Walker (In the Company of Snipers #21) - Irish Winters Page 0,123
expected him to listen. Wasn’t that son of a bitch in for a surprise?
Chapter Thirty-Five
Persia couldn’t take her eyes off Walker. She wouldn’t have, either, except Alex had tasked her to lead this briefing. Most everyone who needed to be here had arrived, thanks to Alex’s private jet. If needed, Ember was on standby back at TEAM HQ.
Persia began with Hans. “Mr. Koning. Would you please tell us what you discovered while examining the International Criminal Court’s evidence against Walker Judge?”
He turned to Beau. “I believe Agent Villanueva can show what I found better than I can explain.”
“You bet.” Beau flipped open the laptop balanced on his knees, then nodded at Walker. “I’d sure like to know what you did to piss off so many people.”
“You’re not the only one,” Walker replied evenly.
“But you’ve got folks in foreign countries looking for your ass.” Beau flashed four fingers. “The States, England, Jordan, and now, the Netherlands.”
Walker shrugged as if he didn’t care. But Persia knew different. He was suddenly as tense as he’d been before the safe house was breached. “SEALs are lucky like that. So what do you have on me?”
“Watch and learn,” Beau replied as he worked the keyboard, then activated the mini-projector he’d placed in the center of the coffee table.
Heads turned, and people shifted positions to watch the video that sprang to life on the wall opposite Alex and Walker. Persia took in the panoramic view of what would have been a lavish wedding somewhere in Jordan. The day had been sunny and bright. A slight wind was blowing from the east, fluttering the hundred or so flags atop three magnificent stretch tents. Stone planters of pink, magenta, and cream-colored hibiscus flowers, along with small green palm trees, were set at the corners of the tents. An over-abundance of already lit string lights circled each tent support and lined the ceilings inside, as well as the roofs.
Stretch tents were designed to be airy, yet waterproof, more like ceilings without walls than actual tents. These three were constructed of light, weather-resistant fabric stretched between uprights that varied in height from the few twenty-foot tall center supports, to shorter poles and stakes set at various intervals on the periphery. Every tent allowed visibility from every possible outside angle. Every guest, coming or going, tiny or stalwart, was on view.
“Watch the tent on the right,” Beau said. “That’s where the marriage ceremony was supposed to take place.”
Unlike the others, which were both massive enough to house three long banquet tables with enough settings and seats for seventy-eight guests, the wedding tent held a single ornate table. That was where the bride and groom would’ve eaten their first meal as husband and wife. Long cedar garlands stretched between crystal goblets and gold lanterns, all set on a pristine linen tablecloth. Small potted palm trees stood at each end of the table. An elaborate, aquamarine Persian rug, as wide and long as the tent itself, carpeted the ground beneath it. After the meal, the bride and groom would’ve danced the first dance of the rest of their lives on that plush carpet.
Walker leaned forward, his elbow on his knee and his chin cupped in one hand. But there was no light in his normally twinkling eyes. The laugh lines that usually spread like tiny rays of sun from the corners of his eyes, were missing as well. He probably knew more of Jordan’s wedding customs than Persia did. Which was why he looked more sad than curious. To face all the dreams that this family had lost, had to be difficult.
Persia flashed her attention back to the video, which now showed crowds of guests mingling, all waiting for the bride and groom to arrive and the ceremony to begin. It seemed as if brown-eyed, brown-haired little kids were everywhere. Running. Squealing. Chasing each other. Playing tag. Just being kids...
The sight of all that innocence about to be annihilated was heart-wrenching. Her gaze strayed back to Walker. His eyes were on those little ones, too. But the hand that had cupped his chin before was a fist now. His right shoulder rolled, then rolled again, as if he couldn’t sit still. Which was an interesting tell. Why did the sight of children about to die illicit the reaction to run? Did he want to run to save them from the carnage he knew was coming because he’d planned it?
That didn’t feel right. When Adam told Walker about Squeaks, he’d looked thoroughly pleased. Delighted,