“A remote location? Where? Or is that another question you’re refusing to answer?”
Refusing to answer? What the fuck was that all about? “The Boston CIA field office.”
She looked between Lynx and me. “Gentlemen, until you are prepared to be completely honest with me, there’s nothing further for us to discuss.”
I stepped closer. “Emme, you’re a target.”
“What does that mean?”
“What do you think it means?” Hadn’t Lynx covered any of this with her?
“Are you saying you believe I’m in danger?”
I really wished we didn’t have an audience. “I’m sorry, but I do, Emme. Now you understand why I’m suggesting we work from the field office.”
“I want my apartment swept.”
I hadn’t heard that her apartment or even the building had been compromised. “Do you think that’s necessary?”
“Yes. It’s necessary,” said Lynx, evidently no longer mute. “She also needs a keypad entry installed.”
“We’ll take care of both,” said Decker, motioning to Grinder and Edge.
Emme walked toward the door. “If you don’t need me for anything else right now…”
“I’ll walk you over,” Lynx offered.
When they both left, I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d worked with Emme—Dr. Charles—for several months and recognized the signs when she was getting agitated. Had we been alone, I might’ve been able to diffuse her increasing ire. As it was, she probably felt as though we were ganging up on her.
“Come with me,” said Decker, motioning for me to follow him to one of the bedrooms he’d set up as his office. “You wanna tell me what the fuck is really going on?” he asked after shutting the door behind us.
I walked over to the window and looked outside. “We need to bring Cope in on this.”
Decker studied me.
“I can make contact or you can, but this isn’t a conversation I can have without him present.”
Deck nodded. “It sounds like Lynx is back. Hang on,” he said, going out to the other room.
“He’s gone again,” he said when he returned a couple of minutes later, closed the door like he had earlier, and pulled out his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling Cope.”
“We can’t discuss this over the phone.”
Decker raised a brow, and I stopped talking. If anyone could guarantee the conversation we were about to have wouldn’t be overheard either outside the walls of this room or over a phone line, it was him.
11
Irish
Cambridge, Massachusetts
August of the Preceding Year
I couldn’t say why Cope and I trusted Decker with a yearslong mission that only he and I knew about, but we did. Maybe we’d both just reached the point when we knew we couldn’t go it alone any longer.
I reiterated most of what had happened in the last seven years in terms of my tracking the inexplicable deaths of agents, primarily in Hong Kong and China, but also elsewhere around the world.
The fact that he continued making notes on a second computer should’ve alarmed me. Oddly, it didn’t.
“Tell me more about the number of deaths and the span of time.”
“I haven’t tabulated in the same way I did in the past since I arrived in Boston.”
“Understood.”
A few minutes later, Decker turned his laptop around so both Cope and I could see the screen. What he showed me made my eyes bug out. In just a few minutes, he’d compiled the same data I had, including the deaths and where they’d taken place. Sadly, the total number was nearing the hundred mark.
Decker sat back in his chair and remained silent for several minutes.
“There’s another thing you need to be aware of,” said Cope.
Decker sighed. “Go ahead.”
“Shortly after first meeting with Irish and Dr. Charles, Dr. Benjamin contacted McTiernan directly to suggest that Irish was a mole. Somehow, Fisk got wind of it. Since, the director has been snooping around in a way that’s making me uncomfortable.”
“Are you saying the director of the CIA is snooping around personally?” Decker asked, looking from me to Cope.
“Affirmative.”
“In that case, we need to find something before he does.”
“Meaning?” I asked.
“Proof that you are, in fact, the mole.”
“Then what?”
“We start by creating enough evidence that will result in your carefully planned arrest, by which we accomplish two things. First, we make arrangements for you to be incarcerated where we can protect you. Second, the easiest way to get a mole to dig in deeper is to make him or her believe someone has taken the fall for them.”
Before Decker could continue, his cell rang. “Excuse me.” He left the room, but returned seconds later. “Gentlemen, our job just got a hell of a lot easier.”
“In what way?” asked Cope.
“I’ve enlisted the help of Buster Stevens. The next step will be to arrange a meeting between him, Matrix, and Lynx. Of course, we’ll need to make sure Matrix believes the whole thing was his idea.”
Cope’s blank expression mirrored mine.
“Matrix is Dr. Charles’ father, and I’m sure you know who Buster is.”
“US Ambassador to China.”
“Wait,” said Cope. “Matrix is Emme’s father?”
Decker either didn’t feel the need to respond or he hadn’t heard Cope’s question. “The next step is to plant the evidence and lead either the doctor or her father to it.”
“What happens after that?” I asked.
“You’re arrested.”
“Back up a little bit. You said Lynx is meeting with the ambassador. What’s the agenda for that meeting?” asked Cope.
“They’ll make arrangements for Buster to help facilitate Dr. Benjamin and Saint’s release. In the meantime, I’ll work on planting evidence.”
“You’ve confirmed they’re being detained?” I asked.
Decker raised a brow but, like before, didn’t respond. “There’s something else I need to make you aware of.”
“Okay.”
“We have reason to believe Lynx and our Dr. Charles may have history.”
“They do. He admitted it to me. He also said she was involved with Saint.”
“I don’t think so. However, I do believe there may be an advantage to him thinking you’re interested as well.”
“I’ve already said as much.”
“What about Dr. Charles? Does she believe you have an interest in more than a professional relationship with her?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“Again, it may work in our favor if she
