Taking a pair of binoculars, he hiked to the motorcycle shed west of the house, grabbed a spare helmet hanging on the wall, and rode the motorcycle east on the highway.
Thirty minutes later he pulled into the truck stop. Christie’s green Jaguar was easy to spot. He rode around the lot. Nothing but a few pickups and truckers. No sedans. No SUVs. No one hanging out on the highway shoulders.
He pulled up beside Christie’s Jaguar, keeping the helmet on, and curled a finger at her.
She powered her window down. Her thick gold-streaked hair lay on her shoulders. A bright picture. Sunshiny, except for the creases on her forehead. “Really, Steel? I don’t like riding on bikes.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“You better be.” She wore light gray jeans and a long-sleeved white top that barely reached her pants, with a jean jacket over her top.
“Leave your phone here.” It was unlikely anyone was tracking her by phone, but he wanted to be thorough.
She stared at him, but then put it into the glove compartment and exited the car, holding a thin folder. “Satisfied? And no tails, no trackers.”
His gaze lingered a bit too long on her curves. He was glad the helmet hid his eyes. She put on the extra helmet, got on the bike, and put the folder between them, wrapping her arms around him—he liked that.
He drove around to see if anyone was following, and then he ran the county roads bordering his property to see if anyone was parked on any of them. Nothing. Returning to his driveway, he unlocked the gate, drove the bike through, and locked it again. In minutes he unlocked the barn door and let Christie in.
She entered, giving him a thin smile. “Good day to you too, Steel.”
He dead-bolted the door, aware of the frustration behind her smile. “Sorry. Precautions.”
She walked with him across the platform toward the computer. “Where’s Spinner?”
“Safe.”
“You must be worried to leave your house.”
He shrugged. “I like low risk. Did you get the CID info?”
“After we work on the Op.” She pulled out a flash drive and handed it to him, setting the folder to the side.
He sat down in front of the computer. She leaned on the back of his chair, her crossed arms touching his shoulder blades. Her perfume mimicked Frangipani, a tropical flower with a rich floral scent. Carol used to lean on his chair like this. It distracted him as he looked at the screen. He wondered if Carol remembered anything he used to do with her.
“Steel?” Her voice was soft.
He sighed. “All right, what are we looking at?”
“There’s reason to believe a high-ranking ISIS splinter commander is hiding in the bunker you’re about to see. It’s in the Paktika Province bordering Pakistan. We want him, dead or alive, but the cave is extensive and deep. It’s near a village in Pakistan so we can’t risk using the GBU-43/B Massive Ordnance Air Blast—it might result in Pakistani casualties and we would lose an ally.”
He opened the flash drive and pulled it up on the large screen. She told him to open a video which showed aerial shots from far out, slowly zooming in on a large cave entrance. It brought back memories of his time there. He was glad he was out.
He said, “A lot of the smaller caves are lined in steel, built by the CIA when we helped them against Russia. Later, bin Laden used the caves and expanded the tunnels connecting them.”
“You recognize it?” She leaned closer.
“I do. I’d expect land mines outside the entrance and booby traps inside. Multiple escape exits.”
“Give me your best-case scenario for going in.”
He shook his head. “Don’t. They’ll hold the upper hand because they live in the caves, know them extensively, and don’t mind dying.”
“Let’s say we’re going in anyway. Then what?”
He spent an hour describing different possibilities, risks, likelihood of success, and what they would need for equipment. She asked insightful questions and he enjoyed the exchange of ideas. Afterward he closed down the computer and handed her the flash drive.
She motioned to the computer. “I’m glad I’m not in the field.”
“Why?”
“Last month an Op targeted a Taliban leader in a village. One of our soldiers refused an order because he believed innocent women and children were going to die in the attack. The soldier is being court-martialed.” She frowned. “It might seem weak, but I don’t think I could risk killing women and children noncombatants to get one Taliban.”
He winced, remembering the Komodo Op. “Without knowing the particulars, I can’t comment on that. Maybe the soldier’s assessment wasn’t good. Or maybe it was and the Op should have been designed better.”
She sighed and straightened. “I’ll talk this through with my superiors. I might have a few more questions.”
“Sure.” He swiveled his chair and caught her by surprise, an inch of her exposed stomach in front of his face. Toned. His eyes and thoughts wandered. He told himself he just missed Carol.
She backed up as his face turned pink. They both tried to smile.
She handed him the folder. “The CID investigation and IDs on the two men who attacked us. I’d like to hear your opinion on them.”
“I appreciate it.” He noticed she included herself in the attack. She was there, but not a primary target.
He cleared his throat. “Something quick to eat while I look at it?” Her eyebrows raised, and he added, “Since I’m not living here, there’s some fresh food I need to use up. I don’t want to haul it out.”
They ate a salad of greens with sandwiches of cheese, meat, and tomatoes. Steel opened the file Christie had given him and went through it. The IDs on Yellow and Blue revealed a Frank Getty and Peter Farsk. Both had rap sheets for assault and battery. Hired guns.
He had guessed as much but wanted to make sure. Hired by whom, was the question. And he still didn’t know what they believed he knew.
He said truthfully, “I don’t know these men or why they came after me.” He had no information that was worth anything. But someone thought he did. The more he thought about it, he concluded again the attack had to be over the Op. Someone outside the government didn’t like what he had done. He had to find out who.
“Could the attack have anything to do with your wife?” Christie frowned. “I’ve read about her in the paper. She defends some pretty high-profile criminal elements.”
He considered that. “No, they were after me. Besides, she’s not living here.”
“For good?” She shook her head. “Sorry, it’s none of my business.”
“I don’t know if she’s coming back.”
Christie’s voice softened. “You’ve both been through a lot.”
He looked at his plate and had to steady his voice. “When Rachel went missing it put something between us. Neither of us understood how to resolve it.” He looked at her. “Have you ever been married?”
She shook her head.
“Ever get involved with a married man?” He wasn’t sure why he asked that. Was he propositioning her? “Forget I asked.”
She put down her sandwich, her face darkening. “It was a long time ago. I was much younger and naïve. He didn’t tell me he was married.”
Steel nodded and picked up his sandwich, avoiding her eyes. “It’s different,” he said softly, “being on the other side of things. The married one.”
Later he drove her back to her car. She left, and he wondered if that would be the last time he would see her. It didn’t look as if her superiors were tracking her to find him.
His thoughts turned to General Vegas. And Mexico. If someone outside the government had hijacked the Op, it wouldn’t have been over terrorism. It had to be over money.
***
Christie was impressed by Steel’s astute percepti
ons on the Paktika Op and had enjoyed working with him. What he didn’t know was that they had already tried the Op and failed—for all the reasons he had stated. However she hadn’t gotten any closer to her main objective, which was discovering whatever Steel was hiding.
Danker believed Steel had disobeyed orders on a classified Op, allowing a terrorist to escape, but they had no proof. She had made up the story about the soldier being court-martialed, to see how Steel would respond. Danker assumed Steel was into something illegal for money. Steel was in debt with his house, maxed out on credit cards, and the recent attack suggested shady connections.
She hadn’t seen Steel’s Jeep anywhere on the premises so he had to be living elsewhere. For him to risk meeting her suggested that he was checking her out. That made her wonder how much danger she was in just by associating with him.
Danker had told her to play along with whatever Steel wanted. Find out what he was hiding. Nothing else mattered.
Danker had made it sound like a test. If you want a promotion, let’s see what you can do. This was her chance to prove herself and get out from under all the paper-pushing office work that she detested. Danker was sexist and using her because he thought Steel would slip up more easily around an attractive woman.
She didn’t care. She wanted the promotion.
Then CIA Director Hulm had shocked her by contacting her privately on her phone. Hulm had stated he needed her for a job that was high priority, if she was interested. She would get paid for it. He stated it could lead to other work as well. Impressed that the CIA director would contact her personally, she had said yes immediately.
Hulm told her to continue getting close to Steel and give him any help he needed—but keep him clueless about CIA interest. When she had asked why he was interested in Steel, Hulm had replied, He’s a traitor, adding, Keep Danker in the dark.
After the attack she found herself wary about reporting secretly to two men in two different agencies. Whatever Steel had done, it had to be big for CIA Director Hulm to get involved.
Her confusion came from her sense of people, which was usually accurate. Steel didn’t seem like a threat. And his interest in making sure soldiers didn’t die in the Paktika Op felt genuine. Still he had to be hiding something. Two men were dead because of him.
She would play it out a little longer. But if nothing else came up she was going to run out of excuses to see him.
Her personal question about Carol was to hook him deeper, even though it bothered him. His question had bothered her just as much. She was aware of the looks and glances he was giving her. She had found herself stealing glances at him too.
She had already deduced he was separated from his wife. At a gut level she found him attractive. And his lifestyle and skills were more appealing than those of any man she had met before. Escaping from two hired killers was impressive. But she wanted no part of his problems.
She called Danker first and said, “He’s not living on his premises anymore. We met at a truck stop and he arrived on a motorcycle.”
Danker replied, “Keep at it. He’s dirty.” He hung up.
Hulm had a different response; “He’ll ask for help eventually. Make sure he gets it.”
“Sir, do we have any idea who tried to kill him?”
“That’s above your pay grade.” Hulm hung up.
Frustrated, she wondered what Steel had done to convince two agencies he was a traitor. They were playing him, and her, and none of it felt good.
To protect her own back, she hadn’t told Hulm or Danker that she had gone to Steel’s home to analyze the Paktika Op. The CIA might be tracking her phone so she had less control where they were concerned—she was actually glad Steel had made her leave it in her car.
But if there was a leak inside the Army section running Steel’s Ops, she wanted to minimize her chances of ending up on the wrong side of a gun again.
CHAPTER 17
They met in late afternoon on the same road, pulled up close to each other, pointed in opposite directions. Kergan’s window was down, his strong face cast in shadows as he talked.
Steel listened.
“Be careful, my friend. I have a bad feeling about things. General Sorenson’s lips are sewed shut. I couldn’t get him to say why they did the Komodo Op. I went at it softly, but he wouldn’t comment. It’s a dead end.”
Disappointed, but not surprised, Steel digested that.
Kergan continued. “I made it clear that I was unhappy that someone tried to kill you. Brought it up casually, as if I was mentioning the time of day. Sorenson sympathized. I said if anything happened to you, I’d start a small war to find out who was behind it. I’m sure it’ll get passed around. I don’t think anyone inside had anything to do with it.”
Steel believed him. “Who’s watching Carol?”
“Someone experienced, twenty-four-seven.” Kergan’s eyebrows raised and his face tightened. “Has anyone threatened her?”
He shook his head. “Preventative. I’ll pay.” He didn’t have any money to give to anyone.
Kergan waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I know how much you’ve spent to find Rachel.”
He swallowed. “Thanks.”
“Do you know what this is about, why someone tried to kill you?”
“No.”
“It has to be related to you looking into the Op. End it, Jack. Is this how you want to live?”
Though he valued Kergan’s advice, he thought it was too late to back away. He didn’t want to.
On the way home his phone beeped. He pulled over. A sensor had been tripped along the east county road. He pulled up camera feeds. A photo of one man. This time he was going to have a conversation.
He drove the bike to the shed and locked it up, and then hiked through the woods. Glock in hand. He planned to catch the intruder at the house. Remaining behind a tree, he surveyed his house with the binoculars. He received another text alert. A photo of the same guy exiting his property at the same point of entry.
He entered the back door of his house, locked it, and hustled down the basement steps. The basement was finished with wood paneling and lightly furnished. A built-in bookshelf took up the southeast corner.
He depressed a narrow panel on the wall near the floor in the southwest corner. It slid sideways, revealing a numeric pad. He punched in the code, heard a click, and closed the panel. One side of the bookshelf was ajar and he pulled it out, revealing a locked steel door. The door key was the same one for the locked cabinet in the barn’s first level.
In moments he entered a dark tunnel. Turning, he pulled the bookshelf back to the wall until it clicked in, and then shut the door. The tunnel was braced with cement blocks, and he trailed a hand along one wall as he hurried through it.
At the far end he punched the code into another keypad, and then pushed the door open into the lower barn level. The door was hidden behind paneling, which he closed.
Just to be sure all the sensors were working, he checked the new camera placements on his computer. Nothing. Whoever had come in had left without reaching the chokepoints, much less the house or barn. What was the point? Maybe a trap of some kind. Explosives. Possibly on his running course.
He hurried to the upper level and walked outside. Keeping parallel to the driveway, he remained in the woods. Nearing the east county road, he kept himself hidden in the trees and walked south parallel to the road. At the triggered camera position the road was empty.
Hunting around yielded a partial boot imprint. And a speck of red. The tracks led faintly to the road, but there was no car.
Worried, he walked briskly into the woods and called for Spinner. She had been out running while he was gone, something he never worried about since she always remained on his land.
Once, some years ago, Spinner had been hurt by a coyote or bobcat. She came to the house door late in the nig
ht, whining until Rachel woke up and let her in. Rachel had held and stroked Spinner gently while Steel tended the dog’s wounds.
The memory made his eyes moist. Rachel loved the dog. His stomach tight, he walked the inner training course, off to the side of it while checking for any disturbance in the soil. And kept calling for Spinner. Several times grouse flew up ahead of him. Once he saw a raccoon staring down at him from a hole in the trunk of a big oak tree.
He found her on the stream bridge, curled up, asleep in the last of the sun on the warm wood. His stomach finally righted and he heaved a deep sigh.
“What are you doing out here, Spinner?” His smile faded as he walked up to her. Her eyes remained closed and she didn’t move. A patch of red marked her right flank. Going to one knee, he stroked her side. Spinner barely cracked her eyes but didn’t lift her head.
He called a local vet. Gently lifting her, he carried her home as fast as he could.
When he had first brought Spinner home. Rachel was just five years old, chasing the crazy puppy round and round, because the puppy chased its own tail.
“She’s spinning.” Carol laughed with Rachel.
He had laughed too and said, “Spinner.” The name stuck.
Spinner was another connection to Rachel. If his daughter ever came home, he wanted the dog waiting for her too.
***
“If you hadn’t found her, she would be dead by now.”
Steel swallowed. “Will she make it?”
“I think so.” The vet shook his head. “Any reason why someone would shoot her?”
He kept his face calm and shrugged. “A stray bullet?”
“That’s possible. I’ll need to keep her for a while.”
“Thanks.” He stroked Spinner’s head as she lay resting inside the vet’s van, her eyes closed.
“I’ll keep you posted.” The vet drove off.
His actions had brought this to Spinner. The killer had come for him, but instead Spinner had surprised the intruder, giving him an injury that had forced him back to his car.
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