King and Maxwell (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 6)

“You swear?”

“Absolutely. Now go into the kitchen.”

As soon as he was gone Michelle said, “When have you confronted a SWAT team before?”

“Never in my life.”

“Great.”

“I’m not waiting for the warning,” he said. He moved to the front door.

“Sean, wait.”

But he had opened the door and stepped outside with his hands up.

Sean was confronted by a dozen armed and armored men who had their assault weapons pointed at him.

“Is there a problem?” asked Sean.

One of the men came forward. He had on body armor and a face shield. He drew up the shield so Sean could see who it was.

Agent McKinney of DHS said, “Oh, yeah. A big one. And you’re it.”

CHAPTER

40

SAM WINGO SAT ON THE BED in his hotel waiting for his son to email him back. Tyler, he noted, had used a new email account. That was smart thinking on his son’s part. But Tyler had not written him back about the meeting he wanted. And as every minute passed Wingo’s concern grew. He wanted to go to his home and see that Tyler was okay. But the place, he knew, was surely being watched. He would be arrested before he even got to the front porch.

It was maddening to come all this way just to sit and wait. Wingo could be patient when it was necessary, but that didn’t mean it was easy.

A burn phone that he had been given in India vibrated, and he snatched it up. This could only be from one person, the man who had arranged for the phone.

Adeel, his Muslim contact in the Middle East, the man who had gotten him through Pakistan and into India. But Wingo had almost been killed on the Khyber Pass. He still didn’t know if he’d been betrayed by Adeel. Maybe this email would answer that question.

He read the message: Bodies discovered at target site. Identified as all Muslims. Interestingly enough, a group of Western males arrived in Afghanistan on charter flight from States on the day before and took transportation in vicinity of target site. Heron Air Service, based in Dulles, Virginia, was the charter service they flew in on. Preliminary investigation indicates that some of the Westerners had U.S. credentials. Exact agencies unknown. They were given passage by various tribal chieftains. Usual financial arrangements meaning cash so no trace possible. No other information obtainable on my end. If you are back in States, you may follow up. Good luck. And I hope you see your son. A.

Wingo deleted the message from both his inbox and trash. He lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. A group of Westerners, some with U.S. creds, had flown into Afghanistan on the day before he was to deliver one billion euros to a group of Muslims. The Muslims had been slaughtered and these men had hijacked the shipment from Wingo, again while flashing U.S. creds. The money was gone and so were the men. Wingo was the fall guy and running for his life.

He had another thought, sat up, and clicked on his phone pad. He was Googling his own name. The same three articles that Sean had found—now expanded to ten—came up.

He read through them all quickly. They seemed to be a string, each merely regurgitating the facts of the others. Collectively, they were devastating.

Missing money, missing soldier.

Me.

How the hell had that leaked? Colonel South hadn’t mentioned anything about the story getting to the media. He wondered whether to call the colonel but ultimately decided the man would not be helpful. He was convinced of Wingo’s guilt. Maybe everyone was.

But then that meant Tyler probably knew about it too. What must his son think? That he was a thief or a traitor?

The news story went on to add that the missing money and soldier might have something to do with some classified operation that led all the way to the White House. However, neither President John Cole nor anyone at the Pentagon would comment, which of course was just creating a vacuum that was being filled by increasingly strident and hyperbolic voices.

Then he wondered about something else.

Where was Jean? Had she been pulled by the DoD after the mission overseas had gone to hell? If so, who was with Tyler?

That had been the hardest thing about this whole task for Wingo. Pretending to remarry and bringing what amounted to a complete stranger home to be his son’s new stepmom. But it had been unavoidable. Tyler needed a grown-up with him. Wingo had refused to leave without that condition met. Unfortunately, the simplest way to achieve it was to fake a marriage. And so he had. But he had regretted it from the very first instant Tyler had laid eyes on Jean and been told that this woman, in essence, was taking his real mother’s place.