Missing Lynx Read Online Free PDF

forehead on the table. “My brain’s fried.”
    “Criminally reckless?” Jack stood behind Striker, reading the board.
    “Sort of? Here’s my theory why I think this is the right route — the Defense Department let Omondas go on Friday morning for ‘failure to follow protocol.’ I’d guess it’s code for ‘he was sniffing around where he didn’t belong’ and someone in his division clued in to his odd behavior. Omondas worked cyber security. I agree with you this was probably Schumann’s Plan B and seemed like the safer path. Omondas seems easily manipulated, so easier to hold in check, and I wouldn’t doubt that Schumann had plans for retrieving those diamonds once the deal was done. Schumann’s not stupid. He wouldn’t go after the diamonds himself, so if you’ve got a tail on Schumann, that won’t get you what you need.”
    “Agreed.” Striker poured a cup of coffee from my machine. He held the mug out to me, and I shook my head. Striker drank it black - yuck.
    “You said Omondas and Slaybourgh have a past?”
    I rubbed at my eyes. “They went to MIT together. They were in the same class, same fraternity, and lived at the same address for two years after school. They had a few brushes with the law together during their college days: drunk and disorderly, public nudity, mostly young guys-gone-wild on campus sort of stuff.”
    “That’s everything on their record? Some college pranks?”
    “Nope. They both got arrested for hacking into the Pentagon computer system. The charges were dropped and Omondas got hired by Defense the same day. They hired Slaybourgh, too, but he quit within the month to open his jewelry shop.”
    “And the other lists?” Striker gestured toward my whiteboard.
    “Defense personnel – so they’d have access—whose names vaguely sound like ‘almonds’.”
    “Got it.” Striker caught Jack’s eye. Jack copied down the information from the white board.
    “I came across the file on Johannesburg.” I turned to face Striker. My hands went to my hips. “You and Jack were down-range that week. Was it you?”
    “Classified.”
    “I read between the lines. A hell of a mission, Striker.”
    Striker didn’t answer. Which confirmed what I was saying. Even though this happened a month ago, fear for them ran through my body, making me shiver. Unprofessional emotions pressed behind my eyes. I was trying to develop a stoic exterior, like the guys on my team – mostly without success. “God, I feel puny standing in your shadows.”
    Jack glanced up. “We’ve each got our talents, Lynx. You’re on our team for this.” He waved the paper at me, turned and left.
    Striker eased me toward the door and called Beetle and Bella to follow.
    “Where am I going?” I asked.
    “To bed. I can either drive you home, or you can bunk in my guest room at the barracks.”
    I checked my watch - five-thirty. “Maybe your place for a couple of hours. I want to get to the hospital by nine and find out if they have any news about Spyder. Maybe they’ll let me check in on him for a minute.”
    “Okay, but I’m driving you. I don’t want you behind the wheel until you’ve had a good night’s sleep. It’s been a long couple of days for you.”
    I nodded. What a gross understatement.
     
    When I walked into Striker’s apartment, calm enveloped me. A panoramic view of Washington DC filled a whole wall of his great room, while a stone fireplace scaled another wall from floor-to-vaulted-ceiling, flanked by book shelves. The other walls were neutral shades and showed off oil paintings that Striker had painted for relaxation —huge modern seascapes in cobalt, indigo, and violet. He chose manly and substantial furnishings made from natural materials: leather, marble, granite, mahogany. It was gorgeous and luxurious, urban, maybe a touch of Zen quietude.
    I slogged into the guest room. My dogs trailed behind me and plopped on the floor by the bed. Here, the walls were painted a rich teal. I