by John Sneeden
RETRIBUTION
A DRENNA STEEL THRILLER
John Sneeden
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
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CHAPTER ONE
Harpers Ferry, West Virginia
The man dropped onto his stomach and slithered onto the granite ledge, careful to stay beneath the overhanging limb of a thick fir tree. Even though he was several hundred yards from the cabin, he didn’t want to expose himself too much. His target was the kind of person who was always aware of her surroundings, even while on vacation.
Once in position, he took out a monocular and placed it against his eye. He aimed it down the slope and turned the focus wheel. The valley was a blanket of emerald broken only by a few clearings. Even from his spot on the mountain, the man could see the wildflowers sprinkled across the fields. Spring had arrived in the Appalachian Mountains.
The man hated America with a passion, but he had to admire its great natural beauty.
He moved the monocular to the left and found the narrow dirt road that snaked through the forest. At its end, a roof peeked out through the trees.
The cabin.
He turned the focus wheel again, sharpening the image. The property looked just like the satellite image he had reviewed earlier that morning. The cabin was small, no more than twelve hundred square feet. He guessed there were three or four rooms maximum: a living room, full bathroom, and a bedroom.
As he surveyed the rest of the property, he saw the top of a white pickup truck parked in front.
Chill bumps spread across his arm.
They were there. More importantly, she was there.
The man had heard whispers about the woman’s existence for years. She was the most sought-after spy in the world, a cold-blooded killer wanted by governments, terrorist organizations, and criminal enterprises around the globe. She was said to have eliminated at least two dozen high-value targets in the last five years alone. But it wasn’t just the number of kills that gave the woman such a frightening reputation—it was her ability to find and take out people who thought they were well protected. No one was beyond her reach, it seemed.
Over the years, many were convinced that the female assassin worked for the CIA, since her kills and information theft always seemed to benefit the United States or her allies. But others held different opinions. Some, for example, believed she worked for Mossad. In a way, that made sense because Israel’s geopolitical goals often aligned with those of the US. Others claimed she was an independent contractor, an assassin who took work from any government or organization as long as the price was right.
There were even a few intelligence analysts who believed she didn’t exist at all. According to them, the killings were unrelated, and tales of a shadowy female assassin were unsubstantiated myth.
But the woman did exist, and her identity was no longer a mystery to the man watching the cabin. She was a real person, she worked for the CIA, and she was about to die.
When the man and his squad had been asked to take her out, they had been given a blurry photograph of the woman’s face and the details of where she would be for the next several days. They had a short window of time in which to complete the work. They would fly into the US, kill her, then slip out again.
The man had come to the mountain alone to determine how they would carry it all out. He leaned toward making her death look like an accident. They could, of course, take the safe route and shoot her from a distance with a rifle. But that had its own set of problems. If the US intelligence community knew it was an assassination, they would go after the killers with all the resources of the US government. The woman was the CIA’s most prized human asset, and they would stop at nothing to track down and punish whoever was behind her death.
Still, trying to make the whole thing look like an accident had its own set of challenges. Unlike the movies, a staged event was extremely difficult to pull off. So many pieces had to fit together perfectly to be believable. One mistake and the entire operation would be exposed. Worse yet, the target might even escape alive.
Escape alive.
Those two words triggered unpleasant thoughts. Failure wasn’t an option. If the assassination attempt wasn’t successful, they might as well start typing up their own obituaries. The woman would come after them. And once she found them, she would probably kill them in a way that involved unthinkable pain.
Turning his thoughts to the present, the man studied the property a second time. He thought about what might happen if they stormed the property in the dead of night. There was certainly enough cover around the house for them to make a stealthy approach, but the woman would be heavily armed. And like most spies, she was probably a light sleeper. If they went in, they would have to use overwhelming force, and even that might not be enough.
As the man put the monocular away, he thought about the road he had come in on, and another plan surfaced in his thoughts. The plan would require perfect execution, but if they could pull it off successfully, the authorities would believe the woman had suffered a tragic but accidental death. It would also allow the man and his team of assassins to live the rest of their lives without looking over their shoulders.
That’s how it will happen, he thought. That’s the way she’ll die.
CHAPTER TWO
Drenna Steel stepped onto the back porch of the cabin and let the screen door close behind her. She crossed the porch and wrapped her left arm around the support beam. Surrounded by fresh air, she closed her eyes and waited. She was a visual person but was determined to enjoy the bouquet of scents before anything else.
Soon, her nostrils were filled with the fragrance of honeysuckle. After that, the faint scents of fir trees and freshly cut grass pushed their way in.
Heaven.
The honeysuckle brought back childhood memories of playing along the creek behind her hous
e. She remembered pulling off the flowers and placing the drop of sweet nectar on the tip of her tongue. Those were simpler times, wonderful times. And while she could never go back, she would at least try to recreate some of that innocent joy over the next several days.
As she waited to see what else she could smell, Drenna felt a hand come down on her shoulder. Then a body pressed against her.
She was startled but remained in place.
Lips pressed against her long dark hair.
Trevor.
She had been caught up in the moment and hadn’t heard him come out.
Keeping her eyes closed, she leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his chest against her back. She smiled. If only they could remain like this forever.
“I thought you might want this,” he said, breaking the silence.
Feeling movement, Drenna opened her eyes to find a glass of red wine in front of her. As she took it from his hand, he pressed more firmly against her, his arms encircling her waist from behind.
She reached back and ran her fingers through his hair. “You’re not allowed to move for the next ten minutes.”
“Unfortunately, I’m not sure my stomach will agree to that.”
Smiling, she dug an elbow into his abdomen. “It’s always about the food. Always.”
“I’m a man, aren’t I?”
“Yes.” She turned around to face him. “And just my kind of man.”
Their heads moved slowly together. When their lips touched, they both stopped, allowing warm breath to pass between them. As the anticipation heightened, Trevor placed a hand under her chin and pulled her into him. They kissed lightly for a time, enjoying the delicate intimacy as a mountain breeze swept across the porch.
A minute later, Trevor’s stomach intruded with an extended growl.
Drenna laughed and pushed him away playfully. “Go. It’s obvious your stomach has won your affections.”
“Since you don’t seem to be hungry, I’ll just put on one steak for now.”
“Do that and you may not touch me again all week.”
“Things are getting awfully Victorian around here. You’ve already insisted I sleep in a separate room.”
“I saw a shack at the edge of the property. Push your luck and it may get worse.”
Trevor smiled. “Two rib eyes it is.”
“Medium rare, please.”
Trevor raised a brow. “You’re a medium girl.”
“I guess this mountain air has brought out the carnivore in me.”
Trevor walked over to the grill, lifted the hood, and placed his palm over the cooking grate. “I think she’s ready.”
Drenna took a sip of wine as she watched him adjust the controls. Trevor Lambert was a classically handsome man, with short dark hair and an athletic build that came from hours spent hiking and kayaking.
But it wasn’t his looks that had caused Drenna to end her long absence from the world of dating. After all, she had crossed paths with hundreds of attractive men over the years. Despite their good looks, most of those men were arrogant, prideful, and domineering. Trevor was the antithesis of that. He was stable, fun, and genuine. He was also humble, although his wasn’t a weak humility. He was strong when he needed to be.
In short, he was everything she wanted in a partner. Not only had he drawn her out of isolation, but he was the reason she had decided to retire from the CIA.
“How is the wine?” Trevor asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“Lovely,” she said. “Is this the Malbec?”
“It is. Jessica suggested it.”
Jessica. Trevor’s sister. The very mention of her name caused Drenna’s stomach to tighten. Although they had been together only twice, Drenna got the distinct impression Jessica didn’t like her brother’s new girlfriend.
“Please tell her I approve.”
“I will. She’ll be glad to hear that.”
Drenna grunted.
Trevor looked at her as he closed the grill’s lid. “What?”
“Maybe it might be better not to mention me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I don’t think she’s a big fan.”
“Don’t be silly. Jess likes you.”
“It’s part of my job to read people, but it doesn’t take professional training to see—”
“Drenna.” He came over and put a hand on her shoulder. “Trust me on this. I’m her brother. I know her better than anyone.”
She held his gaze. “I’m not upset. I know I don’t always make a great first impression, but I’m determined to win her over.”
“That’s just it. You don’t have to win her over. Just be yourself, and she’ll eventually warm up.”
Drenna smiled. “So you admit she doesn’t like me.”
“No, I didn’t say that.” He paused as if searching for the right words. “Jessica’s just protective of me after all that happened with Maggie. She’d be a little distant no matter who it was.”
Maggie was Trevor’s ex-wife. The two had been married for five years before Maggie finally realized she wanted the social life she’d never had growing up. She also had a penchant for bad boys, something Trevor certainly was not.
According to him, things had begun to deteriorate in the fourth year of their marriage. Despite being in her late thirties, Maggie began to spend more and more time out on the town with friends. There had also been rumors of affairs with a couple of different men, including one who had spent time in prison.
It all ended when Trevor came home to an empty house. Maggie’s belongings were gone, and a note had been conspicuously placed on the kitchen table. In it, Maggie said she was doing what they both wanted—breaking off a relationship between two people who couldn’t be more different. She went on to say that even though it might be painful in the short term, she truly believed he would thank her one day.
Two days after she left, Trevor heard from her attorney.
Knowing the story, Drenna couldn’t blame Trevor’s sister for being wary of any woman her brother became involved with. She probably thought they were all going to be the next Maggie. And truth be told, Drenna knew she could intimidate others. She had a sharp intellect, a tough demeanor, and a gift for analyzing people when she first met them. That scrutiny was a natural outgrowth of her job in intelligence.
But if she truly wanted to adapt to the real world, Drenna knew she needed to let her guard down. She needed to trust people until and unless they gave her reason not to. She had probably come across as cold when she first met Jessica, and the next time they were together, she resolved to turn that around.
“As I said, just give her some more time,” Trevor said when she didn’t answer.
She smiled at him. “I will.”
“I’ll schedule something for the three of us to do when we get back.” He removed his hand from her shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go grab our meat.”
Once he stepped away, Drenna took another sip of wine and thought about how much her life had changed recently. Just three days before, she had requested a meeting with Nathan Sprague, the man she reported to at the CIA. During that meeting, she had turned in her letter of resignation. Sprague had tried to talk her out of it, but she refused to budge. Her time was over, and she wasn’t going to change her mind.
Drenna had worked as an operations officer for most of her thirteen years at the agency, and the job had taken her around the world. At last count, she had conducted missions in over thirty countries and used dozens of false identities. As the agency’s most elite operative, Drenna was always given the blackest of the black projects. She had seen and heard things that would never be revealed on the news.
The bulk of her work involved gathering information vital to the strategic interests of the United States. But there was also a darker side to her job, and that was her role as an assassin. No one outside the agency knew that Drenna was a cold-blooded killer. Not her sister Elena. Not even Trevor. And that created a dilemma. Sho
uld she tell him, or should it remain a secret until the day she died?
However difficult that decision might be, Drenna was certain about one thing: She would have to leave her past behind. If she couldn’t do that, she would never be able to have anything close to a normal life. She didn’t like shrinks, but she might have to see one if she couldn’t rid herself of the dark memories that haunted her. Seeing that much death changed people forever.
Pushing aside thoughts of her work, Drenna stepped to the edge of the porch. The view behind the cabin was stunning. Emerald mountains rose up on every side, their forested slopes broken only by the occasional outcrop of granite.
Directly overhead, a hawk screamed as it soared on a current of wind. Even from a distance, Drenna could see the raptor turn its head back and forth, looking for prey in the open fields that dotted the valley. West Virginia marketed itself as being wild and wonderful. Drenna couldn’t think of a better way to describe it.
As the hawk glided out of sight, Drenna thought about how fortunate she and Trevor were to have such a pristine vacation spot. Located a few miles outside of Harpers Ferry, the log cabin and the acreage that came with it was owned by Preston Kerr, Trevor’s uncle. In his late seventies and suffering from painful arthritis, Kerr rarely used the retreat anymore. He probably would have sold it if not for his desire for the family to enjoy it. If her relationship with Trevor continued, Drenna could see them spending a lot of time here. After all, it was only a ninety-minute drive from DC.
The hawk screamed again as it soared back into view. As Drenna turned her head to watch it, she saw a flash of light on the mountain to the east. It was brilliant, like the setting sun being reflected in a mirror.
She frowned. What was that?
She tried to find it again, but the flash had been too brief to lock in on.
Trevor had told her most of the property on the east end of the valley was owned by the Nature Conservancy. He said it was a biologically sensitive area that would never be developed. So if that was the case, what was someone doing up there with a mirror?
Maybe it’s a surveyor marking off property.