Code Name: Nanny (SEAL and Code Name #5)(74)

“You saw Underhill?” Gabe asked him.

“I was waiting in the bushes when he came out. No one followed him, and I tracked him to his car to make sure no one was waiting there.”

“Underhill was lying about one thing,” Summer said carefully. “He knows more than he’s saying about Costello, and his actual destination is Sri Lanka.”

The new arrival frowned. “A hunch, Ms. Mulvaney?”

“Call me Summer. And it’s body analysis, not intuition. When you mentioned Sri Lanka, he covered his mouth with two fingers. He also locked his ankles and leaned back on the bed. It’s a classic gesture-cluster.”

“Want to try that again?” Gabe muttered.

“Gesture-clusters,” she said impatiently. “Grouped nonverbal communications that signify predictable attitudes. Underhill was showing a textbook stress posture reinforced by the concealment gesture of his hands covering his mouth. Since he was denying that he was going to Sri Lanka, there is a substantial chance he was really indicating the opposite.”

Their visitor raised an eyebrow. “I’ll pass that information on to the right parties.” The visitor held out his hand. “Izzy Teague. We didn’t meet properly before.” After they shook hands, he continued. “So what do you make of the rest of Underhill’s behavior?”

Summer reviewed Underhill’s conversation, focused on his gestures and body positions. “When he mentioned his drug research, he was facing Gabe directly, his head tilted the same angle as Gabe’s. These are fairly straightforward signs of openness and lack of stress.” Summer frowned. “The part about the lab fire was different. When he mentioned that, he brushed his nose. Taken alone, the gesture can be ambiguous, but with a stiff posture and averted eyes, I’d say that he was lying.”

“So he doesn’t plan to destroy the evidence in a fire?”

Summer sighed. “I’m an FBI agent, not a psychic, Mr. Teague.”

“Izzy, please. And you’re acting pretty damned close to one, from what I can see.”

“It’s behavior analysis, not trickery. All I know is that Underhill didn’t believe what he’d just said. Either he’ll keep the evidence or he’ll destroy it in a different way. I can’t say more without additional observation.”

“Hell.” Izzy sat on the bed and opened a sleek black briefcase. “I don’t know about you two, but right now I’m fifty-fifty for scrapping this whole mission.”

“Neither of you has to worry,” Gabe said quietly. “You’ll strictly be backup. I’m the only one going in. I gave Tate my word.”

“The senator wouldn’t expect you to walk into an ambush,” Izzy said flatly.

“I’m not going in blind or unprepared, despite Underhill’s suggestions. You’re going to check the clinic walls and find me a cold spot, Izzy.”

“Already done. I just finished shooting every foot of the exterior. There are cameras and motion detectors, but I managed to find you a few safe access points.”

“You’ve been busy.” Gabe checked his watch. “Here’s how we’re going to handle things tonight. With a little luck we’ll be long gone by daybreak, drinking coffee back in Carmel.”



At five minutes to one, well before Underhill’s planned meeting time, a rusting Taurus cruised the dark walls around Los Reyes Clinic.

From the front passenger seat, Izzy scanned the darkness through night-vision goggles. “No sign of Underhill or guards. What do you have, Gabe?”

Gabe continued his own survey. “Nada, but let’s take one more loop. Summer, slow down at the back wall, near the service entrance. If Underhill is here with hostiles, I want to know it.”

Summer nodded, following the elegant limestone wall that circled the clinic. A skilled driver, she was credentialed in both speed and evasive techniques, and she had already memorized the layout of the clinic. “Front guard gate coming up in twenty feet.” The warning gave the men time to close their eyes, so that the heavy lights near the entrance didn’t disturb their night-adapted vision. “Okay, we’re clear.”

The car purred on, passing two rows of adobe guesthouses for visiting patients. The high fences were screened by azalea and oleander, which hid a narrow border of electrified wire at the top of the wall.

“There’s part of the old market. Underhill expects you here.” Summer pointed to a small brick embankment. “That’s the drainage tunnel he marked on his map.”

“Forget the drainage tunnel.” Gabe adjusted the angle of his glasses. “I’ll be going in somewhere else.”

Summer laughed. “Score one for the visiting team. Remind me not to tangle with you.”

“I wouldn’t advise it,” Gabe said from behind his glasses. “We’re going to let Underhill think he’s got a sucker right in the palm of his sweaty hand.”

Suddenly Summer slowed. “Get down!”

The two men hit the floor as a black van approached. Through the back windows Summer made out several men dressed in dark uniforms. One of them was gesturing as he spoke on a shortwave radio.

“Police,” she said quietly.

“Armed?” Gabe’s voice came low, down behind her seat.

“Hard to say.” The van’s motor growled and without warning the driver pulled out in front of Summer. “Looks like four, maybe five men in back. I can’t see if—”