Page 119 of Broken Wheels

Michael’s eyes sparkled. “The kid gloves.”

He huffed. “She should be so lucky.” Dix glanced at Chalmers. “Feel free to butt in if you have any questions for her.”

Chalmers chuckled. “I was going to ask about that. Thanks.” He gestured to the door. “Let’s see what’s rattled Ms. Robertson’s cage enough to bring her to you guys.”

Dix led the way into the room, the others behind him. Kathy Robertson sat at the table, her hands in her lap. She wore jeans and a T-shirt, with very little makeup. She snapped her head up as Chalmers closed the door behind him.

Dix placed a box on the table, then turned to the woman. “Ms. Robertson, my name is Dixon Meeks. I’m?—”

“Please, call me Kathy.”

He smiled. “Okay. I’m the Operations Manager for CrossBow. I apologize for the delay, but we had to set up quite a few things in order for this meeting to take place.”

He removed the drone from the box and went through the startup sequence that Doc had showed him. Fortunately, it was pretty easy. As soon as he finished, he placed the drone on the table, where a moment later it rose into the air and moved into the corner, where it hovered unobtrusively, the blades making the barest of sounds. He had to hand it to Doc. The man was a literal genius.

“What’s that for?” Kathy’s voice quavered.

“Dr. Malone and Mr. Cross are sitting in on the meeting remotely.” He turned to the hovering machine. “Can you both hear and see us?”

Doc’s snort from the drone’s speakers was unmistakable. “Of course. I didn’t make these things for looks, you know. They’re very functional.”

Dix reined in the urge to chuckle. “In that case, we can continue with the meeting.”

“You don’t trust me,” Kathy blurted.

Dix tilted his head. “Why should we? Let’s be honest here. We know who you work for, and we know what he’s been doing. The two men we have sequestered can attest to that from firsthand knowledge.”

She widened her hazel eyes. “I’m the victim here. I came to you for help.”

“And yet there were many other places you could have gone,” Chalmers threw back. “You could have—should have—gone to the FBI.”

She snorted. “Do you have any idea how many people Spencer has in his pocket? I don’t know how many agents the FBI has, but he probably has more than half of them on the payroll. That includes top-level operatives or whatever you call them. And he has Congresspeople too, many of whom owe him their careers. He even has the ear of the president, because Spencer donated generously to his campaign. It was Spencer’s contributions that allowed the president to crush his opponent.” Her eyes flashed. “So sure, I’ll walk into FBI headquarters—and five minutes later, I’d be found dead in a corner of it, a gunshot wound to the back of my head.”

Michael leaned forward. “So you’re afraid? Is that what you’re telling us?”

She gaped at him. “Of course I’m afraid! He can do anything, and right now, I’m in his crosshairs.”

“Explain how you come to be in such a precarious position,” Michael asked in a tone that exhibited far more patience than Dix possessed at that moment. “How long have you worked for Aaron Spencer?”

“Eight years, give or take.” She sniffled, and Dix pushed a box of tissues toward her. She took one and blew her nose. “After the attack on that town, I found some papers. I didn’t understand most of them, but they talked about potential morbidity, long-term health impact, and other things.” She retrieved her bag from the floor, but Chalmers reacted, drawing his service weapon.

“If I were you, I’d move very carefully,” he snarled.

“Your people already searched my belongings,” she said, giving a bored look.

“And I would still not make any sudden movements.”

She sighed as she reached into it and withdrew a laptop that she placed on the table. “This is my work laptop. I don’t know if Spencer can track it.”

Chalmers arched his eyebrows. “And you brought it—and him—right to their door. Brilliant.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Yes, how stupid of me to not stop and ask him if it was safe for me to steal his information.”

Dix pushed out a growl of pure frustration. “Shut it, both of you.” He turned his attention to the drone. “Doc, can we check it out?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Dix held his hand out. “Fine. Give us the laptop.”

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