Page 101 of Always Been Mine

“I’m sending out a private message to the five I’ve chosen. The drop is going to happen in Culpeper, VA. I shall communicate with you on IP-MESH.”

Zach inclined his head, turned, and walked out of the warehouse.

“He doesn’t know of the ISIS threat?” Dr. D asked when they heard a car leave.

“It increases the risk of the drop. I don’t want to spook him. He’s an analyst, not a soldier,” Wilkes said. “I may be many things, Dr. D, but I’m still a patriot. The whole purpose of this drop is to capture the ISIS operative looking for a bioweapon. We’ve already identified who he is on the IP-MESH. The other four will be picked at random. There’s a strong possibility that ISIS intends to release the virus on U.S.soil as retaliation for our involvement in their war in the Middle East.”

“Isn’t it too risky? What if he gets away?”

“That’s why you’re manufacturing a killed virus.”

Dr. D looked miffed. “This was not our agreement.”

“It is now,” Wilkes told the scientist. Dr. D was a difficult asset to manage. He was a brilliant scientist and knew it. He desired to see the result of his work even when it translated to death. Wilkes had pegged him as a megalomaniac. He was dangerous.

“No one is getting out of that drop,” Wilkes continued. “I’ve got my own paramilitary unit ready to apprehend every single one of them. All, except the ISIS agent, are considered collateral damage. If they resist, they will be killed.”

“Very well,” Dr. D sighed. “When will your Russian associates need their stash?”

“How many vials does a single can produce?”

“Hundreds.”

“Excellent.” With weapons sales to Colombia drying up, the shift to bioweapon sales to the Russians could prove lucrative as his last hurrah before he went into retirement. Wilkes had no intention of selling it on the Black Plane, not knowing if it could find its way back into the United States. He was lying to Zach. He had recruited Jamison to be a sleeper agent to be inserted as necessary to keep tabs on the agenda of targeted politicians. Their association had been beneficial. Zach recruited his lover, Philip Crowe, who had become Wilke’s best double-agent. When Porter killed Crowe, Zach had slowly come unhinged and had been filled with a singular mind for revenge. Wilkes, being the opportunist, harnessed Zach’s thirst for vengeance to further his schemes, but now that Zach’s cover was blown, he had become a liability.

The auction meet could be the perfect excuse for anaccidentinvolving Zach Jamison.

It was too bad he had to get rid of Benjamin Porter.Wilkes’s man had a bead on the admiral in the last couple of days. Porter had been seen in Washington DC, as if taunting Wilkes to nab him. He could put a sniper on him, but he felt the man deserved a face-to-face meeting. Wilkes respected the admiral in aworthy adversarykind of way. Porter wasn’t a sanctimonious prick like the others in the agency. The admiral was willing to get his hands sullied to get the job done, but unlike Wilkes, he’d never done it for personal profit or cut a large swath of collateral damage.

Wilkes only cared about the homeland. Screw the rest of the world.

Beatrice curledup on the sofa and studied the report Doug had brought in this morning. She hadn’t left the house in ten days. Gabe rarely left her side. He only did so when he had to take care of Rhino, otherwise he was always in her face. Thankfully, they had not killed each other yet, because she was getting stir-crazy with this isolation. She was very much a city girl. Washington DC was her playground. Living in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by woods, was not her idea of a sabbatical. Beatrice sure hoped her dad tracked down Zach Jamison soon or this Redrook guy. He called Gabe once a day to keep them updated, but so far there was no solid lead.

Gabe seemed to have no problem adjusting to this change of pace. He said he’d done time as a sniper. In training to be one, you were required to stay motionless, under cover, staying alert, and attune to every change to your surroundings for hours. It freaked Beatrice out sometimes when she’d be working behind Gabe, and he would make comments as if he had eyes in the back of his head. He said it was the minuscule sounds she made, the rustle of fabric that alerted him to what she was doing.

Her sanity was also helped by the presence of SamHarper, a relatively new recruit of BSI. He was one of the few employees of the company who was not from the military. His background was mixed-martial arts and security for high-end clubs. Sam was coming off a security detail for a French dignitary—a deal brokered by Beatrice for BSI.

“How did you like Europe, Sam?” Beatrice asked.

“Fine,” he said shortly. Then a lop-sided smile softened his serious face. “Hated wearing suits.”

She laughed. “Most of the guys do. Limits their movement. Although,” she angled her eyes at Gabe, “didn’t you wear suits all the time when you were theotherguy?”

Gabe chuckled. “Yes, but it was a bitch to keep my weight down.”

“Muscles, you mean?” Beatrice looked appreciatively over her man’s delicious body.

“Yes, muscles,” Gabe muttered. “Muscle weight is heavy. It slows you down, and wearing a suit doesn’t help. I’ve been experimenting in some training methods. The thing is, my body needs a lot of calories and I’ll be damned before I starve myself.”

“How much cardio do you do?” Sam asked

“I normally run six miles every day and then lift weights,” Gabe said. “I need a sparring partner for mixed-martial arts.”

“We use the gym on the first floor of the building where BSI is located,” Sam said.

“I have privileges there because I’m affiliated with BSI and can get you in,” Beatrice said. “Well, once this whole mess is over,” she added in a grumble.

Sam’s phone buzzed. He looked up at Beatrice and Gabe. “Travis says he and Caitlin are coming over. They’ve got something.”

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