Chapter 6

"What the hell,Walker? It's not quite seven a.m. on a freaking Sunday and you, Corbin, and Gretta look like you've just gotten back from a mission in the Congo."

Walker sighed as Stone stood in Wyatt's office, arms crossed, mouth pinched tight. Corbin had called the rest of the team, namely Ty, Colton, and Knox, along with Booker and Wyatt, after Allegra had stitched and bandaged Walker's arm — given him a shot in the ass for good measure, as she'd put it — hoping Stone would allow them to do a deep dive into what MI6 had Blair assigned to.

Of course, that would involve some insane hacking — the kind that put people away for the rest of their lives. Maybe in the likes of Guantanamo Bay. Not exactly the kind of motivation that would swing the vote in his favor.

Stone blew out a rough breath. "I've got two tangos in the hospital. More in the morgue, and the sheriff wanting to know why an international wet squad paid you a visit. Turned your house into a giant-ass pi?ata. Thankfully, it's pretty evident from the insane number of shell casings, and the abundance of other forensic evidence, that you three were acting in self-defense, otherwise, your asses would be in jail. Though, you'll all still need to make a formal statement before you set foot out of this office."

He paused as if gathering more strength. "And if that's not bad enough, Blair's gone off on a mission you think is suspect, but somehow sent all of you texts so you'd be in the same location just as this ambush went down. Either the lady's gone completely rogue or we have a serious situation on our hands."

He shifted his gaze to Gretta when she inhaled and took a step forward. "And before Gretta gets out one of her other guns and threatens to shoot me for even suggesting her sister would go rogue, I'm confident it's the latter. But proving how and why is above my pay grade, which is why Hank will be joining us any minute now. His jet just landed."

Stone nodded at some chairs. "I suggest you all get comfy. I have a feeling this isn't going to be quick."

Walker grabbed the seat off to the right, still trying to figure out what the hell was going on, when the door swung open, and Hank Patterson bustled inside. Not panicked, the guy's SEAL training still evident in the way he carried himself. The strong line of his back and the cool air that radiated off him. As if he'd just completed his BUD/S training yesterday. But his time as a civilian bled through, just a bit. His concern creasing his brow. A hint of irritation in the lines around his mouth.

He headed straight for the large desk at the far side, leaning his ass against it once he'd turned to face them. Some of his knuckles cracked as he fisted his hands against the edge and focused on Walker, Corbin, and Gretta. "I'd say, good morning, but that seems a bit asinine considering the scene over at Walker's place, so why don't we just jump to what the hell's going on, instead."

Corbin glanced at Walker, nodding toward Hank. The kid's way of indicating he wanted Walker to take lead. Which was fair considering he seemed to be at the center of the incident.

Walker scrubbed a hand down his face, wincing at the stab of pain through his arm. It wasn't until they were walking up to Xavier's door that the impact from the bullet wound had kicked in. And the damn thing had been burning, ever since. "All we know is that someone sent a group of mercenaries to my place to kill us, but it didn't go the way they'd planned."

"I already knew that much before I got on my damn jet. What I'd like to know is who set you up and why." Hank's left eye twitched a bit as he focused on Gretta for a moment. "How Blair fits into all of this."

Walker sighed when Gretta tensed, looking as if she might go rogue, herself, at the mere suggestion her sister was involved in the ambush. Though, based solely on the evidence, he understood why the others might have their suspicions.

Walker leaned over and squeezed Gretta's hand. Just enough to let her know he was on her side, then looked at Hank. "First off, it wasn't Blair who set us up. And before you ask, no, I don't have proof of that, yet, but she'd never turn. Period. So, let's wipe that scenario off the table. Second, Blair's the one who's likely in the most danger, so who cares about my house and the assholes we've already dealt with. We need to track her down before she's the next casualty."

Assuming she wasn't dead, already, which Walker had to admit, had crossed his mind. One explanation for how someone had gotten ahold of her phone. Why she'd gone radio silence. Sure, she'd left him a note, but she hadn't so much as texted Gretta since the bogus one this morning. And after all the two sisters had been through — the months they'd spent repairing their relationship — Walker knew Blair wouldn't leave without sending Gretta one of their cryptic messages. Some tidbit of information as to where she'd gone and what she was doing. A timeline, at the least, of when she'd be in touch, next. Which was all the proof he needed that Blair was in trouble.

Hank shook his head, then grinned. "Easy there, Walker. Damn, you Flight Concepts guys are touchy. Just like Booker threatening to resign when he needed to go after Calliope. Jumping straight to emergency maneuvers."

Hank straightened. "Let's get some stuff out in the open. First, no one thinks Blair set you up. Well, she might have wanted to cap you in the ass, but she'd never hurt her sister. Though, based on the letter she left you, Walker, I'm thinking she'd prefer to keep your butt intact, now, too. And, I think I speak for everyone when I say this… It took you long enough to make a move, and that we're all surprised she didn't put a hit out on you months, ago."

Walker pushed to his feet, hating the slight sway of the scenery from the blood loss or how that letter weighed heavy in his pocket. "Then, let's forget about the mercs. They're just guns for hire — likely no intel on who really hired them — and focus on how someone sent texts from Blair's number, and if she needed our help three hours, ago."

Hank simply sighed. "I really don't know why I thought pilots would be less intense than Rangers and SEALs. Though, I agree. The tangos in the hospital aren't going to give us squat once they're conscious enough to talk. However, identifying them might help point us in the right direction. Regardless, it all circles back to Blair, which means… We need intel."

Hank walked over to Wyatt, handed him a piece of paper, then made his way back to the desk.

Walker frowned, wondering why they didn't have Darius Ford on the freaking video chat, already. The company's crazy-smart computer geek. "Don't we need Darius for that?"

Hank raked a hand through his hair. "Darius is a bit busy being Logan's wingman at the hospital. Seems Harlow went into labor a few hours, ago, and Logan's afraid she might try to off the entire hospital staff once the pain starts talking for her. And before everyone starts pressuring poor Wyatt to hack his way into the SIS, it just so happens I know some people who have a more… direct link. They were neck-deep in a mission before when we needed similar intel, but I had a quick chat with them on the flight over, and as expected, they're more than happy to help. Just one condition…"

Hank looked everyone in the eyes before continuing. "What happens in here, stays in here. Knowing this crew the way I do, I'm sure one or two of them will break more federal and international laws than we can count in the next little while, so…"

Walker scoffed. As if any of them would out a fellow soldier. Which was what Hank had implied when he'd commented on having contacts. Walker just wasn't sure how far up the food chain Hank was going.

Hank nodded at Wyatt and a moment later, the big monitor behind Hank buzzed, flickering a few times before a face appeared out of the darkness — the familiarity of it making Walker smile. Talk about a small fucking world…

The man chuckled. "Ya know, if I didn't know better, I'd swear Cannon's been rubbing off on you, Montana. You're quickly approaching his level of crazy."

Hank, or Montana to his buddies, smiled. "We can worry about proper introductions later, but everyone, this is Aaron West, aka Priest. And please, Cannon lets Phoenix run around unsupervised. That, alone, puts him on a different playing field."

"I don't know, I see Walker Pierce standing behind you. I thought hiring Booker was risky enough, but Walker, too? Christ, how do your guys fly anywhere without thinking they're going to die?"

Walker snorted. "Seriously, Priest? It wasn't me who needed that creative exfil in Caracas. I wouldn't be surprised if those federales still have a warrant out on us."

"Good times, Walker. And as much as I'd like to reminisce more, I know time isn't a luxury we have. My crew are just getting set up, but in the meantime, do we have any new intel?"

"You mean something that will blow this wide open? When are we ever that lucky?"

"Never, but it doesn't hurt to ask." Priest glanced to his right, nodding at someone off-screen. "Looks like the people who can really help are ready. Let me introduce you to our cyber architect, Becca Tate. And our resident Brit, Gibson?—"

"Miller?" Gretta launched out of her seat. "Bloody hell, is that really you?"

The guy — Gibson Miller — grinned. "Well, I'll be damned. Gretta Hughes. I'd heard you'd gone rogue, love."

Gretta hitched out a hip. "And I'd heard you're still a wanker. I thought you retired?"

"Thought you had, too."

Hank sighed. "Obviously, you two know each other, which means, your cover is pretty much blown, Gib."

Miller shrugged. "We're all one big happy family, yeah? Besides, compared to what Becca does, my vocation will be the least damning thing that gets out."

"I heard that." The woman — this Becca Tate person — sat on Priest's other side. "And I haven't done anything."

"Yet." Miller gave her a nudge. "But we both know it's only a matter of time before you're cruising through firewalls and bouncing signals through the CIA."

She simply shrugged, acting as if that was normal, before making eye contact with everyone. "Okay, so Hank gave us the broad strokes. What do you need?"

Hank glanced at Gretta and Walker. "It's a big ask. And I was actually hoping Miller might phone someone before we let you loose, Becca."

"I heard Aaron say we don't have time to spare. Calling in chits takes time, so…" She arched a brow. "I assume we're not trying to make a legal case, so we're not worried about things being admissible, right?"

Hank scrubbed his hand down his face. "Only one minute in and you've already got my blood pressure skyrocketing. No, Becca, this isn't going to court. We just need to know where MI6 sent Blair Hughes this morning a couple of hours before she apparently sent her sister and Walker a text, pretending to still be at Walker's place, in order to set them up for an ambush with what is looking to be an international wet squad."

"Is there any other kind?" She stared at them. "Just to be clear, we're assuming she didn't send those texts, right?"

Walker stepped forward. "We know she didn't, but how do we figure out who did? And if she's on their list to be eliminated, too?"

Becca glance at Priest, and, damn, the guy beamed. There was obviously something going on between them, not that Walker had time to ask his buddy about it. "Let's check her phone records and go from there."

Gretta glanced over at Walker, then back to the screen. "You can do that? But I thought those kinds of records were buried in secure databases. That you needed court orders and the service provider to get them, especially considering they could loop back to the SIS."

Hank gave Gretta's shoulder a pat. "Trust me, this is nothing. It's when she decides she needs to actually hack the SIS that we should start sweating."

"Won't getting the records take time?"

Hank merely shook his head, muttering something about how he'd be lucky not to have a stroke before this was over, as Becca tapped away on some keys in the background. The room fell silent for a minute before she looked up from her monitor.

"It's definitive. Blair Hughes did not send those texts, which tells me someone cloned her phone. Which, honestly, isn't that hard and probably not what we need to be focusing on."

She nodded at her screen. "What's a bit more concerning is the fact she received a phone call at three a.m. from what looked like SIS headquarters, but on further investigation turns out to be a burner cell relayed through a secure satellite connection to make it appear as if it was coming from London."

Walker frowned. "Wait? So, it wasn't from London?"

"It's a popular spoofing technique. Scammers do it all the time in order to acquire sensitive information. Only this one was topnotch. Whoever set this up knew what they were doing. Any idea who would have called her pretending to be from the MI6?"

Gretta nodded. "The only person I can think of is her boss, Heathcliff Montgomery. But why would he cover up where he was calling from if he was sending her on a mission?"

"Maybe it was someone who wanted your sister to think it was her boss. It wouldn't take much to make a database of Montgomery's voice saying a few thousand useful words, then have a cyber specialist use some of that new AI tech to help run them together in sentences. Adapt to any question, as long as they had the right words."

Miller leaned toward the monitor. "What was Blair involved in with the agency before she took that medical leave?"

Gretta crossed her arms over her chest. "She was looking into the case that got me suspended."

"That's when you uncovered Director Poppy was a mole, right? What resulted in you getting blacklisted?"

"What can I say? I tend to leave an impression."

"Montgomery's a sod. Anyone else would have reinstated you, but is that status something Blair would drop everything for? If Montgomery promised to remove you from that list? Clear your record?"

"You know Blair, Miller. She's been my surrogate mother for as long as I can remember. Way before our mum died. I told her I didn't care but…"

"But she was worried being on the list could end up biting you in the arse. So, assuming Montgomery, or whoever was posing as him, dangled that carrot out in front of her, she'd leave, yeah? No questions. No hesitations."

Gretta gazed over at Walker for a few moments, mouth pinched tight, before she sighed. "Honestly? It's the only outcome that would have gotten her out of Walker's bed like this."

Miller merely nodded. "Understood."

Becca cleared her throat. "So, is this where I take a peek inside MI6 and this Montgomery asshole's personal files?"

Miller chuckled when Hank groaned. "While I'd love nothing more, I don't think MI6 is where we'll find our answers. The fact Blair was assigned a mission using a burner cell suggests it's anything but sanctioned."

Becca nodded. "I see what you're saying. Either Montgomery's a dirty lying traitor or it's a creepy bad guy. Either way, it won't be on the books. Which means, we need to get creative."

Hank actually paled when Becca focused on her screen, her fingers tapping away at the keys. "Christ, do I even want to know who you're hacking, now? Because it'd be nice to know which agency will be busting down my door with a federal warrant."

"Relax. I'll bounce it through a dozen satellites and a sketchy backdoor I've got into the CIA. It'll never come back to us."

If anything, Hank paled further at the mention of the CIA, which Walker understood. Either Becca was scary good, or she was completely insane.

Hank kept shaking his head, mumbling about how he didn't know how Priest didn't have an aneurysm in his sleep — hell, how the man got any sleep — as Becca kept doing something on her computer.

She seemed oblivious, humming as she worked. That, or she simply didn't care. She glanced up at the eerie silence that had taken over the room, giving everyone a sheepish grin. "Right. You can't see what I'm doing, so… This whole burner cell got me thinking. If I'm either a douchebag MI6 director or an asshole criminal, I'm not going to want to leave any tangible evidence behind to indicate how Blair left Montana."

Walker nodded. "Which means they either drove or used a private jet."

"Exactly. I'm putting my money on them using a jet. So, I'm searching all the uncontrolled airstrips within a couple hours' drive. I'm betting they wanted her airborne by the time their ambush got underway."

Hank frowned. "But if they're uncontrolled…"

"Someone or some system still has to turn on the runway lights, unless they can take off without any?" She glanced up, smiling when Walker shook his head. "There'll be a record of them being turned on, even if it's just a line of code in their system database. I'm also betting they'll need fuel, so, either they'll have to self-serve it and that requires a credit card or call out some lacky to pay in cash. Regardless, I'll find them."

Hank glanced at Priest. "Seriously, how do you not have high blood pressure?"

Priest shrugged. "I stay active."

"Great. Now I have that image in my head. Well, Becca? Any luck?"

She snorted. "It's not as easy as I make it out to be, Hank, but… I have a private jet leaving Ennis, Big Sky Airport at twelve-ten Zulu heading to West Palm Beach County Airport, then on to…"

She tapped more keys. "Give me a second. They've tried to hide their next flight plan… Got it. On to Lettsome Airport in the British Virgin Islands."

Gretta scoffed. "BVI? Maybe she's on a legit mission, then, and the ambush wasn't about Blair and all about me being blacklisted? Maybe I was the target, and they used Blair to get to me?"

Becca made eye contact with everyone in the room. "I realize I'm just an analyst and not some super spy soldier type like all of you, but that sounds like the kind of coincidence that needs biblical intervention."

Miller laughed. "Why don't you tell us your theory, love?"

Becca grinned. "Okay, so, looking at this from someone who deals in conspiracies and coverups for a living… I took a quick peek at Blair and Gretta's MI6 records while my algorithms were looking for those airports."

She nodded at Hank. "Try not to hyperventilate over that, Hank. Anyway, Blair's obviously a very by-the-book agent. Follows rules. Adheres to MI6 protocol. Has been steadily climbing the ranks. The opposite of you, Gretta. And that's not me judging your approach."

Gretta snorted. "It's no secret I have authority issues."

"I can relate. Anyway, several months ago, Blair starts slipping up. Breaking a few minor rules. Missing the odd meeting. Not enough to raise suspicions, but it's out of character. Fast forward a couple months, and she goes dark. Sends you those cryptic texts and that whole shit show goes down in London. She gets put on medical leave with a giant reprimand on her record for involving unsanctioned personnel and heads for the States, where she bides her time along with her sister — an ex-MI6 agent who's recently been blacklisted."

Becca took a short breath as if she'd need the extra oxygen. "Now, a few months later, she sends you all another text that puts you at the center of an ambush composed of international mercenaries, who I'm sure will trace back to the British Virgin Islands, while she disappears. No record of her being put on an assignment. Just her going dark. Again. And it wouldn't take much to make her actual phone records disappear. Erase any evidence she didn't actually send you those messages."

Gretta inhaled, most of the color draining from her face. "Oh god. You think she's being setup to look like a double agent. That they'll find her in the islands, which will further prove she tried to have us all killed — hired that wet squad, herself. That headquarters will spin all her previous snooping to help me into her really being partnered with ex-director Poppy and using us to get rid of her competition."

"That would be my guess, if I were one of those paranoid, conspiracy theory type people. And it would only take a sprinkling of evidence to crucify her. A hard, but not impossible to find, wire transfer in her name to that crew. A handful of large sum deposits in an offshore account traceable with similar backstops to make it look authentic. And a few strategic photographs. There's just one catch…"

Walker tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, his brain still working on the whole double agent theory, as he nodded at Becca. "Might as well just say it."

"Assuming Blair's not really a double agent?—"

"She's not." Walker crossed his arms over his chest. "Not a chance."

Becca merely nodded. "Then, whoever's behind this can't afford to have her talking once they've got everything in place to frame her."

Dead. That's how Walker felt. Just like Blair was going to be. What Becca was trying to say without actually saying the word.

Gretta shook her head, leaning into Corbin when he palmed her waist — looked as if he was ready to wage war. "But… why take her to the British Virgin Islands if all they wanted to do was kill her? They could have sent an RPG through Walker's home and killed them both."

Becca glanced at Priest, smiling when he motioned for her to continue. "My take? They have a much larger agenda at play. Something they want her to take the fall for that requires her to be found on those islands. The shootout at Walker's place was brilliant. More proof she'd gone dark side, while systematically eliminating her backup. It doesn't take a genius to see that when things go pear shaped, as you Brits say, Blair contacts you, Gretta. And I assume Walker, now, too. No way anyone wants your level of expertise hunting them."

"Well, that's just what they'll get." Walker met Hank's gaze. "I realize this is short notice, but I need to borrow your jet."

Hank merely nodded. "I knew this trip was going to end up biting me in the ass."

Becca kept tapping on keys, doing god knew what else. "Their flight won't be landing for another five hours. But I'll run facial recognition software in an attempt to locate Blair once they touch down. See if I can give you guys a lead. In the meantime, I'll start a deep dive into her affairs. Depending on our bad guys' timeline, I might be able to trace any manufactured evidence they've already planted back to the source."

She glanced up for a moment. "And I'll do what I can to slow them down — lose their fueling request for West Palm Beach. Mess around with the computers on that end. Give you a chance to make up some time."

Miller eased forward. "And I'll call in a favor with a mate at MI6. See if he can run one of their satellites over the island once they're on the ground. Maybe follow whatever vehicle they acquisition if Becca can locate Blair."

Walker nodded. "Thanks. I owe you. All of you." He turned to Booker. "Buddy… I'm going to need Charlie to get me a chopper. Stat."

Booker arched a brow, glancing around the room as he crossed his arms over his chest. "With how this is shaping up, I'd better ask him to get two."

"You don't have to come."

"And break up the best flight team Flight Concepts ever had? That's crazy talk."

Walker grinned. "Welcome aboard." He looked at Gretta and Corbin when they stood, following Booker's approach and crossing their arms over their chests.

Walker sighed. "And Booker, tell Charlie we'll need an obscene amount of guns."

Hank held up his hand. "You're going to need more than just another crazy pilot and some gun-toting fools." He grinned at Corbin and Gretta. "No offense, but I've never seen two people carry so many weapons. And that includes my ex-SEAL buddies. You're taking your team. Wyatt, too, if he's game."

Wyatt groaned. "Great. Now I'll have to fly with both of them. Someone just knock me out."

Hank grinned, turning to the rest of Walker's team. "Ty? Knox? Colton? You guys in?"

Tyson "Ty" Quigley arched a brow. "Since when would we leave a teammate behind? Besides, Colton needs the practice."

Colton Henderson gave the guy a shove. "Screw that. Knox is the one who's rusty."

Knox Preston simply shook his head. "I'm in, as long as I don't have to room with any of them."

Hank shrugged. "Can't have everything, Knox. Walker can orchestrate the logistics, just don't get caught breaking any laws and for god's sake, don't die on me."

Walker rolled his shoulder, surprised it wasn't more tense, as he nodded at his crew. "We leave as soon as we're made those statements for the sheriff and the jet's fueled. They've got a two-hour head start, so this won't be a scenic flight. And gents, buckle up. This ride's definitely going to get bumpy."