Max ignored the question. “How did they know where Rojas was being held, Caleb?”
“We’re working on that. We think the ISI may have access to some very high-end satellite tracking tools. It’s possible they tracked our aircraft from Mexico to the US. We thought we were being careful, but if the cartels and the ISI are coordinating that closely… Syed may have passed the location along.”
“To Williams?”
“Yes. The FBI thinks the Sinaloa cartel flew in a squad from Mexico to do the wet work, using local gang members as support. The gear was Mexican military-issue. They used an antitank weapon on the HIG team’s trailer. Are you guys alright? I assume both Trent and Renee are with you?”
The second time he’d asked that question, Max noted. Out of concern? Or to gain intel? Max kept his voice steady.
“Caleb, I think we’re just going to lay low for a while.”
A pause.
“Max, there are new developments. I appreciate the danger you were in, but I’m afraid I need you guys to find someone for me.”
“What new developments?”
“We got a new name from Rojas. I need this person located and brought in ASAP.”
Max looked at the others in the room, both of whom could hear the conversation. Max could see that they shared his concern about going on another of Wilkes’s assignments.
“Caleb, twice in the last week, we went where you told us to be. Both times, someone nearly had us killed.”
The phone when quiet. When Wilkes finally spoke, his tone was softer. “I understand your concern. I hope you trust me enough to know that I value the well-being of each one of you.”
“Like you valued your Mexican agent? The woman?”
Trent turned away. Renee didn’t flinch.
Wilkes said, “That was unfair. Do you really think I don’t regret that?” His tone showed a rare burst of emotion.
“I’m sorry. But you understand where our apprehension is coming from here. Caleb, there must be hundreds of capable people that could go find this person for you. Why do you need—”
“Because we had a leak. Why do you think I used you that night at Wolf Trap? Why do you think I needed you to go to Mexico? I was trying my damnedest to get this thing done without tipping off our mole. I apologize that it didn’t work out so well.”
There it was. Max understood why Wilkes was so frustrated. He couldn’t use just anyone for this. He needed to keep the information tightly controlled. Everything that had been reported through the normal intel streams had been leaked. That was how his agent had been killed in Mexico.
But something still tugged at Max. Over a decade of instinct, telling him that Wilkes wasn’t being completely transparent. He pushed the thought aside for the moment.
“You say you had a leak. Past tense. You’ve found the mole?”
“It looks that way,” said Wilkes.
“Who?”
“The day before yesterday I sat in on an interview at the FBI. The man was a political aide named Ronald Dicks. He had access to classified intelligence, including the cryptonym and area of operation for Ines Sanchez. Ron Dicks likely passed information to Joseph Dahlman, the lobbyist you saw killed, who in turn passed information to the ISI.”
“Damn. So you think Syed knew her identity before we even went down there?”
“Or at least provided Ian Williams enough information to figure it out for himself.”
Max looked at the others. “Caleb, please give us a moment, I’m putting you on mute.”
Max pressed the mute icon on the phone. Trent and Renee looked back at him.
“Are you guys convinced? We’ve been burned twice in the past two days. If either of you wants to walk away, I’ll tell him to pound sand.”
Renee stood with her arms folded, biting her lip. “I don’t think Wilkes meant us any harm. And I assume that if he wants us to do something — to find this person Rojas mentioned — it must be important to stopping Ian Williams. If that’s the case, then I think we should do it. I think we should continue to help.”
Max suspected that Renee was thinking of Ines Sanchez’s corpse, lying on the beach.
Trent said, “You know I’m up for it.” In Trent’s eyes, Max saw an eager willingness to continue the fight.
“We don’t know that this will lead to Williams.”
Trent shrugged. “I’ll go anyway.” His was a thirst that would never be quenched. A quest for revenge. One in which any satisfaction attained would be hollowed out by the sadness of loss.
Max nodded and unmuted the phone. “Alright, Caleb, we’re in. But I do have one question. If Ron Dicks is the source of your leaks, and he’s dead, why do you still need us to find this person for you?”
“Speed and operational security. We’re on tight timeline. You know the mission details and the players involved. You’ve got a team read in. I don’t have time to brief a new set of operators. And this is still being run out of the CIA’s counterintelligence division. The more people we involve, the less secure it gets. Because of that, I want to keep this operation within a very small crew.”
“What’s the timing?”
“We already knew that Ian Williams and the ISI were preparing for an important meeting. This meeting, we believe, is also the deadline to complete their kill list. Rojas gave the HIG team a date. We don’t know where, and we don’t know with who, but he said that Ian Williams’s big meeting was going to be held on the twenty-eighth. So we can assume any further hits will be executed by that time.”
“That’s only a few days away.”
“Correct.”
“May I ask why you aren’t trying to find this person yourself?”
“I’m headed to Oshkosh.”
Oshkosh? Max frowned. He looked at his watch to check the date. This was the last week in July. Each year at this time, the Experimental Aircraft Association hosted the largest air show in the world at Oshkosh, Wisconsin. Max’s father had taken him there countless times when he was a boy.
“Why Oshkosh?”
“Rojas gave up two names before he was killed by his own men in Texas. It was a partial list, he said.”
“Of Ian Williams’s kill list?”
“We believe so, yes. Two on the list are already dead. Joseph Dahlman and Ron Dicks, our mole.”
“Who are the other two?”
“One is a US senator. Herbert Becker, of Wisconsin. He’ll be in Oshkosh this week. His daughter is one of the performers. And he’s the reason I’ll be in attendance. My view is that he’s the highest-priority target.”
“My father knows him.”
“Does he?”
“Yes. They’ve golfed together, I believe. I actually know his daughter too.”
“I see.”
“You’ve informed him that he’s in danger?”
“He was already aware. Ron Dicks was his chief of staff. It was his interview I sat in on at the FBI headquarters. He’s accepted additional security but refuses to go into hiding. I want to personally monitor his security while we try and find out what Williams and the ISI are up to. If the senator is on Williams’s hit list, then we know where they’ll be headed. If we can take down one of their hired guns, perhaps that can lead us to one of our targets.”
“What’s the last name on the list?”
Wilkes said, “This is the person I need you to locate.”
“Who is he?”
“It’s a she. Jennifer Upton. She’s a political operative. Forty-seven years old. Single. She is based out of Cincinnati, but during my cursory attempt to locate her, I’ve learned that she hasn’t been seen during the past twenty-four hours. She was once an aide to Senator Becker, and worked with Ron Dicks. No known connection to Dahlman.”
“Why would Ian Williams want to kill her, or the senator?”
“It seems that the ISI is wrapped up with some group of investors in the opioid industry. Senator Becker was once a champion of the pharmaceutical industry but has shifted many of his political stances. My analysts tell me that this is in preparation for a future presidential run. He’s now the cosponsor of a bill that will gut the legal opioid industry’s profits within the United States. We’re talking billions of dollars.”