Page 45 of Dead Drift

“Sure thing.”

“Thank you, darling.” He grabbed a cocktail napkin, scribbled an address, and handed it to Luke. “Be at this address tomorrow at eight a.m.”

Luke slid the napkin into his shirt pocket. “Got it, and thanks.”

“I knew I liked you. You know not to ask questions, and you thank me for the job.”

“That’s my motto—do the job well and don’t ask questions,” Luke said, before taking another sip of his drink.

“You’re going to work out just fine. And speaking of fine . . .” Hank stood. “I’m going to go make up with Tanya.” He winked.

Khaled Ebeid sat back with his cup of coffee. His mind, as it often did during his few moments of stillness, drifted back to her. Caroline. The woman who’d changed him and everything he stood for.

His hand tightened on the handle of his mug, and he exhaled through gritted teeth.

Their love had seemed so real and pure. Perfect. He’d even stayed on after the spring semester, taking a summer session just to be with her—until August 8, 1990, changed everything.

The Persian Gulf War began, and men raided his family’s home, taking his father. He never saw him again. Only later did Khaled learn the CIA had taken his father to a secret location for interrogation. He’d been killed during an “escape attempt.”

Prior to his capture, the family all believed his father had flown under the radar with his extremist ties. On the surface, he sold rugs. How had they known to come for him?

Unfortunately, that question had been answered quickly. The very day he got word of his father being taken, Khaled ran to Caroline, only to find her gone. Her apartment, other than his belongings, was empty. Suddenly her interest in his family, her curiosity about their life, about his father, hit him like a cold slap of Alaskan air.

She’d used him to gather intel. It was a certainty confirmed later, after he’d taken up the path his father had been forced to leave behind. Eventually, he discovered Caroline Ladew wasn’t her real name. It was her legend. Her real name was Jennifer McLean, and she was a field operative for the CIA.

They’d known about his father. Known Khaled was heading to Paris. They’d targeted him, used his desire to attend the Sorbonne exchange program and set “Caroline” in place as his host. All their talks, all their intimate time together . . . It had all been a lie.

Khaled balled his hands into tight fists. He’d been too young and naïve to realize it at the time. But the day his father was taken changed the trajectory of his life, up to the man he was now.

He’d immediately returned to Iraq, turning to the one true faith, working with his brothers-in-arms. He’d trained hard, gained knowledge, and developed skills, all while under the cover of being an antiquities expert and cultural attaché. His cover positioned him for the revenge he’d one day wreak on the country that had used him and murdered his father. But during his years of investigation, he’d learned that Caroline’s betrayal was so much worse than he’d thought. She’d—

“Sir, please forgive my interruption,” Brandt, his new right-hand man, said. He’d be using Brandt for most of his needs, but for Beck and the woman, he’d hired a consummate professional—one far above a mercenary’s level.

He set down his cup and cracked his knuckles. “What is it, Brandt?”

“I had Aman keep an eye on Beck, like you ordered, and you’re not going to be pleased by who he met with.”

Ebeid signaled Brandt to enter fully with a waggle of his fingers. “Go on.”

“Beck and his lady friend were at an establishment called Jiffers with Hank and Tanya.”

Heat flooded Ebeid’s face. Hank had better have kept his mouth shut. He inhaled sharply and released it in a whoosh.

“I’m afraid Hank revealed that he lent out trucks and a warehouse. He refrained from saying to whom, but Tanya—”

“Let me guess. She imbibed too much, as usual, and spoke to her detriment?”

Brandt nodded. “According to Aman, she blabbed. Beck knows Hank rents trucks out to a couple higher-ups, and she even mentioned Stallings’ name, probably trying to impress Beck’s lady.”

Anger burned through Ebeid, his wrath groaning to be released. Agent Grey had figured out that he and Stallings worked together at times, so it wouldn’t take long for Beck to do the same, if he wasn’t already aware. On the surface, it wasn’t a lot of information, but with Beck’s intelligence, it could end up leading Garrett Beck to his door, especially if he worked a little longer on Hank and Tanya. Better to cut that information off at the knees.

“You know what to do.”

Brandt bowed his head. “Consider it done.”

19

Griffin had found the hotel guest who’d bumped into their intruder on the stairwell. Her name was Adelaide Henry. She was in her upper thirties and had been returning from the hotel gym following a workout. Unfortunately, she said her short encounter with the man had basically been him bumping into her, not bothering to apologize, and racing around her to continue down the stairwell. She hadn’t seen his face—other than a quick flash of a portion of his profile, nose to chin—and he hadn’t spoken a word.