CHAPTER 56
Atlantic Ocean
“Harrison is dead. Nothing we could do, man. I’m sorry.”
“Got it,” Tristan said. “Give me the basics and I will let them know.”
Them, I assumed, meant the faceless and nameless decision-makers who protect the president’s liability.
“Tristan, here’s the deal. Harrison was snatched from his bed, moved offshore, tortured, and killed.
And it looks like all of it was caught on video.
We’re collecting as much intel as we can right now, and standing by for whatever you need.
Tommy and Felix are still on station, but they’ve gotta be running low on fuel.
Do you have anything on Rowan Anderson, the Secret Service agent? ”
“Nothing, sorry. Send Falcon 3 and 4 back home to refuel. Navy ships are heading to the harbor to aid the Coast Guard in recovery; I’ll get one diverted to your position for extraction.
Still a shit show on the island, but latest word as of about half an hour ago is that no one on the ferry survived.
The airport is still shut down, so nothing’s flying but us and USCG. ”
I took in that breaking news, then asked Tristan what the local cops knew.
“Short answer: They know there’s a national-security operation happening, and that a government unit is conducting sensitive missions. You’re the POC.”
I could tell there was more, and Tristan didn’t prove me wrong.
“The NSA caught a glimpse of some electronic data—obviously the video—and traced it back to your approximate position. They’re still trying to get a lock on it. Take everything you can back to your place, and call me when you get home. Put your thinking cap on, buddy.”
No sooner had Tristan hung up than my phone jumped to life again with a new call from Si Wilson.
“What do you have, Si?”
“Nat, it’s me. Did you find Harrison? I know where he is.”
I was so shocked to hear Rowan’s voice that I dropped my phone.
She’s alive—and on Si’s phone. As if in slow motion I bent to pick up my phone, seeing everything and everyone frame by frame: Meg exhausted and bloody next to Harrison’s body; Oliver collapsed on a couch, nursing his wounds; Wolf and JP taking turns pulling security and stuffing everything they could into whatever bags or boxes they could find.
And I had just heard the voice of a dead woman turned sole survivor.
“Nat, are you still there?”
“I’m here. Where are y—”
She cut me off. “Where’s Harrison? Do you have him?”
“We have him, Rowan. He’s dead. They killed him.”
Silence.