Gabe (In the Company of Snipers, #8)(99)

“With what? Who?” Mark asked.

“Chaos Now,” Benson repeated with a nasty twang to his voice. “Don’t play around with me, Houston. I have every reason to believe you’ve been investigating Mr. Fallon as a terrorist.”

“Fallon’s a small part of an ongoing investigation. You think he’s involved in terrorist activities? Care to share?”

Benson didn’t blink. “Where’s he got the isotope?”


“What’s he need an isotope for?” Mark countered as quickly.

“I’m not here to answer your questions.”

“Then ask better questions. You and I both know the guys who handled the isotope are in FBI custody by now. Go ask them. They’re the culprits here, not us.”

Benson danced around the real issue. Gabe had no doubt he wanted to know if Mark had an agent inside Chaos Now. He’d come fishing for information and determined to get into The TEAM’s psyche. And close to three strikes at the rate he badgered Mark. The man couldn’t win.

“You know damned well they’re too sick to talk.”

“That’s strange. Bukowski was talking plenty when I left. I called FBI Headquarters and told them everything he and I discussed. You ever think to check with them before you come barging into a private business?”

“You talked to Bukowski?”

Mark shrugged. “Why not? The police chief asked me to.”

“Guess I need to chat with McDonald about proper protocol—not like it matters. Bukowski’s not the brains behind any of this. Neither is Fallon.”

“Good to know,” Mark replied.

Gabe’s ears perked up. If Fallon’s not the brains, who is?

Benson shifted tactics, his sneer still in place. “If I was a betting man, I’d say you and your guys are running your own counter-terrorism operation. You’ve got Stewart’s wife stashed under high-security somewhere. You’ve been involved in two high-speed chases in one day. Now you’re caught chatting up a couple guys with severe radiation burns from weapons grade plutonium. Yeah. If I was a betting man, I’d say it’s not looking too good for you, Senior Agent Houston.”

God, Gabe really wanted to pop Benson. Just once. Bully tactics. Pure unadulterated bully tactics. So far, he’d done nothing but threaten.

Mark must’ve felt the same. He took a step toward Benson, his right fist curled and ready. “You haven’t caught shit, and you damned well know it. Want to put your money where your big mouth is?”

Benson didn’t flinch. “That’s why the pipe bomb, huh? You guys were getting too close to Fallon for comfort, weren’t you? He’s trying to scare you off, isn’t he?”

“So. Weapons grade plutonium, huh? Are you sure of that?”

Benson stood his ground, radiating hostility and maybe a hint of regret for bragging and giving Mark intel he hadn’t already known.

Gabe let a cautious grin split his face. Round over. Benson never had a dog in this fight.

“Let me make this perfectly clear, Agent Benson,” Mark said calmly, his fist relaxed. “The pipe bomb that exploded this morning at Kelsey Stewart’s home in Alexandria was delivered by two ex-Army regulars. We discovered the extent of their involvement with Fallon only when we talked to Bukowski at the hospital less than an hour ago.”

He took a step closer to his adversary. “I called the Bureau the minute I knew Fallon had a dirty bomb. I don’t know how or where his men got the isotope, neither do I know the strength of it. And until now, I didn’t know it was weapons grade plutonium. End of story. Check with Police Chief McDonald, but you’d better hurry. Bukowski and Stevenson are sloughing skin and muscle. They’ll be lucky to last the night.”

Benson’s brows spiked. Maybe he believed. Maybe he didn’t have enough evidence to prove otherwise. The showdown ended when he turned on his heel and beelined to the elevator without a word.

“Excuse me, sir. Umm, sir,” Ember called after him, the USB drive in her raised hand. “Did you forget something?”

She would’ve gone after him out of the goodness of her heart, but Gabe lifted his arm to block her from being too damned nice. “No. He wanted ’em. Let him come get ’em.”

Agent Benson had his dark glasses on by then, but Gabe stared him down anyway as he retraced his steps. The guy was a total jerk-off. Rude. Dismissive. Downright disrespectful to Ember and Mark.

The second the elevator doors closed behind him, Gabe stepped into the inner circle of Ember’s workstation, raised his hands and clapped. “Yeah. Give it up for the Boss.”

Mark downplayed the moment of appreciation, but every other agent had already joined in by then. Connor thumped his back. Izza whistled, two fingers to her lips. Yes! The TEAM was back, ready to rock and roll.

“Listen, guys.” Mark lifted his voice over the applause. “Sorry. We don’t have time to celebrate. Not yet. Fallon’s really built a dirty bomb. It’s somewhere in D.C. We’re running on borrowed time. I need eyes on the Gangplank Marina. We’ve got to find Fallon and the bomb. Or bombs. There could be more than one.”


“What else do you need us to do?” Gabe asked.

Mark leveled his gaze, making eye contact with every single agent. “Get your loved ones out of the city.”