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“And handling Julie’s things can trigger your awareness?” Lisa asked.
“I can’t promise you results, but, yes, that’s usually what happens.”
“Well, producing a bunch of Julie’s personal items is no problem. I have some of her photos, books, costume jewelry, and workout clothes. We wanted to make the identity switch as real as possible. So Milo collected the most significant things he could find from her apartment—along with all the tech stuff Ryan needs—right before we took off.”
“Good. Can you get all that to me with time to spare before Shannon’s arrival tomorrow evening?” Claire asked.
“Sure,” Milo said. “As soon as we get home, I’ll pack up everything I took from Julie’s apartment. Then I’ll hop an early train here first thing tomorrow morning and bring it to you while Lis is running the gym.”
“That’s not happening,” Casey replied. “We’re going to be here most of the night prepping you, not only for when Shannon shows up but for what you should do to stay safe and below the radar. No more media coverage for your gym, for example. Nothing that puts you in the public eye. I’d be willing to bet that whoever killed Julie knows exactly where you are. They’ll be keeping an eye on you, making sure you’re a good girl who started a new life far away that’s of no threat to them.”
“Do you think they know they killed the wrong woman?” Milo asked.
“It’s a definite possibility. Either way, they’re going to be vigilant.”
“Are you going to help keep us safe?” Lisa’s eyes were wide with fear.
“Absolutely. That’s part of what we need to discuss. Marc and Patrick are the go-to people for that. They’ll need to know every moment of your schedules so they can work out a system to protect you. So you’ll need to spend a chunk of tonight meeting with them. While that’s happening, Ryan will be reviewing all the material Miles just emailed him and digging even deeper. He’ll come up with more, believe me, and some of what he finds might impact how we instruct you.”
Casey turned to Emma, letting her know that she hadn’t been sidelined. “And Emma’s going to have her own agenda. She has the tightest personal connection with the two of you. She’ll think of tactics we won’t. I’ll leave that in her hands. But, any way you look at it, you’re not leaving until you’re ready for what you’re about to face and how to manage it—and extract what you need to from it. That kind of prep could mean you’ll be here till dawn. So we’ll have to find another way for Claire to get what she needs—which, incidentally is of vital importance, just like everything else I just specified.”
“I’ll go to Upper Montclair now,” Claire offered. “Just give me your address, your keys, a list of what I’m looking for, and where I can find everything.”
“That’s not happening.” Patrick was shaking his head adamantly. “I’m sure their apartment is being watched. And you have no training in this area, Claire. We have to get in and out without being spotted. I’ll drive to Upper Montclair. It’ll be faster than the train. I’ll be back in two hours. Marc can brief me on whatever I miss.”
“Okay.” Lisa handed him her apartment keys and took a pad and pen out of her handbag. “Give me two minutes. I’ll compile the list and locations of what you’ll be looking for.” She was already scribbling, with Milo peering over her shoulder and muttering add-ons.
Five minutes later, Patrick was out the door and on his way.
“Okay, you two,” Casey said to Lisa and Milo. “You’re up first with me.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Burlington, Vermont
It was a cool May night in the breathtaking Green Mountains.
Max’s focus wasn’t on the panoramic view. It was on the taste of success.
He sat in his study, sipping his Hennessy Privilege V.S.O.P. He was savoring not only his cognac but the promising weekly status report he’d received, summarizing the progress of all his prospects.
Max knew exactly how to get the most out of people. He had learned from the master—his father. A military instructor in the Russian army, his father’s job was to break men’s will and turn them into soldiers. By day, the battle-hardened man would terrorize hundreds of soldiers. At night, he would terrify his children with his mere presence—all save Max. Max learned and grew from his father’s dominance, his demands for mental and physical superiority. His father loved his work and was excellent at his job. The military decoration, The Order “For Military Merit,” conferred to him by the Russian Federation, said so. Whenever Max challenged his father, his father would simply point at the coveted medal and say: “When you have a more impressive one of these, then I will listen to what you have to say.”
Max respected that immensely. And he knew his father would soon respect what he was doing here in the United States.
On that thought, he made his decision.
It was time to summon all his handpicked trainers and, from the most accomplished members of their applicant pools, to select the next wave of champions.
Leaning forward, Max pressed the intercom button to awaken all phones in the complex.
“Dmitry,” he commanded. “Report to my private study immediately.”
Five minutes later, an out-of-breath Dmitry knocked on the door of Max’s study.
Max’s clipped response came from within. “Enter.”
Swiftly, Dmitry stepped inside, sat down in his assigned seat in Max’s office, and awaited his employer’s orders.
