Page 23 of Cyn
Joe started coughing, then caught and held her gaze. “Oh, look. Seems like my first winter in the Northeast is hitting me hard. I think I’m coming down with something.” He coughed again.
She couldn’t help the twitch of her lips. Having him along wouldn’t be the worst thing. She was self-aware enough to know that her reluctance was born more from her own patterns of almost always working alone than to any real objections about his company.
She sighed in capitulation. “I hope you don’t mind long flights.”
“Are we flying military transport?”
She didn’t stop the look of horror from showing on her face. “Good god, no. What kind of billionaire do you think I am?”
He blinked. “Uh, I didn’t know you were a billionaire of any sort. I mean, I figured you were loaded and all, since you told me.”
She smiled. “Buckle up. The family jet will take us to Dubai. From there, we’ll fly commercial, first class, to Djibouti.”
Chapter Eight
Joe followedCyn through security and out into the terminal at Djibouti-Ambouli Airport. After traveling for more than twenty hours, he’d normally be pretty wrecked—especially with the eight-hour time difference—but they’d had plenty of rest on her family’s private jet and he was feeling pretty good. It didn’t hurt that the plane was more kitted out than his own home and they’d both had full beds to sleep in—though not together, unfortunately—and had even had showers before landing in Dubai. A small part of him thought it would have been nice to fly straight into Djibouti rather than switch to a commercial flight in Dubai, but he understood Cyn’s desire not to show up on a hard-to-miss private plane, especially when the Army base where they’d be staying—Camp Lemonnier—more or less bumped right up to the airport.
Despite being close to eight o’clock at night, the temperature hovered around eighty degrees—a far cry from the feet of snow they’d left behind—and heavy scents of the dry desert filtered through the smell of exhaust and people.
“You good?” he asked when he saw Cyn scanning the terminal. His eyes were alert as well, but she appeared to be looking for something specific rather than keeping a general watchful eye out.
“Mac!” she suddenly all but screamed. How she managed to be a spy, Joe didn’t have a clue. Cyn was about as subtle as a two-by-four to the face. Then again, maybe there was something to be said about hiding in plain sight; it certainly made it easy to dismiss her as a potential agent.
Joe ambled behind as Cyn launched herself into the arms of a tall, well-built Black man. Joe might have felt a twinge of jealousy if the man hadn’t been old enough to be her father, but…well, hell, thatwasjealousy spiking through his system. Major Macarthur Carver might be old enough to be her father, but Joe was man enough to admit the major probably had no problem attracting women of any age.
“Mac, this is Joe.” Cyn introduced him after she’d climbed down from the man’s body.
Mac shot Joe a knowing grin as he shook his hand. “Happily married for thirty years, son. Cyn is like a daughter to me. If I had a billionaire daughter archeologist agent, that is. My own daughter is a teacher. No less dangerous since she has to wrangle five-year-olds all day. It’s nice to meet you,” he said with a knowing smile. Cyn had told him that Mac was the only person on base who knew her multiple roles. To everyone else, she was nothing more than an archeologist studying the early settlements in the area.
“Nice to meet you, too, sir,” Joe said. “Thanks for hosting us.”
Mac glanced around, then jerked his head toward the exit. “Come on, let’s go. We can talk more in the car. It’s not a long trip to the hotel, but it will be private.”
They followed Mac out of the building and to an Army Humvee being guarded by two men. They nodded to the major, then retreated to a second vehicle while Cyn climbed into the passenger seat, and he took the seat behind her. Once Mac was behind the wheel, he started talking.
“What’s the story you’re spinning?” he asked without preamble.
“I’m here to study the local stelae for a day or two. Joe is my assistant. I assume Franklin contacted you about what we’re really here for?”
Joe looked out the window as they traveled out of the airport area. He’d been to Djibouti before. It wasn’t his favorite place, but it wasn’t bad. From what he could see through the dark of the night, not much had changed since his last visit five years prior.
“He did,” Mac confirmed. “The McElroy situation wasn’t what it seemed, but we couldn’t get anyone to talk.”
“What do you mean by that?” Joe asked, his eyes still on the street.
“One guy shot in the leg, in just the right spot to hit an artery so he’d bleed out, but no one else hit?” Mac didn’t bother to hide his disbelief.
“Friendly fire accident?” Joe asked.
Mac shook his head as he turned out of the airport property and toward the base. “Bullets didn’t match any of the weapons taken out that day. It was a targeted hit. I’d bet my life on it. But none of his mates will talk, and no one has claimed it. We had nothing to go on.”
“Did he ever show any interest in Al-Shabaab?” Cyn asked. Mac whipped a quick glance at her at that question.
“What do you know?” he asked instead of answering.
“Nothing yet. Did he?”
Mac let out a huff. “We all do. All of us stationed here. They are one of the biggest threats we face. But did he show anyabnormalinterest?” Mac paused and considered the question before answering. “Not that I’m aware of. We searched his electronics and found no indication he was researching them or any other terrorist organization.”
