Walker (In the Company of Snipers #21) - Irish Winters Page 0,119
what I’m told. Are you?”
“Just like that? You want me to work for you?” What the hell?
“I asked you, didn’t I?”
Talking with Stewart was like playing with a buzz saw. Every comeback carried a potential threat and a lethal glare. He was Walker’s USN drill sergeant all over again.
“Yes, sir, but” —Walker caught himself. Shit, he was damned near ready to bawl again. What the hell was going on? These emotions were way out of hand— “I mean, Mr. Stewart. How did you…? Why did you…?”
“How did I know where to find your men? How did I know to locate Brimley Scott and his dog on a yacht stuck between the Azores and Portugal? How do I know you went into Guatemala, without proper clearance or permission, allegedly on personal business, fifteen months ago? How do I know why the captain of the Iwo Jima aircraft carrier is here with you today, instead of off the coast of Brazil, where he’s supposed to be? Is that what you’re asking me, junior agent?”
Junior agent, huh? Stewart seemed to think he already owned him. He certainly knew a lot. But Guatemala? Quinn Dooley?
“How do you know all that?” Walker couldn’t help that his voice sounded tighter than usual. Or that his questions had come out raspy and hoarse.
“Because it’s my business to know. Anything else?”
“Why are you doing this? You don’t even know me.”
Stewart’s hard-as-ice eyes softened. “Because that’s what I do, Walker Judge. I take the cases no one else will touch, and my TEAM does the impossible. I’ve been in your shoes once or twice. I know what betrayal feels like. But you’re like me, too stupid to realize how many friends you’ve got. So I decided to show you before you got yourself killed.”
That, right there, damned near broke Walker’s heart. “But I’m a convicted felon. I’m wanted by the FBI, the Queen of England, and…” And shit, just about every lawman between here and Dodge City, Kansas.
Stewart waved that off like it was nothing. “So? You’re still breathing, aren’t you?”
Well, err… “Yes.”
“Then stop whining.”
Walker didn’t know what to say to that. “Doesn’t it matter, you hiring a convicted felon?”
“Hasn’t before.”
Thankfully, Persia came to Walker’s rescue. “Boss, were you able to get through to Senator Sullivan yet?”
“Yessss,” Stewart hissed as he crossed his thick arms over his massive chest. “Dumb ass. He’ll get over it.”
“Okay, stop!” Walker bellowed, fed up with the overload of too many bits and pieces of intel. “You know McQueen Sullivan, too? Christ, who the hell are you?”
A crooked smirk tweaked the corners of Stewart’s lips. “Already told you. I’m your boss. Not Sullivan. Get some rest. I’ll be back in three hours. Be ready to move then.”
And he was gone.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The excitement had worn Walker out, Persia could tell. He was pale and breathing hard, staring into space more than asking coherent questions about what had just happened. She pulled a molded-plastic chair over to his bedside the second Alex left, ready to answer all Walker’s questions. It was time to call him by his real name. Alex certainly had.
“Hey, Walker. You okay?”
“So talk,” he told her quietly. “Who’s Stewart, and why’s he really here? What’s he want from me?”
“I told you about him once before, remember?”
Walker shook his head. Even his blue eyes were pale.
“Former Marine. Owns a covert surveillance company called The TEAM, in Alexandria, Virginia. Hates to be called sir.”
Walker’s fingers fluttered. “That I remembered.”
“I noticed you only made the mistake once.”
“Yeah. He’s like me, hates officers. I’d like to know the story behind that.”
“Well, you work for him now. Maybe someday, he’ll tell you.”
“Stop stalling, Coltrane. Spill.”
“Okay. Well, I had no idea until he showed up at the safe house, but Alex has been working your case since he heard you’d been convicted of murder.”
“But that was over a year ago. Does he follow every Navy trial?”
“No, but yours called to him. At least, that’s what he said. He’s had Ember Dennison and Beau Villanueva, they’re The TEAM’s technical wizards, following your former CO’s money trail. They’re like your Petty Officer First Class Urban Sweeny, only they handle more than just comm equipment, and… Don’t tell anyone, but I think they’re sharp enough to hack into a lot of federal systems but without getting caught.”
That seemed to perk Walker’s tired ears up. “Goff’s money trail? Why?”
“Yes, Commander Wallace Goff, and because too many things didn’t line up during your trial. I’ll tell you what I know, but it’d be better