The asset, p.20
The Asset, page 20
“Maybe so,” she said softly. “We could help them now, by no longer supporting Blockwell’s causes.”
He nodded. “I’m done with that. Thank you. I needed this talk. Do you feel it?”
She squinted. “Feel what?”
“Stitch, stitch, stitch.”
She smiled. “Maybe. This water might really be magic.”
Martin was on the right side of the fight again.
Maybe now HQ would stop trying to kill him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Miguel hadn’t seen or heard from Heather in three days. Seventy-two long, desperate hours. It wasn’t unusual to not see her, but she always responded to a text or call. She hadn’t responded to any of his texts on her burner phone. It was making him loco. He tried texting her one more time. No response. On the way to work, he drove by the safe house to see if maybe she’d gone back there. It was empty. Even though it was suicide to be a Mexican on Hill Street without a workman’s car, he’d driven up Hill Street too. He’d idled in her driveway. There were no lights, no cars parked out front, no sign of life. He steeled himself and drove up Martin Slade’s lane too. Worried that guards would rush out at him, he turned around and headed the other way.
Was Heather on a mission without him?
He dialed his friend as he drove toward the Mexican Embassy.
“Hola, amigo,” Worm answered.
“Do you have any intel on Heather?”
“What sort? That she’s super-hot, mega-rich, and the best agent in the world?”
“No, tonto. Is she on a mission? I haven’t seen her in a while.”
“Uh-oh. Things not so great in Robles land, huh?”
“I’m worried about her. Have you heard anything?”
“Let me check the chatter. Hold on.”
Miguel kept driving while he waited for Worm to get back to him.
“Raven doesn’t know where she is, either, and is a bit worried. Hammer doesn’t have eyes on her, but he said that her handler sent her on a top-secret mission.”
Miguel’s pulse raced. “¿Qué diablos? They sent her out without any of us to back her up? Why?”
“I don’t know. Let me see what Raven knows. I’ll get back to you. Hold again.”
The line went silent for a long time. Miguel got in the infamous turn lane where he’d been rear-ended weeks before. This time he did not flip off Blockwell’s billboard.
“Lo siento,” Worm said. “Raven doesn’t have any intel, but Hammer did go off on his own earlier in the week.”
“Where did he go?”
“It’s weird because she thinks he went somewhere in the plains area. Region 2? What’s out there?”
“Mierda.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means he’s trying to find Martin Slade.” Hammer must have tracked her to the reservation.
“Oh, no, that’s not good.”
“Do you know if Hammer found him?”
“Is the man still breathing? Only one reason Hammer would still be going after him—the kill order is still on.”
Miguel cursed under his breath.
“Agreed,” Worm said. “Uh, there’s one thing I should add here. And you are not going to like it.”
Miguel had heard that tone in his friend’s voice many times before. “What did you do?”
“Me? Nada. I mean, it was something, but it wasn’t just me.”
“Worm…”
“Yeah. Heather took my invisible car. I let her, no questions asked, or very little questioning.”
Miguel had just turned into the embassy and slammed on the brakes. “You what? When? Why didn’t you tell me? Where did she go?”
“Woah. That’s a lot of questions, amigo.”
“Worm!”
“Okay, don’t blow out that fragile brain of yours. I am sure she is fine. We swapped cars three days ago. She didn’t want anyone to know where she was going. She didn’t want anyone to trace her. She wouldn’t tell me why. That’s all I know. I swear it on my favorite saint for fast cars, Santa Francesca Romana.”
The embassy guards finished scanning Miguel’s car. They waved him inside the gates.
“Three days ago was the last time I heard from her,” Miguel grumbled. “She might be in trouble. Can’t you track that car of yours?”
“What part of untraceable is hard for you to comprendes?”
He got out of his vehicle. “If you hear anything, and I mean anything, you call me.”
“I will, hermano. I swear it on my favorite saint of—”
Miguel hung up angrily. He’d had a bad feeling something was wrong for three days. And the whole time Worm had kept it a secret that Heather had gone on a mission alone. Heather could be in danger. He needed to be with her.
He cleared security at the embassy and went to his office. He sat at his desk for several minutes without moving. He couldn’t concentrate. Worry pounded through his veins. Had she gone back to the reservation to check on Martin? If so, why hadn’t she taken him along, like last time? And if she had gone to the Shoshone Nation, wouldn’t Hammer have seen her when he went searching for Martin in Region 2?
Where are you, Heather?
He texted her one more time, knowing he would get the same response. Silencio.
A noise in the hallway caused him to look outside his office window. A crowd was gathering in the common space. What was going on? He stood and was about to open the door when Adriana rushed inside.
“I wouldn’t go out there,” she said. “Not until you are fully prepared.”
“Adriana, what’s happening?”
She sucked in a big breath. “There’s a PD officer in the lobby.”
“Inside the Mexican Embassy?” PDs never came into the embassy. It was an unwritten law that the demonios stayed outside the walls.
“Yes. And he’s asking for you.”
“For me?” He had so many questions, but the biggest one rose to his lips. “Is it about Heather?”
“Who?”
Miguel shook his head. “What’s the officer’s name?”
“Ltieutenant Colonel Henkle.”
Mierda. “He’s here?”
“You know him? What do you want me to do?” Adriana’s voice cracked with nerves.
He sat back down and placed his hands on his desk. “Send him in.”
The look on her face screamed worry. Both horror and fear popped and snapped in her eyes. “No, Miguel. You should leave. Quickly. Go out the back. I will stall him.”
“It’s okay, Adriana. I’ve got this. Send him in. And tell everyone else to go back to their desks.”
Her mouth opened, closed, and then she slowly walked out his office door.
A minute later, Henkle walked in.
Miguel rose from his chair. The two men stared at each other for ten seconds before anyone spoke—Henkle standing in the doorway, unmoving, Miguel over his desk with both hands pressed on the dark wood.
Miguel broke the silent standoff. “Is this about Heather?”
Henkle motioned toward the chair. “May I?”
“Yes. Come in. Close the door behind you.”
Henkle shut the door and then picked up the chair to move it closer to Miguel’s. When he sat, he was at an angle so he could watch the entrance, as if he expected someone to rush in and shoot him in the back. Miguel understood the concept because he, too, had been trained in spy school to never sit with your back to an entrance. And be ready to shoot first.
Miguel sat in his desk chair and turned to face the man. Their knees were far too close, only a foot and a half apart, and they both leaned in toward each other. To say that the positioning was uncomfortable would be an understatement. Miguel never liked being this close to an enemy unless he was killing him. He suspected that Henkle felt the same way. Miguel noticed the tension in the man’s face. His eyes seemed to be darting from Miguel’s face to the door, to the window, to Miguel’s hands and around again.
“You are not in danger here,” Miguel said softly.
Henkle actually chuckled. “Like hell I’m not.”
“I don’t plan on killing you, unless, of course, you give me a good reason. Did you come in here to kill me?”
Henkle seemed to study him. “No.”
Miguel raised his shoulders. “Then I’d say we are at an impasse. For now.”
Henkle nodded. “For now.”
The mutual verbal agreement set, Henkle started on why he’d come in the first place. “You asked me a question about Heather.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Does this mean that you don’t have eyes on her, either?”
Miguel sucked in a deep breath. “No, I don’t.”
“Does anyone?” Henkle’s eyes darted toward the window.
Leaning even closer, Miguel softly said, “Her friends are all looking for her. What about your friends? The Patriot camera system?”
“She does not show up on any of the cameras. I looked. People don’t just disappear. She didn’t tell you where she was going? You don’t know where she went? Any clues?”
“No.”
Henkle pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shit.”
“Why are you looking for her?”
The man didn’t answer for a long moment.
“Henkle, you’re worried about something. What is it?”
“I’m worried about a lot of things, like why you showed up on the train and at Smith’s Manor. For a long time, none of that had made any sense to me.”
“No? It does to me. I did those things because she asked me to.”
“Are you sure your HQ didn’t ask you to?”
Miguel leaned back and crossed his arms. “Who? I’m a Mexican diplomat, Lieutenant Colonel Henkle. What are you talking about?”
“Exactly. You don’t fit. Martin Slade would never contract with a Mexican diplomat to protect his daughter, or cook for a Patriot party, or any of the things the two of you have done together. There is only one answer.”
He didn’t complete the thought—Heather and Miguel are spies.
Miguel had to move him off this line of thought quickly. “Escucha, amigo, I am not the issue. But something is bothering you so much that you risked your life to come here. Tell me what it is, so I know what we are dealing with. Maybe the Mexican Embassy can help.”
“Mexican Embassy,” Henkle muttered under his breath, as if Miguel had just said the stupidest thing in the universe. “The issue is Patrick Dunbar. Do you know who he is?”
“Wasn’t he on Blockwell’s presidential campaign staff?” He was also the guy at the Trade Summit who seemed to be looking for the free press journalist, Jack Spanner, and was likely involved in his execution. He also told Keyes to “do what he came to do” minutes before he slit Payne’s throat.
“Yes. He’s lowlife scum, pure and simple. A total and complete shady asshole. More than that, though, he’s Heather’s ex-boyfriend.”
Miguel sputtered. “What?”
Henkle nodded. “I don’t have all the details, but I’d bet money he had something to do with her kidnapping. Maybe the entire kidnapping.”
Miguel sat back in his chair, relieved. Henkle was referring to the real Heather Slade not the woman they both knew. “¡Hijo de la chingada! He deserves to rot in hell.”
“Whatever you said, I agree. He stalked Heather once and seems to be at it again.”
Miguel narrowed his eyes. Dunbar had just leapfrogged to the second spot in Miguel’s Most Evil list. Right behind Blockwell. “Are you suggesting we take him out?”
Henkle’s lips rose. “Hands down, the best suggestion I’ve heard all day. And if he has her… He will not live to see another week. I commit to that. But I don’t need your help with that. What I am really worried about is that Heather might have gone to him.”
Miguel frowned. “Gone to the guy who kidnapped her? Why would she do that?”
“For answers. Do you know she is looking for her lost daughter?”
Miguel wouldn’t lie. “Yes. She told me.”
“Did she also share with you—like she did with me—that she would provide intel for help finding her daughter? As in…all the intel?”
Miguel’s heart hit his toes. “She said that?”
“Are you understanding the gravity of the situation, Robles? A man like Dunbar might have information about missing people. Or he might lie and convince her he did. What would a woman like Heather give up for even a shred of news about her child?”
¡Madre de Dios! Had Heather become a double agent?
“I can tell by the expression on your face. You get it now. Heather is in serious trouble. How much intel would Dunbar demand she turn over? And after she talked, why would he let her live this time?” Henkle exhaled loudly. “I say it again, Heather is in trouble. We all are.”
Miguel cocked his head. “We?”
“Yes, Robles. I care about her too.”
They were silent for a moment.
“How do we stop this cabrón?” Miguel asked, thinking more seriously about taking Dunbar out. If he hurt Heather, Miguel would find a way to make the man pay.
Henkle’s expression was as serious as a man about to have his skin shredded on the Patriot News. “We stop this whole thing by giving Heather what she wants—the location where missing people are being held.”
Miguel could not have been more surprised. “A POW camp?”
Henkle swiped at sweat beading on his upper lip but did not answer.
“Do you know where it is?” Miguel whispered.
“I’ve been trying to find it since she told me about her daughter.”
Trying to find it. “You knew it existed, just not where?”
Henkle’s gaze fell to his shoes. “Yes. I have the coordinates now.”
Miguel leaned even closer until Henkle raised his gaze. Rage pulsed through his body. “You knew and did nothing about it? Innocent people held in a camp for four years? What in the hell is the matter with you?” He slammed his clenched fist on the desk. “My brother could be there. I ought to kill you myself.”
Henkle did not flinch. “Not before I tell you the location. I want HQ to save those people. Especially if it helps Heather.”
Miguel was breathing hard. He struggled to keep his fists to himself.
“And for the record?” Henkle’s voice was very low. “I tried to tell you all before, but they killed my mouthpiece. Your people didn’t act fast enough.”
For the second time during the conversation, Miguel could not have been more surprised. “Jack Spanner?”
Henkle nodded.
Miguel almost fell through himself. Jack Spanner had been hiding in plain sight by the Patriot Army boot camp, waiting for a mole inside the PD Inner Circle to provide intel that could destroy Blockwell. When Spanner was shot by a sniper on Main Street, Heather had luckily been there just in time to hear Spanner’s last words. He had made contact with a Patriot officer who’d told him about the POW camp.
They didn’t have the location. Until now.
¡Hijole! Henkle is the mole!
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
In the afternoon, Martin was feeling so good that he wanted to leave his room and walk the reservation with her. Heather welcomed it because she still had to clear the air about something important. As they walked arm in arm down the sidewalk, looking into the store windows and waving back at the people inside who’d waved first, she whispered, “Hey, Dad. I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”
He bristled.
“Don’t worry, it’s not as heavy as this morning’s discussion.”
He exhaled. “Good. Don’t think my heart could take it.”
“I found the secret account information in the safe after they took you away. Blockwell was after our money. No doubt about it. I’ve moved all of it to the offshore accounts. It’s safe.”
He gave her the biggest smile she’d ever seen on his face. “That’s my girl.” He kissed her on the top of her head. “I knew you could handle such a big task.”
Her heart warmed at the compliment. She’d never thought of the money as hers. Though, the real Heather might show up one day to find that she was no longer just a billionaire’s daughter. She was the billionaire.
The sounds of a commotion came from up ahead in the main courtyard.
“What’s happening?” he asked.
“Don’t know.”
She ran her hand down her leg, reaching for the weapon in her thigh holster, before remembering she’d left all of her weapons and devices behind at home. Dammit. She braced herself for the trouble heading for her.
“Dad, get behind me.”
He gave her a startled look, but didn’t move. “What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
A man whooped. Women started cheering. Heather couldn’t understand the words, but the chatter in the square seemed to be happy.
“Let’s go see what’s going on,” Martin said.
Cautiously, she approached the crowd. Up ahead, people seemed to encircle one young man. She stood on her toes to try to see. It was no good.
“Who is he?” Martin asked.
She shook her head.
“Miss Slade!” a voice called out. “Step forward.”
“Should I come too?” Martin frowned.
“No. Wait here.”
The crowd parted, and she walked straight through to the mysterious man. He was covered in dirt and sweat. His pants were torn as if he’d been crawling across sharp rocks. Dark circles shadowed his eyes. His cheeks were sunken. Unlike the Shoshone people, this young man seemed to be malnourished. Starving.
“Tommy?” she asked when she stepped forward.
“Yeah.” His gaze darted around her, over her, but not at her. He reminded her of a boy looking for the bogeyman. “Chief Natihani says I need to talk to you. Tell you my story.”
“Not yet. Please come inside. You must be hungry,” Chief Natihani said. He put his arm around the young man’s shoulders and led him inside the building. “Come. You are safe now.”
Heather followed behind. She looked over her shoulder. Martin was coming too.
