Street Game (GhostWalkers 8)

"You know, boss, so far, he hasn't reported anything at all about any of us or what we've done. He's actually painting a rosier picture than he's had it with us. These letters are short and more reassuring, like a kid writing home rather than reporting. Unless he has a code I can't see."

Jaimie shook her head. "I don't see any pattern. I think they're just letters."

"Why would he hide them behind an elaborate security system?" Mack asked, coming up behind Jaimie and dropping his hands on her shoulders. His fingers dug into her sore muscles, massaging the tension from her. His touch was firm, but very gentle, as always. For all his enormous strength, Mack was always gentle. "Why would he be writing Sergeant Major?" Mack asked. "Come on, Jaimie, you're smart. You've read a few. Who is he? What's he saying? Why the sergeant major? You're an analyst. Analyze."

"Well, the tone of the letters is very careful. He's watching what he's saying, not wanting to reveal too much. Is he happy? Sad? Upset that he's where he is? Or upset that he's having to make reports? Some of it is very genuine. He mentions a couple of funny things with Gideon and Ethan, and there's a trace of affection in the way he words it, as if both men mean something to him. I think he's trying to portray that he fits in, that he's comfortable where he is. Like letters a kid might write home from a summer camp to a parent."

Silence descended as all three let that sink in. The clock ticked out a rhythm. A heartbeat. Mack closed his eyes briefly. "Jaimie. Talk to me, honey."

She moistened her lips, glanced at Javier, and then turned. "I think he's Sergeant Major's son. He never addresses him as anything but 'sir,' but based on these short letters back and forth between them, I'd have to say, the contents, coupled with the fact that he kept them protected rather than deleting them, say they're related, most likely father and son."

Mack slammed both palms flat on the desk, swearing between his teeth. "What the hell is going on here, Jaimie?" She'd always been his sounding board for as long as he could remember, with her quick brain and sharp intelligence. She could see patterns faster than anyone he knew. She could put together puzzles so quickly computers could barely keep up.

Jaimie bit down on her lip. Mack never hesitated asking her opinion. Never. Even if he knew he wouldn't like her answer. He listened to her, respected her. She knew he did. One time he hadn't listened, and she'd left--walked out on him. He'd been upset. His men had been wounded. He'd nearly been killed. They'd walked into a trap. She'd blamed him for leading them there, and yet, she was just as much to blame. They all were. But in the end, they'd let Mack shoulder the responsibility for it, just as they always did. The others let it go, but she hadn't. She'd accused him, and then she'd walked out when he didn't respond.

She dropped her head in her hands, rubbing at her pounding temples. Instantly Mack's fingers were on her scalp, massaging her head, in an effort to ease the ache. "Are you tired, honey? Maybe we should lay this down for a while. You could sleep a few hours and look it over with fresh eyes."

"I'm okay. Let me go through all of these. I'm reading through Sergeant Major's replies as well. I might find something else."

"I have to agree with Jaimie here," Javier said. "It doesn't make a lot of sense, but either he has the best code in the world, or he's simply writing Griffen a few lines a day, in a way that would tell the sergeant major that he was okay. Everyday stuff."

"What about the times Kane and Brian were sent out and I ordered you and Ethan and Gideon to go as backup? He wanted to go the last time."

"I checked for letters during those dates," Javier said, "and nothing changed. He never once mentioned the mission or any of the men. He didn't say he was disappointed for not going. He skipped a day, but that wasn't unusual."

"His skipped days don't necessarily correspond with your missions," Jaimie said. "I thought of that and checked."

"Could something be buried in the letters we're not seeing?" Mack asked.

Javier snorted and Jaimie gave him a quick, flashing smile. Mack threw his hands into the air. "Okay, okay, I'll shut up. It's just that . . ."

Hell. He liked the kid. He thought of Sergeant Major not only as a good friend, but perhaps a favorite uncle. Contemplating killing both men was not pleasant. And if they were father and son--and the kid was innocent--how was he going to kill Sergeant Major and live with the son? Either way, Griffen had to answer for the suicide missions.

"Damn it, Jaimie."

"I'm doing the best I can, Mack." Her voice was soothing. "I know this is upsetting, but don't think about it until the facts are in."

He knew his mouth gaped open. It was the last thing he expected out of her mouth. Condemnation maybe. But quiet support? She knew what was at stake. What the hell had changed her mind? He would never understand women as long as he lived--at least not Jaimie.

He took up his pacing again. He'd just been handed the biggest asset a GhostWalker team could have--a psychic surgeon--yet he'd been kept in the dark. Would the boy have come forward in combat if there was an injury? Paul had been antsy the moment Gideon had stepped into the room. His hands had begun a complicated and obsessive-compulsive pattern, as if his entire body was already psychically tuned to the suffering man. What would have happened if he'd been exposed to Jaimie after she used her talent? Why hadn't Sergeant Major, or Paul, revealed his talent so he could be used when he clearly so needed to heal?

Mack rubbed his forehead. He hated mysteries.

CHAPTER 13

It was late into the night before Jaimie and Javier were satisfied they could find nothing more from the letters. If there was a code, it was a brilliant one they couldn't decipher, and Jaimie couldn't accept that Paul or his father would be able to create anything she couldn't at least get a glimmer of. Maybe it was arrogance, but she'd never failed to see a pattern, even a small one, and she couldn't detect one now.

She pushed back her chair and rubbed at her eyes. "I've got the computer analyzing the e-mails, searching for something we may have missed, but I think we've got everything we're going to out of these letters."

Mack wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her body into his, letting his warmth seep into her shivering body. She hadn't even realized the temperature was dropping in the room. "Are you both still going with the theory that Paul is Sergeant Major's son?"

Jaimie put her head back against his chest. "I say definitely. If not, Griffen raised him."

"I'm going with Jaimie on this one, boss," Javier agreed. "There was no 'dad' or 'son' or outward sign of affection, but it was in the feel of it. And why the hell keep the letters at all? He's a kid missing his family."

"His last name is Mangan, not Griffen. His mother is Shiobhan Mangan. She's an ambassador's daughter, a very diplomatic family. She's the current Irish ambassador. He's an American citizen and his file says he was raised here with an aunt. His father is Theodore Greystone. Not Griffen."

Mack snapped his fingers, irritated with himself. "Griffen comes from money," he said. "Old money, some blueblood family from the South. I remember seeing a spread in a magazine once and his family had an old plantation dating back years. The name of the plantation was Greystone. I thought at the time that it fit. The columns were all made of huge gray stones and it made an impression on me."

"What are you going to do?" Jaimie asked.

"Don't either of you say anything to him." He turned his head and pressed a kiss against her temple. "Thanks, Jaimie. I hope to God you're right over this. I like the kid."

"You gonna kiss me too, boss?" Javier asked.

"If you want. Right on the lips," Mack offered.

"I'll pass just this once. Wouldn't want Jaimie to get jealous." Javier winked at him, kissed Jaimie's cheek, and sauntered up the stairs as if he hadn't been up half the night.

"You're very fond of that man," Mack said.

"Very," she acknowledged. "And so are you."

"He worries me," Mack admitted. "They all do, but Javier is entirely unpredictable. There's no way of knowing

how he'll react to any given situation."

"You saved his life, Mack. A long time ago, on the streets, he could have gone either way. You pulled him into your circle, and he made the decision to follow your lead. He would have been a criminal."