Echoes at Dawn (KGI #5)(70)

“We have to make this look good then,” Rio said. “If we’re going to lure Titan to Afognak Island, then we have to make damn sure they think Grace is with us. Otherwise this is a pointless endeavor—they’ll sit back and bide their time and strike when we’ve relaxed our guard.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve already thought of that. We’re going to make P.J. be a stand-in for Grace. She has a similar build, similar coloring. It’ll kill her to have to get out of her combat boots and lose her weapons, but she’ll do her job.”

“And how do you plan to get Grace from Virginia to Fort Cnia to Fampbell safely?” Rio asked.

“I’ll call in a favor and have a pilot from Fort Campbell accompany us so he can fly Grace back to the base to meet Shea.”

“That’s not enough,” Rio said bluntly. “This isn’t a simple escort. One army pilot won’t be enough if they run into Titan.”

Sam paused for a moment. “What do you want then?”

“I want at least two other men with her. Not cops either. I’m already down a man, but if Steele’s team and the rest of KGI are going, then I can spare two of my team to go with Grace. They’re the only ones I’ll trust her with apart from myself. Terrence and Diego will go with her. They’d die before allowing anything to happen to her.”

“All right,” Sam said. “Then that’s what we’ll do. Can you make it to Virginia by sixteen hundred hours tomorrow?”

“We’ll be there,” Rio said grimly.

ADAM Resnick never knew anyone was in his house until he felt the cold slide of a knife against his neck. His hands froze on the keyboard of his computer and he went utterly still, not wanting to do anything to make the blade sink farther into his flesh.

Already blood welled and trickled down his skin. He could smell it.

He was disciplined enough not to shake, but that didn’t mean his pulse wasn’t about to explode inside his head.

“Very good,” the man murmured behind his ear. “Most people would panic, then have their throat cut and die as a result of their own stupidity.”

“What do you want?” Resnick demanded, his hands still locked in place.

“I understand you have quite the association with KGI. I need information. They’ll be making a move soon and I, of course, want to head them off at the pass.”

“Who?”

The knife bit farther into his neck, and Resnick gritted his teeth against the sting.

“Let’s not play games. You know who I am. I know who you are. I know you have KGI in your back pocket and I also know you have the information I want.”

Resnick’s lip curled in disgust, but he held his tongue. Pissing off this faceless man would only get his throat cut.

And then the knife was gone and the hard point of a pistol dug into the back of his head.

“Get up. Slowly. No sudden moves. My friend here is somewhat of a whiz when it comes to computers. They like him, you see. They always tell him what he wants to know. I have a feeling yours will have everything we need to know about KGI.”

Resnick closed his eyes, knowing there was no way out. He could die but they’d still have access to his computer, and Titan would have someone who could hack into the best system. The average computer expert wouldn’t have a prayer of hacking into Resnick’s files, but Titan wouldn’t have anyone average on their payroll.

He slowly rose, holding his hands up where they could be seen. A hand curled around his arm and pulled him to the side. He stumbled over the chair leg and then righted himself before he was instructed to stand facing away from the desk.

“Hands behind your head, fingers laced together. I better not even hear you breathe or you’re a dead man.”

He was a dead man anyway. It was a simple truth, one he accepted with no emotion. He should have already died. He was a marked man, and not by Titan, but by his own government for what he’d done to help Shea and Grace Peterson and, by proxy, KGI.

He’d blown the top off the secret research that had been resumed after years of dormancy. Even now, in the upper echelons of the military and the U.S. government, an investigation was ongoing about who and what was responsible for the group who’d been behind the creation of the two women with extraordinary powers.

And Resnick was waiting to die for the simple fact that he now knew too much.

He closed his eyes and listened to the tapping of fingers on his keyboard. The men di

dn’t talk, didn’t communicate verbally, not until the end when the newcomer said, “I have it.”

“Thank you, Mr. Resnick, for your service,” the one who’d held the knife to his throat said.

A single pop followed, the unmistakable sound of a silencer. Pain sliced through Resnick’s back and into his chest. His knees buckled and he pitched forward, agony tearing through his body at supersonic speed.

Blood was warm, the smell sickening, and it pooled underneath him, soaking into the carpet.

After a moment the pain faded, replaced by complete numbness. He couldn’t breathe. Every time he tried, a peculiar gurgling sound erupted from his throat and the metallic taste of blood seeped onto his tongue.

He tried to roll over, tried to move, but even sliding his hand along the carpet took unimaginable strength.

The phone. He had to get to the phone. He had to warn Sam.