“Are you sure? How do you know that?”

“I looked it up.” Aiden had spurred her curiosity when he had explained the ship spoofing, and one night she had done some digging. “You can find everything on Google.”

But the detective had already hung up.

Chapter 59

Chapter 59

4:58 a.m.

“Remember, don’t do anything except speak to him.” The SIRT commander’s gaze drilled into Harry’s. “We need information.”

Harry nodded. “I understand.”

The sun had risen over the Halifax International Airport. Taxis sat at the curb, while cars pulled in haphazardly to deposit luggage and travellers at the large revolving doors.

En route to the airport, Harry had received a text from Aiden Boyne: men’s room. 2nd stall. There had been a debate of strategy by the police, as to whether to lock down the airport or to attempt a sting.

Since they suspected Aiden Boyne was not armed, they opted for a sting. They needed information. Desperately. And they needed leverage to get him to cooperate.

“I’m going in now.” Harry opened the door of the unmarked SUV, and hopped out. He knew the airport like the back of his hand, he’d travelled through it thousands of times. He walked inside, the bulletproof vest under his windbreaker providing an entirely different weight on his chest, a wire taped on the other side of his heart.

He strode past the check-in kiosks, the seafood counter that packed fresh Nova Scotia lobsters for travel, the gift shop where he often purchased mints and the paper.

These people. All with loved ones.

God. A young child, holding his mother’s hand, clutching his blankey and wearing bright yellow boots.

What if the attack was the airport?

Don’t think about it, Harry. Just go do your job.

What if Aiden refused to talk?

Just do your job.

He glanced at his watch—4:59—and strode into the men’s room.

A man at the urinal zipped up his fly. And then he hurried out to the terminal.

There was no one left in the washroom.

Except for Harry.

And the man in the black running shoes who stood in the second stall from the end.

* * *

The paramedics had taken over Matt’s care. Riley, her tanned arms spattered with blood, sprinted toward Cooper, a question in her eyes.

“We need a GPS jammer.” He dialed the staff sergeant. “I’m going to see if the station has one. And the Coast Guard.”

Riley tapped him on the arm. “Tell Pearson to check the evidence locker.”

Cooper relayed the information. Pearson kept his cool, but they both knew that the odds were stacked against them. GPS jammers were not standard equipment. And the clock was ticking.

“The Harbor Master has cancelled all arrivals and departures from the harbor as of 0500.”

Thank God for that.

Cooper closed his eyes for a second and breathed.

“Cooper. Look at this.” Riley stood at the window.