"How about letting them follow you here?" Peyton could almost hear the grim smile in Winkler's voice. "I think we can arrange to give them a traditional, rogue welcome."
"That would be mighty fine, Mr. Winkler," Peyton released a sigh. "I'll give you every bit of information on Zeke Tanner I have. He doesn't tell me everything, but I know enough."
"Just telling me where his compound is will go a long way," Winkler muttered.
"I can do that, but if I know Zeke, he may be making a move. He does that a lot, if he thinks somebody might come to visit."
"Know anything about that nutjob, Wildrif?" Winkler asked.
"Yeah. Scary as hell," Peyton shuddered. "I think Zeke's been in contact with him all along."
"That's what I was afraid of," Winkler replied.
"I was mighty surprised when Zeke sent him to Obediah, but that was probably Wildrif's doing," Peyton said.
"Not surprised about that, either," Winkler agreed. "How long have you worked for Tanner?"
"Since I was twelve, so that makes it twenty-three years. Said he found me when I was a baby, abandoned by my parents. Now, I don't know how well you know Zeke, but I haven't believed that lie for a long time. He had some of his raise me, so most manners I know I learned from books. At least one of 'em taught me to read before Zeke took him down."
"Know anything about your parents?"
"No. I was too little to know anything, I guess."
"Where were you when that mess happened here?"
"Going after a rival dealer outside Chihuahua."
"Ever hear Zeke talk about a contact in D.C.?"
"Yeah, but I never got a name. Look, I can explain what I know when I get there, if that's okay."
"That's fine. I may have a couple of others here with me. They might have questions, too."
"Sounds good. If the Grand Master wants an execution after that, well, I'd appreciate it if he made it quick."
"I'll mention that to him."
"Thanks."
* * *
"Weldon, he's coming tomorrow night and he may have Zeke's trackers on his tail. I had Matt connected to the call—he was in Chicago, so he's flying down. Matt's ears perked right up when Peyton said he had information on that contact in D.C." Winkler toyed with a pen on his desk while he spoke with the Grand Master.
"I can be there in no time—I'm in Dallas, now, waiting on a flight."
"I'll make a call and have my pilots warm up the jet," Winkler said.
"Sounds good. I'll see about getting my bags off the plane."
* * *
"Kid, we'll place compulsion and send these to the nearest hospital. That's all we can do."
Ashe stare at the bloody cuts on two women—both huddled against a wall inside the house. Addison and Kline were dead, their ash scattered across the floor where Gavin and Tony had surprised them and taken them down.
"They meant to kill them. After." Ashe's mouth was set.
"Yeah. Don't think about it. We found them in time."
"Addison and Kline did this before. Those other women didn't live."
"Yeah. We figured that out." Tony kept the sarcasm from his words.
"Do the compulsion thing. I'll get them to the hospital," Ashe muttered, hunching his shoulders.
"Come back immediately, young one," Gavin said gently. Ashe's head jerked up as Tony knelt before the two women.
"You will not recall the events of this night. You were attacked by an animal. Say that to the hospital employees. You did not get a good look at the animal, only that it was dark and you were walking down the street. You will not recall how you arrived at the hospital either. You will tell the hospital employees that a kind driver dropped you off."
The women nodded their compliance. Ashe skipped them to the nearest hospital, located three miles away.
* * *
"The Grand Master and Matthew Michaels will come. William Winkler thinks to take our bait," Wildrif giggled.
Zeke Tanner frowned at Wildrif. Was it his imagination, or did the seer seem crazier than when he'd seen him last? It didn't matter. Zeke had fifteen trackers, all poised to follow Peyton straight to Winkler's beach house. If he were lucky, he could take out the Grand Master and Matt Michaels, too. Curtis would certainly be happy with that news—Matt Michaels was a straight shooter and often got under Curtis Roberts' skin.
"Glad you told me that Peyton was ready to run," Zeke said, causing Wildrif to stop his wild chuckling. "At least he never found out what really happened to his parents."
"It won't matter what happened to anyone. Not anymore." Wildrif's wild chuckling began again as he brushed past the stuffed white buffalo in Zeke's study. Zeke's eyebrows lifted in alarm.
* * *
"I need a word with the President." Curtis settled into a comfortable, plush chair inside Congressman Arthur Vaine's office.
"Are you sure?" Arthur Vaine, Head of the Special Committee on National Security, steepled his fingers and studied Curtis Roberts. "Keeping you out of the President's line of sight has worked pretty well, so far." Arthur looked the part of senior statesman; he was tall and handsome, with carefully styled thick, dark hair sprinkled with gray at the temples.
"But I never got information like this, before." Curtis tossed a folder onto Arthur's desk. "I have it on good authority that the President and that wanna-be Matt Michaels knew all about this, and the intel wasn't shared."
"What is this?" Arthur opened the folder. The first image was that of a boy—perhaps fifteen or sixteen, standing with Matt Michaels and two other men he didn't recognize, behind a barrier of crime scene tape. Six special agents were nearby, seemingly waiting for Matt Michaels' orders. The British Embassy was in the background—Arthur recognized that, easily enough.
"Well, Arthur, tell me why a boy needed to be at the scene—this photograph was taken with a high-power Telephoto lens from a long way off on the day the British Embassy was overtaken by terrorists. You see the time and date stamp there at the bottom?" Curtis, whose sharp blue eyes studied Arthur's reaction, smoothed back thinning brown hair as he waited for Arthur's response.
"There's no reason for a boy to be there," Arthur lifted the photograph for a better look. "The media and everybody else was held back from that location by security. How did he slip past the police?"
"What if I told you that Matt Michaels brought the boy in? That's William Winkler, of Winkler Security, there with them. You know how many government contracts we have with him. What if I told you that the boy is one of Winkler's employees? I have tax records to prove it. What if I told you that Winkler is paying the boy a hundred grand a year, for undisclosed services?"