’d recorded the discussion. She didn’t think he’d noticed when she clicked it on, and something held her back from telling him.
The moment when he’d so cruelly manipulated Frank flashed before her eyes. He’d played with the man’s fear, and then his empathy, wearing Frank down until he got exactly what he’d wanted. That wasn’t the Cameron she knew—but if that was true, if that wasn’t him, than where had that cruelty come from? Was the cold, manipulative man the real Cameron? And the relaxed, funny guy sitting across from her just a front?
She genuinely couldn’t be sure, and that worried her more t
han anything. How could she trust him if he might use people for his own ends like that again? Use her like that? She couldn’t bear the thought.
She couldn’t trust Cameron wouldn’t use the recording for his own ends, without Frank’s permission—a move that would certainly get the old man killed. She’d hold onto it for now, but keep it in her back pocket for if they ever needed it.
Sam took a long sip of the hot coffee. “So, what if we get a better hacker? As far as I know, no computer system is impenetrable.”
He shrugged. “I’m not an expert. I was told this woman was good, but who knows.”
“How did you find her?” Sam asked. “Where do you even get recommendations for hackers?”
Cameron’s brows furrowed. “An ex-contractor, I think.”
“Of Beaton?” she asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“Because how did you know to trust her, or the person who recommended her? Either one could’ve turned around and told Erica. Or, worse, maybe she was a fake hacker on Beaton’s payroll.”
Cameron’s face was stricken. “They’d only worked with us the once, on a cyber security job. I didn’t tell them what I needed it for. I swear I was subtle.”
Sam sucked in a deep breath. Cameron wasn’t a professional investigator, she had to make allowances for that.
“Okay. But I think it would be a good idea to try again. You never know.”
“Sure,” Cameron muttered with a shrug, and took a final bite of his burger.
Sam picked up her phone and made sure the recording app wasn’t visible. She dialled Paul.
“Hey again,” she said when he answered, and put him on speaker.
“What’s up? Did you find Frank?” Paul asked.
“We did. He confirmed what we already knew, but wouldn’t go on record with it.”
Paul sighed. “Shame. Did he give you something useful at least?”
Sam thought of the recording, burning a metaphorical hole through her phone. “Maybe,” she said noncommittally.
“Huh,” Paul said. Sam’s heart beat faster with nerves. Paul knew her well enough to know she lied—or wasn’t telling the whole truth. It wasn’t something she enjoyed, or was good at, so it wasn’t hard to recognise the signs once they knew what to look for.
Hotel Hideaway: (Soldiering On #4) Page 10
