Page 138 of Blind Prophet

“How did he get by your security check?” I don’t know a ton about Arrow Tactical, but when all this is over, I’m sure as hell raining fire down on them until they root out the incompetence or Caroline walks away from the outfit.

“We’re looking into that,” Ryan clips.

There’s something about the way he says it, how he won’t look me in the eye.

“Are there others? In Arrow?” I remember the empty reception area. He’s staring straight ahead…

“Ryan, this is my wife.” For emphasis, I growl the words again. “My wife. What’s going on?”

“He came in through a recommendation from an investor’s brother.”

It clicks.

“Liam Sullivan.”

“You know him?”

“He knows Geoffrey Cromwell.”

Ryan says, “Fisher, you hear that? Communicate it back.”

“You’re close. It’s up ahead,” I tell the car.

“Fisher, tell the others to hang back, surround the vicinity on foot. If shots are fired, call the local PD,” Ryan says.

“Shouldn’t we involve the FBI?” It’s not the first time I’ve asked.

“They’ll slow things down,” Ryan says. “We’ll bring them in when they’re useful.”

My ankle jerks up and down. The rapid tapping grates on my nerves, but I can’t stop it.

Ryan slows as we pull into the facility.

A Sikorsky waits on the pad, rotors already spinning, tail number covered. The exhaust pattern suggests they’ve been ready to fly for at least twenty minutes. The Sikorsky’s rotor wash creates invisible heat waves above the pad, distorting my view of the facility entrance. The Mark IV’s signal pulses on my screen—steady, unwavering—unlike my hands.

“Stay in the vehicle,” Ryan commands.

The second the wheels stop rolling, I’m out of the car.

The door to the building opens. A man dressed in black steps onto the tarmac. He’s wearing a dark suit, and the protrusion at his waist signals he’s carrying.

“Mr. Moore. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Where is she?”

“I’ve reserved a meeting room. Please come with me.” The man looks past me to Ryan and the others. “Only Mr. Moore.”

Ryan and I exchange a glance. I don’t know any of the Arrow team well, but I sense these men see Caroline as one of their own, and they’ll act accordingly to protect her. At least, they’d better fucking act to protect her.

“You’ll need to give me your phone,” the man says.

“Why would I do that?”

“I was told you’d be difficult. Listen first, then act—if you want her alive. We’re progressing through a precarious part of the plan with diverse possible outcomes.”

The barrel of Ryan’s handgun enters my peripheral view.

“Hold your fire,” the man says. There’s no recognizable accent. “You’re going to want to hear me out. And see what I have to show you.”

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