Thirteen
Page 92

Karl didn’t respond. He just looked from the van to the SUV. “Where do you want me?” he asked Elena. “And, yes, right now I think I know the general answer, but more specifically …”
“Up front in the van. Where you will not speak to Jasper. That’s the condition you agreed to. Don’t forget it. You are here for Hope when we get her out. You will not interfere with the mission. You will have no contact with Jasper Haig. You agreed to all that.”
“I did.”
 
Elena pointed at the van and the nurse rolled him off.
“Bastard,” Elena muttered as we climbed into the SUV.
“Punish him later,” Clay said. “Or really kick his ass out. Your choice. For now, he owes you. Use that to keep him in line.”
“That’s what I plan to do. Now, fill me in. How exactly are we getting inside?”

Elena was not getting inside. A very limited number of people could be smuggled in with Jaz. I was going in—I knew the players and I’d been in this compound before. For backup, I needed a non-spellcaster, in case the wards extended farther than we thought. Lucas debated sending Clay or Elena with me, then decided, as useful as brute strength was, the ability to disintegrate a door might come in more handy. So, too, might the ability to pick a lock and disarm an alarm. So Adam would be my wingman. Lucas took us aside after that had been decided.
“Will this still work?” he said. “With the change in your relationship, I’m not altogether comfortable putting you together on this.”
“Right,” I said. “Because couples shouldn’t be trusted on dangerous missions. You should tell that to Elena and Clay. Or to yourself and Paige.”
“It’s not a matter of trust, Savannah. It will be different now. I know that from my early days of working with Paige.”
“If you’re asking whether we’ll slip off midmission to make out, the answer is no.”
“I don’t think that’s what he means,” Adam said. “Being partners off the job could affect our priorities.” He looked at Lucas. “I didn’t just wake up yesterday and realize I have feelings for Savannah. Even before it was this kind of feeling, I cared about her. That hasn’t changed. Your situation was different. No offense to Paige, but when you two started working together, she needed someone to watch her back. Savannah can take care of herself.”
Lucas paused, then nodded. “All right then. Adam, you go and get ready. Savannah, can you hold on a moment?”
He waited until Adam was out of earshot, then said, “You’re angry with me because I’m not pleased with this new development.”
“Um, yeah. No one else seems to have a problem with it.”
“Because, it seems, they all foresaw this change in your relationship. I thought Paige was mistaken. Perhaps I hoped she was mistaken. Paige may joke about maturity levels, but there is still a significant age difference. He’s a year younger than me, Savannah. I’m not comfortable with that. Not at your age.”
“And when would you be comfortable with it. In a year? Two?”
He considered the question. “Ten. I would be more comfortable with it if you were thirty-one. Perhaps thirty.”
I glowered at him.
“You asked my opinion.”
“You’re worried about me,” I said. “I get that. I don’t think you’re the only one concerned about the age difference. I know Adam didn’t plan to let me know how he felt yet. He thought I’d died in that blast and he kissed me when it turned out I was still alive. The cat was out of the bag. He couldn’t stuff it back in and tell me to wait a few years.”
I met Lucas’s gaze. “Maybe I am too young. Maybe it won’t work. But this isn’t some random older guy I met in a bar. I’ve known Adam half my life. We’ve been friends—really good friends—for years. I think that counts for something. But however young you think I am, Lucas, I’m old enough to make my own mistakes.”
 
“I know.” He steered me toward the tent. “I suppose I’ll get used to the idea. But if he hurts you …”
“You’ll sue for damages.”
He smiled. “I will.”
 
 
FORTY-THREE
 
The plan was simple enough—get in with Jaz, who would impersonate Gordon Scott, then work backward, eliminating security from the inside out to clear the way for the rest of the team to enter without alerting Giles.
Jaz had the most prep work. He had to become Scott. That wasn’t just a matter of adjusting his physiognomy to look like the guy. He had to dress like him, act like him, become him. As I realized what we were asking him to do, the sheer magnitude of the task hit me. He could do it in days, maybe. But we were scheduled to infiltrate in less than an hour. Inside, de Rais was getting anxious. He wouldn’t wait much longer.
Turned out the task wasn’t as huge as it seemed. Not for a guy who’d learned to flip in and out of identities the way Jaz had. Even before the jet left Miami, he’d told Benicio he needed every scrap they had on Scott. Not just information and photographs, but video. He really needed video.
Luckily, Scott was a perennial troublemaker. Our agency had a file on him. The council had a file. The Cortezes and the Boyds and the Nasts all had files. The Nasts—through Sean—supplied the video. They’d bought information off Scott twice and taped both interviews. Jaz had studied those tapes and the files on the flight.
 
When Jaz walked out of the tent, I kicked myself—hard—for not checking those photos myself. I’d met Scott. Three days ago. He’d been one of the SLAM members meeting with Giles when Mom and I infiltrated the group. Now Jaz was Gordon Scott, exactly as I remembered him from our one brief encounter. He’d mastered his walk and voice and mannerisms. Earlier, I agreed with Clay that the world was better off without Jasper Haig in it. Now, seeing the transformation, I could feel what Benicio must—that this was an incredible power, and incredibly valuable. Still didn’t mean I wouldn’t kill the bastard if he got in the way of rescuing Hope or stopping de Rais.
Precautions had been taken to ensure Jaz wouldn’t go off-plan. De Rais had already made it clear that he’d love Jaz as an ally. So what was to stop Jaz from walking into that compound, revealing himself, and saying “Here I am. Protect me from the Cabals, give me Hope and I’m all yours.”