can change.”
His eyes never left her face. “Yeah,” he said. “Sometimes they can.”
* * *
It was late afternoon when Bran got a phone call from Jaxon Ryker.
“I talked to a friend at Homeland,” Jax said. “He set up a meet with someone in the San Diego branch. It’s off the record, an agent named Joe Bonnet. He’ll meet you at the Bayfront Café in an hour.”
“How do we find him?”
“He’ll find you.”
“Sounds good. Thanks, man.”
“You sure taking Jessie with you is a good idea?”
“Not safe for her to stay here.” Especially not now that Mara and Ahmed were in custody, which meant members of the local terror cell could be hunting them. And there was Holloway to consider. The man was a powerful enemy. They needed to bring him down and soon.
“Thanks for the help,” Bran said. “I’ll keep you posted.” He turned to Jessie. “We’ve got a meet with a guy from Homeland in an hour.”
“That’s great. Maybe he can help us.”
“Yeah, maybe. Or maybe we can help him.”
* * *
The Bayfront Café was a tourist mecca down on the Embarcadero, with big glass windows overlooking the ocean. It was overflowing with guys in flowered Hawaiian shirts and flip-flops, women in shorts and tank tops. Lots of skin, sunglasses, and baseball caps. It was a warm day, the breeze off the sea cooling the bright sun burning down on the water.
Bran had dressed to fit in and so had Jessie, both of them wearing bill caps and sunglasses. It was just before two o’clock and they still hadn’t eaten, so they stood in line and ordered, then waited for their burgers and fries to come up.
Carrying their trays over to an empty table, they sat down and dug in, Bran casually looking for anyone who might be Joe Bonnet. He was trained to notice alphabet agency types, so Bran wasn’t surprised when a man with short black hair, a blue, button-down oxford shirt tucked into a pair of tan chinos, and without the hint of a smile, walked toward them.
Bonnet pulled out a chair and sat down. “Joe Bonnet. Ryker described you both. Ms. Kegan was hard to miss.”
Nope, not with all that fiery hair.
Finished with her meal, Jessie shoved her tray away. “Nice to meet you.”
Bonnet hadn’t used his formal agency title, which Bran took as a good sign. Also finished eating, he wiped his hands on a paper napkin and tossed it on the tray.
“We’re asking for an information exchange,” he said, getting right to business. “What we’ve got for what you’ve got. Assuming you have anything at all on a possible domestic terror attack.”
Bonnet’s dark eyes sharpened. “What sort of information do you have?”
“Do we have a deal?”
Bonnet hesitated. Like all the agencies, Homeland wasn’t much for sharing. “I’ve read your file, Garrett. We’re grateful for your service to our country. That being the case, I’ll give you as much as I can.”
Bran sat up straighter. The noise around them muffled their conversation just enough not to be overheard. “We have intel that three thousand pounds of chemical weapons, stolen from the Alamo Depot in Colorado, were purchased on the dark web. The price was five million dollars. We don’t know what the buyers are planning to do with the weapons, and the intel can’t be verified.” At least not by legal means. “But our sources are good. We believe it’s true.”
He didn’t mention the munitions that had gone to Yemen. Colonel Bryson was handling that operation. He was the most capable man Bran had ever known. Bryson could move faster without interference from Homeland.
“Your turn,” Bran said.
“US Intelligence agencies have been hearing internet chatter about a specific plot involving a public transportation venue in a major US city. We’ve narrowed it down to the western part of the country. We don’t know who’s behind it, what they’re planning, or at this point whether or not it’s a credible threat. But we’re following it closely. Until now, we haven’t tied it to the use of chemical weapons. I’ll relay that information to all parties.”
“And keep our names out of it.”
“At this juncture, yes.” He handed Bran a card with his Homeland office number, and Bran handed him a Maximum Security card with his cell number.
“Anything else you want to share?” Bonnet asked.
“That’s it for now.”
“What about you, Agent Bonnet?” Jessie asked. “These people are linked to the murder of my father. Surely you have some idea who they are.”
“I’m sorry. Even if we have potential suspects,