Uncle Chris, bent low, scrambled for the door and darted outside while Lionel called someone.
Lionel prevented Jane from following her uncle, handing her a pistol. “Take this. I need you to clear the upstairs while I do this floor and the basement.”
She nodded and moved up the stairs, slowly and methodically clearing the second floor. After searching every room and closet, she met Lionel and her uncle at the base of the stairs. “Clear.”
“I didn’t get the shooter,” Uncle Chris growled. “The bastard was fast.”
“I called a few friends as well as a contact in law enforcement. No one will be bothering us here.”
Jane just watched the pair of them. “You don’t want the attention?”
“Not for what’s only a warning. If they’d wanted us dead, they wouldn’t have missed.”
Her uncle didn’t look pleased with Lionel’s assessment. But Janesilently agreed. Shooting at them through the window from outside and not hitting any of them took skill and deliberation.
“Spit it out, Lionel. What the hell was that?” Chris glowered. “With the number of enemies you’ve collected over the years, it could be anyone.”
“Not quite.” Lionel sighed and led them into his living room, where he sank into a comfy looking leather sofa. “My guess? August Kaminski is telling me to stop looking into him. I’ve been intentionally not being as stealthy about my inquiries as I maybe should have been. But I wanted to shake some trees.”
Jane snorted. “Consider them shaken.”
“He knows I know he’s involved. And he wants to keep this quiet.”
“How much do you know, exactly?” she asked, sitting across from Lionel while her uncle paced away his nervous energy.
“I’ve been keeping my ears open about August for years. But after the Mazzuca case and Dan Simmons getting killed, I stepped up my surveillance. Nothing official, mind you.”
Jane nodded. “Because August has connections in high places.”
“In law enforcement, the Bureau, the CIA.”
“NSA too,” Chris muttered. “I’ve heard rumblings. But then, I have Hal monitoring for his name.”
“And Rook?” Jane asked.
Lionel and Chris shared a look before Lionel said, “From what we gather, Rook is one of August’s top men. The strategist behind August’s secretive organization. He has plans in place that are ten moves ahead of us. Mostly because August keeps vital information private, his contacts hiding what we need to know to move on him. Much of what I know or suspect I can’t prove.”
“Not in a court of law,” Chris rumbled. “That’s why you get my team involved.”
“Yes, but not yet. I don’t need bodies dropping every five secondsaround here.”
Her uncle shrugged. “Might be a welcome change from needing your windows replaced.”
Lionel’s phone rang. He answered. After a pause, he said, “Come in. Make it fast and keep it quiet.”
A moment later, a knock at the door preceded a team of four individuals dressed in black.
Jane didn’t recognize them, but she made a note of body types and faces—what she could see of the four men not covered in ballcaps.
They disappeared into the kitchen, and she heard glass being swept. Another vehicle sounded in the drive.
“That’s my replacement window,” Lionel explained. “Don’t ask. This has happened before.”
Chris slowly grinned. “Nice to know you haven’t lost your touch.”
“Huh?” Jane didn’t understand the sudden humor in the situation, still a bit shaken.
“At pissing people off, he means,” Lionel said wryly. “Jane, I wanted you here to explain that you need to be careful about poking into August Kaminski’s business. You don’t know it, but the Collective is his. Not all his network, I don’t think. But they belong to him.”
