Saint Peter's Soldiers (A James Acton Thriller, Book #14) (26 page)

And a
third sitting on the couch, the sound of snoring coming from the speaker.

His heart
sank.

He’s
going to kill me.

Irvington Avenue, Bethesda, Maryland

Kane pulled up to the side of the road, immediately comparing the
license plate of the navy blue SUV in the driveway to the one pulled by
Langley. It was a match. He surveyed the area, by all outward appearances this
an upscale family oriented neighborhood, kids playing, couples walking their
dogs, driveways filled with minivans, crossovers and SUVs.

Nothing
out of place.

Two kids
burst from the front door of the residence in question, a man stepping out onto
the porch a few moments later. Kane examined the DMV photo.

That’s
him.

“Be back
by nine!”

Shouts
of acknowledgements from the kids were heard as Kane exited his vehicle,
walking toward the driveway. He held up a fake FBI ID as the man turned to go
back inside. “Excuse me, sir, FBI.”

The man
stopped and stared at him, the concern and slight fear he was used to seeing in
the innocent immediately displayed. “Yes? Is there a problem?”

Kane
motioned toward the SUV. “Your car matches the description of a vehicle seen
near an incident earlier today. Can you tell me why you were in Germantown
today?”

The
man’s eyes popped wide then he stepped out onto the porch, closing the door
behind him.

Uh
oh, adulterer?

“I was
visiting a shop there, getting this.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a
small ring box. He flipped it open.

Kane
whistled. “Nice.”

The man
beamed with pride, the fear of a moment ago forgotten. “Yeah, it’s our tenth
wedding anniversary tomorrow. I couldn’t risk getting anything in the area. My
wife works in the business and they all talk to each other.”

Kane
chuckled. “I guess not.” He nodded toward the house. “Do you mind if I take a
quick look around? It’s a rather serious matter.”

The man
nodded. “Of course.” He opened the door and Kane entered, the husband
explaining to his wife what was going on as Kane showed his badge. It was a
quick search, he already quite certain these people weren’t involved, yet it was
still necessary, suburban families sometimes much more than what they appeared
on the outside.

He bowed
slightly to the couple as he walked out the door. “Sorry to disturb your
evening. You two have a good night.”

“Thank
you, officer.”

Kane
returned to his vehicle, firing off a text to Leroux and the others.

Bethesda
a bust.

BMB Biomedical, Baltimore, Maryland

Sherrie rolled up to BMB Biomedical, some sort of medical equipment
supplier, the parking lot nearly empty, it well past normal working hours. She
pulled into a visitor parking spot and exited her vehicle, walking toward the
doors. She tried them. Locked. She knocked on the glass and a security guard
inside looked up from whatever he was watching under his desk.

She
pressed her fake FBI badge against the glass and the man quickly stood, perhaps
not recognizing the badge, though definitely recognizing that only law
enforcement would do such a thing.

The
doors were quickly unlocked and she held up her badge again. “Special Agent
Brown. I’m looking for the driver of a black 2014 Cadillac Escalade registered
to BMB Biomedical.”

The
guard’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I think there’s a few of those around here.
Lotta money, you know.” He snapped his fingers. “I’ve got a list, in case the
lot’s full. We tow the ones that aren’t registered. Just a second.” He rushed
back to his desk and tapped at his computer. “What’s the plate?”

She gave
it to him.

“Here it
is. Mr. Gervin. He’s the CEO.” He tapped on his chin. “I think he’s out of town
though.”

Sherrie
felt her heart tick a few beats quicker. “Are you sure?”

“Just a
second.” More tapping. “Yeah, thought so. There’s an email here from admin
letting us know that his office was going to be renovated starting three days
ago while he was in London for business. It has the approved list of
contractors that should be given access, you know—”

Sherrie
raised a hand, cutting off the rationalization. “He’s out of town. Where’s his
vehicle?”

The
guard shrugged. “I dunno. Not here, I can tell you that.”

“Do you
have an address for him?”

He
hesitated. “Um, do I need to give you that?”

She
nodded, it a lie, but then she wasn’t FBI. “Yes.”

More key
taps and a printer hummed.

“Here
you go.”

She
waved the sheet of paper. “Thanks, you’ve been a big help.”

She
headed for her car, her heart racing. Kane’s location was already a bust, and
this vehicle now fit the profile. Owner out of town so it wouldn’t be reported
stolen, and judging by the address, this Gervin lived on the 21
^st
floor of a condo or apartment building.

No nosy
neighbors once you were inside.

She
started the engine and fired a text message with the address to Kane, Fang and
Langley.

Please
don’t let this be another dead end!

Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia

“Sir, there’s a call coming into Professor Palmer’s phone.”

Leroux leapt
from his seat, heading for Child’s station. “Source?”

“Looks
like the same as before. It’s the kidnappers.”

“Shit,
they’re early. Send it to voicemail.” He snapped his fingers, pointing up.
“Let’s hear it.”

The
professor could be heard giving a generic greeting followed by a beep, then the
voice of someone who didn’t sound impressed came on, their words clipped, the
tone as if he were containing his anger.

“Professor
Acton, you must not love your parents very much. You are not at your hotel
room, and you were seen getting into a car that wasn’t yours. You were told not
to contact the authorities, and you obviously have. You have forfeited your
mother’s life. Contact us within ten minutes, otherwise you will lose your
father as well.”

The call
ended and Leroux cursed. He snapped his fingers again. “Get me Rome, now! We
need to have the professor call him back immediately.”

Child’s
fingers flew as Leroux jacked into his terminal with his head set.

“What
about the mother?” asked Sonya, turning in her chair. “It doesn’t sound like
she’s dead yet.”

Leroux
froze for a moment, then committed to an order he hoped he wouldn’t regret
later.

“Contact
Agent White. Have her make all haste. Contact Kane and Lee as well as the FBI.
Have them all converge on that address.”

He
pointed at Marc Therrien, another one of his analysts. “And get me eyes on that
location!”

Giasson Residence, Via Nicolò III, Rome, Italy

Giasson flipped through the files of his staff, shaking his head as
he realized any one of them could be his suspect. He yawned, covering his
mouth.

I
need sleep.

He
sighed.

I
need answers more.

He
pulled his hands back from the laptop and took a deep breath. There were too
many possibilities. He had to narrow the list, otherwise he was just wasting
time. Somebody had talked, that much was obvious. If he was to assume it was
one of his people, then they had to have access to the information.

Which
meant they had to have had the ability to be exposed to it.

He
brought up the list and quickly eliminated anyone on leave.

Eleven
fewer people.

Not
much help. But progress.

It had
to be someone inside his security office, not one of the guards. None of them
would have had an opportunity to overhear something, or be one of the few
actually exposed to the information.

Assuming
Father Rinaldi made no mention of it.

He had
to assume the Father was telling the truth, after all, he was a priest.

Less
than twenty names.

Better.

“Now to
eliminate those who weren’t on duty that evening or overnight.”

His wife
moaned beside him.

“Sorry,
hon, go to sleep.”

The
theft had taken place in the morning, after the morning shift had already come
on duty, but it took time to coordinate an operation like this, hours at least,
so the exposure had to have happened before that.

And I
didn’t tell anyone until after I had reached Hugh!

He
frowned, remembering Father Rinaldi had already made the arrangements at the
university.

When
was
that?

He
thought back of the events of that day. The shootings, the discovery of the
drawing, the collection of evidence including the drawing, it being eventually
shown to Father Rinaldi, his subsequent research into what it might be, and his
excited visit to his office, requesting permission to call in the Professors.

He
chewed his lip, trying to remember when that was. It was late, but when?

After
the day shift had left!

He was
certain of it. And with there not enough time for the graveyard shift to have
acted on this, it had to be someone there that evening. His fingers flew over
the keyboard, adrenaline pumping as his fatigue was forgotten.

Twelve.

It was
more than usual, but there
had
been four deaths.

He read
through the list, every one of them someone he could have sworn only yesterday
that he could trust.

If
one betrayed us, they were obviously working for someone.

There
were two groups at play. The Keepers of the One Truth were definitely involved,
the two tattooed victims proof of that. And a second, unknown group, who had
murdered six to this point. He found it hard to believe that any one of his
staff could be working for them. This was a chance event, a fluke. There was no
way this second group could have anyone planted inside just in case by some
miracle they’d be needed someday.