Page 25 of Red Line

“Yes, Dr. Wajeeb said he wondered the same thing. He discovered that Security is provided by the Order. No one is allowed—not royalty or heads of state—to bring in their own teams. That’s my understanding, but I’m sure you have the resources to figure that out. It should be a safe environment for her to show him.”

“Just to be clear, the him is Joel Brighton?”

“Yes, an American. Joel and Kamal went to university together in the U.S. I have his picture.” She flipped through the phone again and showed it to Black.

Black knew Sophia wouldn’t want to send this to his phone, and he didn’t want that traceable connection either. He turned to Nutsbe. “Can you get that to me?”

“I will.”

“And pictures, Dr. Wajeeb tried to get pictures of Elena.” She scrolled forward. “This is old, but here is a Syrian school picture of her.” Sophia showed Black the picture. It didn’t pull up any connections for him.

Nutsbe leaned forward to look at the image. “I can put it through our AI to age that photo. How old would she be now?”

“Mid-thirties,” Sophia said.

“We have a crime. We have the possibility of the criminal getting a forty-million-euro payout. We have a date for the meet and greet that you’re sure of?”

“A hundred percent.” Sophia nodded. “While waiting for Red to call me, I reached out to a friend who is part of that charitable society. She was able to check the ball’s invitation list. Elena Sava’s name was added this morning as Joel Brighton's guest. Before, it was listed as ‘Joel Brighton plus one.’ And I thought I might be able to use my connection to score a couple of tickets so someone from our government could get in and observe or intervene. But there’s no wiggle room. There are no more tickets. I’m sorry.”

“What do you think is happening here?” Black asked. He had heard the ramping tension in her voice throughout the interview. He watched as she used both hands, petting the dog’s neck and back. Sophia had been doing this kind of work for many years. She should be used to this level of danger. And yet, it was obviously impacting her hard.

“Elena Savas funds terror.” Sophia sat with her back ramrod straight. “She develops terror cells outside of Syria. She has had money before—money in what would be, say, a million dollars in a year’s time. She has never had forty million. The ring is going to be an international story. Once it is out there, the media will look for the lucky treasure hunter. They’ll find Elena. The world is too small for her to hide her identification. And Zayd Ali Kamal and his people have no reason to protect her. That means Elena is about to be exposed, and she doesn’t care. Dr. Wajeeb has concluded—and for what it’s worth, I concur—that Elena doesn’t mind the exposure because she will want to be the victorious face of what comes next. Dr. Wajeeb further believes that what is coming was already planned and is underway. They were simply trying to find a funding source to send it over the finish line.”

Chapter Eight

Nomad

With everything going on with the Middle Eastern countries along the Mediterranean Sea right now, the United States government had a vested interest in calming the temperatures.

Whatever information this guy Poole had in his back pocket, it couldn’t be small.

It had to be a serious threat.

This was one of those missions where any point of failure was a spark to a det cord. It could very well snake itself along to a massive explosion.

Nomad had lived a razor’s edge kind of life for nearly two decades.

It was the space he liked to inhabit. It brightened his focus, calmed his nerves, and felt good in his bones. It was what he was made to do.

While that made missions feel natural, it didn’t make them easy.

Nomad didn’t take anything about his work lightly.

He and Echo Team Alpha spent time trying on the dirty clothes, going through the packs, and familiarizing themselves with all the elements that had been gathered. Whoever was supporting this mission had done an excellent job. How they found worn hiking clothes that fit both him and T-Rex—yeah, they stepped up to the challenge of “Go big or go home.”

Their jump gear was squared away. The night was deepening, and now there was nothing to do but be pointed toward their plane and given a thumbs up.

“Focus in.” T-Rex pulled the team’s attention to him as he looked at his phone. “I’m getting a message from the Diplomatic Security Service.”

Ty turned his way. “Out of Ankara?”

“Affirmative.”

Nomad scowled. “Is this about our legislators?”

“Reading. Okay, a bomb went off in front of an American-owned hotel in Tal Afaya.”

“Lebanese border town, I moved through there on assignment a few years back,” Havoc said. “Which hotel? Does it say?”

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