a student visa and never left. Her fake identity runs deep. Someone went to a lot of trouble to give her a new life in America.”
Adrenaline pumped through him. He looked at Jessie, whose eyes were wide and alert. “Yemen,” he repeated. “Big-time terrorist activity. Got to be connected to the stolen weapons.”
“Could be someone in Yemen was the buyer. I’m looking into it. I wanted to give you what I had on Ramos aka Rahmati as fast as I could.”
“We need to bring the army in on this, but I want to talk to her first.”
“What if she runs?” Jessie asked.
“Mahri Rahmati disappeared once before,” Tabby said. “In 1998, a year after she arrived in the States. She reappeared as Mara Ramos, finished her education, and worked as a schoolteacher most of her life. I connected the two identities using facial recognition...among other things. So far I haven’t linked her to a terrorist organization, but I’m looking hard.”
Bran scrubbed a hand over the scruff on his jaw. “We won’t let her run. We’ll figure something out.”
“I’ll keep you posted.” Tabby hung up the phone.
“What are we going to do?” Jessie asked. “If we tell the army, they’ll step in and we’ll be out. No access. No answers. People will still be trying to kill us, still trying to stop our investigation. If we don’t come forward, we could be responsible for a terror attack.”
“If we go to the army, we’ll be out, all right—or in jail. Tabby didn’t get that intel off Facebook.”
“We have to do something. We don’t have any choice.”
“Oh, we’re going to do something. We’re going to talk to Mara Ramos. Now. Tonight.”
Grabbing his phone, he punched Hunt Brady’s number. “Sorry to call so late, but we just got intel on Mara Ramos. Her real name’s Mahri Rahmati. She’s Yemeni, here illegally. Her cover’s deep. Very good chance she’s involved in terrorism.”
“Terrorism? What the fuck, Bran?”
“Long story. Some of it’s classified. I’ll tell you what I can when I see you.” He stood up from the sofa, the phone still pressed to his ear. “I’m on my way to talk to Ramos, but I’m going to need backup.”
“You got it. How long before you get there?”
He knew her address, brought the directions up on his cell. “No traffic this time of night. We’re twenty minutes out.”
“Make it thirty and I’ll meet you there.”
“You got it.” The phone went dead and Bran glanced around for Jessie, saw her walking back into the living room, already changed into a black T-shirt and sneakers to go with the black yoga pants she’d had on.
“I’m going with you.”
He was torn. There was no way for anyone to know they were staying at the Grant. She should be safe. On the other hand, leaving her behind gave him an itchy feeling. He’d rather keep her close. Besides, with Ramos’s connection to her father, she might get something he couldn’t.
“All right, we’ll both go.”
“I want a weapon.”
He frowned. “It won’t be legal here.”
A half smile curved her lips. “Better to be judged by twelve than carried by six.”
Bran laughed, recognizing one of Danny’s pet sayings. He knew she could shoot. Hell, she was probably a crack shot. No way would Danny not have taught his little sister how to defend herself.
Since Bran wanted her safe, he retrieved the Smith & Wesson .38 out of his gear bag and handed it over. “Let’s hope you don’t need it.”
Jessie flipped open the cylinder, which was fully loaded, then flicked it closed and stuck the revolver into her cross-body purse.
Twenty-five minutes later the Navigator rolled past the address of the condo on Via Mallorca. The house was dark. He circled the block and parked down the street. A few minutes later, Hunt Brady’s black Chevy Blazer eased up behind them and the engine went silent. They all got out of their vehicles.
“No lights on inside,” Bran said. “She may not be home.”
“I guess we’ll find out,” Hunt said.
Bran scanned the area for anyone moving around in the darkness. “Looks clear.”
“There’s a sliding glass door in back,” Hunt said. “Opens onto a fenced patio. I’ll head in that direction, make sure she doesn’t get out that way.”
Bran nodded. He and Jessie moved quietly to the front door, Bran holding his pistol in a two-handed grip pointed up. Standing off to the side, out of the line of fire, Jessie knocked on the door. It was after midnight. They waited and she knocked again. There was a