Too Hard to Handle (Black Knights Inc. #8)(70)
“What now?” Zoelner sighed, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the two pilots were nowhere around. Neither Dan nor Zoelner were licensed to fly jets, so a couple of Air Force flyboys who’d been stationed nearby had been brought in to get them all home, no questions asked. That went for the airport crew that had been scrambled into action in the middle of the night too. Once again, Dan thanked his lucky stars for friends in high places. Although, come to think of it, el Jefe and the Joint Chiefs probably qualified as friends in the highest of places.
“Morales said the Cusco assets he sent in to gather up our stuff and go release Kozlov discovered the Russian dead,” Chelsea told them, her mouth twisting, her face filling with remorse and self-reproach. And, yeah, okay, Kozlov was probably a f*cker of a guy who’d undoubtedly done some terrible shit in his life, but they’d left him there, taped, vulnerable, defenseless.
“Jesus.” Dan ran a hand over his hair, his head spinning. Why? Why would anyone want to eighty-six Kozlov?
“It gets worse,” Chelsea said.
Dan knew he was going to regret asking, but… “How so?”
“The ground crew at the airport is dead too. Morales’s assets say policia are surrounding the place and all flights into and out of Cusco have been canceled for the day.”
“That dickhole in the truck,” Dan growled, wishing he’d had the opportunity to put a bullet right between the bastard’s eyes. He didn’t know who the guy was or what the hell he was about, but by the sound of it, he’d murdered three innocent men. And, yeah, okay, so the ground crew weren’t completely innocent. After all, they had taken a bribe to let Dan and company into the airport after closing, bypassing security and immigration and customs. But that didn’t mean they deserved to be slaughtered for it. Damnit!
The night air around them was heavy with the smells of aviation fuel and wet concrete—the storm they’d flown through had hit Bogotá first. Penni squeezed his fingers and he glanced down to find her pretty face turned to him, judging his reaction to Chelsea’s news. There was sympathy in her eyes—those kind eyes that had done a number on him since day one. The ground crew had been his contacts, his assets. And now they were dead because of the affiliation.
One more regret…one more black mark to add to my life’s list.
Remorse hit him hard in the gut, and the impulse to drown his sorrows in a tall glass of Jack Daniel’s was so tangible he could almost feel the tumbler in his hand, almost smell the hints of spice and nuts and smoke that whispered through the harsher notes of the alcohol. His mouth watered.
Penni gave his fingers another squeeze, as if she somehow knew where his mind had gone. It was enough to drag him back from the edge. Ground him in the here and now. He was able—with another look at her sweet face and a reminder that you won’t slip if you stay away from slippery places—to push the craving away.
“You suspect he was the one who took out Kozlov too?” Zoelner ventured. “Maybe whoever he is, he was watching us, following us, and getting rid of anyone who seemed like they might know too much about what we were doing there. Maybe that’s why you kept feeling like we were being watched, Dan Man. Because we were.”
“But why?” Dan asked, his mind racing through possibilities and discarding them one after the other. Nothing about the Mystery Man made a lick of sense.
“No clue,” Chelsea said. “And we’re not likely to grab a clue anytime soon.”
“Meaning?” Dan asked.
“Meaning our mysterious airport shooter has ghosted. He’s nowhere to be found. But Morales is trying to track his movements.”
“Which brings us back to the change in plans,” Penni said. “Why does the killing of Kozlov and the ground crew mean we’re taking Winterfield to Chicago instead of DC?”
Dan caught Zoelner’s eye and knew the former spook was thinking the same thing he was. “Babineaux,” they said simultaneously.
“What?” Penni glanced between them. “You mean Rock Babineaux? What does he have to do with it?”
“He’s a highly trained interrogator,” Dan explained. “Some might say he’s the best in the biz. And I suspect, given the giant question mark that is our Mystery Man in Cusco, our commander in chief is insisting one of his own get first crack at Winterfield before he’s handed over to the CIA.”
“Oh-kay,” Penni said slowly. “Um…why? I feel like I’m missing something here.”
“Given the recent spate of traitors coming out of the CIA’s woodwork, el Jefe doesn’t trust that it’s not another government spook who’s gone AWOL, running around killing people,” he explained. “And he doesn’t want us to hand Winterfield over to the CIA before he has a chance to have someone he trusts interrogate the f*cker.”
Chelsea frowned and shook her head sorrowfully. “We haven’t inspired much confidence lately, have we? Two rogue agents in the span of a few months.” She hoisted her satchel higher on her shoulder and looked off into the distance where the air traffic control tower was lit up like a lighthouse against the blackened windows of the closed airport.
“So, we’re headed back to the Windy City,” Zoelner said, his eyes lingering on Chelsea’s profile for just a little too long before swinging toward Dan.