Blood and Bone: (Royal Blood #6) Read Online Free PDF Page B

There was no word from her or whoever abducted her—”
    “Wait,” I interrupted. “It wasn’t the cartel?”
    Folsom nodded. “When we later apprehended Tatau, he denied to his last breath that they were responsible for Vesper’s disappearance.”
    “That’s why Moltke went dark,” Mercy stated. “To find her.”
    “When we brought him back in, during debriefing he stated he never found her or the people who were responsible.”
    “You think he used Section Seven to track down these people?” I asked. “Then why blow it up?”
    Folsom shrugged. “There has been no contact or list of demands, so who the hell knows. Right now, we don’t know his motives at all. We need to track him down and bring him in so we can determine what it is he wants.”
    Something wasn’t adding up. What Moltke had done to Lorelei and then the bombing wasn’t making sense. There was a massive chunk of the puzzle still missing.
    “Are there any leads?” I asked. “I assume that’s why we’re here.”
    Folsom nodded. “From your mission reports, I see you’re a man who can get things done. And you and Reid are the only surviving agents from your division.”
    The realization Mei and all the other souls were gone hit me again, and I averted my gaze to the screens behind Folsom. “What’s the lead?”
    A new image appeared, replacing the one of Vesper Cunningham. The surveillance photograph was slightly pixelated, but it was more than enough to make out the features of the man who was its subject. He had a shaved head and a craggy complexion, but he didn’t look a day over thirty-five. He had a mobile phone against his ear, talking to some unknown business partner. Typical bad guy asshole. I’d dealt with a lot of them during my time under Royal Blood’s thumb.
    “His name is Ulrich Gruber,” Folsom explained. “He’s a bomb maker specializing in biological and chemical explosives and is known as a man who can get things done. His bombs are aimed at maximum fatalities, not at all instantaneous. He deals in human suffering. He’s moved up the food chain in recent months, his work more in demand than ever with the rise of terrorism in the last decade.”
    “What does Gruber have to do with Moltke?” Mercy asked.
    Folsom sent a new set of documents to the screens. “He hasn’t been as thorough in scrubbing his tracks as he probably thinks he has. We’ve picked up a paper trail that’s disturbing to say the least.”
    Bank transactions appeared on the screen. Rows and rows of times, dates, and numbers that showed significant amounts of money changing hands between the two men.
    “Moltke is planning a bigger attack,” I said, picking up the threads of evidence and twisting them together. “Section Seven was only the beginning.”
    “He was using Section Seven to dig for information and forge alliances, that much was clear,” Folsom said, not denying my assumption. “Whatever he is planning, it runs deep, and Ulrich is a large piece of the puzzle. He may know of Moltke’s whereabouts and what it is he’s planning.”
    Mercy glanced at me, her expression troubled, and I nodded.
    “We’re the only ones who know about this, aren’t we?” she asked.
    Folsom nodded. “Earlier, when I said ‘we,’ I meant me…and you. There’s no way of knowing who Moltke got to or who we can trust with this operation. You need to understand with this, you’re on your own. There’s only so much support I can offer without tipping off any conspirators.”
    I nodded. We’d done it before, and I’d done it my entire life…at least the life I could remember with clarity.
    “We were meant to die in that blast,” I said after a moment. “He planned on it. No loose ends. No evidence.”
    Mercy’s hand wrapped around my forearm and squeezed. “ Jackson .”
    Glancing at Folsom, I asked, “Where’s Jackson?”
    “He should still be in the building undergoing debriefing,” he replied. “Let me check.” He picked up the