Chapter 34

Nate entered the SPO’s garden. Because of the power outage, the gym had closed for the day. But after meeting with Rafe, Nate needed to burn off this raging restlessness.

He bent over, hands on his thighs, and closed his eyes. He focused on the trickling of the fountain and the clip-clops of a horse-drawn carriage. What wouldn’t he give for a place to rest his mind and his body? He craved deep sleep in fresh air where he wasn’t woken by nightmares, that stabbing pain behind his eyes, or the remembered screams of his men as they’d been tortured in the POW camp.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Are you alright?” The feminine voice floated over him, cooling his heated body.

He opened his eyes and stood. He blinked until she came into focus. Sarah. “Hey.”

She wrapped her white lace sweater around herself, her arms inadvertently pushing up her breasts. “You look…tired.”

She wore a flowy blue skirt and white camisole, had pulled her brown hair into a high ponytail, and stared at him like she was about to call 911.

He forced himself to breathe. “Not enough sleep last night.”

“I hope they catch whoever set off that explosion.” She walked toward the SPO, and he followed. “I was thinking about you this morning.” She wrinkled her nose. “I mean your map.”

The map was better than nothing. “I’m here to do more research.”

“Your books are in my office. I’ll bring them to you in one of the reading rooms.” She smiled again. “The AC is working today.”

He followed her inside, and cold air swept over him. He hadn’t realized how hot his skin had gotten, and he’d been unsuccessfully ignoring the aching hard-on. “Thanks.”

She disappeared behind the staircase while he went right. The North Reading Room welcomed him with a large fireplace, library tables, and chairs. Dust motes floated as if knowing they weren’t allowed to land on the highly polished wood. It smelled like every other building in this city: wood oil laced with mildew.

Wooden crates lined the back wall, beneath a picture window overlooking the garden. File folders lay on top in perfect piles.

Sarah carried in a stack of books. “Those crates are filled with seventeenth-century pirate weapons I’m auctioning off in a few weeks on behalf of Calum Prioleau and the Habersham sisters. I just finished authenticating them.”

“Sounds interesting.” Not really, but he didn’t want to be rude. He took her books and placed them on the table. “May I stay for a while?”

“Yes.” She pressed a finger against her lower lip, and he wanted to kiss them both. “Did you bring your map?”

He sat and adjusted his jeans. While the pressure of his arousal against the zipper diverted him from the pain in his head, he needed to pull himself together. “No. Why?”

“I had an idea, but I can’t be sure without seeing it again.” Sarah sat and opened The Chronicle or Discourse of Virginia. “There’s a compilation that had similar maps in it.”

“I was wondering why that book was in the pile.” He hadn’t been, but wanted to appear interested in something other than her neckline.

She opened it to a section titled “White/Hariot Maps.” “This chapter is worth reading.”

“Are there SparkNotes?”

“Nope.” She tapped the page with her finger. “In 1582, Sir Walter Raleigh decided to map out the New World and hired Thomas Hariot and John White. Hariot was a famed mathematician and navigator, John White a renowned artist. Together, they compiled a book of navigational maps of the New World titled Arcticon.”

“You think my map is from that book?”

“I’m not sure your map is old enough.”

Okay. Now he was confused. “It’s not from the book.”

“No.” She found her glasses in her skirt pocket and put them on. “After White and Hariot died, their apprentices did the newer work. These new maps were added to the Arcticon as a supplement.”

Nate wanted to care but wasn’t sure why he needed to. “So?”

“That compass rose on your map reminded me of the White/Hariot supplemental maps I’ve seen.” She adjusted her sweater. “The Arcticon disappeared in the seventeenth century. I’ve only seen copies of the supplemental maps in the British Library in London.”

“We can’t check this famous book because it’s been missing for four centuries.”

She smiled again, and sweat dripped down his neck. “Three and a half. But if your friend’s find is a copy of an original White/Hariot supplemental map and he could find the original and prove provenance, it could be worth millions.” She stood and straightened her skirt. “If your friend wants me to look at the original, I can give him my opinion. I’m here for a few more weeks before I go back to the Smithsonian.”

Nate stood and shoved his hands in his back pockets. It was either that or kiss her until she begged him to strip her naked. Jeez Louise. How had he ever considered himself an officer and a gentleman? “I’ll tell him. Thanks.”

“One more thing.” She brushed back a stray hair. “Because of Elizabeth I’s use of privateers and appeasement of pirates, many map makers added hidden messages, like those Easter eggs programmers hide in computer games. Call it seventeenth-century leverage.”

With his men facing trials, Nate knew all about leverage. Or lack thereof. “Like treasure?”

“Some things, like diseases and remedies, were more valuable than treasure.”

“You mean crude biological agents and cures?”

“Yes.”

He ran his hands over his head to stop the flashing lights. “How effective were these weapons?”

“Very. The goal was to kill in small bursts, making it seem like a controlled epidemic but not create panic.”

“Is it possible those forty-four children supposedly killed by Anne Capel were murdered with one of these weapons?” He picked up Discourse and flipped through pages. “What if those kids were infected and Anne was helping them and they died anyway?”

“It’s possible but still speculation.”

His phone hummed. Someone, probably Pete, had given his new number to Kells. Fantastic. “Can I come back? There’s something I have to do.”

“Yes. We close at five.” For some reason her voice sounded more…efficient…than before, and she glanced at her watch.

“Will you be here?” he asked, hiding the disappointment in his voice.

“No.” She went over to the crates near the window and started stacking files that already looked organized.

Was he making her nervous?

“I’m leaving soon,” she said, glancing at him. “My truck is being repaired, and I’m picking up a rental car to do some research on the Isle of Grace.”

The tic above his eye started up again. The air around him hummed. Something didn’t feel right. “What kind of research?”

“The Isle’s sheriff has asked me to archive the Isle’s historical records, and I’m picking up some boxes. But first”—she paused to lay out the files and restack them again—“I thought I’d check out the Isle itself. It’s supposed to be beautiful.”

“Most of the Isle is privately owned land.”

She frowned, and now she squinted at him. It was adorable. “You sound like my boss.”

Nate crossed his arms. He understood what she wasn’t saying. She was interested in that cemetery on Juliet’s land. Although he’d no reason to care, he didn’t want Sarah going out there alone. Not until this mess with the Fianna and the vial was squared away. “Aren’t you meeting friends of mine later at Boudreaux’s restaurant? Juliet Capel and Rafe Montfort.”

“I am.” Sarah tilted her head. “But how—”

“Rafe and I go way back. Army buddies. Do you know how to get to Boudreaux’s? It’s buried deep in the woods.” That’s what Rafe had told him, anyway.

“No,” she said. “I was hoping my GPS could help me.”

Nate chuckled. “There’s no service out there.” He paused and then asked quickly before he lost his nerve, “Would you like me to take you?”

Her eyes widened, and she backed up a step.

His cell hummed again, but he ignored Kells’s call and texted Rafe and Calum instead. “I’m just offering. I have to go out there anyway”—which wasn’t true—“and I know how to get to Boudreaux’s.” Also not true. When he was done with his text, he shoved his phone in his pocket and held out both hands, palms up. “I can also help you with the boxes.”

“Do you think Miss Capel will give me permission to explore the Cemetery of Lost Children? I believe it’s on her land.”

“You can ask, and I’ll vouch for you.”

Sarah chewed her bottom lip, clearly still unsure, when her phone buzzed. She pulled it from her skirt pocket, read the text, and gave him a beautifully raised eyebrow. “Did you just text Mr. Montfort and Calum Prioleau? Because they say you’re a stand-up guy and that I have nothing to worry about.”

Nate smiled wide. “What time should I pick you up?”

“I’m meeting Sheriff Boudreaux at St. Mary’s Church on the Isle at two p.m. to get the boxes. Then I’m going to Boudreaux’s.”

“I’ll be here at one fifteen.” He desperately wanted to kiss her cheek. Instead, he gave her a lame wave and left the building. While he hated leaving the beautiful woman who smelled like gardenias, he had to call Kells back. For the first time in Nate’s career, he’d let Kells’s call go to voicemail. When Kells didn’t pick up, Nate left a message. Then he dialed Calum. “Where are you?”

Calum put him on speaker. “At the station with Detective Garza.”

“I’m on my way. I fucked up. We need to find that safe house today.”

Nate hung up and unlocked his bike. His phone rang again, and this time the caller ID said Sergeant Turner. “Luke, tell me you have what I need.”

“I texted you the number I believe is for the Z-pam contact. You sure you want to keep taking those things? They’re far stronger than what’s available in the U.S. And the FDA had serious reservations about their addictive side effects.”

“Fuck the FDA.”

“Okaaay. Just don’t let Kells find out you’re taking illegal meds. Or tell him I helped you. He’s in a vicious mood.”

“Agreed. I also need a favor. Check on Abigail Casey. She’s in Newport.”

“Liam’s wife? Why?”

“She’s drawing that lily. It may cause unwanted attention. Make sure she’s safe.”

“Got it.” Luke paused. Despite awesome computer skills, Luke was still an old-fashioned note-taker. “I also discovered Deke is moving high-powered heroin. One hit and people are sent into seizures, comatose states, even death.”

Nate remembered hearing about it at the club. They’d had overdoses, but Deke had taken care of them. Shit. Deke had been dealing heroin and cleaning up the mess while Nate and Pete had been working there. “What does that have to do with us?”

“Since our public defenders suck, I’ve been compiling the evidence against us. I built a database of numbers your in-theater commander called and received the night of the operation. A number on Deke’s cell matched an outgoing call on your commander’s SAT phone.”

Nate closed his eyes. “Have you told Kells?”

“I can’t without admitting I have Deke’s phone, which will lead to questions neither one of us can answer.”

Because lies and secrets beget more lies and secrets. “Can you trace it? And find out why a scumbag like Deke would be receiving phone calls from the same number my commander called the night our lives were fucked?”

“The number doesn’t work, but it was for a law firm in New Orleans. Beaumont, Barclay, and Bray. I’ll let you decide how to tell Kells.”

Wow. Hell of a not-coincidence. “And the other thing I asked you to check?” Nate didn’t want to say Prince’s identity on an unsecured phone.

“Can’t confirm. I’ll keep checking.”

“Thanks, Luke.” Nate hung up and texted the dealer’s number Luke had sent him.

Need Z-pam. Interested in making a deal?

The text came back. $20/pill. Cash. ROA alley. 5 p.m.

For the first time in forever, Nate climbed on his bike without feeling like a loser. Soon he’d have enough pills to get him through the next few days. As much as he dreaded admitting he’d lost the map, he had his first clue.

Then he remembered. He didn’t have a car because he wasn’t supposed to drive. So how was he going to pick up Sarah?

* * *

Nate felt like a non-driving loser as he headed into the SPD’s conference room and locked the door. Calum and Detective Garza were huddled over maps and photos. Calum had showered and changed into pressed jeans, a white dress shirt buttoned to the neck, and a gray vest. Garza wore his holster and the scowl he’d had on earlier.

One of the maps on the table was an enlargement of the historic district. Red circles dotted the paper, and a few had black lines through them. “What’s this?”

Garza snapped the cap of a red Sharpie. “Calum’s listing of properties for sale in the historic district. The black lines are ones that’ve burned down.”

“Unfortunately,” Calum said while texting, “arson’s a problem.”

Nate had noticed. “How many do we have to check out?”

“Thirty-two,” Garza said. “What’s this about you fucking up?”

Nate paused to take a deep breath. “I don’t have the map anymore, and we need it.”

“Where is it?” Calum asked.

“Balthasar has it.”

Calum and Garza stared at him.

“Why?” Garza used his inside voice, which Nate hadn’t been expecting.

Kells didn’t have an inside voice.

“I traded it for something.”

“Wait.” Calum laid his phone on the table. “You saw Balthasar?”

“Yesterday,” Nate said. “At the preservation office. I’d just learned that the map meant nothing.”

“Then you handed it to Balthasar?” Garza said.

“Tell me you didn’t trade our only clue for drugs,” Calum said carefully.

“Anti-seizure meds.” Nate paused. “They’re legal in Canada.”

“Shit.” Garza hit the table with his fist. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I was on the verge of a migraine, waiting for a seizure.”

Calum’s lip curled. “You didn’t tell us this morning?”

“I didn’t think it mattered. Yesterday, the map meant nothing.”

“You coward.” Garza pointed at Nate’s chest. “You didn’t want Montfort to know.”

“Or Juliet,” Calum added.

Nate sank into a chair and ran his hands over his head. “If we can find Balthasar’s safe house, maybe we can get that map back.”

Garza hooked and unhooked his holster safety strap. “Why does the map matter now?”

“It may lead us to the vial.”

“Dammit.” Garza kicked a chair across the room. “If you’re high—”

“I’m not.” After telling them Sarah’s stories, Nate stood to take the coming punishment. He’d screwed up and deserved their anger.

Garza fisted his hands until Calum held up one hand. “We’ve had setbacks, but we’re not done. Like Nate said, if we can find the safe house, maybe we can stop Balthasar before he hurts anyone else or finds the vial.”

Garza picked up the chair he’d kicked.

“The goal is,” Calum said in his teacher-speaking-to-child voice, “to recover the map before Rafe finds out. Because I, for one, have no interest in having that conversation.”

“Agreed,” Nate said. “Where do we start?”

“What makes you think we’re going to let you help us?” Garza asked. “You might run to Balthasar and tell him our every move.”

“I won’t.”

“Huh.” Garza raised an eyebrow. “Why did Balthasar visit you yesterday?”

Calum, who was texting again, said, “Good question.”

Nate sighed. “Balthasar has been recruiting me for the Fianna since Montfort’s return.”

Calum sat. “That’s unexpected.”

“Shiiiiiiiit.” Garza rubbed his chin that hadn’t seen a razor in a week. “We have thirty-two properties to check, and I can’t tell my chief what’s going on because he won’t believe me. Even if he did, we’d all be assassinated by bowing men. We need a plan that works.”

“Balthasar’s safe house will be two stories, if not more.” Nate studied the map’s red circles. “He’s an experienced sniper. He’ll use his scope to check his routes. He’ll also need exits and entrances that seem unused but can be secured from inside.”

Calum took the marker. A minute later, he’d eliminated eleven properties.

“Water’s not that important,” Nate said. “But power is. Especially if he has to hook up to the internet. We should look for properties near power and open Wi-Fi sources.”

Calum crossed out ten more circles.

“Samantha mentioned tunnels.” Garza pointed to a café on East Bay Street. “Do any of these properties have access to tunnels? That might be how Balthasar was able to set off the explosions and get away.”

Calum chewed the inside of his cheek before crossing off seven more circles.

“How’d you know that?” Nate asked.

“I know my city.”

Garza cleared his throat. “That leaves five properties.”

“Another thing,” Nate said. “This morning you mentioned a law firm in New Orleans.”

Garza put on his jacket, adjusting the holster beneath. “What about it?”

“I talked to Luke. He told me Deke received phone calls from the same firm. And my CO—”

“Colonel Kells Torridan?” Calum asked. “The one Rafe told me about?”

“No. The night of our ambush, while waiting for a rescue or backup or a missile strike, my in-theater commander was making calls. To Beaumont, Barclay, and Bray.”

Garza said, “Fuck.”

Calum straightened his vest. “What does this mean?”

“No idea,” Nate admitted.

Garza took out his weapon and checked the clip. Then he slammed it back in and chambered a round. “If whoever’s behind this was willing to sacrifice two A-teams, they won’t stop for us.”

Calum pointed to one of the circles. “Start here. It’s an abandoned house with a trap door in the kitchen leading into a subbasement.” After Calum gave them the lowdown on the other four properties—all of them uninhabitable—Garza and Nate agreed to split up. “And watch out for rats.”

“Fuuuuuck.” Garza headed for the door. “I’ll be back.”

While Calum studied the map again, Nate glanced at his watch. It was almost noon, and he had to check his assigned locations and get to Sarah’s by one fifteen. “Calum? Can I borrow your car?”

“You’re not allowed to drive.” Calum tapped Nate’s head. “Seizures. Remember?”

“Can I also borrow your driver?”

“Does this have anything to with Sarah Munro and the text I sent for you?”

After laying out the situation with wanting to keep Sarah out of that cemetery, Calum sighed heavily. “I’ll have Ivers waiting for you at the club. That’s near the last location on your list.”

Nate clapped Calum’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

Garza returned with two string backpacks filled with flashlights and water bottles and tossed one to Nate. “Let’s do this thing.”

To which Nate responded, “Hooah.”