Page 61 of Undercover Infidel
Throughout dinner, which Tag’s team prepared, Bennett remained withdrawn, checking his mobile with increasing frequency.
After the meal, we broke into teams to prepare the equipment for tomorrow’s surveillance. Dr. McLaren joined me to calibrate the long-range monitoring devices.
“Bennett’s investment in this mission seems personal,” I commented quietly.
She hesitated before responding. “Malcolm’s history with Russian operations—I’ll just say that some wounds never fully heal.”
“What kind of history?”
“That’s for him to share, if he chooses.” Her tone indicated the subject was closed, but I filed away her reaction for further consideration.
As darkness fell, we established our final protocols for tomorrow’s op. Bennett remained professional despite his earlier outburst, contributing intel about the facility’s perimeter defenses that proved accurate when cross-referenced with the satellite imagery.
When we concluded our planning, Tag and his team took the first watch while the rest of us prepared to get what sleep we could before tomorrow’s critical operation.
Lex and I retreated to our room.
“What a day,” she said once we were alone.
“I’m increasingly concerned about Bennett’s mental state.”
Her eyes opened wide. “Mental state?”
“His reactions are inappropriate.”
“You’re right, I suppose.”
“There’s something else.” I reiterated what Dr. McLaren said about some wounds never healing and that, when I pressed for more details, she said it was up to him whether or not to share.
“I don’t like that one bit.” Lex shook her head. “I’ll see what I can find out from Evelyn tomorrow.”
While we held each other close, we didn’t make love. We were both exhausted as much as overwhelmed by what the days ahead would bring. Once I was certain Lex was asleep, I leaned forward and whispered, “I love you.” She hadn’t said those words to me yet, and while that stung a bit, I knew she cared, and that was enough for now.
18
LEX
The clock on the bedside table read zero four hundred when my eyes opened. Con’s side of the bed was empty, though I hadn’t heard him leave. My mind immediately began cataloging the mounting complications—Bennett’s increasingly suspicious behavior, the impending demonstration of what could be the most dangerous weapons system in history, and my conflicted feelings about the man whose scent still lingered on the sheets beside me. Con had become my ally, my lover, and potentially my greatest distraction at a time when focus was essential.
After showering and dressing, I made my way down the corridor, toward the stairs. Halfway there, I paused at the sound of a hushed voice coming from one of the rooms. The door stood slightly ajar, and through the gap, I saw Bennett pacing, mobile pressed to his ear.
“Chan eil e deiseil fhathast,”he seethed.“Feumaidh sinn ùine a bharrachd.”
While I couldn’t understand all the words, his tone conveyed urgency. He glanced toward the door, and I retreated quickly, continuing down the hallway as if I’d just emerged from my room.
The timing of Bennett’s secretive call—before anyone else was supposed to be awake—combined with his earlier behavior, heightened my unease.
I went downstairs, walking softly out of habit rather than necessity. When I reached the bottom, I heard Con’s voice from the sitting room—now our command center. He was speaking with Tag.
“The documents he produced last night contained details not even Unit 23 has access to,” Con said. “How would MI6 obtain that level of information without field observation?”
“They wouldn’t,” Tag replied. “Unless?—”
I rounded the corner, and both men fell silent, looking up at me. Con’s expression softened immediately, his eyes warming.
“Morning,” he greeted, offering me a cup of tea from the tray beside him. “Sleep well?”
“As well as can be expected,” I replied. “Anything new?”
