Chapter 22

TWENTY-TWO

E mma slept on her side, peaceful and serene, a hand tucked under the pillow as Truman took one more look at her before slipping out.

Dolan was downstairs waiting for him.

It had been an easy, yet not, afternoon of keeping her distracted while he fired off texts and lined up meetings in between bouts of sex.

Was the Mastermind her true father? He doubted it, but it was possible. It would explain why Charlie had left when she was six—he’d discovered the truth. But it didn’t explain why he’d stayed in touch with her and encouraged her to move to America when she turned eighteen, change her name to his, and live with him while she attended college.

Love wasn’t always dictated by blood, though.

"She's going to kill you, mate," Dolan said. He was lounging in the mudroom, waiting for Truman.

Truman put a finger to his lips. “Keep it down. She needs rest."

He handed Truman a small black parcel. "If she goes after you, I'm not stopping her.”

"She'll get about as far as the end of the drive before she realizes she doesn't know where I'm off to.”

"Do you know where you're going? Because, from where I stand, it looks like the inside of a cold, bare lockup in some remote jungle.”

"A black site?” he asked Dolan, pensively, as if considering it. “I’ve never seen one. It’s something to check off my bucket list."

"You're a bloody ijit.”

He winked. "I love you, too, brother.”

Dolan—although not related to him by blood—made a fist and play-acted a punch to his face. Exactly the way he’d done a million times growing up.

Truman dodged it, just like he always did.

“Everything you requested is in there.” Dolan pointed to the black bag. “You're sure about this? Taking this to Pearson will end bad for you."

That's why he wasn't delivering it himself. "Yeah, I know. I have a plan. "

Dolan rolled his eyes. "Of course you do."

"I better get going before she wakes. I really appreciate this, mate.”

“Spence said to tell you not to go Black Swan on us.”

“Bloody hell.” Black Swan was a seriously super classified division of the CIA that he and Dolan could both meet ‘accidents’ over just for mentioning. BSD handled unpredictable events with far-reaching consequences, like 9/11. Established after that major crisis that turned the world upside down, their group was the equivalent of the highly classified division of SIS that had recruited Truman and Dolan to work for them. “Why are you rubbing shoulders with that mucker?”

“He owes me a bottle of Jamison.”

“Disgusting stuff. Does everyone in the bloody world owe you something?"

Dolan rubbed his knuckles on his chest. "It's what I do, chum. I collect favors."

That he did. “How is he? Haven’t talked to him in too long.”

“His last mission went so far sideways. Broke up his team, from what I hear. He’s restless, trying to figure out what to do about it.”

Truman kicked himself. “I hadn’t heard. He get hurt?”

“Not him. One of his team was beheaded on video.”

“Shit.” Spence always got too close to people. It’s why SIS had cut him loose. Why Bastian had been so disappointed in him. “I suppose his hero complex is a bloody mess right now.”

They were silent for a moment, thinking about their younger, non-blood-related sibling.

“What do you want me to do with Emma when she tries to leave?” Dolan asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “I’m not going to physically restrain her.”

"Look at that, Dolan McGraw suddenly has limits to what he’ll do on an op.”

That earned him a middle finger. "If she can't go after you, she'll take off for that address, regardless of the time. She wants to find her pa.”

A rare thing to see him stressed, but it was kind of cute, really, because nobody got under Dolan’s skin. Apparently, Emma had. He always rooted for the underdog. "I'm taking the Audi, and you have the keys to your vehicle, such as it is." He glanced out the window to the drive and made a face at the older Ford pickup. “Unless she knows how to hotwire that ugly beast, she's not going anywhere.”

"Knowing her, she'll take out of here on foot and find a bus stop or call an Uber."

Knowing her, she would. “That is why I put trackers on her clothes, shoes, and backpack. All you have to do is follow her with your app and keep me apprised of her whereabouts.”

"What if he’s waiting for her and tries to kill her?"

They both knew who ‘he’ was. Truman tucked the parcel under his arm. “I have that possibility covered.”

"I don't like it."

He gave him a cheeky grin. "I'd be worried if you did."

"You're a bastard, you know that?"

Truman patted his cheek, and the man smacked his hand away. “You just wish you were going with me. You miss the action."

"I don't miss jackshit. You're a cowboy, always doing crap you shouldn't be and then having to dig yourself out of it." He jammed his hands in his hair, making it stand out on the sides like a clown. "Now you've dragged me into this steaming pile of horse manure. I should've said no the moment you showed up on my doorstep."

“Yeah, you should have. But you didn’t. You’re a decent human being under that gruff exterior.”

He got a double dose of the middle finger this time. "I'm doing this for her, not you."

"Fair enough. I'm doing it for her, too. If anything happens to me, look out for her, will you?”

Dolan stepped forward, pointing a finger in his face. "You don't get to put that on my shoulders. Don't let Pearson arrest you, or the Mastermind kill you. Got it?"

Truman snapped off a salute. "Yes, Ma."

This time, he barely dodged the actual punch that Dolan threw. “Maybe next time,” he said and ducked out the back door, laughing.

Michael Stone entered his office, tossing down a leather pad on his desk and unbuttoning his suit jacket. “You've got balls showing up here."

Truman reached for his tie to adjust it, then remembered he wasn't wearing one. He intertwined his fingers and put his hands in his lap. “They're watching your house, and they’ve tapped your and Brigit’s phones. I didn't have much of a choice."

Michael sat, picking up an expensive pen and toying with it. Probably thinking of all the ways he could kill Truman with it. “So you think you can walk into Langley and not be noticed? In case you missed it, you're at the top of the FBI’s Most Wanted right now."

"Another thing to check off my bucket list. Let me tell you, the past weekend has been full of unexpected opportunities. I appreciate your director of Operations allowing me access to you. He doesn't seem the cooperative type."

"He's not. He’s the type who’s on the phone with the Bureau right now, telling them to come pick you up. He'll be happy to cash in the reward they’re offering for your arrest.”

"How much is it?"

Stone’s gaze was full-on malice. As a former Marine, he probably knew a hundred different ways to kill Truman and make it look like an accident. “More than you’re worth, I assure you. What do you want?”

Truman pointed at the parcel he'd placed on the desk. “A favor. I need you to deliver that to Special Agent in Charge Pearson.”

"Why would I do that?"

Truman pulled the opal out of his pocket and held it up, scrutinizing it in the dappled sun coming through the bulletproof window behind the Deputy Director. "For this and for my silence about a certain subject."

Stone leaned forward. He didn't ask what Truman was talking about, totally focused on the ring. “Grant had it then.”

"Not her. A friend of her mother’s. That woman happens to be in the hospital in critical condition after the Mastermind behind the Alice in Wonderland Gang tried to kill her last night.”

"The Mastermind?"

Truman pointed at the parcel. “Inside is a USB that explains who he is and what he did. The evidence I have access to at the moment is limited, but once I'm reinstated, I can produce files and more to back it up."

"The gal who was brought in last night with the smashed face. That's who had the ring?"

Truman was glad Brigit’s happiness was a priority for Michael, but really. The man was missing the point of this visit. “Gani ‘The Spider’ Crenshaw tried to convince Emma that she’d gone legit, but I think she found legit equals poor in this city. She's been running petty cons on the side, and you happened to be caught up in one. She planned to pawn it for cash, but I guess she decided to wear it for a few days before she did so.”

Stone held out his hand. Truman slipped the ring back into his pocket. “Do we have a deal?”

The corner of Michael's eyes narrowed as he leaned back, clicking the pen. A casual posture meant to keep his visitor from bolting. Not that Truman would make it to an exit if the man decided to call in his guard dogs, but he still valued his wife’s friendship with Truman enough to hear him out. Truman had been betting on it. “You've got sixty seconds to convince me to give that to Pearson for you."

He knew it wouldn't be a simple exchange for the ring, but this was where things got dicey. He had to mix his bluff with enough truth to make Stone buy it. “There is a shadow government organization operating on American soil that directs the US economy and much, much more without your everyday Joe knowing anything about it. We have its twin across the pond. You and three others in this building have been approached and recruited for that organization. One recruit has a higher clearance level than you. The other two handle exceptionally sensitive information regarding your allies. Out of the four, you're the only one who can't be bought, bribed, or blackmailed." The three Bs that made the world go round. “I'm quite relieved about that, to tell you the truth. It would be a pity if I had to divulge such torrid information to Brigit. We both know she would psychoanalyze you to death and attempt to get you on the straight and narrow by breaking down your childhood traumas. If that didn't work, she would insist the two of you run away to some paradise south of the equator so she could live out her Bad Brigit fantasies."

If he was surprised about Truman's reference to Invictus, he hid it well. At the mention of Brigit analyzing him, a ghost of a smile passed his lips. He quirked a brow at the final statement, his imagination considering what Bad Brigit might look and act like.

Still, nothing else suggested he was buying it. He checked his watch. “Forty seconds.”

Time to make them count. "The Mastermind is nearly untouchable, but he's much more than the head of a defunct international theft ring. He doesn't wait until people gain power in order to recruit them for the shadow government—he takes kids off the street, grooms them, and inserts them into corporations, institutions, and select regimes. He gives them purpose and protection.”

"Sounds like a brilliant conspiracy theory. Thirty seconds."

"Not a theory, mate. It's the truth. I'm one of his recruits. Along with the rest of you, I believed Emma’s early release and the diamond heist were all about Catherine Owens and the Red Hearts. That Catherine could somehow identify him, and he was tying up loose ends in case she told anyone, such as Emma. Turns out, it’s been about me all along.”

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know all of the boys he pulled off the street and sent to school. All the strings he pulled to get us into certain military schools and organizations like MI5. But I do know now that Ian Bastian is a true mastermind. He strategized those jewelry heists in order to supplement his income so he could pay for our boarding schools. So he could secretly fund grants and scholarships to make sure we got into elite colleges. He acted like an absentee father but made us care about him, so we believed he only had our best interests at heart."

“Ten seconds."

What a bastard. “Once he had us where he wanted us, he manipulated us and the system so that we fed him information without even realizing it. We helped him pick the targets he would recruit for the secret government. We went on missions and undercover operations to expose anyone who got in his way or threatened to expose the wrong people.”

“You're telling me he was running the Alice in Wonderland Gang to support this deep cover operation and then made sure they went to prison because they got in his way? That doesn't make sense, and you are out of time. Give me the ring, and I’ll give you a five-minute head start to get out of this building."

Shit. Truman stood and patted the parcel. “Give this information to Pearson or I'll go public about your sister and her involvement with the Real IRA.”

Stone’s casual demeanor morphed into Killer Marine. He came out of his seat and pointed a threatening finger across the desk. "You just lost your head start."

Truman’s phone had been confiscated at the door. He was still saved by an incoming call, the deputy director’s landline lighting up. At the same time, Julia Torrison burst into the office. “You're going to want to take that. "

Stone growled a curse under his breath. “We're not done," he said to Truman.

Julia grabbed Truman by the hand and jerked him out, hustling him down the hallway. “I believe you," she told him under her breath. “ We believe you."

"Who's we?"

She pushed him into a conference room, shutting the door behind her. Inside, a group was gathered—Brigit, Conrad, Zara, and a man Truman had never personally met but had heard about—the computer expert, Del Hoffman.

Spencer Sterling, sitting at the head of the table, raised a hand in greeting. “Me old mucker. I see you’re as crack-handed as ever.”

Admittedly, his blackmailing Stone had been a bit messy, but he’d handed the man the story of a lifetime. To bring down a bloke like the Mastermind… Michael Stone would be a national hero. “Does someone wanna tell me what this is all about?" he asked the group.

Zara grinned. Julia motioned him to a seat. Flynn looked bored.

Brigit rushed forward and hugged him. “You're looking at your new crew," she said.

“Sorry, luv. Forwhat?”

Zara raised a hand. “I’m the imposter.”

Julia went next. “I’m the femme fatale distraction.”

“No, you’re not,” Conrad growled. “We discussed this.”

She punched his arm. "I am, too. Now shut up and tell him your role."

He clinched his jaw so hard, Truman thought he might sheer off tooth enamel. "I'm the muscle,” he said deadpan.

Del looked mildly sick. "I'm the hacker.”

No surprise there. Truman gave Spencer a questioning glance. Spence tugged on his jacket lapels. "I'm the surprise."

Truman turned his inquiring gaze on Brigit. "I still don't understand. What's going on?”

"We’re your team to take down the Mastermind and save Charlie Grant and the diamonds." Her grin was huge. "Welcome to Operation Heist.”