Hell on Wheels (Black Knights Inc. #1)(25)
“Car crash. According to this,” Ozzie indicated his glowing computer screen, “police assume he fell asleep at the wheel. His car ran off an overpass on Highway 1 and ended up in the Potomac on the…” He leaned in closer to his monitor. “Shit. The crash happened the very night—or early morning more precisely—of Grigg’s supposed security detail for the senator.”
Oh boy, this was so not good. Even Ali, naturally cock-eyed optimist that she was, didn’t believe in coincidences of this magnitude.
Apparently neither did Frank.
“So Grigg takes a job for the FBI without telling any of us,” he said, “and that very night his FBI contact is dead and Grigg is less than twenty-four hours away from being snatched out of the middle of the Syrian desert and tortured by a group of terrorists who were never supposed to be in that region? Something stinks.”
“Yeah,” Ozzie said. “And this time it isn’t your socks, Dan Man.”
No one was in the mood to appreciate Ozzie’s attempt at levity.
“Okay,” Frank slapped his wide palm on the table, taking charge. “I’m going to get on the horn to General Fuller. Let him contact those f*cks…uh, ’scuse my language, ladies, at the FBI. Hopefully, he can convince their director to look into whatever this Agent Delaney was investing. “
“Dude,” Dan snorted, “good luck with that. Those folks are tighter than a virgin’s pu…er,” he glanced sheepishly at Ali then winced when Patti slapped him on the back of the head. “Sorry,” he mumbled, kissing his wife’s hand and looking genuinely apologetic before returning his attention to Frank. “Let’s just say they’re never happy to share their secrets.”
“Well, they better get happy or we’re going to have to start rattling their f*cking cages.” Frank winced. “Uh, ’scuse the language again, ladies—”
“Oh for f*ck’s sake, Frank,” Becky grumped, “we’re not gonna pass out because you’ve got a goddamned, shitty, little sonofabitchin’ potty mouth.”
Ali couldn’t help it, one corner of her mouth twitched.
Patti giggled behind her hand and Dan snorted.
Everyone in the room felt the release of pent-up tension, like a stretched rubber band had suddenly been turned loose. Nothing better than laughter through tears. Thank you, Steel Magnolias.
Frank, it seemed, was the only one who didn’t find Becky’s little speech entertaining. He glowered so fiercely, Ali wondered how Becky’s hair didn’t spontaneously combust. She had to give the young woman definite props for being able to flash the Black Knights’ boss a very convincing so-whatcha-gonna-do-about-it grin.
Ozzie piped up. “Oh, and FYI, that license plate Ali snapped a photo of belongs to a midnight blue Lincoln Navigator owned by a Mr. John Robert Godfrey. He’s a sixty-five-year old middle school principal who’s been working for the Wilmington School District for over twenty-two years.”
“No.” She was already shaking her head before he could finish. “I know the difference between black and blue. This vehicle was black, jet black. And the guy behind the wheel was closer to thirty-five than sixty-five.”
“Yeah,” Dan intoned. “It couldn’t be that easy.”
“What?” she asked.
“The first thing any professional operator would do while on a stake-out or doing reconnaissance is switch out license plates.”
“Oh,” her shoulders hunched. She’d been so proud of getting that picture. And it was all for nothing. “So that’s that then.”
“Not necessarily,” Frank assured her. “We’ve got a couple of strings we can pull and see what unravels. Now, I know you’re tired, but I need you to concentrate.”
She dragged herself upright and nodded, using every bit of self-discipline she possessed to keep functioning even though her stomach ached, her sleep-deprived brain operated through a sticky film of tar, and she really, really needed a little privacy to indulge in a good cry. Not to mention the fact that all the Coke made her need to pee like a Russian racehorse.
“Did Grigg send you anything out of the ordinary? A file, a letter? Perhaps even a package?”
She chewed on her bottom lip, wracking her sluggish brain. “No,” she finally shook her head. “Nothing.”
Chapter Six
“I’ve had no opportunity, sir.”
The impertinent tone coming through the phone made Senator Aldus’s blood pressure threaten to shoot through the roof like Old Faithful.
His doctor warned him to cut his stress levels. How the hell he was supposed to do that when he was surrounded by imbeciles was anyone’s guess. If he looked in the mirror right now, his face would probably be the same burgundy color as the dress his wife decided—after much hand-twisting and hem-hawing—to wear to tonight’s charity ball.
His wife…
He’d married her almost twenty years ago for her political connections and bourgeois status. And he’d grown to hate her more and more each day since.
Just thinking of her made the thick vein in his forehead pulse in time to the beat of his heart.
“What the f*ck do you mean you’ve had no opportunity? She’s been there nearly twelve hours!” The plastic casing of his cellular phone crackled in warning, and he took a deep breath in order to make himself release the death-grip he had on the device before he crushed it in his hand.