A feeling she didn’t know how to define bubbled through her—a mix of rage and disbelief and horror. She gripped her knees tightly. “What’s your name?”

He hesitated and then said, “Tyrone.”

The name wasn’t familiar, not that Olivia expected it to be. “Why do they want my sister?”

“Because she knows too much.”

“About what?”

He was silent for a moment. Then finally, he said, “Project Thirteen.”

Unease slid through her veins and tightened the muscles in her chest. Against her knees, her palms grew slick. “What is Project Thirteen?” she asked hesitantly.

“It’s bad shit. Let’s just put it that way. Nothing you ever want to come in contact with.”

“And Eve’s involved in it?”

“Unfortunately.” He was quiet a second, then said softly, “Look, if anything should happen to me and you ever find a way out of here, go to the athletic club on Western Avenue, downtown Seattle. Find locker eighty-nine. It’s the only thing that will help your sister.”

“What do you mean by ‘help’ her?” Fear clawed its way up Olivia’s throat. “Eve’s okay, isn’t she?”

“I don’t know—”

Wood splintered before he could finish his sentence. A door crashing open. Olivia jumped, then realized it wasn’t the door to her room. Through the grate, Tyrone yelled, “Hey. No! I already told you I don’t know anything!”

A crash echoed, and Olivia’s heart rate jerked.

“Get up,” another voice growled.

Tyrone grunted. “I don’t—”

A crack reverberated through the grate, followed by another thunk of a body against breaking wood. Olivia couldn’t see what was happening, but she could hear it. The distinct thwack of a fist slamming into flesh and bone sounded through the wall, sending her adrenaline pumping.

“The boss wants to talk to you.”

More grunting. A yelp. Scraping. Then the door slammed shut, and all that remained was silence.

“Tyrone?” Olivia called quietly into the grate.

Nothing. Silence settled over the space like an ominous black cloud.

Shaking, Olivia wrapped her arms around her knees and dropped her head. And this time she didn’t try to stop the tears from falling.

14

Landon sat in the front seat of his rental in the shadows outside a row of run-down townhomes in the Yesler Terrace district of Seattle. A smokestack rose behind the aged neighborhood, its blinking red light flashing against the dark sky, and the lights of Seattle’s skyscrapers downtown twinkled in the distance.

He glanced around the packed street with its dented cars and chain-link fences. It made sense that whoever had taken Olivia Wolfe had wound up here, in one of Seattle’s crummiest neighborhoods, but even the Emerald City’s worst didn’t qualify as a ghetto by East Coast standards, and Landon found himself wondering just how bright these kidnappers could be.

A glance at his phone confirmed the GPS coordinates he’d tracked from the last phone call made on the cell he’d pulled from Evelyn Wolfe’s purse had gone to this location. Now all he had to do was wait and watch and see if anything odd stood out.

Two hours passed with nothing more than a few cars sliding by on the street and a couple lights going on and off in the house he’d targeted. Interestingly, no lights flickered upstairs, only downstairs.

His cell phone buzzed.

He pulled it out and looked at the screen, then held it up to his ear. “Marley, you’re up way too late.”

“I’m always up way too late. I have some intel for you.”

“Shoot.”

“The FBI picked up four Chechen terrorists with links to al-Qaeda. The Feds are saying the four were involved in the Seattle bombing, but so far all are claiming innocence.”

“They always do.”

“I also did some checking at the State Department. The Guatemala contract was awarded to Aegis by Assistant Deputy Director Roberts himself. When he found out Aegis had been pulled from the project and that it had been given to someone else, he stepped in and made sure the selection committee handed it back to Aegis.”

Landon braced an elbow on the windowsill and looked toward the dark house. The lights had gone off downstairs. “That is interesting.”

“According to my contact, Roberts was adamant that Humbolt be brought back alive ASAP. Suspicion is that he knew something about leaks within the counterintelligence division. Roberts told the committee that he had the utmost confidence in Aegis to pull off the job. Whether that had anything to do with Ryder or Archer, whom he must have known from Archer’s time with the CIA, I don’t know.”

Landon rubbed a hand over his mouth. This whole thing was just getting bigger and more complicated. If Assistant Deputy Director Roberts was involved in Humbolt’s death, and Evelyn Wolfe had stumbled upon evidence pointing to that, then this mess in Seattle could quite possibly be part of an elaborate cover-up. And if that was the case, and it went way up the chain of command, proving Wolfe’s and Archer’s innocence was going to be a real bitch.

“What about the connection between Roberts and Ryder?” Landon asked. “Do they know each other?”

“Yep. Went to Notre Dame together. And word is, they weren’t exactly friends there.”

“Fuck.”

“Pretty much. Though I don’t know the status of their relationship, it’s not looking good. If Roberts wanted to make sure the op in Guatemala was a failure, he could have easily set this up.”

Landon considered for a moment. “I think it’s time we brought Ryder in on this.”

“Agreed. Though this you might also find interesting. Humbolt’s specialty wasn’t chemical weaponry like we were led to believe. It was biological weapons, and supposedly he’d discovered something big. Though no one will talk about what that something is. All I’ve managed to get is a name. Project Thirteen.”

“Ever heard of it before?”

“No. Whatever it is, it’s hush-hush.”

Landon stared at the quiet, dark house. So far he’d counted three men coming and going. Two had left earlier, which meant there was at least one left inside. No other movement at any of the windows told him that if he was going to go in, now was his best shot. He could sit here and wait to be sure, or he could make something happen. His gut said waiting wasn’t the solution.

“Okay, you talk to Ryder. I’ve got a bead on Olivia Wolfe. Between the two of us maybe we can figure out how all of this is connected. Archer and Wolfe are meeting with her CSIS contact tomorrow, and hopefully we’ll know more about what was on that data drive she was supposed to get when all this shit went down.”

“Will do. Stay safe, Miller.”

“I always do.”

He powered off his phone and quietly climbed out of the car. Pulling the SIG from his shoulder holster, he jumped the chain-link fence to the backyard and quietly moved up the back-porch steps.

A dog barked four houses down. Landon peeked through the windows but didn’t see anything. One turn confirmed the back door was locked, so he holstered his gun and pulled out his lock pick.

Minutes later he was in the house, moving silently through the dark kitchen, his gun in his hand again. The small kitchen gave way to a cramped living area with eighties furniture. Stairs ran up to the second level.

He hesitated at the stairs, looked up, and listened. No sound met his ears. Moving past the staircase, he headed for the hallway that ran behind the garage and the bedrooms beyond.

The first room—an office—was empty except for a desk and closed laptop. But blue-green light flickered through the open door of the second.

His adrenaline stirred. No sound echoed. Gun in both hands, he rounded the corner and scanned the room.

A night light shone in the corner of the room. A double bed was pushed up against the wall next to a nightstand, the covers rumpled as if someone had recently slept there. Across the room, a dresser sat under the high window.

He checked the closet, then headed quietly back to the staircase. The old wooden steps creaked under his weight, but he moved up as quickly as he could. Once he reached the second floor, he scanned the hallway and the three closed doors, two off the right and one off the left.

The first bedroom was empty. The one across the hall was the same, but dried blood stained the worn carpet. After checking the closets and finding nothing out of the ordinary, he moved to the last bedroom.

This one held a rusted iron-framed bed and dirty mattress. Nothing else. A high window looked out at the backyard beyond.

Frowning, Landon lowered the gun.

A body slammed into him from behind before he heard the footsteps. Landon hit the wall with his shoulder, staggered, but kept from going down. He pivoted, looked up. The guy who’d hit him was dressed all in black and hard to see. The attacker kicked out, knocking the gun from Landon’s hand. It flew across the room and smacked into the wall, then dropped to the hardwood floor with a clap. The man swung out. Landon blocked the blow and slammed his fist in the guy’s face.

The attacker stumbled backward, then swiveled quickly and kicked out again. Landon caught his leg and twisted backward. The man screamed. Landon jammed his elbow into the man’s thigh, making him cry out even louder, then hurled him back against the wall.

Wood splintered. Bone cracked against plaster. The attacker crumbled against the ground with a groan. Chest heaving, Landon stepped over him and lifted his body by the shirtfront. “I’m looking for a woman. Tell me where she is, and I’ll think twice about killing you.”

“Go to hell.”