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“Yes. We are.” Lisa’s entire mood was lighter. “What time can you get here?”
“How about ten-ish? I can go straight to the gym and meet you there. Then we’ll head back to the apartment so I can talk to Shannon.”
“That would be perfect. The poor kid needs some cheering up. If anyone can make her laugh, it’s you. And, frankly, I could use some of your perkiness about now. So I’ll see you at the gym around ten. And not to worry—I’ll set up a spin class just for you.”
Emma called Casey with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. The minute she answered, Emma launched into the details of what had just happened and what her plans were for tomorrow.
“Oh, Emma.” Casey sounded more frustrated than angry. The team had been spinning in neutral for hours, and she was stressed to the hilt. “The last thing we need right now are more complications.”
“I know.” Emma rushed on to explain. “But, Casey, you didn’t hear Lisa’s voice. She’s not only about to shatter but she’s beginning to think we’re keeping things from her. Which, obviously, we are. I know it’s for all the right, necessary reasons, but Lisa wouldn’t understand that. We’ve got to tell her something. And we’ve got to keep her grounded, especially now with things coming to a head. The same goes for Shannon. Miles is different. He thinks like a computer. So he’ll be okay with us, as long as Ryan is in the IT driver’s seat.”
Emma paused only to suck in a breath before plunging on. “I figured this would give me time tonight to pick your brain and get your instructions on what to say and what not to say. You guys could keep working on your plan while I provide diversionary tactics with our clients. I’m sorry if I screwed up, but it was all I could think of when Lisa started grilling me.”
To Emma’s surprise, Casey began to laugh. “In some convoluted, Emma-like way, that actually makes sense and is a good idea,” she said. “Plus, you were really put on the spot, and you thought on your feet like a pro. You’re a handful, Emma Stirling, but I’m proud of you.”
Emma blinked. That was the last thing she’d expected. But she’d take it. Casey’s approval meant the world to her.
“I’d rather do this training session in person,” Casey continued. “We’re all here, so you’ll have comprehensive prep. Can you come back to the brownstone now? I realize you’re operating on empty.”
“No problem. I’ll just swallow my pasta, throw on my running gear, and jog over.”
Slava’s flight landed late, thanks to the usual delays at O’Hare. That fucking airport had one of the worst stopover ratings in the country, which sucked, since everyone and his brother flew in and out on a minute-by-minute basis. Plus, the weather had been foul, and the drenching rains had delayed the flights even further.
Normally, he would have been jumping out of his skin. But this time, he’d used the hours to think and to plan. He’d already contacted Alexei and Vitaliy and arranged to meet them in a deserted area of Newark down by the Passaic River at five a.m. Thanks to the positive tone he’d taken, the assholes assumed this was an important follow-up meeting that had to be held in private. Just as well. Their misconception would make Slava’s job that much easier. He’d just bring the physical tools he needed. He already had the skills. For years, he’d used them. But, at this point in his life, his role as a cleaner was only accessed on rare occasions, primarily because he wasn’t operating with the backing of the Russian government. If he were caught, he’d be on his own. So hiring others to do the killing was a far better option.
Still, he missed the days when he was the one doing the fieldwork.
He’d have his chance now. Once he’d finished his role as the cleaner, he’d take Alexei’s and Vitaliy’s newly repainted and re-license-plated van and be on his way. They sure as hell wouldn’t be needing it. He’d drive straight to Upper Montclair. He’d scope out the apartment and the gym, subtly and expertly, and see what kind of security was on his targets. He could smell an operative, be it CIA, FBI, police, or a spy, a mile away. The KGB had trained him in how to spot them and, if need be, how to neutralize them. He’d take photos and have Max run them. They’d know who they were dealing with in short time.
All threats would be eliminated.
All the lights in the Forensic Instincts brownstone were shining brightly as the team wrapped up their Emma prepping.
Scribbling furiously on her third sheet of paper, Emma finally finished taking notes. She put down her pen and sank back in the conference room chair, gazing around the table at the team. They all looked like hell. After countless hours of brainstorming—with countless more to come—they were physically exhausted and mentally spent, and yet they’d taken two hours with her to lay out her dos and don’ts.
“Wow. I feel like I’ve been prepped for battle,” she said, glancing down at her pages.
“That’s because you have,” Casey responded frankly. “We’re reaching the end goal here. Everything we do has to go as perfectly as possible, or lives could be lost.”
Claire shifted uneasily in her chair. “I can’t shake the feeling that that’s true,” she murmured. “And every time you bring it up, the aura gets stronger. I know we’re moving toward converging on Maxim Lubinov. He and his fortress conjure up an overwhelming sensation of death. Whatever plan we come up with has to be flawless.”
“That’s the goal.” Patrick rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the taut muscles that were screaming for a hot shower.
“We won’t be leaving this room until we do,” Marc added. He was holding up better than the others. His days as a SEAL had trained him for this kind of sleepless, pressure-filled work. His gaze was still alert, and his stance was still taut. A few forehead creases were the only signs he showed of the frustration he was feeling over not yet having come up with the ideal plan.
“I feel guilty going home to sleep,” Emma said.
“Don’t be.” Casey waved that thought away. “You need some rest. You have to be on all day tomorrow. And you have to inspire confidence in our clients. If you look like something the cat dragged in, they’re going to assume there’s trouble. They might take off, which would create a lot more of a mess out of all this.”
“Yeah,” Ryan agreed. “Casey’s right. You have to handle Lisa and Shannon and keep them calm. And remember what I said: tell them to have Miles call me with any questions, worries, or whatever that he has. I’ll make them go away.”
Emma nodded.
Claire reached over and took Emma’s hand. “Stop feeling guilty. You’re doing your job, the same way we are. Yours starts in the morning. Ours continues tonight. So preserve your strength. You’ll need it.”
“You can feel a little guilty if you want,” Ryan amended. He was indisputably the crankiest member of the FI team when he sacrificed his sleep. “The only two team members who get any shut-eye tonight are you and Hero.”
Hearing his name, Hero picked up his head and woofed.
