CONTROL did everything possible to keep them apart. Long, boring drives loosened tongues, and the less they knew about each other the better, which was why he had a hard time coming to terms with the scene in front of him. The same crew he’d commanded a week ago, minus the two Helen Gray had shot, lounged quite comfortably on the leather sectional sofa in his basement “man cave.” Jolene relaxed in his recliner, mostly to keep anyone else from sitting in it.
He’d discussed the situation with Jolene before everyone arrived. Either CONTROL planned on retiring and relocating them after this operation, or they intended to extract them. Given Jolene’s involvement in a high-profile mission last week, the Helen Gray fiasco, and now this, they were certain that their usefulness here had come to an end. At the very least, they’d have to change states. Most likely regions. Definitely identities.
If any of the six operatives sitting in his basement were grabbed by the FBI, they could lead the authorities here, where it wouldn’t be very difficult to piece together the rest of the puzzle. He’d be surprised if CONTROL kept them here. He just hoped they would be able to live off their retirement savings after they were recalled. A silly concern in the grand scheme of things, but a worry, nonetheless. One of a thousand worries that surfaced when they had been notified of the meeting—at their house.
He took a seat on a folding chair he’d brought into the basement from the garage and placed in front of the group.
“Everyone good with the drinks and snacks?” asked Rudd.
Nobody had touched the assortment of sodas, chips, and candies he’d set out on the coffee table in front of them. Probably thinking the same thing: One of them had orders to eliminate everyone else. Jolene reached out and grabbed a handful of potato chips.
“The chips aren’t poisoned,” she said. “Only the M&M’s.”
A few thin smiles, but nothing beyond that—and nobody made a move for the snacks.
“Fine,” said Rudd. “I know this is highly irregular. How do you think we feel? They picked our fucking house. This is obviously the end for us here.”
“Or the end of us,” said Logan Walsh. “And you get to live happily ever after—right here in this lovely house.”
“Come on. How the hell would that even work? We have six cars, three with out-of-state plates, parked in front of our house,” said Rudd. “We never have people over. It’s probably big news on Nextdoor right now. How are we supposed to move all of your cars without someone noticing?”
“What’s Nextdoor?” asked Leo Ward.
“It’s a neighborhood-based social media platform that none of us are supposed to use,” said Walsh.
“We’re not members,” said Rudd. “We joined for a few minutes just to see how active our neighbors were on the site. Trust me, someone has noticed that we have guests for the first time ever. I’m pretty sure we were all supposed to create an account for that purpose, and then delete it.”
“We are,” said Walsh, glaring at Ward.
“What? I live out in the sticks,” said Ward. “My nearest neighbor is a mile away.”
“This wasn’t some kind of trick to get us all in one place,” said Rudd.
“No offense, but I’ll still pass on the snacks,” said Walsh, a slim grin on his face.
Rudd honestly couldn’t tell if he was serious about the poisoning stuff or not.
“Can we get on with the business at hand?” said Nathan Clark, a regular member of Rudd’s team. “CONTROL didn’t send us here so Harvey and Jolene could take a crack at us. They’d send in professionals if they wanted us gone. Us and our families.”
Everyone mumbled their agreement.
“So why are we here? The mission briefing looked detailed enough,” said Clark.
“A few things have changed since you got on the road. We’re now staying in five different hotels, instead of just the Marriott.”
“Sounds like an upgraded countersurveillance threat related to our target,” said Walsh. “Something that very recently developed.”
“All we know is that they don’t want us bunching up. Maybe they took a second look at the original mission packet and decided to play it extra safe,” said Rudd. “Or this could also just be an upgraded threat level issued by the Department of Homeland Security for the entire DC area—entirely unrelated to Helen or Devin Gray—and CONTROL isn’t taking any chances on us somehow getting swept up into it.”