Page 161 of Renegade
“Is six too early?” Addison asked as they returned to the conference room.
“Six is perfect.” Caroline sat back down, picked up working where she left off.
Addison set down the bowl of ice cream and the spoon in front of Tank. That caught his attention, and he grinned up at her. “I love you.”
She laughed, then set down the wrapped frozen dessert. “You can have thisafteryou finish your main course.”
His eyes lit up. “I’d propose, but you’re already taken.” He popped a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. “Hard to believe JL’s team doesn’t vet new hires.”
“How many employees work for her?” Caroline asked.
“Close to two thousand, but there’s a lot of turnover,” he replied.
“Maybe Sajid Haqazzii told HR he could vouch for them, so they didn’t check,” Caroline said.
“We haven’t found a single legit address or phone number,” Addison added before biting into the chocolate-covered ice cream.
“Someone just posted a video,” Tank said. “Check it out.”
She and Addison clamored around his laptop. Inside the private chat group of extremists, a member had uploaded a video.
Tank started it up. It was a group of four extremist soldiers covered in black, executing ten American prisoners lined up against a cinderblock wall. After the firing squad finished, and the prisoners dropped, the video went black, then a single line filled the screen.
NOT IF WE KILL YOU FIRST
“What was our message to them?” Tank asked.
“You’re next,” Caroline replied.
“They saw the photos Grey uploaded of Haqazzii’s body, and this is their response,” he said.
Dread pounded through Caroline as she and Addison exchanged glances.
The terror cell was closing in on their newest target.
Them.
GREYSTONE
Greystone pulledup to the main gates at the White House. “Commander Santini for Evelyn Baker.” He handed the guard his driver’s license and his Navy ID, both with his photo, though the Navy pic showed him with short hair, mustache only.
“Please step out, sir.”
Greystone exited the SUV.
As one of the security guards ran a wand over him, the second asked, “Are you armed, Commander?”
“No.”
“Are you bringing in a computer bag or satchel?”
“No, nothing,” Greystone replied.
While he stood there, one of the security guards swept the underside of his SUV, then checked the interior of the vehicle. After a phone call was made, he was cleared to enter.
The guard pointed. “Park over there.”
Greystone was escorted inside, then down several corridors. People buzzed around the hallways, the energy palpable. While Greystone could have been jazzed he was at the White House, he wasn’t. He was there to deliver unsettling news to the President.
