Private Rogue

Chapter 37

It was mid-afternoon by the time I reached the safe house Jessie had arranged. Located in suburban Rye, Westchester County, the house was situated on a tiny peninsular called Pine Island, which jutted into Long Island Sound like an upside down “T.” Lying northeast of Manhattan, Rye was popular with financiers and Wall Street types, and this was reflected in the houses, which grew bigger the closer I got to the waterfront. The safe house was on the water’s edge, at the heart of an acre lot, and was approached through electric gates and a private drive. The snow was pristine and sparkled in the low sun as I pulled to a halt outside the house in the expansive driveway. Looking south, I could see Manhattan through the bare branches of the mature trees that surrounded the grand two-story home.

I rang the doorbell and moments later Jessie let me in. I was grateful to step out of the bitter cold into the warmth of what was a beautiful family home. We entered a large hallway with a sweeping double-sided horseshoe staircase.

“Quite a place,” I observed.

“Yeah, it’s not bad,” Jessie replied. “We’re through here.”

She led me under one flight of stairs and through a doorway that took us into a huge open-plan living space. It was a family room, diner and kitchen rolled into one, and glass doors ran the length of the exterior wall, offering a magnificent view of Long Island Sound and the Manhattan skyline.

Beth, Maria and Danny were seated on a couch, watching TV. The kids didn’t notice me come in, but Beth waved and I nodded in reply.

“Well, it seems to have worked,” Jessie said, leading me to an open laptop on one of the kitchen counters.

“Is that you, Jack Morgan?”

There was no mistaking Mo-bot’s voice.

Jessie pulled the laptop round so I could see the screen. Mo-bot was in the Private Los Angeles computer lab with Justine and Sci.

“Hey, Jack,” Justine said.

“Boss,” Sci added.

“What have you got?” I asked.

“I ran surveillance on the line Justine used to arrange your meeting,” Mo-bot replied. “The moment you left him, the guy posing as Singer made a call.”

“So he believed my story. You hear what he said?” I asked.

“I’m not a magician,” Mo-bot replied. “But I was able to trace the other number. Or at least the cell tower it connected to.”

She paused. This wasn’t going to be good.

“The phone he called was inside the Pentagon, Jack. Singer called someone in the Department of Defense.”

I’d suspected an intelligence component the moment I discovered Beth’s husband was Special Forces, but I never imagined it would lead to the Pentagon.

“Can you find out who he was talking to?” I asked.

“I can try,” Mo-bot replied. “The Pentagon has all kinds of countersurveillance to prevent identification and tracking, even of cell phones, but I can dig around, see what I can find.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Any leads on who this guy really is?”

“Not yet,” Sci replied. “We’re working on it.”

“OK,” I said. “This makes life a little more complicated. If this guy is connected to the Pentagon, we have no idea who we can trust.”