Page 52 of Resurgent
“Not a joke, sir.”
“My God. I thought you were dead! What happened?”
“I was on a mission in the Middle East. There was an explosion in Pakistan. The house blew up and my team thought I’d blown up with it. But someone—don’t know who—saved my ass, got me to a hospital in India. I was in a coma for several months. A Sikh doctor kindly took care of me until I woke up and was strong enough to leave.”
“When did this happen?” he asks sharply.
I take a deep breath, wondering how much to tell him. But I can’t hide the truth. Besides, if anyone can help me, it’s him. “I just left India last week. The thing is…while I’m fully recovered physically, I suffered some brain trauma during the explosion. There’s a lot I don’t remember about the few months leading up to the accident.”
“What do you mean? Like you have amnesia?”
I rub my hand over my face, knowing how crazy this must sound. “Kind of. Some parts of it have come back. The doctor said my memory of that time might return, or it might not.”
There is a long silence on the other end. Charlotte lifts her eyebrows at me in silent question. I shrug. When you’re a top CIA operative, you can be as quiet as you want.
“I’m glad to hear you’re alive and well,” Martin finally says. “What do you remember of the explosion?”
“Nothing at all. But I know I committed to finish a job for you, and I intend to do it.”
“Excellent.” There’s another pause, and then he says, “Are you on a safe phone?”
“Yes. It’s a burner phone I bought on my way back. Untraceable and untappable.” We both know there’s no such thing. “Well, reasonably so. No one knows I’m alive, so it’s safe.”
“You haven’t told anyone you’re alive?”
“No.” I don’t intend to tell him I originally thought I’d illegally smuggled the guns to sell to the cartel. “I wanted to take care of this first.”
“Good. It might work out even better this way.” He lowers his voice. “Where are the guns? After I heard the news you had died, I went to the warehouse in Malaysia where we met up after you smuggled the guns out of Iraq. The plan was for you to leave them there until you got back from Pakistan. But when I went back, they weren’t there.”
I let my breath out in a whoosh. “Where are they?”
He laughs, but there’s no mirth in it. “I was hoping you could tell me.”
“You think I moved them?”
“Yes. Only three people on this planet know about the guns—you, me, and my boss—andwesure as hell didn’t move them. Besides, I’d expect nothing less from a guy like you. Overly cautious. Don’t trust anyone. It’s why I hired you.”
Charlotte is giving me that “I told you so” look, her lips twitching, and I can’t help but smile. How does she lighten everything, even this mess I’ve gotten myself into? I’d hoped Martin Gray was going to be the answer to all my problems, but as usual, it seems it’s up to me to figure this out.
“Look. Give me a few days to explore a few leads. I made a bucket list that seems to be a map of some sort I made for myself to the guns. I’ll find them.”
“Good. I have the utmost faith in you. But to my boss, it’s going to look like you smuggled some guns out of Iraq—which I might add, you couldn’t have done without the U.S. turning a blind eye to—then took the hundred thousand we gave you, moved the guns to an undisclosed location without telling me so you could sell them for a profit later, and then faked your death.” Martin’s voice is smooth and understanding, but I can detect the undercurrent of a thinly veiled threat.
Shit. I can see how bad this looks.
“Look Martin, I swear that’s not what I did. I—”
“Relax, Liam. I believe you. Just find the guns. And the sooner the better. Call me as soon as you know where they are.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Liam? I think it’s best if you don’t tell anyone you’re alive until after you find the guns. And finish the job.”
After he hangs up, I sit there for several long minutes, trying to figure out what the hell I’m going to do.
“Hey.” Charlotte moves across the room to stand next to me. She straddles my lap, her arms around my neck, and I wrap my arms around her, burying my face in her floral-scented hair. God, to just stay right here forever. “We’ll figure it out,” she finally says, pulling back to look into my face.
I have to be strong for her. “I will,” I say confidently.
