Page 33 of Eva's Shelter

“Will do.”

Chapter 8

Evastudiedthephotoand video, working through the angles, comparing present to past as the rescue team assembled. She’d tried a few things, but hadn’t broken into the live feed signal yet.

Uncomfortable didn’t begin to cover how she was feeling. No one enjoyed rehashing their mistakes, but if she screwed up again, Matheson would pay the ultimate price. Thinking of his family, she sent messages and warnings to Ross, trusting him to be the voice of reason in the planning. It seemed unlikely that a full team of bad guys had managed to slip unnoticed into the area, so some things would be different.

What worried her were the things that would be the same.

If this was meant to be a re-enactment, and it certainly looked like it from her perspective, how would one or two people simulate the unexpected firepower of ten gunmen?

Someone—Bakr Morcos, in her mind—wanted something. From her. To drive her crazy? Too vague. To punish her? That didn’t make sense either. He should have been grateful for her mistake because it gave him what he needed—death to the heir who stood between him and control of a corporation with global influence.

“Why now, Bakr?”

Years ago, she’d been told her suspicions of Bakr’s involvement in the kidnapping had been explained to Abraham and dismissed out of hand. She wondered if believing that story made her as gullible and vulnerable as Abe Morcos appeared to be when it came to his brother’s motives.

According to the shrink she’d been required to see after that mission, she needed to let go, accepting what was out of her control. She’d done her job to the best of her ability… blah, blah, blah.

It sure as hell didn’t feel that way.

“Why now?”

She’d pulled everything useful from the picture and video. Opening the email again, she hovered the mouse over the reply button. Would a straight-up reply fulfill the royal ‘audience’ he wanted?

Tempting as it was to buck the order to avoid direct contact, she stayed the urge. For now.

She went back to the obituary. Didn’t matter how it was faked. Didn’t matter that a recent search had turned up pictures of his wife and children mourning. Why it was faked was the real question.

The Morcos corporation dealt with contracts in the billions—both legitimately and through the supply and demand of weapons. Abraham’s moral compass might not point directly north, but he had a certain integrity Bakr lacked.

Eva leaned away from the FBI system as if it might read her thoughts and intervene before she could act. How to distract the minion ghosting her so she could find a way into the Morcos systems?

Public record. She’d searched every related keyword to find news on Abe and his supposed demise. Was there a way in through the front door, so to speak?

She set to work, finding much of the territory familiar as she’d provided the background when they were planning the mission to rescue Abe’s son.

Soon she had a spreadsheet of births, deaths, weddings, and milestone projects. She had lists of close friends and primary business associates. She didn’t burrow down any of the shadier internet tunnels. Yet.

Since his son died, Abe had given much of his free time and a significant portion of his personal salary to children’s charities.

She skimmed through images, making note of the same faces at nearly every event. His wife, his personal assistant, and his brother, Bakr.

Interesting.

She found a news report showing Abe’s grieving widow, and was startled by the implication that Bakr was also mourning in their family home. The source on the article was a spokesman for the family, so she didn’t quite count it as independent corroboration, but it certainly made it tougher to prove Abe wasn’t dead. Changing tactics, she left that avenue and focused on the assistant.

The woman, Amelia Sala, was hot—no surprise there—and competent, or she’d never have kept up with the multiple schedules a man like Abe maintained.

Eva was into what she considered her second layer of the background onion when she discovered Amelia was related to Mrs. Morcos.

“Way to keep it in the family,” she murmured. “I bet you know everything.”

She did a cursory search of the companies and charities most recently associated with Morcos in the news. Going back to the pictures, she fanned out her searches, matching names and faces with the businesses they represented.

Ready to go deeper, she hesitated. She couldn’t be sure how much hacking the FBI would tolerate. More to the point, she wasn’t in a hurry to expose her full range of skills. Using her ‘powers’ for good within the Army was one thing. She was a civilian now, whether her brain worked like one or not.

While she knew Special Agent Nichols and Ross went way back, she also knew there were limits to how many infractions Ross could force Nichols to overlook, even in these circumstances.

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