Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 107096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
I could hear the silence where Colton’s voice should have been. That broad Missouri accent echoing around the chopper as he asked, what are we doing for lunch?
I did the right thing, didn’t I?
I looked up and saw Cal was staring at me. I quickly looked away, out the window.
Of course I’d done the right thing. Yeshevskaya’s story was bullshit. Of course she’d say there was some world-ending disaster about to happen and only she could stop it. Of course it would involve Steward, our boss, so that she could turn us against him. It was spycraft 101, sow the seeds of doubt and dissent, divide and conquer. And it had worked, it felt like the team was split in two.
I felt more eyes on me. Bradan was staring at me, now. And Gabriel.
I sighed. I understood why they hadn’t wanted to chase down one of our own. Neither had I. It sucked. But it had been our best shot at bringing him in alive and, thank God, we had. But now Colton was going to have to answer for his actions. It wasn’t his fault, he’d had no chance against someone like Yeshevskaya with all her tricks and once she seduced him, it was game over. At his trial, I’d make damn sure the jury knew that. But he was still going to jail.
I felt another pair of eyes on me. Danny was looking at me reproachfully. Danny, my best friend. The team was in two halves, but my half was shrinking by the second. Then Gina, who’d stayed carefully neutral this whole time, turned around in her seat and looked at me, too.
Goddamnit! I threw open my door and climbed out, stalking away across the airfield.
I did the right thing…right? I didn’t like it any more than they did, but I hadn’t had any choice. Maybe they were all pissed at me, but better that than if I’d let Colton and Yeshevskaya take us all for a ride and we’d all wound up in jail or dead.
I did the right thing.
…unless.
And there it was, that microscopic crack that felt like it could split wide open. Unless Yeshevskaya’s story wasn’t bullshit. Unless, for once in her life, she’d been telling the truth.
A million-to-one chance. But could I ignore it?
I thought for a long time. No, I couldn’t. But checking came with its own risks. I could get all of us sent to jail.
I took a deep breath and dialed Gabriella, one of the Sisters of Invidia, and the best of the three when it came to bank accounts. “I need a favor,” I said.
“Name it!” she said lightly.
“I need you to look into someone, but I’ve got to warn you: he’s CIA. This isn’t like hacking some Russian mafia guy. There’ll be alerts and alarms wired to all his bank accounts. If you get caught…”
Gabriella went quiet. “I’ll be careful,” she said, more seriously.
“Something else, before you do it,” I said. “I want to make this clear: this is me asking for this. Just me. The team know nothing about this.” I wasn’t really talking to her. I was talking to the jury, if this phone call got recorded by the NSA and came out at my trial. I wanted to make sure only I would take the fall.
“Understood,” said Gabriella, sounding a little scared, now. “Who’s the target?”
“Casey Steward, CIA. I want to know if anyone’s been paying him. Go deep. This guy’s no rookie, if there is something, he’ll have hidden it well.” I needed to be sure.
“On it. I’m routing it through a back door I have at the Justice department so it looks like the inquiries are coming from them.” There was a flurry of typing and then soft, musical chimes as page after page of information popped up. Casey Steward’s whole life was being laid out in a glittering map. Every strip club he’d ever been to, every alimony payment he’d ever paid, every medical bill he’d ever had. I knew this was normal, for the Sisters, but they were normally doing it on lowlifes. This guy was CIA, one of us, and I felt dirty. I paced back and forth outside a hanger, waiting, while maintenance workers and other airfield staff frowned at me curiously.
“No suspicious payments into his bank account,” said Gabriella at last. “No off-shore accounts I can link to him, no shell companies. No cryptocurrency I can trace to him. No property in his name other than his house. No inheritances that seem suspicious.” She sighed. “Steward’s clean.”
I stopped and leaned back against the metal wall of the hanger, closing my eyes. Thank God. Now I just had to hope I hadn’t landed Gabriella and me and maybe the rest of us in jail—
“Wait,” said Gabriella.
My eyes opened. My stomach flipped. “What?”