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“Did you hear what he said? He called him the Oxford Don.”
“We knew he was English from his accent. That’s not a surprise, and I’ve never heard that name before, so it must’ve been just among the locals.”
“But at the end. He whispered something to me before he...died.”
His pulse quickened. “He actually whispered something that you understood?”
“I leaned forward to catch what happened to be his last words.”
“I didn’t realize he’d said anything to you. What was it?” The corner of his eye twitched and he rubbed it.
“I’d asked him about the Oxford Don. I asked him where he was now.”
“Did he answer you?” The air between them stilled.
“It doesn’t matter.” She lifted her shoulder. “He said something that made no sense at all.”
“What did he say?”
“Caliban. He said the Oxford Don was with Caliban.”
* * *
CLAIRE JERKED BACK from the expression on Mike’s face. His jaw hardened and his dark eyes glittered with an emotion she couldn’t fathom...but it scared her.
“What? What is it?”
The train lurched into the next station, and her gaze bounced from the sign outside to the map of the line inside the car to make sure they weren’t missing their stop.
Mike’s body had tensed up beside her, and she bumped her shoulder against his. “Mike? Does Caliban mean something to you?”
“Claire, I can’t believe this.” He dragged his long fingers through his hair until it stood on end. “This is all linked somehow—Shane’s execution, the car bombing the other night, Tempest.”
“Wait.” Icy fear gripped the back of her neck. “What are you talking about? How is Shane’s death linked to Tempest? What is Caliban?”
The train screeched to a stop, and Mike took her arm. “Let’s get back to the cabin. Are you up for driving all night?”
“Maybe it’ll take that long drive for you to explain everything to me.”
They linked arms, huddling together against the cold night and the dark forces that seemed to be closing in on them.
When they got back in the car, their first stop was a drive-through coffee place, where Mike ordered a large black coffee and she got a decaf hot tea.
She had a feeling that Mike’s story would be enough to keep her awake on the long drive back to their cabin in Vermont. She also had a feeling that after hearing the story, she’d want to stay in that cabin forever, keeping both Mike and Ethan close to her side.
When they got back on the road, Mike slurped at his hot coffee and turned down the radio. “Caliban is the head of that agency I told you about—Tempest.”
She drew in a quick breath. “And the man who killed Shane is now connected to Caliban, to Tempest?”
“It would seem so if that’s the name Hamid gave you, and it doesn’t mean that Tempest was responsible for Shane’s kidnapping and murder. Caliban could’ve recruited this Oxford Don later. Tempest wasn’t active five years ago.”
“Who is this Caliban? Does anyone know? Does Jack know?”
“We think he’s former US military.”
“Spencer knows him.”
Mike jerked his head toward her. “How do you know that for sure?”
“I’m just guessing, but it makes sense. He probably knew him before Caliban became the evil mastermind behind Tempest.”
“There has to be some way to tie Correll to Tempest and stop this attack against the White House.”
Claire stretched her cold hands out to the vent on the dashboard blasting warm air. “And to clear me, right? I mean, that’s still a priority for you, or is it all about stopping the attack on the White House?”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel and his knuckles turned as white as the snow outside the car window. “Of course it is. That’s still my number one objective.”
Or it was until he found out he was poised to foil one of the most significant terrorist attacks in the world. She didn’t want to delve too deeply into Mike’s priorities right now.
Reaching for his cell phone in the cup holder, she asked, “Is it okay if I check your phone for some news?”
