Ty shook his head. “Won’t happen.”
They looked to where Julian and Cameron had been, only to find them both gone.
Ty and Zane shared a glance and shrugged. Their prisoners had finally escaped. Zane held the cuffs out to Ty with a smile. “Ready to go f**k with the Agency?”
A cold ball of determination settled in the pit of Ty’s stomach. He took the handcuffs and grinned wolfishly. “They messed with the wrong Feebs this time.”
Chapter 17
THEY didn’t even make it past the gate guard at Langley.
“You’re not expected,” the man said as he examined Ty’s FBI credentials.
Ty pointed to the camera over the man’s shoulder. “Give the face recognition software some time. We’ll wait.” He pointed at his face and smiled as he looked into the camera; then he reached over and took Zane’s head, yanking him sideways so the camera could see him as well.
Two minutes later, the guardhouse was surrounded.
They were escorted through the lobby, past the wall with no names, to an innocuous conference room where three men sat waiting for them.
They stood when Ty, Zane, and Preston were shoved into the room.
“Gentlemen.”
“You’re the big kahuna?” Ty asked as he kept a tight grip on Zane’s elbow. They had handcuffed Zane behind his back and frog-marched him into Langley like a criminal. Ty had enjoyed it a little too much.
“What is the purpose of this?” the man asked. His face was thin and sallow, and he had snow-white hair that seemed to stand on end. His suit probably cost more than Ty’s whole wardrobe, and Ty didn’t buy cheap. He was flanked by two younger men, Agent X and Agent Y, the former looking tired and amused, wearing a canvas jacket and jeans, the latter wearing thick-rimmed hipster glasses and a tie that was way too thin to be company issue.
“We heard you were looking for Julian Cross,” Preston said, voice devoid of an accent.
“This is not Julian Cross,” Agent X said in a low voice.
“We figured the beard was enough of a threat to national security to bring him in,” Ty said as he waved a hand at Zane’s face.
Zane turned his head and glared at him.
“Release this man, please,” the Big Kahuna said, and Agent Y stood to walk over to them. He unlocked Zane’s hands and stepped back, looking at all three of them with narrowed eyes.
“This is Zane Garrett,” the agent said as he turned to look at his superior.
“What?” Ty said as he turned to look at Zane. Zane was trying not to grin as Ty dragged his gaze up and down him. “Wow, he does kind of look like him.” He poked Zane’s stomach. “Say something Irish.”
“Irish I was at home,” Zane said, managing not to smile.
The Big Kahuna stood and smoothed his hand down his tie. “Mr. Cross, we’re pleased you came in. Randall Jonas has been a thorn in our side for a long while.” He was looking at Preston.
“I can’t say I’m pleased to be here,” Preston murmured.
Agent Y looked from Ty to Zane to Preston. “Sir, this is not Julian Cross.”
“Yes, he is,” Agent X said with a smile.
“What of Randall Jonas?” Preston asked.
“He was shot while trying to escape.”
“Shot?” Ty said in surprise.
“The investigation has already concluded.”
Ty blinked at him, not able to really process that information.
The Big Kahuna smiled and waved a hand at Agent X. “Take these men into custody. Let them see what it is to be on the wrong side of the Company.”
TY SAT in a white-and-chrome padded room, his legs shackled to a table, his hands chained together to a ring on the tabletop. The jumpsuit he wore had no markings, buttons, or zippers. Not even a tag. He was wearing shoes with no socks, and nothing under the jumpsuit. They’d taken everything from him, even the compass rose pendant Zane had given him.
He stared at his reflection in the mirror, knowing there was someone on the other side. He drummed his fingers on the table, trying to make the rhythm slow and measured to dispel the nerves that zinged through him. He’d been held all night in this observation room, given only water in a Styrofoam cup. When he’d told his guard that the CIA was killing the planet with Styrofoam, the man had left with his cup and never come back.
The door to his room opened with the loud clank of heavy metal, and Ty watched as two men in suits sauntered in and sat opposite him at the table.
“Special Agent Beaumont Tyler Grady, correct? Also known as Tyler Beaumont and… Sam Hill?”
Ty stared at the man, raising one eyebrow. “We meet again,” he said, allowing himself a small smirk.
The agent looked up at him, and his partner glanced at him before looking back at Ty.
“We apologize for the necessity of the strip search. But it seems you have a reputation for… producing keys.”
Ty shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, that’s not even the first one I’ve had this week,” he said, voice wry. He looked at Agent X and grinned widely. “It was the most fun, though, huh?”
Agent Y blinked rapidly, as if trying to hide his reaction.
Ty grinned and pointed two fingers at Agent X. “This guy, man. He likes it rough,” he said with a chuckle. He topped it with a suggestive wink at Agent X, pointing his thumb and pinky at himself and mouthing “call me.”
“That’s enough,” Agent Y murmured. Ty enjoyed that the man was uncomfortable, probably more than he should have. “Your task was to retrieve and deliver a CIA asset by the name of Julian Cross, correct?”
“No, no, you’ve got this all wrong. I was sent to get milk. I got 2 percent instead of skim and everything went ballistic. I mean you’d think I brought home soy milk or something!”
“Special Agent Grady, you can drop the act now or you can do it next week.”
“Next week’s no good for me. Do you have a calendar?”
The two CIA agents sat stolid, staring at him.
“Wow. Tough crowd.” Ty hummed and looked down at his hands, beginning the tune to the “Battle Hymn of the Republic.”
“Special Agent Grady, the sooner you answer our questions, the sooner you go home.”
Ty stopped humming only to let it turn into a whistle.
The two agents waited for a few more moments, then stood and exited, closing the door behind them with an echo of finality.
Ty couldn’t help the shiver that ran up his spine, but he looked up at the mirror with a grin, the hum turned into muttered words, and soon he was singing. He mangled the lyrics to the chorus, though, replacing the word “hallelujah” with “paranoia” and making up his own words to the rest of the song.