Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

" T hey're still trying to clear the roads out here, boss," Dodger said.

Quintus ground his teeth and resisted the urge to throw his phone through the window. He might have a fortune now, but he never believed in being wasteful. "Where are you?"

"Had to go to Norton to find a place for the night. Hopefully they'll have more of the road cleared in the morning."

Drumming his fingers on the desk, he studied the map he'd pulled up on his computer. "Norton's north of the coordinates I gave you for the car."

"Yes, sir. But like I said, the roads are impassible. They've got the highways in pretty decent shape, but other smaller roads aren't even touched yet. We're probably going to have to go in on foot at some point, which is going to require supplies. We'll head out first thing in the morning, no matter what."

"When you find the car, I want it searched thoroughly."

"Yes, sir."

"And Dodger, anything you and Styx find, especially a phone, bring it back to me. No one else. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Without another word, he hit cancel on the phone and jumped out of his chair to pace the length of his office.

He didn't expect them to find the phone, and he was pretty sure Zoe's body had gone further down the mountain than the car had, but he needed to be sure that phone was lost forever in the forest. Someone might come across that car while hiking and find the phone if Zoe had dropped it inside. That he couldn't have happen—ever.

Next week a private meeting of high powered and influential people in the energy and commerce worlds would be held. The first woman president, entering her second term, would also secretly be attending. No press was allowed. It was imperative the meeting occurred. Any hint of a problem and it would be postponed, or the location changed. And that could not happen. The plans were set in place. The Commission counted on him completing this objective.

He strode over to the bar, poured two-fingers of Irish whiskey into the crystal tumbler and took it over to the French doors that opened onto the balcony. This time of year, from this room of his remodeled townhouse, he could see the top of the Capitol and the White House. Two of the most powerful places on earth.

When he was a young agent, he'd been enthralled with the government—the president, congressmen, senators—people he believed controlled the government. It took him a few years to become disillusioned, all his starry-eyed ideals literally beaten out of him in a cave in the mountains of Afghanistan. It was all about the money. Those who controlled the money, controlled the world. The same people who refused to pay for his release. They washed their hands of him, especially his section chief, James Milroy, the new head of the CIA.

Everyone assumed he'd been killed when he didn't come back with his team from that Afghan mission, only to have him return from the dead to their surprise. That's what solidified the idea of faking his own death in South America. The higher ups considered him disposable. If he disappeared no one was really going to come look for him.

Everyone but Zoe.

This time he'd come back from the dead to get revenge on his former country and his former employers. To use their arrogance against them and change the country in a way that profited him and put him in charge of their demise.

The last thing he needed was for Zoe to ruin things from her grave.

A shiver ran down his spine.

Fuck. This was Zoe. If anyone was going to survive a fall down a mountainside with two bullets in them, it would be her.

He picked up his phone and selected an unlisted number.

"Yes?" the voice on the other end answered without preamble.

"How fast can you get a team to Norton, Virgina?"

"Given the weather and the roads? Noon. How big?"

He considered what he wanted. "Six. Fully rigged." His way of telling the man on the other end of the phone to arm the team and that they had permission to use deadly force, in fact, it was implied they should. "I'll give you a phone to track. Keep them in range, but not too close. I'll let you know when to move on them."

"Understood."

The phone went dead.

He'd hoped to keep this small. But he'd always worked with contingency plans. If Zoe had survived, Dodger and Styx would be in over their heads. All loose ends needed to be tied up securely.