[BAD 07] - Silent Truth Read Free

except the U.S. executive branch, and no one there would admit such. Plus the CIA wouldn’t confess to having a team on U.S. soil, which made it easy to step in when an order came through secure channels.
    He just had to insert, confirm the list of names, and exit.
    “I didn’t forget our deal in college.” Eliot had spoken so softly Hunter almost didn’t catch it over the rumble of diesel engines beneath his feet. “But I can’t live my life without Cynthia and she deserves the respect of marriage.”
    The time to offer unwanted advice had passed, but Hunter believed his friend would regret the move down the line. This business punished anyone foolish enough to let emotions play into decision-making. He’d just have to do what he’d always done and cover Eliot’s back by researching Cynthia more deeply than Hunter’s initial scan to ensure she wasn’t a threat.
    But he couldn’t prevent her from breaking the fool’s heart.
    “Say what’s on your mind,” Eliot said. “Go ahead. Get it off your chest so we can celebrate later and get drunk.”
    Hunter wanted to be pissed off at Eliot, an easy feat with anyone else but this clown. “Just think it’s an unnecessary risk. I mean, what’re you going to do if she gets pregnant?”
    The trawler engine’s sound changed abruptly, going from loud rumbling to silence when the captain cut back on power.
    That was the sign for Hunter and Eliot to get humping.
    They had two minutes before the props rotated again.
    Hunter pulled his diving hood into place, checked his gear, then sat on the rail next to Eliot and rolled backward into cool water. He popped up in the inky liquid and paddled to the stern, where BAD’s latest propulsion water sled floated.
    Everything they needed was strapped in a watertight bag between two control arms. Hunter grabbed one arm and Eliot grabbed the other, both paddling away from the trawler while Eliot flipped on the power switch.
    A tiny vibration in the handles indicated the electric turbo spun quietly within a cage.
    The trawler engines rumbled to life and the boat moved off.
    Unable to see Eliot’s face, Hunter called, “Ready.”
    Eliot took a second to answer. “Cynthia is pregnant. I want you to be the godfather.” He rolled on the accelerator before another word could be spoken.
    Shit. Just like Hunter had suspected.
    Another woman with an agenda.
    He’d deal with this over beers later.
    After thirty-eight minutes that passed with the speed of a stiletto slicing butter, Eliot anchored the water sled close to the access spot. Currents surged, yanking Hunter back and forth, trying to draw him down into the undertow first, then bash him against jagged outcroppings of rock carved from weather and sea. He’d reconned the face of the cliff yesterday with a high-powered scope during a whale-watching cruise chartered for him and six agents.
    The only dicey part would come when the wall angled out at a forty-five-degree slant two-thirds of the way up.
    Once they cleared that area, the rest of the climb would come down to memory of the mapped-out route, skill, and patience.
    They’d executed these maneuvers many times in low-light conditions, and night-vision monoculars with infrared illuminators would pick up every detail.
    He climbed at a steady pace to reach the access point in the allotted time but slowly enough to avoid mistakes.
    At the top of the cliff, he reached up until he found a handhold on the steel structure supporting the massive observation deck that shot out four feet over the cliff’s edge. He silently thanked the architect of Brugmann’s home for including a deck and pool in the design. Climbing up into the framework, he unclipped from the rope connecting him to Eliot.
    Spider-climbing sideways, Hunter reached the corner of the deck and huddled in a pocket of space to scan for threats while Eliot tied off the rope. He slipped on gloves that were like a second skin, then pressed a button to illuminate his watch face