Page 55 of Heston
Chapter Twenty-Five
Heston turned to the man he’d insulted. He’d been so worried about London, he hadn’t asked Alex about his wife. “Holy shit, I’m… I’m sorry, Boss. How… how is she?”
Alex looked haggard and weary, but still lethal. The man’s blue eyes were pits as dark, black ice and bleak as the unforgiving depths of the deepest ocean. His expression was carved from the same black ice. Sharp. Jagged. Damned deadly. Take one wrong step, and just like that ocean, he’d end your dumb ass and never look back.
Twin SIG pistols graced both cups of the worn leather holster strapped over the plates of his tactical vest. A damned evil knife lay at his hand on the counter. Odd. No sniper rifle, Alex’s strong suit, in sight. Which stood to reason. He was kitted out for close combat fighting. The killers who had London wouldn’t die by a shot they didn’t see coming. No. This was personal. Alex wanted the Irishman, whoever he was, Obermeyer or Keane, to know precisely who was killing them. What happened today would be lethal, up close, and gawddamned personal.
“No need to apologize. I’ve been in your shoes. Kelsey’s holding her own,” Alex replied evenly. “She’s not out of the woods yet, but—” he paused— “soon. You’ll see. She’ll come back to… to us.”
Christ, the man was wound as tightly as Heston. “What’s your plan?” he asked with as much patience as he could muster.
“For now, we’re waiting on more intel from Mother. She’s on her way up. Just—”
“Here! I’m here, Alex. I’m running as fast as I can. Don’t start without me,” Mother ordered, her heels clicking menacinglyfrom the rear hall elevator to the portable tables Heston had just noticed along the wall behind the counter. “Where are the maps I asked for, people?”
He swallowed his OPSEC mistake down. He hadn’t heard the elevator. Hadn’t even heard its doors open or close. It’d been a damned long time since he’d lost track of situational awareness. It wouldn’t happen again.
Everyone in the lobby shifted to the tables. Heston took quick stock of the crowd. Mark and Harley stood at Alex’s left. David Tao, Connor and Izza Maher, Rory and Ember Dennison, Cassidy Dancer and her husband, Jude were there, too. Lee Hart and his wife Tess. Hunter Christian. Eric Reynolds. Beau Villanueva, of course, since his wife was attending to Kelsey.
Renner Graves stood alongside Beckam Garner, both with their arms folded across their chests. Jameson Tenney stood smartly at Alex’s right side, his hair combed as usual, dark glasses covering his eyes, white cane tucked firmly alongside his left leg. Tripp McClane and Jake Weylin looked ready to brawl, both grim and stiff across from Alex. Shane Hayes and Everlee Yeager, all but stood at attention with them. Even the agents who normally operated OCONUS, outside the continental United States, were present and accounted for: Walker and Persia Judge. Zack Lennox. Seth McCray. Cord Shepherd.
Heston didn’t recognize the older Black gentleman with Murphy, but they seemed to know each other so he let that lack of detail slide. Murphy’s secretary, Page Royal, stood at his elbow. Geeky Axel Cho, Mother’s technical assistant, and the guys and gals from TEAM Two were there, as well. Grissom McCoy, Phoenix Bond, Avery Branson, Jenna Bates, Cole Hemmingway, Leisha Warner, and Byron Shields. Asher Downey jerked his chin at Heston. Christ, everyone was there to support Alex and Kelsey. And now London.
Mother assumed a stern position alongside Jameson, then turned on him with a curt, “I know you pulled your own map. You know where she is.” Not questions. Outright declarations.
“Yes, Mom, I did and I do. Is everyone here so we can start?” Jameson asked, his head rotating as if he were surveying his audience. Which he absolutely wasn’t and would never do again.
Former Navy SEAL Jameson Tenney had lost his sight during a classified overseas combat mission gone wrong. But whereas many injured vets came home to drug addiction, homelessness, and suicide, Jameson threw himself into learning to live without seeing. First came Braille and learning how to maneuver in public with just a cane and his other senses. After accomplishing that, he’d tackled—and conquered—two extreme sports: parkour, the obstacle course that involved precision jumping, wall running, climbing vertical walls, and other seemingly impossible feats of daring; and Krav Maga, the extreme fighting system from Israeli Defense Forces that combined aikido, boxing, karate, and wrestling techniques. Somewhere amidst the incredible physical skills he’d acquired, Jameson had also become uncannily adept at profiling. A couple of TEAM agents swore he could read minds. Maybe he could. The son of a bitch could still nail the high-caliber, thousand-yard gong at the gun range. Maybe because his other senses were sharper now? Maybe because he simply listened better? Who the hell knew?
“Go ahead, Jameson,” Alex ordered.
Jameson nodded and began. “As we all know, Alex suspects that either Secretary of State Obermeyer or the proposed next ambassador to Ireland, Michael Keane, are behind the attempts on Alex’s and Kelsey’s lives. And now they’ve kidnapped” —his head rotated until his dark glasses aimed at Heston— “your friend, Hes. Former USFS Lieutenant London Wilde. Mother and Cho located security footage that show her abductionoutside Le Petite Sunrise Sweets Confectionary, at zero three-hundred hours this morning. Three men were involved. Two slowed her run, the other came up behind and tranq’d her. She went down like a lamb. They stuffed her into the trunk of a black Lincoln town car. License plate came back as stolen, so that’s a dead end. But…”
He turned to Mother, who pointed the remote at her fingertips to the big screen and brought up another image. “A traffic camera across the street caught this image when the trunk was open.” The picture was shadowy and grainy, but there was enough morning light to reveal the stark white face and blank eyes, as well as the bullet hole in the forehead, of the deceased male stuffed into the right rear wheel well.
“That’s Ryan Malloy,” Heston declared.
His inner caveman roared to life.Protect London! Run! Now! Save woman!
“Who the fuck’s Ryan Malloy?” Beau Villanueva growled.
“Former Irish Ranger. Extraordinary sniper. Jack Malloy’s son,” Heston replied, his heart pounding at the obvious threat to London.
“Shit, he’s famous,” Beau hissed. “How’d anyone take out Ryan?”
“Who cares?” Izza Maher spoke up. “But I’m betting they took her over the bridge to Anacostia. Plenty of deserted derelict buildings over there to stash bodies.” Her dark eyes cut to Heston. “Sorry, but you know I’m right. Two dead drug addicts were found there just last week. It’s a valid dumping—”
“She’s not dead,” he bit out, pissed that Connor’s wife would go there so quickly. London couldn’t be dead. He’d know if they’d already killed her. He’d feel her sweet spirit leave the Earth. He would!
“The river’s not frozen, but it’s still damned cold this time of year,” Jake Weylin said quietly. He ought to know. He’d beenpulled from the Potomac in the middle of a fierce winter storm a few years back. Almost died.
“Shut the fuck up,” Asher cut in before Heston could knock Jake on his ass. “London’s not dead and she’s not in the fuckin’ Potomac River! We’ll find her, gawddamn it. Where’d they stash her?” he barked at Jameson. “You oughta know.”
“At the tip of my finger, Ash, Hes,” Jameson replied evenly.
Swallowing hard, Heston glared down at the spot in the map where Jameson’s fingertip still rested. He leaned closer. Really looked this time. It wasn’t in the middle of the District. It was nearer the east end of the Tidal Basin, the man-made reservoir between the Potomac River and the Washington Channel in Washington DC. “They’ve taken her to the Jefferson Monument?”
Jameson’s dark glasses aimed at Heston as if he were truly seeing him. “East of the monument.”
