He hadn’t forgotten that. Not by a long shot. But Zack knew what exhaustion and hunger could do to a person. It could wear them down, weaken them, not only physically but psychologically, too. “We’ll grab a couple of hours of sleep, some food, then we’ll see if we can come up with a plan.”
If he only had an idea of what that might be.
THE MAN IN THE SUIT COULDN’T believe the situation had deteriorated so severely and so rapidly. There were too many people involved, and all of them were asking questions. Questions he didn’t have a clue how to answer.
A knock sounded at his door. About time, he thought. “It’s open,” he snapped from behind his desk.
The man who entered the office walked with a limp and carried a thin portfolio. Without speaking, he took the chair opposite the desk and set the portfolio on the glossy surface.
“Devlin’s file?” The man opened the portfolio. His mouth stretched into a smile as he began to read. “Excellent,” he said, aware that his heart was beating quickly. But it was from excitement this time, not fear or dread or all the things he’d been feeling since Devlin and Emily Monroe had fled Bitterroot some thirty-six hours earlier.
When he’d finished reading, he put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. “Devlin has quite an interesting history, doesn’t he?”
“He definitely has a weak link.”
He reached for the phone on his desk and punched in a two-digit speed dial. “I want you to put together a file on Emily Monroe. I want to know everything there is to know about her. I want this information yesterday. Do you understand?” He smiled at the voice on the other end. “Excellent.”
A knock at the door drew both men’s attention. “Come in,” the man behind the desk said.
Marcus Underwood walked in. “You wanted to see me?”
“Sit down.”
Underwood took a seat in the second visitor’s chair and tried not to act nervous. But his forehead was slick with sweat.
“Have you contained the problem yet?” the man behind the desk asked.
Underwood shifted in the chair. “Not yet.”
Turning slightly, the man swiveled in his chair and looked out at the predawn darkness. Devlin and the Monroe woman were still out there somewhere. Roaming free and carrying secrets that would destroy everything he’d worked for if those secrets were leaked to the wrong person. God in heaven, how could this have happened?
He turned his attention back to Underwood. “I want every man and woman we’ve got working on this Devlin thing. Do you understand?”
“We’ve got over thirty men working a twenty-mile perimeter.”
“Then why the hell haven’t you found them!” he exploded.
The prison administrator licked his lips, looked nervously from the man sitting next to him to the man behind the desk. “Devlin has proven himself quite resourceful.”
“You have every resource at your fingertips,” the man behind the desk said in a low, dangerous voice. “Use them. Find that son of a bitch and his accomplice.”
“I’ll do my best.”
He thought about it some more, felt another squeeze of panic. “If we don’t find them by noon today, we’re going to have to bring in law enforcement.”
The man in the wingback chair spoke for the first time since Underwood entered the room. “If Devlin or Monroe talk to the wrong cop, it could present an even more complicated problem. Devlin can be quite convincing.”
“We’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen, won’t we?”
“How do you propose to do that?”
“Let me spell it out for both of you.” The man behind the desk looked at Underwood. “Put out a press release to the local media. Do what you have to do to discredit Emily Monroe. Leak the photo of her and Devlin kissing in the locker room. Doctor it if you have to, but make it persuasive and compelling. Make sure Lockdown, Inc. sounds reliable and trustworthy. But make damn sure she is portrayed as his accomplice. Make sure you mention her father.”
“Consider it done.”
The man in the wingback chair smiled. “Damn, you’re cold-blooded.”
The man behind the desk leaned back in his executive chair and studied the two men before him. “Once word is out that there has been a jailbreak, that an Irish terrorist had inside help, that he is armed and dangerous, killing them shouldn’t be a problem.”
“What if local law enforcement nabs them first?”
“You had better make sure that doesn’t happen. I want them dead before they do any damage to the RZ-902 program. Make sure Devlin gets the blame for killing the woman. We don’t need any more complications.”
“I understand.”
“Make sure you do.” He glanced at the file he’d just read. “If all else fails and you can’t get to Devlin, get the woman and bring her to me. Devlin will follow.” He raised his gaze to the other man’s. “Are we clear?”
“Crystal.” The man in the wingback chair smiled.
“Yes, sir,” Underwood said and fled the room.
Chapter Ten