“She’s a white hat hacker we have access to. She’ll have your ID within the hour.”
Skeet uploaded the photo, set the phone aside. Chloe had moved to the window, staring out at Bangkok’s skyline as if she could find answers in the neon-lit sprawl.
“You okay?”
“Defineokay.” She turned back toward him. “I’ve lost all my evidence, we’re being hunted by people who seem to be experimenting on children, and the only lead we have is a man who may or may not be an international pharmaceutical terrorist.”
“When you put it like that . . .”
“It sounds insane. I know.” She walked over to the sofa and sat down. “What can we do? Let Volkov disappear with his research? Let more children die while we file reports and hope someone in authority takes us seriously?”
He had an answer. How about keep her safe? Get her out of Thailand, back to her family in Minnesota, somewhere Volkov’s people couldn’t reach her. Let Jones, Inc., handle the dangerouswork while she went back to writing articles from the safety of America.
Except that wasn’t who she was. And if he tried to force her into that box, he’d lose her trust completely.
And then he’d be back at the beginning, chasing her down, maybe even throwing her over his shoulder to get her to safety. And wouldn’t that make for a happy ending.
Which he was starting to consider. Because yes, despite the last hour of adrenaline, being with her had ignited something inside, a feeling he couldn’t quite name.
A feeling he needed to pay attention to because he couldn’t have a repeat of his terrible history in Myanmar. Where his emotions had overridden tactical judgment and gotten people killed.
So yeah, he needed to keep his head. And keep her close.
And ignore whatever might be stirring inside him.
He sat down beside her, close enough that he could feel warmth radiating from her skin. “So we go to the resort.”
“We go to the resort.”
His phone buzzed. Text from unknown number:
Unknown number
This is Coco. Your guy has a name. Call me.
Skeet dialed, put it on speaker.
“Well, I finally meet the famous Skeet Blackwood,” a female voice said. “Hamilton’s told me about you. Former SEAL, current Jones, Inc., operative with a tendency to get in over his head.”
“Nice to meet you too, Coco.”
“And you must have Chloe Silver with you. The reporter who’s been poking at things that bite back.”
Chloe leaned closer to the phone. “You identified him? That was fast.”
“Wasn’t hard. He’s using his real name. Dr. Leonid Volkov, fifty-eight, Russian national currently affiliated with the University of Moscow. World-renowned expert in ethnobotanical medicine, specifically the pharmaceutical applications of traditional plant compounds. Papers published in every major journal, speaks at conferences worldwide, consulted for WHO, UNICEF, and about a dozen pharmaceutical companies.”
“Sounds like a humanitarian,” Chloe said.
“On paper, sure. But here’s where it gets interesting. About a year ago, he started accepting private funding for research into ‘enhanced nutritional interventions for displaced populations.’ Funding that comes from a shell company that traces back to a holding company that eventually disappears into the kind of financial black hole that usually involves arms dealers or... the Russian mob.”
Skeet’s chest tightened. “How much funding?”
“Fifty million dollars. Way more than anyone needs for legitimate nutritional research, and way less than you’d expect for a proper bioweapons program. Perfect amount for something in between.”
“Like field testing,” Chloe said quietly.
“Exactly. And here’s the kicker—this weekend he’s scheduled to speak at something called the Medical Innovation Retreat at the Keemala Resort in southern Phuket. Very exclusive, very private, very expensive. The kind of place where you can have sensitive conversations without worrying about eavesdroppers.”