Page 27 of Samson

“We have surveillance photos of him going into the embassy.”

“He must be valuable. They wouldn’t offer him protection out of the goodness of their hearts.”

“Maybe he can get things others can’t.”

“What about the embassy itself? They can’t all be crooked. How’re they doing this under the noses of all the people working there as legitimate employees?”

“They’re not.” Trevors reached across the table and pulled a picture out of the pile. He stabbed at it. “That’s the embassy.”

“It’s under construction?”

“Major renovations. They’ve all but cleared out the place. Minimal staff, all of which we believe are connected to what’s going on. Everyone else is using another government building in the meantime. But they’re both considered Turkish soil.”

“Do you have any other photos?”

“Yeah. That USB has everything. I haven’t left anything out. Once you go through it, you’ll understand why we’re having trouble.”

“Any photos of the guns and weapons?”

“No. I’m hoping you can help with that.”

He looked at the photo of the building Trevors had singled out. “I know I’m good, but this? Unless they walk me through the front doors, I don’t think I can get in there.”

“Maybe not, but you do stuff others can’t, and that’s what we need here.”

When Samson had walked away from the mission ten years ago, he’d sworn he would have nothing more to do with anything related to the Armenians. But last time, he’d had too much to lose.

They’d changed all that, and in the process, they’d gotten him to back off, but not before he hit them hard. Now there was nothing else for them to take from him. Maybe this was his chance to finish what he’d started all those years ago.

“Okay,” he said. “Leave it with me, and I’ll find out what I can. I’ll start with this guy Marc and see what I can shake out of him.”

“Be careful.”

The side of Samson’s mouth lifted in a grin. “When have I ever been careful?”

Trevors shook his head. “Fine, then, just don’t get too cocky. Cocky will get you killed.”

“Hasn’t let me down yet.”

“I don’t know how you do it. You’re the only man I know who can get away with that kind of attitude.”

“My mom always told me I was one of a kind.”

“Youdoknow moms are supposed to say things like that to their kids.”

“I’m aware.”

“I gotta get going. I’m already late for dinner. My wife is gonna kill me.”

“She’s not used to the hours you have to work with your job?”

“Yeah, but I promised her I’d be on time tonight.”

“Then you’d better get going. Have a good night.”

Samson sipped his water and grimaced, looking at the glass. He needed something stronger.

He gathered the file and moved to the bar.

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