Page 98 of The Lazarus Protocol

“When you say it like that…”

It actually seemed kind of farfetched, but considering the possibility that Marina’s cousin had been killed because her vehicle was hacked, Noah was inclined to believe it was possible.

Given his parents were both alive, and involved in this, part of him figured things would only get more outlandish before it was over. Right now, the team was fractured. Kai was missing. Ice hadn’t checked in since the last call. Adam was livid and wanted to go get Steph back, like that was the most important thing right now.

Give him an M4 and a door to kick open, and things would certainly be a whole lot simpler. But with his injury that wasn’t in the cards for him.

The doors slid open in front of them. Three suited men who looked official sat to the right in waiting area chairs. Two security guards were behind the desk, one a woman. Above the first floor the hallway was visible so that anyone going about their business on the second floor could look through the glass and see down into the lobby.

Noah approached the desk. “We’re here for a meeting with Mr. Bradleigh.”

The female security guard lifted her penciled-on brows. “Is zhat correct?” she asked with French-accented English, which always managed to sound snooty even if the person wasn’t.

He turned to Marina. “Log that staff here were inclined to be belligerent.”

“Yes, sir.” She managed to sound snootier than the guard.

The guard rolled her eyes. “One moment.” She picked up the phone and spoke in rapid-fire French, having a back-and-forth conversation. Her gaze flicked to them for a second, and she spoke again into the phone. Finally, she hung up. “IDs.” She held out her hand, motioning with her fingers.

“I’m sure you already know who we are.”

“IDs.”

Noah dug for his wallet, sliding out his actual driver’s license for once. The ID Marina handed over had the name Anne Barnes on it. The guard took their IDs to a printer and lifted the top, laying them on the glass. He turned his back to the desk and surveyed the lobby like he had every right to be here.

Security cameras in the corners, probably also in hidden places he couldn’t see. The guards had nine-mil pistols on their hips. Over by those waiting area chairs, one of the suited men went to a water cooler and got himself a drink in a laughably small paper cone.

A second before the guy tossed the cone in a trash can, Noah caught a decent glimpse of his face.

Richard Leesbury.

Former British Special Forces, a person of interest to the CIA.

If Noah contacted Emanuela Peraya and informed her he had eyes on the guy, would that endear the CIA to them? His team could use all the goodwill they could get right now. Especially when Noah was about to ask them for everything they had on Colonel Alan Montrose so he could look the guy up, pay him a visit, and put a bullet in his head.

Noah pulled out his phone and messaged her that Leesbury was here before tucking his phone away again.

“Someone you know?”

Noah slid his gaze to Marina’s and nodded slightly.

“Wear it at all times.”

He turned to the security guard and took the badge. “Thanks.”

“Go that way.” She pointed a manicured finger with red polish at the door to their right. “And stay with your escort at all times.”

Funny, the CIA had told him the same thing. “Even the bathroom?”

She didn’t think that was amusing, going so far as to sit back down in her chair and turn away from them to converse with her colleague in more fast French. Actually, maybe it was normal speed for a French person. It just sounded fast to him.

The door on the side of the lobby opened, and a guy in a black suit stood there holding it open for them. Noah glanced at Leesbury, but the guy didn’t seem to be paying attention to anything but getting more water. He’d probably recognize Noah if he looked over here.

Marina went first, holding her messenger bag with one hand, even with the strap over her shoulder.

The man stepped back, admitting them through the door. When it closed behind them, he said, “I’m Jean-Claude Petrice, head of security.”

He had a squat head that looked like someone had sat on it, giving him creases on his forehead and a flat-top skull. The guy couldn’t be more than five nine, so Noah towered over him.