"I see how they died," I said. "It's not pretty."
"Cori, that's disturbing."
"Tell me about it. This one—not an employee but in on it," I pointed at the screen.
"Registered as a Spanish citizen," August entered information onto a tablet.
"He was responsible for some of the explosives," I said. "Not all of them, though. Three others were recruited."
"That explains four separate explosions," he nodded. "Can you tell if all the others posed as tourists, or if any employees were involved? We need live ones to question."
"This one didn't know what was going on with the others. He only had his assignment. He was fooled, though. He had instructions to wait in the area that eventually got bombed, and then make his way to another room in the castle at a designated time. Someone detonated the bomb he carried while he waited for the proper moment."
"Fuck. Never mind," Auggie waved me back to my task as I stared at him. "Let's get through the rest and see if there's anyone else involved."
We found two of the three remaining bombers. That meant one was not identified as yet, or had gotten out alive. "You think he may have been the one who detonated the others?" August speculated.
"I don't know," I said, allowing my shoulders to slump as I sat at my computer. "These three didn't really know what was going on. They were tricked into believing they could get away after dropping their bombs off in toilets and such."
"One bomb did go off in a toilet," August blinked at me. "The explosives were portable, potent and likely hidden in clothing, on their person or in bags. Certainly not visible or apparent, unless you had dogs or some other form of detection. The toilet bomber walked right into a bathroom and left his package there. Probably locked the door behind him, so nobody else would find it before he could get away."
"Then he either got spooked or coordinated everything," I said. Auggie muttered fuck again. I shook my head as I stared at the photo of the third bomber. He was young—barely seventeen. I wanted to throw up.
"I'll send this information to Rafe and our departmental contacts," August rose from his seat. "I'll let you know if I get more, later."
"Thanks, Auggie."
"Cori, I should be saying that to you."
"Yeah."
* * *
"Look, I'll get the information to the proper authorities," the British Prime Minister promised the President. "If I hadn't had firsthand experience with what she can do, I wouldn't believe it myself."
"You'll find it accurate," President Sanders agreed. "We don't have the fourth bomber because we didn't have complete information from our sources."
"Understood. If I have anything else, I'll send it your way. We want these people caught quickly. It's a black eye against my government."
"It isn't just yours," the President admitted. "Trust me, others have been hit; they're just not aware of it yet."
"That's alarming."
"It is. Let me know if there's anything else we can do."
"I certainly will. Thank you for the information."
* * *
Ilya
I was met by a CIA operative working in the UK. The location chosen was a pub on the Royal Mile, far enough away that we could get in and out without drawing interest from guards and local authorities scattered behind numerous barricades. Nobody was allowed to approach the castle without permission.
With help from the Prime Minister through the President, I was about to have permission. I would also have a companion—the CIA wanted in, too. My contact identified himself as Gerald Nelson and didn't suspect I was anything except an American who worked for a separate agency.
He watched me with cautious scrutiny while I finished my coffee. I was resolved to send a photograph of my CIA confederate to Corinne soon. I'd learned early never to trust anyone.
That's when the text came. Pulling out my phone, I read the message. The cabbie in Dublin had been shot dead in his cell. Nobody had seen anything, or so they'd claimed.
Hunter had told me what Corinne said about the man—that he might not live long. Likely, someone didn't fancy him talking about some of his activities. Too bad he'd already talked to me; it just wasn't on record. It made me wonder if Mary Evans had returned to Dublin after her assignment in Edinburgh was completed.
"Ready?" I asked, standing abruptly.
"Whenever you are," Nelson rose from his seat. "Let's take a look at bombed rubble, shall we?"
* * *
Corinne
"What can you tell me about this one?"
"Auggie?" I took the printed photograph from him.
"Just curious."
"Okay." I studied the man. "He isn't using his real name. Works for a government agency. Somebody wants info from him bad." I stood in alarm. "Auggie, get Rafe away from this guy. He's connected to Cutter."
August was on the phone so fast he was a blur.
* * *
"The President wants us on a plane to Scotland tonight," August said. He'd run out of my office earlier to report his findings to the President. He was back, now, James right behind him. "Pack your bags, Cori. We'll be out of here the minute you're done."
* * *
I remembered the last time I'd been on a flight to Europe. My ankles had swollen, I hadn't been able to sleep and I felt miserable from jet lag for two days. Back then, I hadn't been to Scotland. It wasn't on the itinerary.
Now it was, only I didn't think for a moment that any touristy things were on the agenda. I was going there to study the one currently known as Gerald Nelson, CIA. This time, Dr. Leo Shaw sat next to me on a military jet, while James sat across the aisle and Auggie had a row to himself farther back so he could work on his laptop. None of that happened during my last trip, either.
"Are you all right?" Leo asked. "Do you need anything?"
"I'm fine," I assured him. "Will Maye and Nick be okay while we're gone?" Jeff, Maye's handler, was doing double duty, taking Nick on after Preston's death. He had his hands full—Nick liked Preston—a lot. He was so angry with Becker and Gene for causing Preston's death that he might explode, too. He and Maye needed a distraction—in the worst way.
"The President has a function—they'll be there in the background and away from cameras," Leo replied. "We'll be in contact with the President and Vice President if there's anything you should see."
"Good enough," I sighed.
"Corinne, what troubles you the most in all this?"
"That we won't find the one behind all this in time," I said.
"Will you tell me why you were reluctant to come to us with your abilities earlier?"
"I wasn't needed by the Program before. Living on the outside let me get research done that I can't do inside the walls."
"I think we might be able to lift restrictions on much of that, now. I'll speak with Colonel Hunter and the President."
"That would be nice, as long as I know the people who will be checking on my research."
"You need to see them?"
"Yes."
"I see. Is there anything you might tell me about Becker?"
"Becker is being brainwashed and Gene is being paid. Becker is a tool in the hand of the enemy, now. Even killing him won't mitigate the harm he can do. They'll just preserve his body to get what they want."
Leo stared at me for several seconds, as if he were considering how I knew what I did. "I'll go speak with Colonel Hunter immediately." He unbuckled the seatbelt and heaved himself out of the narrow chair beside mine.
* * *
Notes—Colonel Hunter
"Shaw?" I moved my laptop bag so he could sit beside me.
"Corinne says Becker is a tool in the hands of the enemy, now."
"That's what the President and the rest of us are afraid of."
"I believe her. She says it doesn't matter if he dies—they'll preserve his body to get what they want."
"Fuck. I didn't realize Cutter knew so much."
"He likely has spies everywhere. Gene
probably spilled everything he knew."
"Do you remember the nurse who gave Corinne too much medication the first night she was at the Mansion?"
"She died in the explosion."
"I think we should research her background—bank accounts and such."
"Can we do it from here?"
"I'll start the process now. James!"
* * *
Corinne
The moment Auggie yelled for James, I pulled the jacket I'd brought with me around my shoulders, leaned back and closed my eyes. They could do part of my research for me while I slept.
* * *
Notes—Colonel Hunter
"Look what we have here." James handed his tablet to me. A photograph was displayed. I recognized both people in the picture. Nurse Shelbi Oaks and Gerald Nelson, CIA—having dinner at an upscale restaurant two months earlier. She'd posted it on social media, probably without Gerald's knowledge or consent.
Corinne said Nelson was connected to Cutter. Now, Shelbi Oaks was likely connected to both. Too bad she was dead—I wanted to question her myself.
"Deposits from us and from another source were found in her bank accounts—regular deposits."
"James, I want to know if she was ever responsible for drawing blood from anyone in the Program." Shoving down the panic that threatened, I waited for James to search medical records. At least we still had those—the database wasn't kept at the Mansion for security reasons.
"Twice," James confirmed. "The first time eight months ago, the second, four months ago."
"Fuck. Cutter may have had information long before he came on board as Secretary of Defense."
"It's likely they only had a small amount—an attending would notice if too much blood was drawn. They might have stolen enough to get a taste, but not enough to do research. Until they got their hands on Becker, anyway," Shaw said.
"What are they hoping to do, Colonel?" James looked worried.
"It could be any number of things. Don't panic until we have a better handle on this, all right?"
"Perhaps we should send Maye and Nick after Becker," Shaw suggested. "It would have been better with Kevin and Ken, but we may be able to find someone nearly as good to track information for them."
"It's a thought. Maye is decent, but she lacks the intuition the brothers had. I'll get this to the President, and she'll make the final decision."
* * *
Corinne
The trip to the designated hotel didn't take long after we landed. Jet lag affected all of us, but there was some hope I might see Rafe. That kept me going. What I didn't expect was that Rafe had the one calling himself Gerald Nelson tied up in his hotel room.
I studied him while August pulled up a photograph of Gerald and nurse Shelbi on his tablet. "Recognize this?" he said pleasantly, shoving the tablet in Gerald's face.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he snapped.
"It's difficult to deny involvement when the evidence is right in front of you. We've checked this for authenticity. The waiter remembers taking the photograph for your girlfriend, Shelbi. You didn't want a photograph taken; she had him do this from a distance so you wouldn't know. Too bad you didn't tell her why she shouldn't take pictures and post them on the Internet. We also have reliable information that places you in General Cutter's camp. Would you like to discuss why that's a problem?"
"He won't, because he arranged to have the Vice President killed and the bomb stuffed inside his casket," I said.
"Who the fuck are you?" Gerald turned to me and hissed. Rafe, who stood close by, backhanded him. Hard.
Four hours later, I studied the men chosen to escort Gerald back to the U.S. Gerald chose not to implicate anyone else, and wanted a lawyer. The money trail wasn't pretty, though. Some of it was traced through business concerns, all of which were against the current U.S. government.
The guards were all right—at least for the trip back, but like the cabbie from Dublin, I didn't have high hopes for Gerald's continued survival.
Anybody who had any connection to any of this died after their arrest. "Enjoy your flight," I nodded to Gerald as he was escorted toward the plane we'd brought to Edinburgh.
"Corinne, what will happen to him?" August asked as Gerald's shackles were checked before he was loaded onto the plane.
"They'll kill him," I said. "After he lands."
"Do you know who?"
"I haven't seen them, yet."
"Cabbage?" Rafe's arms came around me as we watched the plane begin to taxi down the runway.
"Honey?" I turned my head to look at him.
"Thank you for coming." He leaned down to kiss me.
Chapter 12
Corinne
We were allowed to sleep for seven hours before rising. A trip to the bombed castle was on our agenda for the day. Rafe and I spent the night together, and we'd probably slept for five hours. Maybe five and a quarter; I wasn't looking at the clock. We met Auggie, James and Leo for breakfast before our departure. We received the news while we ate.
Gerald was shot in the head during his transfer to a designated holding facility. The gunman shot himself immediately after. The assassin had no identification on him, and like those who'd tracked Rafe and me at the mall, nobody could figure out who he was.
The problem? He was identical in every way to the twins who'd tracked Rafe at the mall, right down to the fingerprints. It's as if someone made a photocopy of the first one to make the second and then a third. Sadly, all three were dead. "Auggie, have they run tests on these people?" I asked.
"I believe someone is working on that," he hedged.
"What are they finding?"
"That's classified, Cori. Even I don't know."
"But you know something's up, don't you?"
"That is the indication," he agreed. "Eat. We have to leave in ten minutes." I went back to my scrambled eggs and grilled tomatoes.
* * *
"We're attempting to save as much as we can to rebuild," our guide informed us as we walked around a pile of mangled cannons. The cannons used to line a stone wall. That wall was now rubble, barely guarding a precipice that someone could tumble over easily and fall to the courtyard far below.
Past that and below the castle remains lay Edinburgh, which was clouded in a light mist. Fog lay over the water in the distance. I could see a clock tower rising at the side of a tall, stone building below the castle and in between, a dark church spire surrounded by other buildings—many built centuries earlier. The castle walls still standing were built of pale and dark-gray stones intermingled with browns and near-blacks. I wished I could have seen it whole.
Rafe placed himself between me and the edge of the blasted wall. "I don't plan to jump, honey," I mumbled.
"I wouldn't let you," he replied. "Let's go. It's wet and you're cold. Besides, there are other things to do and people to see."
A meeting of guards and employees had been arranged to discuss the rebuilding efforts, memorial services and the theft of the crown jewels. I was there to study the people attending.
Auggie—that one. The young woman in the gray trench on the third row, I sent to him. I'd quickly scanned the crowd after they'd taken their seats. August nodded to me before pulling our guide toward the door for a private discussion. She had no idea what was in store for her.
* * *
Ilya
"I sneaked her into a private wedding party held at the castle a week before the bombing," she wept. "I thought she cared about me. She visited with me several times in the last four months."
"I believe she led you on," Colonel Hunter said. We sat in a private office near the castle gate while the young woman, identified as Alynne Nicholls, was questioned.
I'd insisted that Corinne wait outside with Dr. Shaw and James—in case the woman didn't cooperate. "This woman was also connected to the thefts in London, when the Tower was breached," Colonel Hunter continued.
"I'm so sorry," fresh tears fell. "I had no idea she wante
d to destroy the castle. I love my job here."
That job had already evaporated. "Where is she now? Have you had contact with her?" I demanded.
"No. She broke up with me."
I wanted to curse. I didn't. Mary Evans wasn't above using anything at her disposal to get what she wanted, including emotional attachments with others.
"What information did you get from her—anything personal? Did she say where she was from?"
"She said Amsterdam, but she traveled a lot for her work."
"And what was that?"
"She said she was a magazine photographer. She had a nice camera and equipment."
"I'll bet she did," Alynne's supervisor exploded. "She took fucking photos of the castle so she could bomb the hell out of it. And you let her, without notifying me or anyone else."
"She gave me this," Alynne pulled a business card from her purse. "I carry it with me all the time."
"Did you ever call this number?" Colonel Hunter examined the business card. It had a name and contact information on it—Denna Philpot with TravelGlobe Magazine.
"Yes, but I always had to leave a message."
"Good. We'll take this. Is there anything else you can tell me about her?"
"She likes Mexican food."
"Favorite restaurants?" I asked.
"The one on Cockburn street—I can't remember the name. She always paid cash. I never saw her use a credit card."
"We'll talk to the staff there, then." I was done with her. She'd be arrested, but I had no idea what would happen to her. It wouldn't hurt to have her watched, however.
"I'll have the President's office communicate with local authorities," Colonel Hunter nodded to Alynne's supervisor. "This woman is likely in danger, just because she spoke with us."
"I'll be waiting for that call," he said. We walked out. I wanted to pull Corinne close—I felt we were being watched but could find no overt evidence of it.
Ilya, I don't feel safe. I heard her message clearly as I walked toward her.
"Get us out of here," I barked at Colonel Hunter while grasping Corinne's hand. The office building blew up behind us as we raced through the door.
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