“Bottom line,” I say, summarizing the main problem. “It would take weeks to plan this.”
“Longer than what Barrett might have,” Dozer murmurs before swiveling back to the stove.
“But we will plan it,” Kynan declares as he pushes from his chair. He moves to the fridge and opens it, pulling out a bottle of water. “We don’t know when or if a move will be made, so, until then, we’ll arrange to go after the arms dealers. I’ve got Rachel putting together a team back in Vegas. Dozer… I’m going to send you there to help plan.”
“Got it,” he replies, pouring wine into the pan to deglaze it. I have to admit it smells damn good.
Bebe glances up from her laptop. “Well, the new security system for this house is online and working. The cameras are set to auto focus in on the faces of anyone who gets near the exterior, then run them through facial recognition software. I’ve programmed it to exclude the Jameson faces to cut down on redundancy.”
A long, shrill beep goes off on Bebe’s computer. She checks it, a slow smile coming to her face. “Barrett’s home.”
We hear the scrape of her key in the deadbolt lock, the front door opening, then soft steps walking toward the kitchen.
Barrett turns the corner, scanning the kitchen with uncertainty. I’d asked her to come home early so we could talk with her, and she wasn’t happy about it.
I push off the wall, set the knife on the counter, and make introductions to Dozer and Bebe. Barrett nods at them before putting her briefcase and purse down on the counter.
“Hope you’re hungry.” Dozer beams as he moves to pour Barrett a glass of wine he’d opened earlier so it could breathe. He hands it to her, and she accepts it quietly.
Then he takes her by the elbow and escorts her to the kitchen table, gallantly pulling a seat out for her. “You just relax, and I’ll dish you up the best chicken marsala you’ve ever tasted in your life.”
“Oh, I’m not hungry,” she replies, then pushes the glass of wine away. “And I’ve got a lot more work to do tonight, so—”
“You need to eat something,” I say, my voice a little hard and commanding. She looks like she’s ready to fall over. Face pale with dark circles under her eyes. Her hair is a mess. Most has fallen out of the band tying it back, and her bangs are shoved away from her forehead with a crookedly placed barrette. Oddly, despite how tired she looks, she’s also incredibly beautiful in a natural, just-rolled-out-of-bed kind of way.
But she’s clearly exhausted, and she no doubt needs nourishment. She only got about four hours of sleep last night, which I know because I patrolled the inside of her house several times in between light naps. She’d spent most of the night in her office, which is actually the living room of her small townhome.
Dozer is on the ball, sliding a plate of chicken marsala on the table before her. “Eat, pretty doctor lady,” he says… admittedly with a great deal of charm that seems to work as she gives a wan smile and picks up her utensils.
Dozer plates up food for everyone else, pouring wine for himself, Bebe, and Kynan. I decline since I’m on duty. Everyone eats at the table except me. I prefer to take my dinner at the counter so I can observe Barrett. She methodically eats in small bites while quietly listening.
“If it will take a while to find these dealers,” Dozer says as he cuts into his chicken, “we should focus our attentions on those most likely to benefit from Barrett’s research. I’d imagine foreign governments and private corporations, but my research last night seems to indicate the country making the most progress on this technology is China. Perhaps they want the final leg up.”
“Or perhaps the ones that don’t have any progress at all,” Bebe suggests.
Dozer then launches into a long-winded dissertation on the intricacies of testing this type of theoretical research. It involves a lot of long words, but it essentially helps to focus in on the biggest suspect on the list of potentials.
Clearly, Barrett is impressed by Dozer’s knowledge, which prompts her to add in her own theories. Soon, they’re off and running on tangents, speaking a dialect the rest of us don’t understand. Still, Bebe furiously types on her laptop, taking notes while ignoring her dinner.
“Is there any other help we can get from the government?” Bebe asks. “Any other agencies I can reach out to so I can cross reference this stuff?”
Kynan shakes his head. “It’s not been escalated as a high priority at this point. The president said there are no other resources available unless we can find something to push it forward.”