Roman knelt by Ivan, removed his vest, and began compressions.
A.J. pulled Ana back and pinned her to his side as she studied the phone. “The tracker app.” She showed him the screen with three blinking lights in three locations on a map of the U.S. She had to have hope that Katya and the others were alive as Ivan had said.
“The last call he received,” A.J. said. “We should call the number.”
Her hand trembled, the flames growing higher, not even ten feet away from where they were.
“You all need to get out of there. The sirens are closing in on you. A helo will be touching down in a field nearby to airlift Porter and Ivan to the hospital. Ana’s still a fugitive,” Harper alerted them.
“Shit. Ivan’s dead,” Roman announced a breath later. “I’m sorry.”
“What’s the status on Porter?” Ana sputtered.
“Still got a pulse,” Finn answered. “But I’ve gotta leave him now.”
“We need to move out to our exfil site.” A.J. reached for Ana’s arm, urging her to stand. “Harper, get ahold of someone you trust,” he began as they stood. “We need a plausible reason for Grant’s bike being here and in flames.”
“Roger,” Harper said.
“Come on, we gotta go.” A.J. kept hold of her as they started moving fast in the dark. They followed close behind Roman and Finn since A.J.’s helmet and NVGs were broken, and he couldn’t guide them out of there on their own.
She kept the phone active as they moved so it wouldn’t lock again. “I need to call the number,” she said as they neared the exfil site ten minutes later, and A.J. nodded in agreement. She re-dialed the last number on the “Recents” list and set the call to speakerphone.
Two rings and then an answer. “Is it done? Is he dead?”
Ana froze, her stomach sinking, and then she quickly killed the call.
“What? You recognize the voice?” A.J. asked, alarm in his tone.
Ana tightened her free hand at her side. “Yes,” she whispered. “Deputy Assistant Director Winters.”
Chapter Thirty
A.J. quickly rose at the sight of Ana boarding the private plane and swatted away Finn’s hand. Echo Five had ordered A.J. to the long couch on the left side of the Learjet 60 and started tending to his injuries as soon as they’d entered the plush cabin of the aircraft. There were ten more seats on the opposite side of the aisle to accommodate the team. Roman and Harper were already on board and in the cockpit talking to the pilot, and Chris was on a call with Wyatt a few seats down from where Anthony sat.
Ana walked down the narrow aisle toward A.J. “You need to see a doctor about your head when we’re back,” she scolded. “That’s an order.”
Finn secured a bandage to A.J.’s temple, hiding the gnarly cut he’d gotten when he was thrown from the BMX, and then pivoted his focus to Anthony to check for damage.
They hadn’t had a chance to question the forger yet, in too big of a hurry to get away from the safe house before the fire department showed up. A.J. would feel a lot safer once their plane was in the air.
A.J. followed her down the aisle to a pair of empty seats and ushered her to the one near the window.
“Any news on Porter?” Her voice was soft yet resolute, and he was unsure whether she was feeling angry, sad, or a combination of the two regarding Porter.
“He’s still in surgery. We probably won’t know his status until we land in Hungary.” A.J. reached for her hand and clasped it in his. They’d both changed clothes upon arrival at the private hangar west of Atlanta. Opting for comfort on the long overnight flight to Hungary.
He’d swapped his military camo fatigues for jeans and a long-sleeved, black button-down shirt, and Ana had on jeans and a scoop-neck white silk blouse.
“At least he’s still alive. He was close to telling me something important, but I don’t know if I’d believe anything he had to say at this point.” Her shoulders collapsed, the weight of Porter’s betrayal a heavy burden, and it was the last thing she needed.
“Jessica provided her contact at the FBI the three locations for the missing sources. They should be dispatching teams to find them soon,” he added, hoping to offer her a glimmer of good news on such a dark night.
“Any word on Winters? What about him?” She turned her head his way, the usual sparkle in her green eyes gone, her auburn brows drawn tight.
“Natasha has people in D.C. looking for him. Winters wasn’t at his home or the office. But by now, he must have heard Porter is in surgery, and Ivan is dead. I’m sure he’ll take off. And with any luck, he’ll hightail it to the Maldives. I assume he decided to cut Porter out of the payday.” At least Luke and Knox are there waiting.
“Porter claimed he had nothing to do with the missing sources or hiring Ivan,” Ana said, her voice still soft and subdued. “Do you really think he was trying to protect me?”
“I can understand why you’d want to believe that.” A.J. squeezed her hand. “But maybe we wait and get all the facts before we determine his guilt in all of this. What do you say?”
She lightly nodded, her gaze going to the small window at her side. “I still don’t get Winters’s role in my parents’ death.”
En route to the jet, Jessica had announced she’d recovered the names of the agents in the case file from fifteen years ago. Not only was Winters not on scene that night, he wasn’t even working in D.C. at the time. He was a special agent at the Bureau in New York City. Something didn’t add up. “Winters will have to explain himself once Luke and Knox get their hands on him,” A.J. said with a firm voice, hoping if he spoke his thoughts aloud, his words would translate to reality.
Ana pinned her back to the seat but kept her hand locked with his. “And now we know why the FBI didn’t track the account to the Maldives. Winters probably blocked the agents from finding out. He wanted that payday.”
“Well, POTUS will be alerting Director Mendez about the evidence we have implicating Winters as the person who not only hired The Huntsman but is most likely working with the SVR. Hopefully, once the wheels touch ground in Budapest, you’ll have been removed from the fugitive list.”
“Once we’re wheels up, I need to talk to Anthony,” Ana said as the jet taxied down the runway of the private airstrip outside of Atlanta. “I’m just afraid his answers will prompt more questions, and quite frankly, I’m tired of speculating. Too much trusting the wrong people.” She peered A.J.’s way as the plane climbed into the air. “If it wasn’t for you, I don’t think I would have survived this.”
“I got you. Don’t worry.” He repeated what he’d said to her the night of their first kiss in the pond.
“You do, don’t you?” she whispered, and he had to read her lips when his hearing went to shit once they were in the clouds.
“I do,” he mouthed and leaned in, resting his head against hers as the plane began to level off.
He wasn’t sure how long they were in that position, but when he opened his eyes and pulled back, Roman was standing in the aisle.