Deep Cover (The Extractor Series Book 4) by Mike Ryan (e book reader for pc .TXT) 📕

to get her way. “Can we get back to discussing our guy here?”

“Oh, yeah,” Joe said. “Who is he?”

The analyst stepped back in and clicked on the picture. All the other pictures faded away, and the picture of Steele Magareth moved to the side. The other side of the screen was devoted to his information.

“Steele Magareth,” the analyst said, “was one of Greg Kenny’s confidants in Europe when he was there.”

“Agency?” Joe asked.

“No. Looks like he once belonged to a rebel/terrorist group in Ukraine.”

They read off Magareth’s qualifications and skills. After they were done, Joe looked at Nicole.

“Looks like you got off easy getting thrown through that table.”

“Tell me about it,” Nicole replied.

“What about the other one?” Bridge asked. “Marianne Werther. I’ll be surprised if that’s her real name.”

“I already did some checking on her,” the analyst said. He brought up Werther’s picture and profile.

“That’s her. That’s our little angel.”

“If she’s an angel, then god help all of us,” Joe said.

“What’s her story?” Nicole asked.

“Turns out, surprise, surprise, that’s not her real name,” the analyst said. “Her real name is actually Zara Dalton.”

“Ring any bells with anybody?” Bridge asked.

“Well, turns out, she’s a former MI6 agent.”

“Former?”

“Yes. She left MI6 over a year ago.”

“Roughly the same time that Kenny left,” Joe said.

“What’s also interesting is when I last checked Magareth’s movements,” the analyst said. “The last confirmed location I got on him was also about a year ago.”

“Where was that?” Bridge asked.

“Serbia.”

“A hotbed for illegal weapons,” Joe said. “So now you’re telling me that we have an ex-CIA agent, ex-MI6 agent, and a terrorist or whatever he is, all aligned with each other and probably have been for the last year?”

“Well, I mean, it kind of looks that way.”

“What do we have on this Dalton?”

“Not much, really. Good record. Left on good terms, presumably, from what I see.”

“What’s behind the curtain doesn’t always match what’s on the outside.”

Another analyst shouted from the other side of the room. “Sir, Greg Kenny’s name just popped up at the airport.”

“What? Are you kidding me?”

“Looks as though he just bought a ticket on the next plane to France.”

“France? What the devil’s he doing there?” Joe then looked to the younger man who escorted Bridge and Nicole in. “I want you to alert the FBI and inform them of what’s going on. You need to tell them only what we need them to know.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the man left the room, Bridge leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed and his thumb pressed against his lips. He was deep in thought.

Nicole nudged him. “What are you thinking?”

“I think you can forget about the airport.”

“Why’s that?” Joe asked.

“I mean, Kenny’s not stupid enough to use his name to try to fly out of here right now,” Bridge said. “He knows you’d be watching. You can send the FBI there if you want to, but I guarantee he’s not there.”

“Diversion?”

Bridge nodded. “I would think so.”

“For what? What’s his play?”

“He wants to draw you in one direction so he can go in another.”

“But which way?”

“If he wants to get out of the country, what’s the best way to do it? Assuming he wants to do it discreetly.”

“Mexico,” Nicole said.

Bridge’s eyes almost rolled out of his head. “Oh, don’t say it. Please don’t say it.”

“Mexico.”

“Ugh. Why do you have to torment me so?”

“That’d be my choice,” Joe replied.

“He’s got a long way to get there,” Bridge said.

“I agree.”

“So that means I gotta assume he’s gonna know the airport thing’s a trick. He’s also going to know we’re gonna assume Mexico’s his next play.”

“So why would he do it then?” Nicole asked.

“He won’t.”

“But you just said…”

“I said that would be the next logical progression. That’s why he won’t do it. He’ll get us chasing after him going five different ways, while he does nothing.”

Nicole put her hands over her head. “My brain hurts.”

“You think he’s gonna wait?” Joe asked.

Bridge nodded. “I do.”

“But why?”

“Too much heat. He knows he can’t get out with all these eyes on him. He’ll wait. Let things cool down. Then he’ll get out nice and easy.”

“What makes you think so?”

“Because that’s what I would do.”

“I don’t understand what he needs Abbott for, though,” Nicole said.

“Maybe he just plans on wiping out the entire family so there’s no more inquiries,” Joe said.

“I don’t think so,” Bridge said.

“Why not?”

“If he wanted Abbott dead, he could’ve done it back at that house. But he didn’t. He chose to take him with him. That means he needs him for something.”

“But what?” Nicole asked.

“I don’t know. What… that’s the question.”

14

It’d been five days since the encounter at the house. Since then, there’d been very little action regarding anything by anybody. Bridge was working the phone all day, trying to get some type of lead. So far, nothing had materialized. He called Joe to see if his people had come up with anything, but they hadn’t. He called Happ to see if he had heard anything, but he hadn’t either. Everything was quiet. Too quiet for Bridge’s liking. But there wasn’t much else he could do except continue to plug along and hope for the best. After getting off the phone and letting out a loud sigh, he rejoined Nicole in the living room. She could hear his frustration.

“I take it the news is the same as the last few days?”

“Yeah,” Bridge replied. “None.”

“Well, I guess we can take it as a small positive.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“At least it means that Abbott’s not dead yet.”

“Yet. Yet is the operative word there. If we don’t find him soon, I’m sure that won’t hold up forever. Unless he’s the surprise ring leader, as soon as they’re done with whatever they need him for, they’ll dump him.”

“You don’t suppose, do you?”

“Suppose what?”

“That this has all been orchestrated… by him?”

“Who?”

“Abbott?”

“You mean he’s actually in charge of this mess?”

Nicole shrugged. “Just a thought.”

“Now that’d be all kinds of messed up.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Nah, I can’t see it. Can you?”

“No, not really. I just thought I’d throw it