investigation. Without clearance from the CIA and, if they agree to assist, the FBI, telling Carter what’s going on before it happens would be a federal crime.”
Ida Belle and Gertie exchanged glances.
“But you’re going to tell us, right?” Gertie asked.
“Sure,” I said, “but that’s different. No one will suspect that I’ve told you anything.”
I tried to sound nonchalant with my answer, but I saw Ida Belle’s eyes narrow slightly. She knew I was lying. No way was I telling them details of the takedown. I didn’t want anyone I cared about caught in the cross fire.
And the only way to ensure that was to go it alone.
Chapter Eight
It was close to 3 a.m. when I finally got a text from Harrison.
Call me.
That was it. No “I have a plan,” “we’re on,” or anything else. Except for the fact that it was the middle of the night, there was no other indication that my request for a setup might have been granted. A simple “Hell no!” would have taken a lot less time.
Without the AC running, the house was eerily quiet. And since the rain had stopped, there was nothing to mask me talking. I couldn’t risk being overheard by anyone, so I crept downstairs and slipped out the back door. I looked up at the back of the house, but it was so dark, I couldn’t tell if the bedroom windows were open. Not wanting to risk it, I stepped out into the yard, turned on my penlight, and started walking as I dialed. Two bars of service. I hoped it was enough.
“Please tell me he went for it,” I said as soon as Harrison answered.
“He took some convincing, but ultimately he agreed with you—this may be our best chance to get Ahmad. We’re operating on American soil, and we have an advantage, assuming he doesn’t know you’re already in position.”
I climbed onto my picnic table and sat on the top. “I don’t think his men are here for me. If they knew where I was, I’d already be dead.”
“Agreed. And Morrow thought so as well, but we both agree that the only choices were to take Ahmad down now or relocate you. As much trouble as you’ve had with this gig, we thought it would be less hassle to take down Ahmad than saddle you with another identity.”
There was a slightly teasing tone in Harrison’s voice, but he wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t exactly blended in Sinful as I was supposed to. I could blame Ida Belle and Gertie, but the reality is, I simply couldn’t pretend to be a helpless female if someone was in danger. I was trained for action, not to stand around waiting for a rescue.
“So what’s the plan?” I asked.
“Morrow contacted his buddy at the FBI. He explained the situation except the part where you’re on location. He simply said he had someone in a position to provide local intel. He thought it best to leave your name totally out of it.”
“Good.” If the CIA was compromised, the FBI could be as well. Someone with Ahmad’s means could easily afford to have an agent or two in their pockets. “So what’s the play?”
“Ahmad is still off-grid, but we know he’s in contact with someone in the organization because the business end of things is still moving.”
“And no way did Ahmad turn over decision-making to someone else.”
“Exactly. Our guys in New Orleans have been sitting on Ahmad’s men, waiting to see what move they made. So far, they appear to be trying to track Jamison’s organization back to its primary location.”
“Makes sense.” Conrad Jamison was the buyer in New Orleans we suspected had a deal in place with Ahmad. If Ahmad had discovered the counterfeit bills, then he’d want to track Jamison to his home in order to deal with the problem. And since this kind of business screwup couldn’t be fixed with a gift card or a free dessert, Ahmad’s men wouldn’t want Jamison’s crew to know they were coming. Not until it was too late.
“The FBI agents Morrow contacted have a line on Jamison’s business interests in New Orleans. They think
Ida Belle and Gertie exchanged glances.
“But you’re going to tell us, right?” Gertie asked.
“Sure,” I said, “but that’s different. No one will suspect that I’ve told you anything.”
I tried to sound nonchalant with my answer, but I saw Ida Belle’s eyes narrow slightly. She knew I was lying. No way was I telling them details of the takedown. I didn’t want anyone I cared about caught in the cross fire.
And the only way to ensure that was to go it alone.
Chapter Eight
It was close to 3 a.m. when I finally got a text from Harrison.
Call me.
That was it. No “I have a plan,” “we’re on,” or anything else. Except for the fact that it was the middle of the night, there was no other indication that my request for a setup might have been granted. A simple “Hell no!” would have taken a lot less time.
Without the AC running, the house was eerily quiet. And since the rain had stopped, there was nothing to mask me talking. I couldn’t risk being overheard by anyone, so I crept downstairs and slipped out the back door. I looked up at the back of the house, but it was so dark, I couldn’t tell if the bedroom windows were open. Not wanting to risk it, I stepped out into the yard, turned on my penlight, and started walking as I dialed. Two bars of service. I hoped it was enough.
“Please tell me he went for it,” I said as soon as Harrison answered.
“He took some convincing, but ultimately he agreed with you—this may be our best chance to get Ahmad. We’re operating on American soil, and we have an advantage, assuming he doesn’t know you’re already in position.”
I climbed onto my picnic table and sat on the top. “I don’t think his men are here for me. If they knew where I was, I’d already be dead.”
“Agreed. And Morrow thought so as well, but we both agree that the only choices were to take Ahmad down now or relocate you. As much trouble as you’ve had with this gig, we thought it would be less hassle to take down Ahmad than saddle you with another identity.”
There was a slightly teasing tone in Harrison’s voice, but he wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t exactly blended in Sinful as I was supposed to. I could blame Ida Belle and Gertie, but the reality is, I simply couldn’t pretend to be a helpless female if someone was in danger. I was trained for action, not to stand around waiting for a rescue.
“So what’s the plan?” I asked.
“Morrow contacted his buddy at the FBI. He explained the situation except the part where you’re on location. He simply said he had someone in a position to provide local intel. He thought it best to leave your name totally out of it.”
“Good.” If the CIA was compromised, the FBI could be as well. Someone with Ahmad’s means could easily afford to have an agent or two in their pockets. “So what’s the play?”
“Ahmad is still off-grid, but we know he’s in contact with someone in the organization because the business end of things is still moving.”
“And no way did Ahmad turn over decision-making to someone else.”
“Exactly. Our guys in New Orleans have been sitting on Ahmad’s men, waiting to see what move they made. So far, they appear to be trying to track Jamison’s organization back to its primary location.”
“Makes sense.” Conrad Jamison was the buyer in New Orleans we suspected had a deal in place with Ahmad. If Ahmad had discovered the counterfeit bills, then he’d want to track Jamison to his home in order to deal with the problem. And since this kind of business screwup couldn’t be fixed with a gift card or a free dessert, Ahmad’s men wouldn’t want Jamison’s crew to know they were coming. Not until it was too late.
“The FBI agents Morrow contacted have a line on Jamison’s business interests in New Orleans. They think
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