Mind Game
Page 48

“I know you,” Nicolas said. “We crossed paths a couple of times in a couple of countries. What else do you have on you?”
“Couple of small knives and a couple of guns.”
“That’s not possible.” The smile vanished from Gator’s face.
“This is Jack Norton, and you should have recognized the name,” Nicolas told the Cajun, then turned his attention back to the agent. “The house is one big booby trap. My men are finding weapons all over the place. You think someone’s after you?”
“We heard someone took out Jesse Calhoun,” Norton answered easily. “Mind if I put my hands down?”
“Yes I mind. We’re all safer this way. Take it as a compliment. You have a certain well-deserved reputation. Where’s your brother?”
“Probably looking down a scope at you right this minute,” Norton said complacently.
“He’s carrying live rounds, Jack,” Nicolas said. “Tell him to stand down. I don’t want any of my men getting hurt and this turning into a useless bloodbath. We’re on an information hunt.”
“Ken will just hang back, making sure no one does anything stupid,” Norton replied. “You’re not going to find the traitor in this house.”
“He has information on Jesse,” Neil said.
“He’s in bad shape,” Nicolas told them. “We’ve got him stashed in the best hospital and he’s guarded around the clock by a couple of ours. Henderson went to see him. They’re not letting anyone else close.”
“You bring him out?” Jack asked.
Nicolas nodded.
“Then I owe you.”
“Just keep that brother of yours from shooting any of my men. I’d hate to have to kill someone I like.” Nicolas spoke into his radio. “We aren’t going to find anything here. Break off and let me know when you’re clear.”
“Is our computer intact?” Neil asked.
“You won’t know he touched it,” Nicolas answered. “Make sure you get a doc to take a look at your chest. You’re going to carry a few bruises. Later gentlemen.” He kept his gun steady, dead center on Norton’s chest as he backed toward the window. “I’ll just go out this way and keep an eye on the two of you while my men get clear.” He spoke conversationally, even nonchalantly, but his skin crawled with the idea of the legendary Jack Norton and his twin brother Ken, lying in wait for him. There were few men as good as him in the jungle, but Jack Norton was one of them. And he was just as good at the end of a rifle, maybe better.
No one had mentioned the Norton twins in the intel he had on the house, or even on the NCIS. He couldn’t imagine Lily missing something like that, which meant Norton had either come in on his own because he’d heard about Jesse Calhoun and Calhoun was a friend, or he’d been brought in by the director to investigate his office because the admiral had come to the same conclusion as Dahlia. Someone in the department was a traitor.
He kept his gun trained on Norton until each of his men gave him the all clear. He did a small salute and vanished, sliding into the night as quickly as he could, feeling the itch between his shoulder blades as if he were being tracked with a bullet.
Once away, he breathed a sigh of relief. The Norton twins. Who would have ever guessed they’d come out unscathed in a confrontation with them? He was very lucky to get his men out unharmed. He knew Jack Norton was thinking the same about tangling with him. He let his breath out slowly wishing they were finished for the night. But they weren’t.
“I’m picking up Dahlia. Will meet you all at the target.”
Nicolas was thankful to be alone in the car for a few minutes. The responsibility of protecting his men was no small thing. He took it seriously, and he’d known it might all go to hell. They had one day to search the house, and that wasn’t nearly enough time to canvass the place and find a time to break in when no one was at home. They’d been lucky coming out unscathed when the notorious Norton twins had been in residence. He couldn’t blame Gator. No one alive that he knew could handle Jack Norton and come out on top. The only reason Gator wasn’t dead was because Jack was a patient, steady man and didn’t make mistakes. He was sizing up the situation, feeling his way before making a kill. They’d been lucky. Very lucky.
Dahlia ran lightly across the lawn, dressed in a black jumpsuit, her hair pulled tightly into a thick, intricate braid. She tossed the small bag filled with the new clothes into the backseat and slid into the car beside him. “How’d it go?”
“They’re clean,” he answered.
She took a long look at him. “Is everyone okay?”
“Yes, but we don’t have a lot of time with this, Dahlia, we want you out of there before it gets too light, or before anyone has a chance to figure out where we’re hitting next. You’ll have to get in and out quickly. We want Maxwell to fly us out of here before anyone has a chance to come looking for us.”
“Is he at the airfield?”
“Kaden’s making peace with him, bringing him food and filling him in so he’ll be cooperative. The plane will be ready when we get there. The others are setting up to protect you if necessary.”
“It won’t be.”
“This isn’t the same as a recovery, Dahlia. You’re interrogating her while we search the house. We don’t want her to know we’re there. She could panic and try to phone the police.”
“She won’t.” There was confidence in Dahlia’s voice.
Nicolas felt the tension ease out of his muscles at her tone. He hadn’t realized how worried he’d been about her. She’d been so broken earlier, but she looked rested and relaxed and completely poised.
Dahlia studied his face. “You look tired, Nicolas. You haven’t had any sleep.”
“I’ll sleep on the plane. Our intel wasn’t all it could have been. It was a little dicey, but we got out of there intact. Have you ever heard Calhoun talk about a man named Jack Norton?”
His voice as always was easygoing, soft, almost sensual, but she knew him now on a much deeper level and she felt a sudden chill down her spine. “Jesse mentioned someone named Jack packed him out of a firefight once when he was wounded. He never mentioned a last name.”
“Did he mention a twin?”
She nodded. “A brother, yes. I don’t remember his name.”
“Ken. Ken Norton.”
“Why? Who are they?”
“Hopefully not the enemy. Jack’s the kind of man you never want after you. He never stops. He just keeps coming. He was there, in the house.”
Dahlia frowned. “This is getting so messy. All because a group of professors had an idea.”
“An idea that could change the balance of firepower on the sea,” he reminded.
“It’s an idea. An unproven idea,” she said. “Money is just so ugly.”
“It makes people ugly,” he qualified.
“Would this Jack sell out for money?”
“Not in a million years. If he’s looking for the same person or persons we’re looking for, I’d have to say, they may as well shoot themselves now because they’re already dead. He didn’t know what happened to Jesse. Neither did Neil. No one’s talking yet, so that’s a good thing. We know he’s safe enough while we’re figuring this all out.” He parked the car in front of a modest home in a nice neighborhood. The porch and swing looked inviting. The car was a midsized Toyota Camry. “Nothing extravagant.”
Dahlia started to open the car door, but he caught her hand, preventing movement. “You’re wired, right? Did you test it already?”
She rolled her eyes. “We tested it twice. Ian is recording everything and you’ll be able to hear.”
“Be careful.” He didn’t know if it was the near fight with Jack Norton, but he was reluctant to let her out of his sight.
Dahlia leaned into him, pressed her lips against the corner of his mouth. “I do this all the time, Nicolas. Stop worrying.”
She slipped from the car and ran across the lawn. He saw her get out of the car, knew the direction she was running, knew what she was wearing, but she seemed to fade into the landscape. It was the strangest thing. It wasn’t as if she could blur her clothing. Nicolas rubbed his eyes and looked again. He heard her soft laughter in his ear. “Put your glasses on.”
“You’re doing more than blurring your face.” He loved the sound of her laughter. His insides performed a strange melting that left him unreasonably happy.
“Well, a girl should be somewhat mysterious. Wouldn’t want your life to be boring.”
He strained to catch a glimpse of her. Brush moved along the far flower bed. He saw her spring from a low fence onto the steeply slanted roof and run along the edge as if she had some kind of suction cups on her feet. His heart in his throat, he directed his men to surround the house and follow her in while she engaged the occupant in conversation.
“Stop worrying,” Dahlia whispered. She could feel his energy no matter how much he tried to spare her. Nicolas wasn’t the type of man to happily send his woman off on a mission he considered dangerous. And that was just one more thing separating them. She needed the stimulation and the continual physical and mental activity her job provided for her. She had no idea how she’d cope without the outlet.
She ran lightly along the roof, her slight weight allowing her to be very silent as she approached the entry point she’d chosen. A window was slightly open, raised a couple of inches invitingly. The screen was of little consequence. Hanging upside down, she extracted it easily and placed it carefully on the roof where it couldn’t slide off.
“No real security system other than the alarm Ian interrupted,” she murmured softly, feeling a little foolish talking to the team. She wasn’t a team player, and she felt a bit self-conscious knowing they were all watching and monitoring everything she said and did.
She lowered her body until she could reach the edge of the window and tugged to bring it up. As she did so, she whispered softly. She wasn’t a strong telepath, she couldn’t read others that easily, but she could mesmerize with her voice, especially if the person was sleepy, drunk, or very susceptible. She kept her voice beguiling as she slid down the wall and rolled through the window, landing silently in a crouch, her gaze scanning the room as she continued to give the order to sleep. She was in the bedroom of Director Henderson’s secretary, Louise Charter, who lay sleeping peacefully. One hand was flung out just touching the end table where her alarm clock sat.
“I’m in,” she announced softly. “She’s alone, but I haven’t checked the house.” It was usually the first thing she did to insure her safety, but Nicolas had been adamant that she only deal with the secretary. She moved through the room first, searching it carefully, going through the drawers and the closet. She noted each item of interest. “She’s definitely seeing someone.”
Next to the phone was a framed photograph of Louise Charter and a young man of undetermined age, perhaps thirty or forty. He had his arm around her and was smiling down at her upturned face.
Dahlia sat at the end of the bed. “Louise.” She said the name softly, gently. Put persuasion in her voice.
Louise opened her eyes and gasped, half-sat, and pushed at the fall of tumbling blond hair threaded with gray. “Dahlia. I recognize your voice. What are you doing here? Are you in trouble?” She sat up all the way and reached for her robe in a no-nonsense fashion. “I can call the director and have help here immediately for you. He’s been out of the office and unavailable, but I can reach him in an emergency.”
Dahlia smiled at her, amazed that Louise would be so complacent to find her sitting on the bed. She was certain Louise was sixty, although she certainly looked younger. “Thank you, I’m fine. I just need information, and I didn’t want to use the phone. I was afraid it might be dangerous.”