Too Hard to Handle (Black Knights Inc. #8)(94)

“I don’t get the impression Winterfield, even when he still had all his marbles, was a man who was fettered by conscience,” Rock said. “I suspect even back then his moral compass didn’t exactly point true north. He liked bein’ a CIA agent. And, if ya ask me, I think he liked the thrill of passin’ along information and not gettin’ caught.”

“So what changed?” President Thompson asked.

Rock tsked. “He got greedy. He figured he was doin’ all of that, takin’ risks that could get him strung up, stealin’ information that was worth millions, all just so this Spider character wouldn’t out him for what happened with that weapons shipment. Winterfield took it into his head that he could do a fair bit better on his own and decided to make a break for it. But all the runnin’ and gunnin’ has since gotten to him. He doesn’t strike me as a terribly stable individual to begin with, and I think the stress of it all tipped him over the edge.”

“So you think the guy at the airport in Cusco, the one who took out the ground crew and the Russian FSB agent was one of Spider’s men?” Fuller asked.

“So says Winterfield,” Rock concurred.

“Interesting,” the president mused. “I suppose now the question becomes, who the hell is this Spider?”

“Ya got me,” Rock said. “And you got Winterfield too. He never met the man, only ever talked to him on the phone. Winterfield doesn’t even know Spider’s real name, although Winterfield says he has an English accent.”

“English, huh?” Thompson mused. “Do we have another Jihadi John on our hands here?”

“He’s more than that,” Chelsea piped up and Zoelner lifted a brow. “Uh, Mr. President. Sir,” she added after a beat.

Adorable. Damnit.

“I’m assuming by the litany of titles being thrown my way that it’s Agent Duvall speaking,” President Thompson said.

“Yes, sir, Mr. President.” Chelsea nodded, her color riding high again.

“Go on then, Agent,” Thompson said. “Tell us what you know.”

“Nothing, really.” Chelsea wrinkled her nose. “Just that a couple of times over the years the name ‘Spider’ has come up in Intelligence gathering. And not just in connection to al-Qaeda. I ran across a reference to him when I was looking into a human trafficking case. And then another time when I was collecting Intel about an organized crime syndicate that was operating out of Warsaw. But I could never find anything more about him, and since he wasn’t pivotal to either situation, I chalked up both references to coincidence. I told myself the third time is the charm and swore that if I heard about him again, then I’d get interested in finding out more.”

“And are you interested in finding out more?” President Thompson asked.

“Uh…yes, sir, Mr. President,” she said, her brow furrowed.

“Okay, then,” Thompson said. “You’re on the case. I’ll let Morales know.”

“Sir?” she asked, blinking rapidly.

“You were just given an assignment by the president, Chels,” Zoelner informed her. “That’s how it’s done around here.”

“Oh,” she said breathlessly. “Oh, yes, sir, Mr. President.”

“Sir or Mr. President will do, Agent Duvall,” Thompson said. “No need for both.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. President,” Chelsea said, then made a face like she wanted to die. “Shit. I mean, sorry. Sir.” And then she slapped her hands over her face and shook her head.

Thompson and Fuller were both chuckling, Boss was biting his cheek to keep from laughing, and Ozzie slapped a hand over his belly and guffawed. When Chelsea lowered her fingers from her face, Zoelner gave her another wink. The woman obviously needed some support.

“And, Frank,” Thompson added. Besides Becky and Michelle, the president was the only person on the planet to call Boss by his first name. “Let’s put one of the Knights on the assignment too. I want to scratch some surfaces and see who bleeds.”

“Yes, sir,” Boss said, looking right at Zoelner. Zoelner shook his head. He’d rather swallow his own foot than be paired with Chelsea on a mission that could last weeks, months, or maybe even years. There was no way he’d be able to keep his hands to himself for that long. And if he didn’t keep his hands to himself, things could get…awkward. “Anyone in particular you have in mind, sir?” Boss asked.

“How about Dagan Zoelner?” the president said, and it took everything Zoelner had not to groan out loud. “With his training and background as a field agent, he’ll be a perfect complement to the work Agent Duvall can do online and through her various sources.”

“Done.” Boss slapped his hand down on the table like a judge’s gavel. Zoelner had learned that when Boss did that, the decision was final.

Fuuuuuck. He forced a false smile on his lips and nodded at Chelsea.

She had a thunderstruck look on her face as if everything was happening too quickly—yeah, welcome to my world. Because that’s how it worked at BKI. In fact, that’s why Thompson and Fuller had formed the group. So they wouldn’t have to hem and haw around, waiting for congressional permission or for the various Intelligence agencies to fight over jurisdiction, before putting a plan of action into…um…action.