Chapter 27
Voodoo woke before the sun crested the horizon over Beijing. The smog-filtered sunlight through the tall windows of their suite in the Rosewood of Beijing, casting a pale orange hue across the room.
Two days had passed since the chaos in Guangzhou. Two days since Tomas had been handed off to Mustang’s team and flown out under the cloak of darkness. Two days since Savannah had collapsed into his arms, spent and raw, after baring every last nerve in a performance that had nearly broken her.
He hadn’t left her side.
The heavy curtains were drawn, but enough light filtered through to cast a faint glow on Savannah’s face. She was curled against him, one hand resting over his heart, her features finally relaxed after days—hell, weeks—of tension. He didn’t move. Barely breathed. Just watched her.
Exhaustion had caught up to her. So had the weight of truth about the Senator, about her role in the tour, about the lies woven around her life like a noose.
She may have looked peaceful. But he knew better. The weight she carried hadn’t disappeared. It was just sleeping.
His mind wandered as he listened to the rhythm of her breath.
The way she’d fallen apart that night, both emotionally and physically, had gutted him.
He’d felt it in his bones, that desperate need to feel something again, to feel alive.
And he’d given her everything he had in that moment. And every moment since.
Now, holding her, he couldn’t help but think ahead. Because the world wouldn’t stop. Not for her healing. Not for his protection. And definitely not for the bastard pulling strings behind the curtain.
His phone buzzed from the nightstand.
He moved carefully, easing away from Savannah with a gentleness that felt reverent. She didn’t stir, just shifted into the warm space he left behind, sighing softly.
He grabbed the phone and his Condor tablet and stepped into the adjoining suite, leaving the door open behind him in case she needed him.
He put the coffee on while his tablet booted up and went through all the encryption processes Haley had put in place. The rich aroma filled the suite as Voodoo unlocked his phone, checking the text from Haley.
Comms when you get up.
He grabbed his mug and took a bracing sip as he prepared himself for whatever Haley had to tell him next.
He put the comm in his ear and activated it with a tap. “Morning,” he said, voice low.
“Morning from your favorite paranoid nerd,” Haley replied dryly. “You ready for the next trip down the rabbit hole?” Voodoo heard a throat clearing. “Oh, and the bossman is here as well.
How’s Savannah?” Flint’s immediate concern for Savannah before getting down to business, buoyed Voodoo. That alone spoke volumes about the type of man he was, his true nature.
“She’s hanging in there. Tired, though. And a little disheartened.”
“I can understand that,” Flint replied.
“I’d send her a gift basket, but you guys would be on to the next city before it could arrive,” Haley mused with a hint of disappointment.
Voodoo smiled. Haley was truly the heart of Condor’s Overwatch. “Thanks for the thought, though, Haley.”
“Anyway,” Flint said steering them back to business. “Haley’s got some more info for you.”
He leaned back in the chair. “Hit me.”
Voodoo glanced down at his tablet, seeing what looked like a travel itinerary that Haley had already sent over displayed on the screen. “Interpol just shared a classified file with us. Our favorite megalomaniac visited Beijing six months ago under a false diplomatic itinerary?”
Voodoo should have seen this one coming. As the tour neared its end, it became apparent that the Senator had been involved in various dealings in every city they’d visited on this last leg. “Of course he did.”
“Yup. And he wasn’t alone. The manifest had Tomas listed as an ‘aide,’ and two Chinese nationals who’re currently on Interpol’s gray list for international arms smuggling. The kicker? They met with executives from a front company operating out of Daxing District.”
“Weapons?” Sawyer asked.
“And surveillance tech. State-sponsored spyware. Stuff that looks like Tamagotchi code compared to SYBIL but could still be detrimental.”
Voodoo’s jaw tensed. “Any idea if it ties to Savannah’s tour directly?”
“Indirectly. The concerts create diplomatic cover. All these ‘cultural exchange’ events give legitimacy. But also distraction. The Senator’s using it to grease hands. And Tomas was his foot soldier.”
“With Tomas out,” Voodoo started, “That leaves a power vacuum. How does the Senator respond?”
“He could panic and tighten control, or use it to make a bold power grab,” Flint mused.
Haley made a sound of agreement. “SYBIL’s predictive model shows a spike in secret meetings and unusual financial transfers. He’s probably planning something aggressive. Maybe to silence any loose ends.”
Voodoo exhaled slowly. “Then we need to stay ahead. Watch his allies, anticipate his next strike.”
Flint sighed. “This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”
Voodoo leaned forward, eyes locked on the digital swirl of SYBIL’s interface as it pulsed with live intel feeds on the screen of his tablet. “Now that Tomas is in custody,” he said, voice low, “how exposed is Savannah? Do we know if the Senator has more guys planted in the tour crew?”
He heard typing, and the images on his screen changed. “SYBIL’s predictions are high. He most definitely has more men embedded.”
Voodoo raked a hand through his hair. “Shit.”
“I’ve already sent Hoot and Eggs your way,” Flint declared.
He blew out a breath of relief. Having Hoot, his former SEAL teammate and now his Condor coworker, there to have his and Savannah’s backs, made him breathe a little easier. And Ansel “Eggs” Scott, former Ghost Ops, would be just as formidable to have as backup.
Thanks, boss. That’ll help.” Another itinerary popped up on his screen, this time with the ETA of his teammates. They’d be arriving just before Savannah’s concert at the National Centre for the Performing Arts. “There still has to be something we’re not seeing?”
Haley didn’t answer right away. Voodoo’s eyes were locked on his screen as he watched SYBIL think as Haley typed in prompts. Patterns rippled across the globe in real time. Phone records. Financial transactions. Travel routes. Each thread led back to the same burning question.
Finally, she spoke. “The Senator built the entire diplomatic narrative around Savannah. America’s golden virtuoso of musical diplomacy. Polished, untouchable. She gave him legitimacy. Global access. A reason to insert his men under the radar.”
“And now?”
“Now?” Haley tapped a key. SYBIL’s forecast lit up in blood-orange. “Now she’s a liability. With a few well-placed words, the Senator could implicate her in everything, making her the scapegoat and ensuring her downfall.”
“He wouldn’t dare,” Voodoo growled, his ire flaring at the thought of the bastard implicating her to cover his own ass.
“He could. Her existence on this tour is enough. She’s had proximity to Tomas, to the tour infrastructure, to the diplomats and world leaders.
It puts her too close to everything. And too close to the truth.
SYBIL’s prediction models show a 78% probability that the Senator’s next move is containment. ”
“Define containment.”
“Character assassination first—leaks, rumors, headlines. If that doesn’t work . . .”
Flint picked up where she left off. “A fatal accident. Foreign soil makes it clean. He could blame security gaps. Blame you.”
Voodoo’s fists clenched. “Over my dead body.”
Flint sighed, a long, weary sound that mirrored the frustrations churning in his own gut. “Then we move her off the chessboard before she becomes a sacrificial piece.”
Voodoo sat at the breakfast table, coffee untouched, eyes now fixed on the skyline beyond. Beijing felt colder, quieter in a way that wasn’t comforting. It wasn’t the kind of silence that brought peace. It was the kind that came before a storm.
Voodoo finally took a sip of the now-lukewarm coffee and glanced over his shoulder into the bedroom. Savannah was stirring now, her hand reaching across the bed before she blinked her eyes open and found him watching her. A small smile curved her lips.
She had no idea the scale of the storm still circling them.
But he’d keep it at bay. As long as he could.
“We can’t pull her yet. We’ll keep moving,” he said into the comm, eyes never leaving her.
“We stay ahead of it and take a page out of the Senator’s book.
We’ll use the tour as bait to draw out the Senator’s men.
With Hoot and Eggs as backup, it’ll be easier to watch all the moving parts.
I’ll continue to stick close to Savannah. ”
A crisp “Copy that” was Flint’s concise and immediate agreement of his plan.
Haley added, “I’ll keep digging. You keep your girl safe.”
“Always,” promised Voodoo.