Spy Games (Tarnished Heroes #1)(18)

Rand rolled out of bed, keeping low, and approached the front door, snagging the gun off the fridge as he went.

The panel near the door had a video screen. Typically, it allowed a person to see the front door and who wanted to be buzzed in. Rand had wired the system into the security cameras and tweaked the alarm to trigger anytime someone rang the apartment. He flipped through the feeds, looking for movement, someone out of place.

There, on the elevator.

It was a kid.

What the hell?

Rand quickly arrowed through the other feeds, but besides a couple getting it on in a stairwell and a teenager talking on the phone, the only person moving with intent was the child in the elevator.

The kid was maybe ten, twelve years old. How’d he even get into the building if Rand hadn’t buzzed him in?

The package.

He’d turned the tracking device off and disabled it. Could he have missed something? Had the same person who sold Sarah out given him up as well?

Rand cocked the Glock and waited.

The elevator kid reached their floor and wandered out. Or at least appeared as if he were wandering. There was purpose to his stride, the set of his shoulders. The kid was good—for a child.

He switched the feed to the camera in the door and waited.

The kid paused right in front of Rand’s apartment and glanced in either direction. He removed a clear plastic bag with a cell phone and loose battery from his pocket, held it for a moment in direct line of sight to the camera, then set it down on the ground. He didn’t knock or try the door. He turned and headed for the stairs.

What the hell?

“Rand?” Sarah whispered.

“Stay there.”

He watched the kid descend two flights. Huh. He was really leaving.

Rand slid open the locks and waited. Listening. Watching. But nothing happened. He opened the door, gun at the ready, and swept the hall, right and left.

Empty.

Someone wanted to communicate with them. Why? Who?

He grabbed the bag and shoved the door shut, locking it fast.

“What’s going on? Who was that?” Sarah stood at the foot of the bed, arms wrapped around herself.

“I don’t know.” He armed the security system. As soon as they could get their stuff together, they were leaving.

No one was supposed to know about this place.

“What’s that?” Sarah met him halfway. “A phone?”

“Yeah.”

“Who gave it to you?”

“A kid.”

“No, I mean—Americans? MSS?”

“No clue. Get dressed. I want to be ready to move before I turn this on. Clothes are in that bag. I guessed.”

They moved in the darkness, dressing, getting his gear together. In less than five minutes they were ready to bolt, if it came to that. He was pretty damn proud of Sarah. She didn’t question him, she wasn’t afraid. He hated to admit it, but she was a damn good operative so far.

“Ready?” He held the battery in one hand and the phone in the other.

“Yup.”

He slid the battery into place and the screen lit up. Without hitting the power button. What other modifications were there on this thing?

They watched the device boot up. He held his breath. Nothing about this was normal.

The phone rang the moment the screen loaded.

He flicked the Answer button and put it on speaker.

“Rand?” a familiar voice said.

“Hector?” His handler.

“Rand, tell me she has the briefcase.” There were notes of alarm and stress in Hector’s voice Rand had never heard from his handler.

“Briefcase?” Rand glanced at Sarah. Her hand was over her mouth and her eyes were wide. “No.”

“Fuck.”

“What’s so important about the briefcase?” he asked.

“Did Irene pick it up? Could someone have got it?” Sarah asked. Her voice trembled.

“Sarah?” Hector’s swallow was audible. “We’re getting video from the airport, but they’re not cooperating. I think…it’s gone.”

Rand couldn’t be bothered about a briefcase. Nothing was more important than ensuring his assets’ lives were not at risk. “Hector, we’ve got to move. I’ve got to—”

“You have to get on a plane home. Now. I’m not losing the two of you, too,” Hector said.

“But my assets—”

“Are probably dead, and you’ll be next if they have that briefcase. Shit. I had no idea she was—” Hector’s voice dropped, his words unintelligible.

Goddamn it.

The children.

Grief stabbed him, but he didn’t have the luxury of regret or sorrow. If he mourned them—Sarah died. He died. Others would die, too.

“We’ll be at the extraction point in fifteen,” Rand said.

“Make it ten.” Hector hung up.

“What’s in that briefcase?” Rand turned to face Sarah.

“The—the access codes, names, addresses—all of it.”

“What? What are you saying?” He took a step toward her, forcing her against the wall. He’d spent over a year of his life working with his asset. The man had a family. Children. Rand knew their names. They’d put themselves in danger to protect him. Were they dead?