Page 39 of Code Name: Reaper
“Not at all. Why would you think I would be?”
“Never mind, it isn’t important. Good day to you.”
“Wait,” I blurted, hoping he hadn’t already hung up. “Please tell me why.”
I heard him sigh. “Eleanor Aldrich was raised here, in Newport News. The same way you were.”
When the three chimes sounded, signaling the end of the call, I stared at the screen, equally nauseated and dumbfounded.
“How did the call go?” Reaper walked up behind me.
“Okay,” I mumbled, still too stunned to piece coherent thoughts together.
He pulled out the chair beside me and sat down. “What happened?”
I folded my arms. “He agreed to meet the day after tomorrow.”
“That sounds positive. Why do you look like you’re about to freak out?”
“Interesting you’d use those precise words,” I muttered before continuing. “He accused me of playing games when I inquired about Prism’s background.”
Reaper’s head cocked, and his expression mirrored my own. “What did you say?”
“I questioned it, and he told me Eleanor Aldrich was raised in Newport News like I was.”
“Holy shit.”
“That about sums it up. I warned you what might happen if I found out she was.”
“Anything else pertinent?”
“Only that he was surprised to hear she was still alive.”
“The plot thickens,” he muttered under his breath.
“Doesn’t it always?” I packed up my laptop. “When do we leave?”
“That’s what I came out to tell you. The plane is at Gatwick, fueled and ready to go.”
“We’re not flying commercial?”
“Nope. We’re on coalition turf now, babe.”
Babe.The first time he’d called me that was in Berlin. When we’d kissed. Right after he told me he hated me too.
Ten minutes later, I was coming out of the bedroom with my bags when I heard Reaper talking with Blackjack. Rather than join them, I stopped.
“You should meet with Mom and Dad while you’re in the States,” Blackjack said. “Dad was CTO at Cerberus during the time frame we’re investigating. He might have insights about defense contracting corruption from that era.”
“Absolutely not,” Reaper replied immediately. “I’m not bringing them into this.”
“They have the clearance, Kingston. And Dad’s memory for that stuff is incredible. He’d know the players, the schemes?—”
“I said no. Not now, anyway.”
“Why not?”
There was a pause, then Blackjack spoke again. One word. “Gotcha.”
