“What kind of asshole destroys a door like that? I gave you my cell number!”
“This kind of asshole. What were you thinking, locking me in?”
“You shouldn’t have been in the tech room! And the maid doesn’t belong in this hall!”
Rand was glad to confirm the guy had acted on his own. He probably thought he was being clever in locking the door. Nadia out. Rand in.
Think again, asshole.
“One of us is Grigory’s guest. The other is his tool. Guess which one you are?”
Rand would feel bad if the guy didn’t work for a murdering prick. But also, he’d locked Rand in a conference room when Kira needed him. He pushed him aside, perhaps putting a little unnecessary force in the motion, and continued down the hall.
He’d tuned out the sounds while dealing with man and door, but he vaguely remembered hearing Reuben express delight at hurting his sister.
The house was massive, and Kira was at the far end from the office wing. He wanted to run. Could he run?
Laskin didn’t have a camera on him now.
In his ear, Freya said, “Her phone is dead and the pendant camera and mic just went down. I don’t know where she is.”
Rand ran. As he did, he said, “She must still be in the house. It’s only been a few minutes.” He’d made a mistake and spoken directly to Freya, but he didn’t care.
Where. Is. Kira?
He located the gallery and spotted an overturned pillar. Broken glass littered the floor. That must’ve been the crash he’d heard. He spotted streaks of blood on the floor by the glass shards.
Kira’s blood?
Footsteps behind him had him turning toward the door. He recognized Aleksandr from his photos. “Where is Kira?”
“Who are you?”
“Her boyfriend.”
Aleksandr smirked. “This is awkward. She’s my fiancée.”
He put menace into his voice. “Where is she?”
Aleksandr’s gaze dropped to the shards and blood. “She had a mishap and is getting cleaned up.”
“Bullshit.”
The familiar beat of a helicopter coming to life sounded from outside, growing louder as the blades picked up speed.
Rand shoved past Laskin’s son and searched for an exit. He spotted a door to the pool area and yanked it open. He skirted the infinity pool, following the sound of rotor blades to a field beyond the gardens.
The helicopter lifted. He scanned the cabin for a sign Kira was inside. The sun reflected off the window. All he could see was blinding yellow light. After the helo cleared the buildings and trees, the tail swung around and headed southeast. Back to the island of Malta.
Was Reuben taking her home, or someplace even worse?
Chapter Fifty-Three
Teague’s hunch about the hiring and security clearance of Ben Kinder paid off. At least, everyone thought it had.
It didn’t take long to identify a pattern of questionable clearances in the last eight months. Five men all taking low-level jobs with base access. Three were civilian employees at JEB Little Creek. They all had impeccable résumés that made them overqualified for jobs on the lower end of the government pay scale. Two worked for military housing—which was run by a contractor, but employees still had a background check. Odds were, the person who’d cleared each applicant had a big, fat bank account waiting for them in Malta. Laskin and Kulik didn’t even have to fuss with international banking to make the payoff.
Of note, the housing employees had access to all the bases in the region, including the NAS Oceana Dam Neck Annex—the home of DEVGRU, better known as SEAL Team Six.
The big breakthrough came when they realized the initials of the men matched those used in cryptic chats they’d found on Kinder’s laptop. With the hiring data, they had names and addresses to match the conspirators.
It had only been a few hours since Dr. Hanson had blown the lid open by identifying Ben Kinder as a former employee of Kulik’s, and NSWC had already identified the workplace of each man.
It was 1000 in DC and 1600 in Malta. Most civilians who could afford to had taken today off. Combined with the Independence Day holiday tomorrow, they had a four-day weekend culminating in barbecues and fireworks on the bay.
While none of the identified conspirators had officially taken leave, none had reported to work that morning. Another sign they were on the right track.
Reuben Kulik’s words to Dr. Hanson just before he assaulted her echoed in Teague’s mind. “You’ll find out. Tomorrow.”
He was worried about Dr. Hanson, but his focus had to remain here, especially knowing they’d been correct in assuming the attack would happen on the Fourth of July. The problem was, they still had no clue what Laskin had planned, and they now had both Little Creek and Dam Neck as potential targets.
Rand was about to lose his motherfucking mind. His first challenge had been getting to the boat. He’d had to resort to stealing Aleksandr’s cherry-red convertible from the driveway when Laskin’s driver refused to deliver him back to the marina.
It was better that he drove himself. Maltese drivers were known for being reckless, and Rand fit right in, cutting several minutes from the drive time.
