“No. Show me.”

Hunter guided Mako to the spot where he’d left the mystery guy. Two cut plastic handcuffs dangled from a limb.

He shook his head. “How could he have gotten out of that?”

Mako lifted both pieces with a pen and slipped them into a plastic bag he produced from a jacket pocket.

“Bet the only prints are mine,” Hunter told him.

“I wouldn’t take that bet.” Mako’s phone buzzed. He answered it, then listened a minute and hung up. “Jackson is stable. A Dr. Murphy from Johns Hopkins is reviewing the files on Abbie’s mother and waiting to see Abbie. Says he knows what’s wrong with her mother.”

Hunter had lined up Murphy for her mother, but now he was doubly thankful since Abbie needed the doctor as well. “Can he cure them?”

“Possibly. Murphy said Abbie’s mother was given a synthetic disease that attacks the spleen. He believes he can stop the disease and maybe reverse the damage with a treatment that includes a transfusion loaded with the same white cells as her natural blood. If Jackson makes it to the medical center alive, she may live.”

“Jackson gave Abbie something, too,” Hunter said.

“Murphy won’t know what Abbie’s diagnosis is until he runs tests on her.”

Hunter considered overpowering Mako to get to Abbie, but Retter had made it clear what he’d do to Abbie and Borys if Hunter gave them any trouble. He had to tell himself that Abbie was safe for now and finish this op to have any chance of making peace with Joe and Tee. Hunter doubted that was possible, but he wouldn’t screw the only chance he had to show he could work with the team.

But what about Todd and his family? “You get the bomb location to Joe?”

Mako nodded. “Retter’s there already.”

That didn’t meant they knew everything. “It’s a bridge-”

“With five bombs.”

“Have they disarmed them yet?”

“Korbin got four before the last one detonated. Damage is minimal compared to what it could have been.”

“No buildings came down?” Hunter was trying to read Mako’s reaction.

“So far, only one casualty. Korbin.”

Chapter Forty-five

It sounds as though the damage was not as extensive as anticipated,” Ostrovsky said, opening the conference-call meeting with five members of the council of Angeli. He’d placed the call the minute he’d received word of the bombings. Vestavia had called him immediately to share his good news about Bardaric’s failure. “The prime minister surviving is good, yes?”

“What the hell happened?” Chike demanded.

“Bardaric has been running his own operation for a while,” Vestavia answered. “He lied about delivering materials for three bombing. We’ve found his people who were involved with the Chicago bombing. They’re all squealing and said Bardaric only delivered enough for one bombing.”

Renaldo interjected, “I, for one, think he got better than he deserved. MI6 was much nicer, with a bullet between his eyes, than I would have been, given the opportunity. We must replace him and take care we do not allow this to happen again.”

“Anyone know where he was keeping this apparently bogus supply of UX, just in case it exists?” Vestavia asked.

Ostrovsky addressed his question. “I did some checking and believe the ‘accidental’ bombing in a small Ukrainian town a month ago was the test for Bardaric’s bomb. I don’t know that the bomb material is going to be our issue. My sources tell me Bardaric’s sniper told the U.S. authorities where to find Bardaric and where he hid his research facilities. I would say if we wait a week or two, our contacts within the intelligence organizations will be able to confirm if Bardaric’s UX reserves were located.”

Ostrovsky waited until everyone agreed, then added, “We’re fortunate the MI6-turned-assassin working for Bardaric was stopped. Our intention was never to start World War Three.”

“Not at this time,” Vestavia joked, clearly happy now that his nemesis had been neutralized. “Let’s get back on track and continue dismantling each continent in an orderly way.”

“Speaking of getting back on track, what has become of Peter Wentworth and his daughter?” Derain asked, his tone bulging with suspicion.

Ostrovsky had been waiting on Stoke to ask that so he didn’t have to, but Derain was even better.

“Peter and Gwen disappeared, along with all of his Fratelli staff, before Bardaric’s assassin was caught,” Vestavia answered, clearly not happy to be put on the spot. “I have no idea. The secret wing in Kore burned to the ground, damaging part of the public area of the women’s center. All records relating to the Fratelli were removed. Bardaric might even have them stashed somewhere, if they’re still alive. He was hell-bent on ensuring I would have no allies here, but if he thought removing Wentworth would cripple me he underestimated me and the extent of my resources.”

“Speaking of which, have you located your mole, Vestavia?” Stoke asked.

“Yes. I’m taking care of that as soon as we finish here.”

Ostrovsky finished up the meeting and ended the call. He sat back in his overstuffed office chair, contemplating the sun burning off the fog in downtown Boston outside his living room window.

The Denver mission was not an entirely successful operation but was also not a complete loss since Jackson had pinned the whole mess on Bardaric, right down to the attempt on the prime minister’s life.

Jackson had told the authorities Bardaric had been the person directing him. Yes, Jackson would have told the FBI and anyone else that he’d been a paid killer for some crazy guy who believed he supported a cause. The name Fratelli never came up in the report Ostrovsky had gotten his hands on.

He’d chosen well twenty-seven years ago when he killed Jackson’s father and became the boy’s benefactor, guiding his education and destiny.

The greatest casualty in all of this was Jackson.

He’d served Ostrovsky exceptionally by convincing Vestavia that Bardaric had been behind the unauthorized killings in the U.S.

Jackson was loyal to the end, sending the U.S. after Bardaric, which took care of Ostrovsky’s problems. Then Jackson ended his own life, as they’d always discussed. He’d used one of his small fingernails to slice his wrist.

Vestavia had been right to worry about Bardaric being the most dangerous of the seven on their Angeli council… until now.

None of the other five had considered who the second-most dangerous one might be. Ostrovsky pressed the speed dial on his cell phone and waited until the clicking finished so he could speak over a secure line.

When his Asian contact answered, Ostrovsky told him, “We will have a new UK representative soon. How is my project coming?”

Linette walked into the reception area outside Vestavia’s office, where Basil and Frederick waited. She took stock of her counterparts and the past twenty-four hours.

The mission had failed according to Fratelli terms. She and the other two had to answer for their parts.

She’d worn a windbreaker over her blouse and slacks. Vestavia had called her twenty minutes ago and ordered her to his office. Bed heads and casual clothes on the other two meant they’d also received little notice. She’d grabbed the first thing she could find that would hide any trembling.

Basil looked grim, but when he caught her eye he shrugged, as if to say “Some things are out of our control.”

Not true. She’d been in full control of sending the bomb locations the minute she could. If she’d been able to leave Vestavia faster once she had the information she might have gotten it to them in time to disarm all five bombs. One had gone off, but there had been only one casualty. Not thousands.