“Yeah, well, Wheeler almost got your ass killed more than once.” He turned to Zoya. “So, in light of recent events, I’m not in a super trusting mood at the moment.”
Court said, “She’s with us, Zack. End of discussion.”
But Hightower kept at the woman. “I’m gonna keep my eyes on you, sister.” He looked her up and down. “I mean, I would even if I didn’t suspect you were an asset for the oppo, but now that I have my doubts, you’re really gonna get watched over.”
Zoya wasn’t interested in this conversation at all. “Do what you have to do, but stay out of my way.”
Zack raised an eyebrow at Court, who just shrugged.
Jason leaned into the bathroom and looked down at the bruised and broken asset in the ice bath. “Sir, you need some painkillers?”
Court thought about it. “What you got?”
“Everything from Tylenol to morphine.”
“Something in the middle would be nice.”
Jason retrieved the medical bag from the closet off the living room and began going through it. “Twenty milligrams of hydrocodone? Looking at all those contusions, I don’t think it will do more than take the edge off; it won’t get you too high.”
Court winced with the cold engulfing him now. “Ten milligrams.”
“Suit yourself,” Jason said, and he pulled out a pill.
Court swallowed it with a beer Zack brought from the fridge, then winced again as he put the beer down next to the tub. He looked back to Jason and said, “Let’s make it fifteen.”
The young man broke a tablet in half and Court drank it down with another swig of beer.
He held up his hand; the compress was still on it, but he was able to see the swelling around it. He dropped it back into the ice water.
Zoya turned to the two Americans. “Guys. He’s going to need fifteen minutes in the ice. Is somebody going to call Brewer in the meantime?”
Zack took the hint and headed towards the back of the farmhouse. He leaned into the back bedroom to snap a digital image of the shackled woman lying on the bed, then stepped into the living room and made the call, sending the image to Brewer in the process to see if she could ID her.
Brewer told Zack she’d just landed in Edinburgh and would call him back, and then Zack returned as Zoya helped Court change into jeans and a T-shirt she’d found in a guest bedroom closet in the safe house. All three of them then went into the living room, Zoya passed around beer, and they opened the cans.
Jason stood by the window looking out, gun on his hip.
Court was feeling the hydrocodone take effect, improving both his pain level and his mood. “What’s your dad up to, Zoya?”
“I still don’t know,” she admitted. “He had a group of Russian mob with him and whoever the hell that lady in the lab coat is. He admitted to me he was about to make his play, but he didn’t tell me what it was.”
Court said, “Belyakov told me it’s some sort of retributive strike. Totally unsanctioned. I think it might be related to the Five Eyes conference here.”
Zoya sat up straighter. “The Five Eyes annual meeting is here in the UK? Now?”
“In Scotland even,” Court said. “Everybody senior at Langley will be there, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Intel and counterintel sections of FBI, DIA, NSA, all there. Plus the Brits, Aussies, New Zealanders, and Canadian intelligence and counterintelligence.”
“Where is it?”
“Near Loch Ness. They’ve rented out some swanky castle for the venue.”
Zoya stood and paced animatedly. “That’s it. That’s got to be it. They have to cancel it.”
Court said, “They won’t cancel it, and Hanley won’t pass intel to the Brits unless we have enough to wrap the whole thing up. Zack might have caught our mole, but the Brits think they have one, or more than one. We need to know what the plan is. Bomb it? Security will be insane. It would be tough to get in deep enough to do enough damage.”
Zack fielded a call back from Brewer, going into a back room to do so. When he returned he said, “Look alive, kids. Brass is inbound.”
Court immediately started pulling himself up to his feet, but Zoya didn’t understand. “What does that mean?”
“Brewer is ten minutes out,” Zack explained.
* * *
• • •
Suzanne Brewer arrived in a rented BMW 3 Series; behind the wheel was Chris Travers,