Lost Stars (The Jewel Project #3)

19|| Of Snitch Gravel and his Ilk

Herrison squeezed the pen in one hand, his head leaning on his other, as he reread what he'd written down on what was supposed to be an official letter of apology.

Dear Freider and Maxi,

I offer you my most sincere condolences. I couldn't even begin to imagine how you must be feeling right now, but know this: your son, Tom, has always been strong, hard-working, brilliant and talented. So let that warm your heart as you

Grieve his death. How could he write that? He picked up the paper, crumpled it and tossed it in the overflowing bin. He shouldn't be writing this letter anyway. He should go there in person and comfort his friends. Tell them himself what had happened.

He could wait it out, wait for the others to return. Force Sam to tell his parents what had happened. Except it wasn't Sam's fault and Herrison had a feeling Sam didn't want to breach the subject with his parents. If he did, he would've told them by now. The least Herrison could do was take care of this problem.

It was on him, after all. He'd been the one who hadn't checked in with the pilot before takeoff. He'd been sure everything would go smoothly. The man could be trusted. Except he was found dead in the hangar that very afternoon, most likely killed by Snitch Gravel's man, the one who hijacked the plane and sent it crashing to the ground. One call could've prevented everything.

And now Angie was off the grid as well. Not that Herrison blamed her, but his superiors were badgering him to get a hold of her and confirm whether she'd joined the others or not. And meanwhile, new side missions were flying under his nose, to the girls, as if the men in charge had second thoughts about recruiting them in the first place.

Herrison's eyes drifted to the door of his new office. He had been promoted, or so he'd been told. The glass on the door now bore the inscription Herrison James, Grant Team Coordinator with the soaring eagle sigil of the agency right under it. He couldn't believe Grant Team Coordinator had become an official position. The only good part was that Keeves was no longer an intermediary between him and the big guns. But in truth, all of Keeves' projects paled in the face of the Jewel project the Grants were assigned to.

Some coordinating I'm doing. He wasn't even sure where his team was and he didn't even get to verify the latest assignments that were sent out. He didn't know if Kay had accepted her side mission, if she'd told the others even if it was against her orders. If Kyle had found out and would be kicking up a storm. Herrison swallowed heavily at the thought. Kyle was a loose cannon the agency was using without knowing his full potential. No one had done a correct analysis of his abilities or his mental state. He seemed okay. He could explode and turn on them any second.

His superiors didn't care. All they wanted was the stones and to see Snitch Gravel taken down, and Kyle was the perfect weapon to do that. All the Grants were. The Agency counted on Snitch Gravel's hate for Freider to lead him to a wrong move when trying to kill his children. A loss of focus, an explosion of rage, anything that would give them the chance to catch him and snuff him out.

Only Snitch Gravel wouldn't fall so easily. So far, he'd been very careful, and his plans had verged on the preposterous. What was he playing at? Why was he stalling in killing the kids? Because Herrison remembered Snitch Gravel before he deserted and disappeared, before he became the underground king he was now. And if there was one thing Herrison was convinced of, it was that Snitch Gravel was anything but stupid. So he had to be planning something.

Or maybe his hatred for Freider had simply driven him mad and he no longer made any sense.

Herrison's phone lit up, drawing him out of his miserable thoughts. A secure connection was being established, after which photographs started loading, together with one lone message: Not cool, Herrison.