Private Monaco

Chapter 85

“It’s just a tattoo,” Wilson said.

“I know exactly what it is,” Carver responded coldly.

His aide’s indignation and anger melted away to be replaced by shame. He started shaking and seemed to shrink as he cowered on the floor of the store.

“Why, Henry?” Carver asked, gesturing at the tattoo. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer. Tears filled his eyes. He looked like a child caught out in a lie, and Justine’s experience told her the shame he felt was for his exposure, not his wrongdoing. Criminals who repented rarely did so immediately, and this kind of reaction was grounded in self-pity and a sense of humiliation rather than genuine contrition.

“I can answer your questions, Mr. Secretary, but right now I need your help,” she said. “Jack’s trying to find someone, and he believes they were in communication with this number.” She held out her phone and showed him details of the most recent call. “I need you to run a trace as fast as you can.”

Carver nodded. “Do it,” he said to the man called Pete, who’d had his arms around Wilson’s neck.

Pete approached Justine and took a photograph of the number displayed on her phone screen.

“Thanks,” she said. He remained impassive.

With the air of someone who rarely smiled, he stepped into the far corner of the room and typed a message into his phone.

Justine turned to Carver. “Jack suspected they were going to use him to target you because he could get close. They gave him a 3-D printed resin gun and bullets to circumvent security. The other shooter was meant to be a backup, but he became their primary after I escaped, didn’t he?”

Her question was directed at Wilson, who didn’t respond.

“But this was a contingent trip. It would only take place if the summit ended early. And it wasn’t known outside your immediate circle, which is why we suspected someone was working against you, feeding information to Philip Duval, who was sending it on to Propaganda Tre. I never expected that person to be a member of the group too.”

Carver looked as though he’d been punched. “Is this true, Henry?”

He couldn’t even bring himself to look at the man he’d betrayed.

“I bet an investigation will find he has a secret phone he used to send coded messages giving information on your movements to another phone in Duval’s possession.”

Wilson’s expression of shame seemed to intensify.

“Your friend and colleague set you up, Mr. Secretary,” Justine said, noting Carver’s pained expression. “The only thing I don’t know is why.”

“They didn’t tell me,” Wilson responded, finally breaking his silence. His eagerness to talk suggested to Justine he was lying. “I’m low down in the organization.”

Carver’s face hardened. It was one thing to hear Justine’s explanation and speculation, quite another to hear a confession. The Secret Service detail closed around the disgraced aide and Justine could feel their anger. She guessed they weren’t just enraged by the betrayal of their principal, but also by the fact the aide had put them in the line of fire.

“I don’t think he’s telling the truth,” Justine said. “I think he’s lying and that he knows why you were targeted, Eli.”

Wilson scowled at her.

“I want him taken into custody,” Carver said. “I want him on the next plane home, and I want him to be given special VIP treatment. And when he’s told us everything he knows, I want him to stand trial.”

Carver pushed his way through the gathered Secret Service agents and stood over Wilson.

“I’m going to make you regret you were ever born.”

Pete looked up from his phone. “We have a hit, sir. The number Ms. Smith gave us was used to call a phone in Monaco. I’ll have a location in a few seconds.”