lips.
It wasn't enough that McClain was one of the right hands to the most powerful man on the planet. He wanted recognition. He wanted to be a hero. And despite his finances, he wanted...no, needed, more money.
The president should have listened about the SEALs. He could send those guys in to do anything, and they would take care of it before the deadline. The missing scientist would be saved, and McClain would be the guy responsible for heading the rescue mission. Well, maybe not heading, but at least ordering it.
His phone rattled on a nearby end table as it vibrated. He stepped over and picked it up. Recognizing the number, he answered shortly, "What?"
"Still waiting on your orders, sir."
"So? Keep waiting. I'll let you know when it's time to move. We don't even know where to move to, yet."
"I understand that, sir. But usually in these situations, it's best not to sit around and wait. You know that."
"I do." He paused and momentarily changed the subject. "Were you able to find any information yet?"
"Not yet, sir. We have a few men on it, but so far they're coming up empty. I'm not sure there's anything out there that will help."
"It's out there," McClain reassured the caller. "You just have to know where to look. You already tried Ott's lab?"
"Yeah, but it was hard to get in there. They've tightened security considerably."
"Getting past tight security is one of the reasons you're a part of this unit. We need to know what she's got. There has to be something that can point us in the right direction."
"I'll take care of it, sir."
"That's more like it. Call me when you have an update on the situation."
"Yes, sir. One more thing you should know about. There's an asset in play."
It wasn't exactly news. The president had so much as already told McClain that there would be an Axis agent on the scene. Still, the wild card presented an opportunity.
"Follow him, and see where he goes, what he's up to. If he finds something helpful, let me know."
"Will do."
McClain ended the call. "What are you up to?" he said to himself in a gruff tone. Knowing Sean Wyatt’s history, he knew the man could get in the way of his plan. But there was no turning back now. Things were in motion, and they couldn't be stopped just because some cowboy was getting in the way.
Hopefully, by the end of the day, he would have some answers — answers that could lead to taking some action.
8
Lucerne, Switzerland
Sean kept a few hundred feet between himself and the guy in the red shirt. The man had been walking for over ten minutes, winding his way through the streets of the city. The longer he followed him, the more Sean started to think that either the guy was an ordinary criminal, or he was trying to lead Sean astray. The latter became increasingly the more likely.
He checked his six more frequently as the minutes rolled by, making sure no one was on his tail. A few times he thought he recognized the same guy behind him, but when he would look again, the person was gone, never to reappear.
Red shirt took a sharp right and cut down an alleyway between two buildings. If Sean followed, he would definitely be spotted. He had to risk guessing where his mark was headed.
Up ahead, the street ended in a sharp left turn. Straight ahead was the river. To the right was a pedestrian street with cafes and restaurants along the waterfront. He was back to an area he recognized. Red shirt's direction would take him out in the middle of the waterfront area. Sean sped up to a jog, weaving around the citizens and tourists as he increased his pace. He needed to get to the other side of the row of buildings before his quarry disappeared.
It was another thirty seconds before Sean reached the intersection and the entrance to the pedestrian street. When he got there, though, he let out a deep sigh. Hundreds of people milled about the area. A few Asian visitors were getting their picture taken near the entrance to the wooden footbridge. A hodgepodge of