Page 56 of Enigma
Maybe a good night’s rest would be just what she needed.
They arrived back at the hotel and went to their room.
As soon as the room door clicked shut behind them, Olive knew something was wrong.
The air felt different, disturbed, like someone had been moving through their space.
Cologne, Olive realized. There was a faint scent of spicy cologne in the air.
Jason must have smelled it also. He instinctively reached for his gun. In one smooth motion, he had the weapon drawn and scanned the room.
That’s when they saw him.
A man sat calmly on one of the beds.
His hands were visible and empty, and his posture relaxed despite the weapon now aimed at his chest. He had curly blond hair and a wiry build—exactly as Olive remembered him.
“Simon?” The name escaped her lips before she could stop it.
Jason’s aim didn’t waver, but his eyes flicked to Olive in confusion. “Who’s Simon?”
The explanations Olive had never given, the secrets she’d kept—even from Jason—weighed on her as she looked between the two men—Jason tense and ready for a fight, Simon appearing completely unbothered by the gun pointed at him.
“It’s a long story,” she murmured before turning toward the man on the bed. “It’s about time you showed up.”
CHAPTER 37
Ten minutes later, they were all seated—Jason and Olive on one bed, Simon across from them on the other. Jason had holstered his weapon but kept his hand near it, his body language radiating suspicion and tension.
“Simon Long.” Olive tried to figure out where to start. “Special Operations Director for the Northeast Division of the CIA. We worked together on a case in Maine.”
“The Northeast Division of the CIA?” Jason cast her a dubious look. “That doesn’t exist.”
“That’s what I thought also, but he was working with the feds. They seemed to trust him. I figured it was some secret program the CIA was conducting off the books or something.”
Simon shrugged in agreement, not flustered in the least by the conversation.
“And you said you worked together?” Jason’s eyebrows rose. “You didn’t mention any CIA involvement in Maine.”
“Because it was complicated.” Olive looked at Simon, who listened carefully. “He was undercover, investigating connections between Anton Karakov and the home for troubled teens.”
“Which brings us to why I’m here.” Simon spoke for the first time since they’d entered the room. His voice was calm, measured, the tone of someone used to delivering difficult information.
“Whatareyou doing here, Simon?” Olive asked. “I’ve been trying to reach you for two days.”
“I know. I was waiting for a good time to talk.” Simon’s eyes moved between them. “I couldn’t show my face earlier—too many people were watching and too many variables in play. But I’ve been working behind the scenes.”
“In Florida?” Olive asked. “I saw you at the hospital.”
Simon nodded. “I’ve been tracking a large criminal enterprise for the past year. Financial crimes, money laundering, identity fraud. The investigation led me to Lloyd Stewart.”
Jason’s jaw tightened. “What do you know about my father’s potential involvement?”
“Maybe nothing directly. But at one point his medical practice was a crucial hub for their operations—falsified documents, fraudulent insurance claims, laundering money through legitimate-looking transactions.” Simon pulled out a tablet and showed them a complex diagram filled with names and connections. “This organization has been operating for over a decade. It’s sophisticated, well-funded, and extremely dangerous.”
“Who’s running it?” Part of Olive already suspected the answer would be painful.
“That’s where this gets complicated.” Simon’s expression grew more serious. “The organization appears to be headed up by someone you know, Olive.”
