“Maybe a little.”
“So we had quick little interviews at this career fair. You probably went to some of them, at those big conference hotels near town. They conducted separate interviews in each of the hotel rooms, all going on at the same time. At least a hundred other students came. I thought I was interviewing for a financial sales job. I’d been through two of those interviews already that day. But my interviewer wasn’t part of a financial sales firm. He was a DIA recruiter. It took me a while to figure that out, though.”
She nodded.
“So he asks me a series of questions. Everything’s normal. They were all behavioral questions. Tell me about how you would respond in this situation. Tell me about a time you led a team. That sort of thing.”
“Then what?”
“Then he asks me about my mother’s death. She died in a car accident when I was just a child. But I hadn’t told him that.”
“He asked about that?”
“Yeah. I mean, you know I was very young when it happened. I didn’t really know her. But still, it was unexpected.”
“So because the interviewer brought up your mother — you knew that they knew more about you than normal.”
“Yes. At first, I assumed they must know about it because they knew about my father. I wasn’t famous at the time.” He winked. “That came later.”
Renee rolled her eyes. “I think you have a complex.”
“Yes, I’m quite complex.”
“You misunderstand.”
“You’re French Canadian,” Max said, “it’s probably getting lost in translation.”
“I speak better English than you.”
“That’s up for debate.”
She pouted.
He grew more serious. “Anyway, my father was famous then. Still, it wasn’t common knowledge — my mother’s death. So when the interviewer asked about her, it caught me off guard. But more than that, it was the question itself that was strange.”
“What did he ask you?”
“He asked me — hypothetically, if I found out that a criminal had been responsible for my mother’s death, would I be comfortable killing that person, if I knew that I wouldn’t be caught?”
“What did you say?”
“I didn’t hesitate,” Max said. “I said yes.”
“Interesting interview.”
“Then he said, what if there was a job where you could save people’s lives by fighting the worst types of people in the world — would I be interested?”
“And you said yes.”
“I did. Then he asked if I would be able to keep secrets, and lie, and commit acts of espionage, and things like that. Obviously, I kept giving him the answers he wanted.”
“The interviewer asked you if you would be able to commit acts of espionage?”
“What? Oh. Hmm. Yes, that is a little too obvious for a first interview, isn’t it? My memory fails me. Somewhere in the series of interviews they threw that one in. I had to go through several interviews. But really, once I figured out it was them, I was in. They had just released a Jason Bourne movie in the theaters. And I didn’t want to go into the real world.”
“Peter Pan syndrome?”
“Maybe.”
“That was around the time that we broke up.”
Max looked back at her, a flash of guilt on his face. “Renee…”
A beeping sound emanated from her computer. Renee sat up, looking at the screen. A frightened look crossed her face. “Shit.”
She began typing.
“What is it?” Max asked.
She hit a series of keys and then powered down her computer. “Dammit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” She punched a pillow on the couch.
“What?”
Renee looked at him. “Give me your phone.”
Max narrowed his eyes. “What is wrong?”
Renee was looking around the room. “I think we should leave.”
“What? Don’t be silly.”
“I mean it, Max. I think we should go. First give me your phone.”
Max sat up straight. He handed his phone to her. “Renee, how worried should I be right now?”
Renee hooked his phone up to her computer. “I have a program on my computer that alerts me when someone is — well, the best way to describe it is when someone is ‘looking’ at me. And someone was definitely checking me out. They know where I am. They know where we are.”
“How?”
She was typing. “Shit. They accessed your phone. When we made the call, they were able to use its GPS signal somehow. Max, I’m sorry. I was careful. I don’t understand how they were able to do this…”
“Who knows where we are?”
“I’m not sure, but I think…”
“Renee, who?”
“I’m assuming the people who wanted to set you up. Someone used your call to the MI-6 agent to track us down.”
“How is that possible?”
“The techniques they used were very sophisticated. I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting it.”
Max said, “Okay. Well, we’re in the middle of nowhere. Your alert just went off, right? It would take a long time for anyone to get here—”
She was shaking her head, frowning. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
She let out a stream of French profanity. “That was so stupid of me.”
“Renee. Calm down. We’ve got time.”
“No. We don’t. The timestamp was for two hours ago.”
“Two hours ago? That’s when they first had our location?” Max looked a bit more concerned. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should leave.”
As he spoke, the power in the house went out.
The four Russians were all former Spetsnaz. Mikhail was the most senior. He wasn’t in the same shape he used to be in, but he was still deadly. The others were all younger. Fit, athletic, and capable, these three had been part of the Forty-Fifth Guards Detached Spetsnaz Brigade. Air assault troops.
For the past few years, they had each been working for Morozov. He paid well and always had interesting work.
They’d gotten the call while waiting in their hotel room in Jacksonville. They had located the Fend boy. Morozov expected Fend to show up near his father. He was only an hour or so away from Jacksonville, where Mikhail’s team had been waiting.
It took them ten minutes to get to Craig Airport. Morozov’s pilot was already in his helicopter, rotors turning.
Once the aircraft took off, the team began putting on their night vision goggles and checking their weapons. Mikhail spoke to the pilot on his headset.
“How long?”
“About thirty-five minutes. I’ll put you down on the beach. Send me a message when you are finished and I will pick you up from the same spot.”
Mikhail texted Morozov’s computer men on the yacht. They were the ones who’d alerted him of the opportunity.
Mikhail texted: Kill or capture?
The response was immediate.
Will shut off power when you arrive. Kill any personnel in the house.
The only lights that had been on were the kitchen overhead and the bathroom light in the master suite. Both lights went out simultaneously. Someone had intentionally cut the power.
Now Max had two choices: hunker down and fight, or try to make it to the vehicle and run. He didn’t know where his adversary was coming from. Helicopter noise was coming from the beach. But what if some were arriving by car? What if some were circling around the property? If they were out in front of the house, they might just be waiting for him to walk outside towards his car so they could pick him off.
“How are you with firearms?”
Renee shook her head. “No. Max, I don’t want—”
“Follow me.” It was dark, but the light from the moon shone in through the windows.