“They have live rounds,” he reminded his men.
“I’ve got one trapped in the bedroom, right side, corner,” Gator said. “He’s armed.”
“Stay out of the line of fire, but keep him contained,” Nicolas ordered. “Tucker, you in?”
“I’m tearing apart the bedroom. Lots of weapons in the closet. C-4 and plastic. A couple of detonator caps. I think my boy likes to play with bombs. Bedroom clear on ground floor.”
“Anything fancy? We’re not looking at money here,” Nicolas said.
“Nothing down here,” Ian said. “Looks clean, damn it.”
“Dart board with a nice set of throwing knives,” Nicolas reported as he reentered the bedroom where the downed agent was tied up. “My friend looks a little pissed, but I can’t say as I blame him.” He tossed the room hastily, searching quickly for anything that might identify a traitor. Too much money. Too many luxuries. A book of matches or a pen with the name of the company Dahlia had been sent in to recover the data from. Even a university sweater or jacket from the campus where the three professors had been murdered. He went to the man, crouched down beside him. “You okay?”
The man watched him through wary, ice-cold eyes. He nodded his head.
“I’m looking for a traitor. Someone who would sell your friend Jesse Calhoun down the river. You have any ideas?”
The agent frowned, shook his head. Nicolas felt the push at his brain, but his barriers were strong and impenetrable. Just to stay in practice, he pushed back until the agent glared at him and subsided. Nicolas reached out and ripped the tape from the man’s mouth. The agent swore like a sailor.
“You have something to say worth hearing?”
“I don’t know anything about a traitor,” the agent said, “but if you know something about Jesse, I want to hear it. You owe me that much.”
“You shot at me.”
“You broke into my house.”
“You’ve got some illegal weapons here,” Nicolas pointed out mildly.
“Is he alive? What the hell’s going on? Jesse Calhoun is a friend of mine. No one will tell us anything other than he’s in a hospital, somewhere we’re not allowed to know about.”
“And so you protected yourselves here, didn’t you?” Nicolas said thoughtfully. “You decided whoever went after your friend, could very well come after you.”
“It’s logical.”
“What’s your name?”
“Neil Campbell.”
“Tell the agent in the other room to walk out with his hands in the air and no weapons on him. We’ll talk,” Nicolas offered. He knew the others were hastily going through the house, but his gut told him the two agents they’d cornered were innocents.
Neil hesitated and then shook his head. “I can’t get through to him.”
“I’ll tell my man to allow you to speak to him. You don’t want him dead, and we’ve got him boxed in. I don’t want any of my men dead.” Kaden, monitor them if you can.
I’m on it. As always Kaden was relaxed. He’s telling his buddy to come out without a weapon. That we’re GhostWalkers looking for a traitor in the NCIS. He says he believes us.
“There are three of you who use this house. Where’s the third?”
“You have intel on us.”
“That would be affirmative. I can tell you every bone you’ve ever broken in your body. I even know about your training with Whitney.”
Neil’s face shut down immediately. He stared blankly at Nicolas. Before he could protest, Nicolas shook his head. “Don’t bother. I’ve already gotten the ‘I’m not at liberty to discuss that’ speech. I don’t need confirmation. You, Maxwell, Calhoun, your buddy,” he jerked a thumb toward the other bedroom.
“Norton, Jack Norton,” Gator said into his radio. “He’s very cooperative.” The molasses in his voice was dripping, which meant his prisoner was combative.
Nicolas froze for a moment when he heard the name. It was legendary in the world of snipers. Kaden, did you get that? Tell the men to spread out, look for another sniper hidden somewhere. High ground, he’ll go up. Jack has a twin.
In spite of his tension, Nicolas kept his expression tranquil and continued with his conversation as if he hadn’t recognized the name. “And your buddy Norton all volunteered for a classified experiment Dr. Peter Whitney talked you into. He enhanced your psychic abilities and you were trained as a unit to work missions using your new talents. Unfortunately, there are severe repercussions to using them. All of you suffer continual headaches and other much more debilitating effects. When you’ve all had enough and want to learn how to function in the world without having to have the protection of your anchors at all times, put out the call to Lily Whitney, the doctor’s daughter, and she’ll help you.”