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“Then what’s the bad news?” Remi asked.
“Selma and I are still trying to come up with a viable plan to pinpoint our information leak.”
“Actually,” Sam said, “I think I’ve come up with something that might work. We pretend we searched the wrong shipwreck and we now know the correct location—then we wait for the results.” He gave a brief rundown of the idea.
Lazlo said, “You think this will work?”
“If Bree is leaking information, then I can’t see how it’ll fail. The men who stole the Golfinho want the cipher wheel, not some artifacts that may or may not lead to the ship’s identity. What better way to lure them than to let them think we know where the cipher wheel is. Or, rather, that we’re about to acquire it. Unless anyone has any objections, I think we should contact Ruben Hayward and arrange for assistance.”
“Very good,” Lazlo said. “We’ll get started on it.”
Sam disconnected the call, then eyed Remi. “You’re okay with this?”
How could she not be? These men were murderers and they needed to be stopped. Besides, just hearing Hayward’s name brought her some peace. Hayward, a case officer in the CIA’s Directorate of Operations, trained with Sam in covert operations while Sam had worked for DARPA. Fast friends ever since, there was no way Hayward would let Sam get involved in anything he couldn’t handle—even if that meant bringing in outside assistance on occasions.
She nodded. “It’s the only way to know for sure.”
“Then all we can do is wait.”
They didn’t have to wait for long. By the next morning, Selma called to report that they’d told Bree about searching the wrong shipwreck and the impending dive at the actual site, now that they’d found it. They figured they’d need to give it at least a day for Avery to ready his men, assuming he’d find a way to strike at the site or the dock. And to make sure the proper information was dispatched, Selma and Lazlo included Bree in their plans on setting up the dive: the boat chartered, when and where they’d leave, as well as the location—also off Snake Island but slightly north of the original dive site. “About security,” Selma said. “Mr. Hayward made all the arrangements with a firm called Archer Worldwide Security. He said that you’d know who that was and to expect a call.”
“Nicholas Archer,” Sam replied. “He trained with us at DARPA.”
“Very good. It looks like everything’s in order. Good luck.”
“Likewise,” Sam said. “Let us know if a
nything comes up on your end with Bree.”
With everything in place, Remi thought she might have been able to relax. But that night, after she and Sam went to bed, she tossed and turned, trying to reconcile the woman and friend she thought she knew. This sort of betrayal seemed so out of character, which made her wonder if someone had something on Bree—was perhaps forcing her hand somehow.
That had to be it, she decided, and the thought calmed her enough that she was finally able to sleep.
The next morning, with someone from Archer Security posing as their driver, they left for their dive.
Remi had met Nicholas Archer in the past. And even though she knew of his background with Sam and Rube at DARPA, she had only the vaguest of ideas of what any of them had actually done there. They’d always been very hush-hush over the matter. She’d gathered it had to do with Sam inventing something for the government—something that required travel to countries where they needed expertise in self-defense and weapons. Of course, one benefit of all Sam’s training was that it had come in handy after his retirement. Many of their forays searching for treasure had put them in the path of some very dangerous sorts.
But where Sam had left DARPA for the private sector, Archer had remained in government service for a number of years, moving from DARPA to the FBI, before finally leaving to start his own international private security firm.
What made Archer a particularly good source was that he retained all his former government and law enforcement connections, like Rube Hayward, which gave him access to valuable intel should the need arise. More important, he could assemble a team at a moment’s notice for international travel, drawing from former special ops types, all highly trained and extremely trustworthy. According to Sam, this group made anything he and Remi did look like the work of the high school junior varsity team.
Remi had a hard time believing that about her husband, but nonetheless she was glad to know they were in good hands. As expected, every aspect of this op was choreographed to the last detail, including a team standing by at their La Jolla house ready to move in. If Bree was their leak, they’d have her in custody by day’s end.
So why, then, was her heart beating so hard as she, Sam, and Archer set out on the boat toward Snake Island?
Sam moved up beside her as they set off. “Are you okay?”
“I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“I know. I felt you tossing and turning all night.”
“What if we’re making a big mistake?”
“We’re not,” he said as Archer walked up and joined them. “There’s only one way anyone could have known we were coming here to begin with. All we can do is hope that she takes the bait the second time and Avery’s men show up.”
Remi surveyed the boat. On the surface, it appeared to be a simple yacht converted to a research vessel. According to Archer, it was outfitted with a more powerful engine and a crew hiding inside with enough firepower to take down a cruise ship, should it be necessary. Archer had even supplied Sam with a fishing vest that looked innocent enough but had a hidden padded Velcro pocket that neatly holstered Sam’s Smith & Wesson.
Sam and Remi wouldn’t be diving, either. They had agents who were subbing for them.
