Forged in Smoke (Red-Hot SEALs #3)(97)

“How much of the intel from yesterday are we talking about?” Zane asked, sharp intelligence glittering in his eyes.

“All of it,” Rawls said.

“Where the scientists are being held? Who’s holding them? Who’s behind this whole damn operation?” Mac asked, shooting the questions out like rapid gunfire.

Rawls lifted his shoulders into an exaggerated shrug. “Yes, yes, and yes.”

More silence.

Eventually Mac stirred. “You’re telling me these morons are gearing up for a major operation off intel provided by a ghost?”

“That they are,” Rawls said quietly. “They know exactly where the information came from.”

“And they believe it? They’re acting on it?” Mac didn’t bother hiding his disbelief.

Intel from a ghost, for Christ’s sake. What the hell are they thinking?

“Look,” Rawls said, staring them one by one in the eye. “I know y’all don’t believe me. That’s plenty fine. I just thought y’all should know before signin’ on board.”

Another long, awkward pause and then Zane lifted his glass in a toast. “Appreciate it.” He brought the glass to his lips, tilted back his head, and poured the shot down his throat before turning the tumbler upside down and placing it with deliberation on the table. “So let’s say Pachico did supply this information . . . can you trust it? Hell, the guy was less than cooperative when alive. You telling us death has opened his mouth?”

Rawls barked out a laugh. “Hardly. But he didn’t have a choice.” He paused for a moment and frowned, as though not sure how much to admit. “Wolf and his people are much more attuned to this shit than we are. They have a ceremony that forces ghosts to tell the truth.”

“Really.” The very neutrality in Cosky’s voice shouted his skepticism. “They use a ceremony to force truth from ghosts?”

“Yep. As well as to exorcise them,” Rawls said, his voice getting progressively tighter.

Mac couldn’t help it. A snort escaped. “So you performed an exorcism too?”

For the first time, an honest-to-god emotion flickered across Rawls’s face. Pure irritation.

“I don’t give a shit if y’all believe me. Just thought you should know.” He pivoted and took a step toward the door.

“Are you headed down with them?” Zane asked, his voice flat, but concern tightening the skin around his eyes.

Rawls stopped walking. “Yeah, they got Faith convinced they’ll die without her help.” Frustrated anger sharpened his vowels. “I’m goin’ to keep an eye on her.”

“Then I’m in,” Zane said simply.

“Me too,” Cosky agreed.

“What the hell. Can’t let you bastards have all the fun.” Mac shrugged. “I’m on board.”

“Appreciate it,” Rawls said after a moment.

Throats cleared. Mac broke the moment by picking up the half-empty bottle of JD and filling the glasses again. He kicked an empty chair toward Rawls. “How about you get the f*ck over here and sit down? We’ve got other shit to talk about besides ghosts.”

Once Rawls had taken a seat, Mac sat down himself. The whole damn ghost thing was a useless distraction.

“Wolf claimed he’d have visuals on the building by tomorrow. Schematics. Head counts, blueprints,” Mac reminded everyone absently. “So we’ll know soon enough whether they’re targeting the right place and people.” He didn’t question how Wolf would acquire the information. Shadow Mountain obviously had some pretty kick-ass contacts.

“So this Eric Manheim and James Link, those names come through your ghost too?” Mac asked abruptly.

“Yeah.” Rawls reached for the bottle of whiskey and poured half a finger into the fourth tumbler on the table.

When he sat back, he jabbed Zane in the side with his elbow. With a grunt, Zane pushed his chair, loosening up some room. The table was so small the four of them were packed around it like sardines in a round tin.

“But Wolf and his boys recognized the names. Apparently they’ve run into this New Ruling Order before. Wolf didn’t say much, but I get the impression the NRO is a major threat,” Rawls added quietly.

Zane nodded absently, staring thoughtfully into the amber liquid in his glass. “I did some checking last night. If your ghost isn’t f*cking with you, we’ve got a serious problem. Eric Manheim heads up the Manheim-Clifton financial coalition. They own hundreds of banks and financial institutions throughout the world. Hell, as the only child of the Manheim family dynasty and husband to the only child of the Clifton family dynasty, Eric Manheim controls the national banks of virtually every country in existence—including the Bank of England, the United States Federal Reserve, the Bank of Japan, the Central Bank of Jordan, the Bank of France, and the Central Bank of Austria. He’s arguably the most powerful man in existence—untouchable.”

Mac frowned. “Nobody’s untouchable.”

Although it would be much, much harder to level accusations at someone with such an elite stature. And that was assuming Rawls’s damn ghost, or more likely their corpsman’s fertile imagination, produced anything substantial linking Eric Manheim to anything.

But Manheim wasn’t the person he wanted to focus on.