Street Game (GhostWalkers, #8)(91)

Paul shook his head and looked up at his father. “She was trying to kill you. Ethan took that knife for you.”

“I know he did,” Griffen replied. “Were you able to repair the damage?”

“She went for the liver. It was difficult getting the bleeding stopped.” He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to ease the terrible weariness. “He wouldn’t have made it if we’d taken him to a regular hospital. They wouldn’t have had enough time.” His bloodshot eyes met Mack’s gaze. “He’ll need a lot of rest, boss.”

Mack nodded and forced himself to look at Jaimie. Brave Jaimie. His Jaimie. She’d stayed right there while Paul used psychic energy to heal the aftermath of violence—a particularly violent and brutal attack. She hadn’t flinched, or shrunk away from giving blood. Even though she knew the energy was going to tear her apart. He bent to brush a kiss over her temple. “Thanks, Jaimie. Thanks for taking care of him. I know what it cost you.”

Paul glanced at her over his shoulder. “I’ll help you as soon as I can.”

“It’s just a bad headache,” Jaimie assured. “I’ve had many. And somehow I think you’re in worse shape than I am. Did Javier get the information we need? I can . . .” She started to sit up and Mack put a restraining hand on her shoulder at the same time Paul did.

“Rest,” Mack ordered. “Javier will get it.”

“Boss,” Lucas said, “I hate to bring this up now, but we’ve still got Armando Shepherd and Ramon Estes sniffing around Madigan’s warehouse. The signs are pretty clear they’re looking to make their move soon.”

Sergeant Major nodded. “I brought the latest intel on Doomsday. They’re pushing hard for the weapons deal because they’re gearing up for something big. The chatter’s been increasing steadily.”

“Where?” Mack asked.

Griffen shrugged. “It’s anyone’s guess with them. We have a chance to cripple them.”

“How many, Lucas?”

“So far we’ve only ID’d Shepherd and Estes, but Javier went out last night with a bunch of his new little pot-smoking friends and brought back a couple of photos of the other two. They aren’t homeboys.”

“Javier on that as well?” Mack asked.

Jaimie frowned. “I can help him, Mack. You have no idea how much work it can be to run all the databases. I have multiple programs he doesn’t know about.”

“He’s been in your workroom for a while now, baby,” he said gently. “Believe me, Javier’s found your programs. He’s a maniac when it comes to computers.” He bent down and kissed the tip of her nose. “Like you. Just rest a little longer. Gideon, I know you’re tired but I need your eyes out there.”

“I’m on it, boss,” Gideon said.

“Does anyone in this room remember they’re in the military?” Griffen demanded.

“Occasionally,” Mack said, “when we get bad intel.”

A ripple of laughter hastily suppressed went through the room. Mack squeezed Jaimie’s hand and went over to the table, sitting down and gesturing to the others. “All right. Let’s see what we’ve got. What’s the latest on Madigan? Is he out of intensive care yet? Has anyone been to see him in the hospital? He’s going to get antsy wanting to move those weapons.”

Marc tossed several pictures onto the table. “This is Dane Fellows, Madigan’s right-hand man. He’s reputed to be a high-profile killer, Madigan’s enforcer. We took these in the bar just down the street. It wasn’t difficult to spot Madigan’s people, they walk around like they own the place. The locals ignore them for the most part, although once in a while a fight breaks out between the dockworkers and Madigan’s men. Fellows usually controls his people fairly quickly.”

“Which means,” Mack said, “they want to keep this area out of the spotlight.”

“Yeah, that’s my take,” Kane agreed. “Word is, Madigan has an in down here with someone in the police station. Someone tips them off every time there’s been an investigation into his activities.” He glanced at Griffen. “If we run this, it’s probably best to get in and out without the locals knowing we’re running an operation.”

“Homeland Security is going to love that,” Griffen said. “I do have to answer to them, you know.”

“Let Colonel Wilford give you heat after,” Mack suggested.

Griffen pressed his lips together tightly, his bushy eyebrows coming together as he frowned. “He’s still the person I have to report to, Mack. I don’t know for certain if he’s dirty. If I knew, don’t you think I’d do something about it? I’m not a man to take this kind of thing lying down.”

Mack’s head went up sharply. He narrowed his eyes and studied Sergeant Major. No, Griffen wasn’t the kind of man to put up with being threatened. He’d tried to buy himself time by sending his son to Mack to babysit while he . . . “You’ve been conducting your own investigation. Did you bring us any more pieces of the puzzle?”

“I don’t know if what I’ve got helps. I followed the general from a meeting. He called someone on his cell phone. He was angry and I heard my name come up twice. He was objecting to whatever was being said. The senator’s car followed him and when they pulled to the curb beside him, Chilton stopped his call immediately. The senator offered him a ride and General Chilton not only refused, but he backed away from the car. I’ve never seen him scared, but he looked scared.”