The Last Second (A Brit in the FBI #6)(29)

Fentriss’s face suddenly looked older, worn. “Trust me, agents, now you know what I know. So can we get back to work finding my people?”

Nicholas said, “What was your team’s mission in Kosovo, sir? How would your man overhear this news? Was he murdered?”

“It’s a standard K&R, an oil executive who went missing in disputed territory while trying to broker a deal. It has nothing to do with the plutonium. My guy was a terrorism expert, one of the reasons I hired him. The team uploaded his tablet to me, and I’ve been going through his notes. He was in Damascus last month, had a meet with a source, and they mentioned some followers of Khaleed Al-Asaad were making not-so-discreet inquiries. Our man was found in a ravine, his neck broken. Was he murdered? I think it likely.”

Nicholas said, “We were told Al-Asaad was killed some two years ago, if I remember correctly. The CIA got him.”

“Yes, evidently so. His power structure was rumored to be second only to Bin Laden’s. And, Al-Asaad had a huge following, all eager to blow us up, to buy and sell arms to those who want to commit acts of terrorism all over the world.” Fentriss rubbed a hand across his tired face. “They will never give up, never give in, until they have what they want, sowing chaos until they gain total destruction of the West. These not-so-discreet inquiries gave me the impression Al-Asaad could be alive. If he is, it will only get worse. Is he involved with a nuke? It’s our worst nightmare.”

Mike was still angry. “Regardless, we need to let our boss know what’s happening. Who else has been read in about the missing plutonium?”

Fentriss said, “Listen to me. The plutonium isn’t your problem, it’s mine. Your job here isn’t to find a nuke. It’s to help me find my team. If you want to go plutonium hunting, I suggest you get in touch with your people and get assigned to the program. In the meantime, if you were serious with your offer to help find Grant, please, stay focused.”

Mike said, “Fine. But don’t think we aren’t going to be pursuing the nuclear angle as well. No choice. We’ll be drawn and quartered if we don’t at least mention what we know.”

“Up to you. Shall we?” He gestured toward the door, and they started back to the main staging area. Fentriss peeled off to bark more orders at his people.

Mike watched him stride away, her mind going a mile a minute. “I can’t believe this. Nicholas. Listen, if a nuke went off and there was an EMP, there’d be a signature, yes?”

“Yes, without a doubt. It hasn’t gone off—yet.”

“Exactly. So there’s a chance to still use GPS to find Grant.”

A dark eyebrow went up. “How so?”

“His fitness tracker, Nicholas. Remember the new one he was wearing? I told you I wanted to get one in Rome. Well, I did some research. The device he was wearing was made by Ziost, uses GPS to automatically track outdoor runs. You don’t have to tell it to track you, it’s all ready to go the moment it senses you running. So even if the ship’s GPS is offline, there’s a chance the tracker isn’t. If we find the device, we can find Grant and his team. I hope. Assuming he’s still wearing it, of course, and it’s still sending out signals.”

He stared at her, grabbed her arms and hugged her tight. “Have I told you lately I love your brain? That’s brilliant. Let me get Adam on this.”

“Are you going to touch base with Zachery, too?”

“Zachery is on a retreat with some other muckety-mucks this week, remember? In the wilds of Montana, no wireless, a team-building exercise. I think we should play this out first. If the powers that be call him back, and he wants us, he knows how to reach us.”

“You know we’re going to be hotdogging, something Zachery hates.”

He grinned. “Yes, well, Fentriss has a point. We should take advantage of this being a silent op for the time being. We’re still off the official radar. So let’s find Grant. I assume it will be all hands on deck soon enough. Perhaps he’ll know more about what’s happening and we can avoid an international crisis.”

She shook her head at him. “Another one, you mean.”

He hugged her again. “It’s what we do, Agent Caine. Now, let’s call Adam.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE


Adam Pearce, their twenty-year-old off-book hacker, and a major part of their Covert Eyes team, answered on the fourth ring, his face popping up on Nicholas’s screen. His hair stuck up at angles, he was wearing earbuds and a vintage Journey tour T-shirt, and a can of Red Bull was visible by his elbow.

“What took you so long?”

Adam grinned, waggled his eyebrows. “You don’t want to know.”

“Adam, Mike here. Don’t tell us you’re entertaining a female caller. Are you?”

“Maybe . . . No, of course not. Just kidding. I was playing Fortnite, of course. What every red-blooded young hacker in the world is doing right now.”

Nicholas said, “I’m not sure what that says about society’s future. Terribly sorry to interrupt your game, but we have a serious situation and need your help.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Grant Thornton is missing.”

“Oh, no, not again.”

“Yes, again. Different situation this time, though. He was on board Jean-Pierre Broussard’s yacht.”