Page 65 of The 9th Man

Friday — March 27

LUKE HAD FINALLY MADE THE CALL TO STEPHANIE NELLE. HE’D TAKENto heart the warning of Talley’s boss’s reach, thinking that might extend to U.S. Customs and Border Protection. If so, that person might know when and where their international flight would touch down. On the chance that Talley was leading him back to the United States and a trap, he decided to use the resources available to him. So he called Stephanie and explained everything.

“And the reason you’re still on this?” she asked. “Besides the obvious, a former girlfriend.”

“An old man is dead.”

“I get that. Which is why we have police departments.”

“Something’s happening here. I’ve got a feeling.”

“You’ve been listening to Cotton way too much.”

“Pappy makes sense. Most of the time.”

“Unfortunately, he does. Sit tight and I’ll be back to you.”

Two hours later Stephanie made contact.

“I checked out Jack Talley, retired U.S. Army,” she said. “He works for Thomas Rowland.”

“Is that important?” he asked.

“Important enough that this has now become official Magellan Billet business. Rowland is bad news, with a capitalB.”

And she’d provided him with some quick background on Rowland, enough that he got the picture. Now he understood Persik’s sarcasm—If only you knew the irony in that smart-ass comment—when he’d mentioned the CIA.

“If we can take Rowland down,” she said to him, “that would be a public service.”

“Sounds like you know the guy.”

“All too well. Let’s just say I owe him. Tell me what you need.”

He did, and they both agreed that he should continue to work off the grid since, as she explained, Rowland’s reach was enormous. Better to keep this between the two of them with direct contact only. She did manage to get him a car that was delivered to the diner in Liège.

He’d intended on driving back to Luxembourg and hiking to the shrine in the woods for the rifle.

“No need,” Stephanie told him. “I’ve already made a call to Copenhagen. Cotton is on his way to get it. He’ll make sure it stays safe.”

“While he’s at it,” Luke said,“could he retrieve Benji’s personal stuff from the car I wrecked. Jillian should have that.”

“I’ll have it done.”

They decided flying commercial would be the fastest way back home, and Stephanie booked them two seats on a flight out of Brussels to JFK, then on to Nashville. She’d even splurged on business class—so you can rest—which meant this must be serious. The Magellan Billet’s per diems and expense account rules were not usually on the generous side.

“What’s the plan?” Jillian asked as they left Customs at Nashville International Airport.

He led her through the terminal and outside to a part of the airport where private planes were accommodated. His watch read 10:45A.M.He headed for the hangar Stephanie had noted. Waiting for them was a Justice Department Learjet.

“I see there are advantages in being a government operative,” she said.

“That there are.”

“But you realize Talley could be waiting for us in Louisiana.”

“I certainly hope so.”

Five hours later, shortly after 4:00P.M.Central Time, they reached the outskirts of Cameron Parish, then the town of Hackberry an hour later. A Ford Bronco had been waiting for them when they landed at another rural airport west of New Orleans, two Magellan Billet Berettas with spare magazines in the glove compartment.

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