Street Game (GhostWalkers, #8)(94)

Mack sighed. “Madigan is too well-known, as are his men. We’ll have to get the weapons out of there before Shepherd and Estes decide to make their move and try to steal the guns. We think they’re getting ready to do just that.”

Joe nodded slowly. “I’d say you were right. There’s been a lot of activity this evening. I’ve spotted four.”

“Same number here. First we have to remove the weapons and take over the warehouse without tipping them off.”

“Should be easy enough,” Joe said.

Joe’s eyes took on a silver sheen, gleaming bright and hot as if the very thought of finally getting in on the adrenaline-laced action had changed the chemistry in his blood—or at least the energy surrounding him. Mack was beginning to understand the energy of the psychics was a little different with each one. Joe and Gideon shared something quite different, the layers shielding them from others. He glanced at Paul, still slumped with fatigue, his face in the shadows. Paul nodded once, the movement nearly imperceptible, but it was enough for Mack.

“Marc, you and Lucas take Paul back to the room and get him to bed. Make certain he drinks a lot of water. I need you in shape as fast as possible,” he added.

“I can handle it tonight,” Paul said.

Mack scowled at him. “I wasn’t asking. Get your ass back to that room and go to sleep. If he can’t sleep, Lucas, knock him out. Take the med kit with you. Are we clear, kid?”

Sergeant Major stirred. Mack shot him a warning look.

“Got it, boss,” Paul said.

He stood up, swaying slightly. Lucas and Marc immediately closed in on either side of him. Paul glanced at his father, nodded his head, and went out.

“What the hell happened?” Joe asked. “You’ve got three down.”

“Jaimie gave blood and you know how she is with violent energy,” Mack said vaguely. “She’ll be fine. Ethan and Paul will both come around.”

I’ve got something, boss. Javier’s voice slid into Mack’s mind seamlessly. The woman assassin was Lieutenant Roslyn Kramer, formerly of the army. This is her second death. The first time was three years ago in a car accident in Berlin. She’s a real ball-breaker, this one. And Mack, her file was flagged. The moment I accessed it, through a thousand walls—and yes, I am the greatest—someone began erasing it and back-tracing at the same time.

Mack swore. You’re on Jaimie’s computer. You’ll lead them right back to her.

Javier snorted. Give me some credit, Top. I was ready for them. After the first six firewalls and encryptions, I figured they’d be ready for a hacker. I knew the moment I got to the file, alarms would go off somewhere. I had part of it downloaded before the flag went up. The moment the trace started, I bailed.

Which database? The army?

Nope. Homeland Security has their own supersecret database no one knows about. We’re in there, boss. Want your file?

If it’s so damned supersecret, how did you know about it?

The amusement faded from Mack’s mind as Javier sobered. Okay, I didn’t know about it. Jaimie did. She has amazing programs, Mack, things I’ve never seen before. I think she may have worked on some of these. Each person has a sort of signature code, and I swear some of these look like hers.

Mack wasn’t certain exactly what Javier was talking about, but he knew Jaimie worked on many programs for the various agencies. She developed self-learning programs that adapted as they were used. He’d heard her talk about her ideas, and loved the sound of her enthusiasm, but in truth, he didn’t understand half of what she said. He was proud of her accomplishments even if he’d never fully comprehend them. If she was developing extremely sensitive software for the various agencies, then chances were it was impossible to hack unless she was using her own program to hack it. Which meant that would lead them straight back to her door as well.

As for her databases, she either developed them herself, or she stole them. Jaimie was resourceful, which made her invaluable to Colonel Wilford whenever he wanted information for his teams. Mack knew she still worked for the colonel and because her skills were needed on the computer, they didn’t insist she do fieldwork. That and the fact that it was common knowledge that anyone wanting Jaimie was going to have to go through Mack to get her kept her safe.

He rubbed his pounding temples. He was exhausted with trying to keep so many people protected. Do you have anything on that address for me, Javier?

Javier didn’t ask which address and Mack was grateful. A headache was kicking in hard. Talk flowed around him, Kane had picked up the slack immediately, but Joe was watching his face and Mack knew little escaped those eagle eyes. He kept his face without expression.

It looks like a drop to me, Mack. An apartment building in Virginia.

Who owns the building? Who is the apartment registered to?

That’s the thing I find interesting. A man by the name of Earl Thomas Bartlett owns the building. He appears to have no social security number and no driver’s license, yet he owns several companies. There’s a Lansing International based in Nevada he recently acquired and a company called International Investments. He has an entire list of companies in various states, all international. He owns a Falcon 2000 executive jet that seems to be able to land on any of our military bases in any part of the world, which he acquired from Lansing before he ever took over the company. And Mack . . . Jaimie has a file on him as well.