Halston did, then her brows furrowed. “It’s asking for a passcode.”
“We don’t have a passcode,” Greystone said.
“What’s going on?” Z asked as he folded into a chair.
Silence.
“I need to hear something good,” Z said, his voice rising to a crescendo. After Greystone updated him, Z said, “This is worse than I thought. Much worse.”
“We need to bring the President up to speed,” Greystone said. “We’ve got less than two hours. We gotta move…now.”
Z shifted to Gabriel. “Weeks ago, you were sent to Italy to do a job for us.”
“Dr. Misha Laskin.” Gabriel swallowed down the bitter taste as he thought back to his failed mission.
“Laskin had a thumb drive for you,” Z said.
Gabriel raked his hands through his hair. “Z, we’ve been through this. There wasnothumb drive.”
“Bulgrov tasked me with breaking into Gabriel’s villa in Milan, in search of a thumb drive,” Halston interjected.
“And?” Z asked.
“There wasn’t one,” Halston replied.
“How can we be sure you didn’t hand it over to the Russians,” Z snapped.
“Z donotgo there,” Gabriel hissed.
Z shifted from Halston to him. “How do I know you’re both not in on it? Maybe there’s a big Russian payout coming your way.”
A growl shot out of Gabriel. “Not. One. More. Word. Philip.”
Gabriel glared at Z, the anger flowing through him like a raging river.
“Are you accusing my daughter of being a spy against her own country?” Sonya Devereux asked, the frustration in her voice front and center.
“Enough, Z,” Greystone said. “Both G and Halston didn’t find a thumb drive, so there’s gotta be something else?—”
“The thumb drive had the code to deactivate the EMPs,” Z said. “That’s why we—and the Russians—were desperate to find it. Laskin was delivering it to us in exchange?—”
“He gave me a vintage pocket watch,” Gabriel interrupted.
Z sat ramrod straight. “Tell me you didn’t throw it out.”
“It’s in the safe in my suite at Hotel Dillinger,” Gabriel replied.
“Maybe the code is in the watch,” Halston said.
Z’s phone rang.
“It’s the President.” Z answered on speaker. “Sir, I’m at ALPHA’s Black site?—”
“Where’s that damn thumb drive?” the President yelled. “I thought you sent Santini to get it from the Russian defector.”
“There wasn’t one,” Z said. “We might have another option.”
“Might?” The President boomed. “White House Situation Room.Now! Give me names so I can clear the team.”