Page 68 of Shadow Blind

“Tell her to name him something pampered and precious,” Cosky continued. “Like Prince, or some shit.”

Aiden zipped his lips. No way was he telling Demi what to name her cat. But it was interesting that both O’Neill and Cosky felt the cat was misnamed. Yet for opposite reasons. Cosky said the animal was too delicate for the symbol. O’Neill said the symbol was too delicate for the cat.

Strange. But interesting.

Day 10

Washington, D.C.

The man on the other end of the line had no name. What he had were excuses. Endless excuses. None of which were acceptable. How hard was it to grab one solitary woman?

Impossible, apparently, when one hired incompetent hacks.

“Explain to me how you can lose a plane.” Clark’s voice remained mild, even as his fingers dug into the arm of the elephant chair with such force they left imprints in the tough leather. “The FAA requires the registration number to be visible on the aircraft. They also required aircraft to file flight plans. This Citation is not a ghost. It exists.”

“Of course it exists.” The man with no name’s voice erupted down the phone line. “My guy followed the girl and her guards to the airfield. He saw her board the jet. He texted me the registration number. I ran it. Nothing came up in the search.”

“Then your goon misread the numbers,” Clark’s voice sharpened. He collected himself. When he spoke again, his tone had returned to its normal, mild octave. “It would appear that all three of the men you hired for my needs were second rate, at best.”

According to No Name’s own account, Aiden Winchester had been waiting at the airfield. He’d been right there, and this asshole’s hired goon had let him fly off into the sunset—with the very woman he’d been sent to kidnap. What a complete moron.

“I don’t hire second-rate.” No Name’s voice hardened. “This fuckup was not because of employee failure. There is no record of that jet landing or taking off from San Bernardino. It didn’t even show up on radar. Someone disappeared that plane, which requires money. Lots of money. A luxury your target doesn’t have.”

Clark pondered that. Who had Winchester hooked up with? Someone with enough resources to hide a plane, apparently.

He could concede that the disappearing plane was out of his hired gun's control. But what about the girl he’d hired them to grab? They’d lost her, too, even though they’d been right there in her building. And then they’d gone and got themselves caught.

Amateurs.

He hadn’t paid a fortune for amateur hour.

Clark reined in his frustration. “I’m disappointed. You assured me this would be simple. You assured me your men were the best.”

“They are. This was a unique situation.” Mr. No Name’s tone tightened. The pompous ass clearly didn’t appreciate having his failures laid at his feet.

Too damn bad.

Clark’s fingers dug deeper into the arm of the elephant chair. He’d paid an exorbitant amount of money to acquire Winchester or his girlfriend. And this…this failure was unacceptable. Not because of the money. Because of Winchester.

He had to get hold of Winchester.

“I’m disappointed.” Despite his best efforts, his voice thinned. “I require Winchester, his woman, or my money back.”

“I’m working on it. Just let me do my fucking job.” The line went dead.

Clark scowled. He’d be happy to comply if the bastard wasn’t so goddamn awful at fulfilling the terms of his contracts. The bounty he’d put on Winchester’s head was fortuitous. His original reasoning had been math based. The more contract killers looking for the SEAL, the better the chance of acquiring him.

At least he had other options now that Mr. No Name had proved his incompetence.

Pushing himself up, he wandered over to the enormous window looking out over the glittering lights of Washington, D.C. For the first time, his touchstone view didn’t soothe him. His heart was pounding way too fast. His muscles were so tense they ached. Lightning bolts of pain periodically shot through his jaw thanks to the latest round of teeth grinding.

No Name’s news had not been the worst of the day. That honor would go to his eyes and ears in Hurley’s command.

The admiral—indeed, the entire United States military by now—knew about his NNB26 nanobots. They knew how his bot weapon had affected the citizens of Karaveht and why Winchester’s SEAL teammates had killed each other.

They knew everything. Except who created the weapon.

Since Winchester and his teammates were still missing, and Hurley’s evacuation team had found no bodies in Karaveht, the only way they could have found out about his little prodigies was through Winchester. Or more precisely, through the SEAL’s dead teammates.

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