of life for the first time since Bobby’s abduction. Her brain clicked and whirred as if coming to life after a long winter hibernation.
“He could be right. Maybe the woman who stole the plans from Stark sold them to the highest bidder before she died. Maybe she had no intention of giving them back to Zendaris.”
“The woman who stole the plans is dead? Did Zendaris kill her?”
“One of ours did, self-defense. She was mentally unbalanced.”
“Those are the hardest ones to figure out. There’s no telling what she did with the plans or why she did it.”
“Still, you’re right. My presence in Boston at the same time as the symposium is no coincidence. Have the meetings started yet?”
“Meetings have been ongoing for two days.”
“Did you connect my being in Boston with this conference?”
“Not until you told me about the anti-drone plans.”
“Then why was this symposium even on your radar?”
He turned his head to look out the window. “It’s my business to know.”
And just like that, Beau the helpful spy morphed into Loki, man of mystery and danger.
She pulled into the loading zone of the new hotel and Beau got them a room.
He dropped onto the passenger seat and tipped his head toward the windshield. “You can park up that ramp.”
Ten minutes later they were traipsing down another hotel hallway, but Deb felt less trepidation now that she had Beau by her side. Or should she be feeling more?
His concern could all be an elaborate ruse to lull her into compliance. When she least expected it, her Prospero teammates could crash the party and drag her back for questioning all at Beau’s invitation. But her brothers on Team Three had to know she’d never betray them.
Then why not confide in them? The words floated through her mind, and even her answer to that question felt like a betrayal.
Beau pushed open the hotel room door. “One room but two double beds. Hope that’s okay.”
“That’s fine.” She tossed the purse onto the bed farthest from the window. “And I hope it’s okay that I snag the bed away from the window.”
“I was going to suggest it.” He clicked the remote control for the TV and swiped a room service menu from the table. “Are you hungry? Maybe we should just eat in the room tonight.”
She twitched aside the curtain at the window. “You’re sure we weren’t followed?”
“Positive.” He waved the menu. “Food?”
“Yeah, whatever.” She hadn’t eaten a decent meal since Zendaris had snatched Bobby.
She plucked the special phone from her pocket and placed it on the nightstand.
Beau said, “He’s sure taking his sweet time.”
“He’s holding all the cards.” Deb shrugged out of the coat and hung it in the closet. Then she toed off the heels and stretched out on the bed, stacking a few pillows behind her back and crossing her legs at the ankles.
“I’ll order for both of us if that’s okay.” He peered at her over the top of the menu. “You look like you could use a good meal.”
“Food has been low on my list of priorities lately.”
“You should know from training that you need to keep yourself in fighting condition.”
“You don’t get it.” That’s why she never confided in her Prospero brothers, either. They weren’t mothers. When Zendaris had kidnapped her son, he’d carved a hole in her heart. He’d left her half a person.
Beau was Bobby’s father, but he didn’t know he was a father. He could talk about being in fighting condition and being aware of one’s surroundings, but he was a whole person, not a shell like she’d become.
Beau shrugged and picked up the phone. He cradled the receiver against his shoulder as he read off enough dishes to feed the entire hotel.
Deb fluffed up the pillows behind her and stared at the local TV news through half-closed eyes. A shot of MIT had her leaning forward. She snapped her fingers at Beau, who was adding desserts to their order.
She simulated pressing buttons on a remote and he tossed it to her. She increased the volume on the TV.
The voice-over of the reporter droned on about a weapons symposium. The brief report didn’t mention any names until the very end.
“Dr. Scott Herndon, professor emeritus at MIT and frequent advisor to the Pentagon, is chairing the symposium, which will include a gala event on the last night to raise funds for war-torn areas across the globe.”
When the report ended, Deb muted the sound. “That’s it, isn’t it? Sounds like a big deal.”
“Anything discussed in those meetings is going to be top secret. How does Zendaris expect to get any information out of that symposium?”
“The symposium ends tomorrow.” She glanced at the cell phone on the nightstand. “If Zendaris wants me to make a move, you’d think he would’ve contacted me by now—unless that scope to the forehead was his way of reaching out.”
“I don’t think Zendaris is trying to kill you. It doesn’t add up.” Beau perched on the edge of the other bed and rested his ankle on his knee. “Any assignment he has for you will most likely come at the last minute to give you less time to prepare. He wants to keep you off balance.”
“He’s doing a great job.” She tossed the remote to Beau’s bed and collapsed against her pillows. “He still hasn’t allowed me any contact with Bobby. I don’t even know for sure if he’s alive or...”
“What’s the matter with you?” Beau smacked his hand against his thigh. “You need that proof of life, Deb. Don’t do another thing he tells you to do unless you get something on Bobby.”
“I demanded it the last time we spoke, but he refused.” Crossing her arms, she hunched her shoulders against the persistent chill in her bones.
“You hold some cards here, too. Before you carry out your next assignment, you need assurance of Bobby’s safety.”
“What if he refuses again and threatens to hurt him? I can’t play chicken with my son’s life.” She rubbed her tingling nose. “What makes this even worse is that Bobby wasn’t in the best of health prior to the kidnapping.”
“He was sick?”
“He’d been listless, which was so unlike him. I thought he may have caught a bug, but he didn’t have any cold or flu symptoms.”
“Did you take him to the doctor?”
She slid a glance at Beau, who’d twisted around
