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“You were never those kids,” laughed Nine. “I swear to fuck, you were fifty when you were nineteen.” Trak shrugged his shoulders, staring at his old friend.
“I guess. But you and Tailor made up for my loss of youth. He still acts like a child most days and has found the perfect playmate in Alec. Same size, same childlike manner.”
“Yeah, I suppose we all made up for your loss of youth,” he chuckled. “Damn, we did some stupid shit. It’s a wonder any of us are still alive.” The back door of the SUV opened, and Miller and Wilson slid into the backseat.
“How’d it go?” asked Nine.
“He met withYergonov and Castelloni. Only a few minutes, and it looked like they pissed him off. I think he’s running out of friends to turn to,” said Wilson.
“Apparently, they were supposed to have men kill us, and Morrison wasn’t happy at all. He wanted us dead, and they wanted the technologies from G.R.I.P. I don’t think they’re going to search for us too hard until they get what they want, which is the G.R.I.P. technologies.”
“Maybe we should pay a visit to the two of them,” said Trak. Miller nodded at his old friend.
“That’s why we put a tracker on their car.” Miller connected the tracking device to the GPS of the car, and they followed the moving dot. They were surprised when it wasn’t headed to Philadelphia, New York, or even the airport. It was headed right back to D.C.
“Where the hell are they going?” frowned Nine.
Weaving through the late afternoon traffic of D.C., they stayed a good distance behind the car until it pulled into a parking garage. Finding a spot on the street, they waited to see the men, but no one appeared from the garage.
“What is this building?” asked Miller, looking up. “Fuck. It’s the FBI. What in the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know,” frowned Nine, “but we’re about to find out.”
Leaving most of their weapons in the car, they took one each, covered in the stealth technologies. Passing through the sensors, nothing went off, and they made their way to the investigative floors. They knew that the two men wouldn’t want accounting or analytics.
The elevator door opened, and Wilson stepped out to speak with the receptionist.
“Good afternoon. I’m looking for two men that may have just come up.” He showed her his ID, and she nodded, seeing the level of clearance on his badge.
“Do you have names, sir?” she asked. He gave her the names, and she nodded.
“They’re not on this floor, but one floor up. They’re meeting with our bureau chief right now.” Making their way to the next floor, they walked into a large open space with several glassed-in meeting rooms. Two men looked their way with wide eyes, while another they knew all too well stared at them, then laughed. Waving them toward the meeting room, they stepped inside.
“Let me guess,” he smiled. “You four were following our friends here from Annapolis?”
“Paul, it’s nice to see you, brother. How are you?” asked Nine. “Wanna tell us what all this is about?”
“Our friends here have been helping us to build a case against Morrison. Something I’m sure you’re very keen to get in on.”
“You’re using a cartel head and a Russian mob boss to build a case?” frowned Miller.
“Is not so bad, big man,” smiled the Russian. “Morrison wants things we do not want him to have. Presidency is true. He wants that. But he wants weapons to use and sell. Even Russia doesn’t want that.”
“Paul, are you fucking serious right now?” frowned Nine.
“Deadly,” he said, pointing to a few chairs. “We’ve been on Morrison’s ass for years now. We believe he intentionally pushed through certain cases, coaxing the other justices to vote a certain way to help his own cause. It was brought to our attention two years ago that he was the one pushing the bill to force all weapons manufacturers to be owned and run by the U.S. government.
“In his mind, if you were on U.S. soil, we would automatically own you. He especially wants G.R.I.P. and all that it has to offer.”
“How do you know these men?” asked Castelloni.
“I served with his son,” he smiled, pointing to Nine. “We were Navy SEALs together, and there was no one better than Cam. Except maybe Luke.” Nine laughed, nodding his head.
“Luke has the wingspan of a condor and can outswim anyone I know,” said Nine. “He was a damn fine SEAL.”
“They’re all well?” asked Paul.
“They are.”
