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“It does make sense that there could be a mole at the embassy,” Wren responded. “What should happen next, Bexli?”
“We should look into everyone working there to see if we can determine a connection to Moretti, err, Mithras.” Bexli looked from Wren to me.
While her suggestion was already being implemented, I still commended her quick assessment. “Well done, Bexli.”
Wren looked at her mobile. “I just received a message from Wilder. I’m not sure who’s traveling with him, but he said they’re boarding a flight now and will arrive this afternoon. He’s asking if we’re planning to return to Shere. I mean, it is still the command center, right?”
Her question was curious. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“If I recall correctly, you offered your resignation several times in the last few days.”
“Not several. A couple. Either way, your father refused to accept it.”
“Smart man.”
While Oleander,Verity, Poseidon, and the rest of the members of the Maltese task force remained on the main island, everyone else returned to Shere.
When Z suggested we hold a briefing, I requested Bexli attend.
“By all means,” he said. “Welcome to the team.”
Bex smiled. “It isn’t official yet.”
Z winked. “It will be.”
“She has a theory regarding who it was that tipped off Mithras about the team traveling to Sharm el-Sheikh as well as how someone was able to take Francesca Vella from the embassy,” said Wren.
I looked at Nem, who smiled. “What is it?” she asked.
Bexli shared her opinion that it was someone working at the embassy.
“I had a similar thought. Cayman, can you please lower the room’s screen?” Nem asked.
“Of course.”
“I’ve compiled a dossier on everyone working at the US embassy in Malta in the last year. We’re trying to gain access to their records prior to that time.” When Nem clicked the button, the remote to bring up the first image, I couldn’t help but get a sick feeling, remembering how I’d felt when I saw the first photo of Mithras. While it was only a few days ago, it felt like a lifetime. Bex stood beside me, and when her hand brushed mine, I looked into her eyes. “I love you,” I mouthed.
She smiled and turned her gaze back toward the screen.
“This is James Godwin, the current ambassador. He was appointed two years and four months ago.” Nem clicked the remote again and recited the same information for several people.
“This is the last one. Her name is Courtney Wilson,” Nem said as the final image appeared on the screen.
Bexli gasped. “Do you still have the photo of Mithras on your phone?” she whispered to me.
“I’ve got it,” said Wren, walking over to attach her laptop to the projector. “Send me that last photo, would ya, Nem?” she asked.
“Of course.”
The two images appeared side by side on the screen. “While the first picture is blurry, it’s close enough to the more recent one that I’d say we have ourselves a suspect, wouldn’t you?” Wren said, looking over at Bexli.
She nodded. “I certainly would.”
When Nem pulled out her cell phone, I had no doubt she was contacting Oleander, or maybe Poseidon. Probably both.
33
CAYMAN
