by CW Browning
Jack pressed his lips together thoughtfully and picked up his tea again.
“Sir? We have the Trident.”
The Admiral nodded and strode over to a phone, pressing the button to put it on speaker.
“Captain Fletcher? This is Admiral Jessup.”
“Admiral.”
“I’ve got a room full of people here trying to determine what happened to that yacht,” Jessup told him. “What can you tell us?”
“Not much, I’m afraid,” Capt. Fletcher said. “There was an explosion, but what caused it, we don’t know.”
“Captain, this is C,” Jack said. “Any word on the package?”
“Not yet. I...oh, just a moment!”
The Captain stopped abruptly and they could hear a muffled discussion in the background. While they couldn’t make out the words, they could clearly hear the urgency in the low tones. Jack glanced at the Admiral, and he shrugged. When the captain came back, his voice was even brisker than it had been before.
“The package just arrived,” he said, “but there’s a problem.”
Jack frowned. “What kind of problem?”
“My doctor says one of them is critically injured. It’s beyond his abilities. He’s recommending transport back to the carrier.”
Jack let out a low curse and set his tea down. “How long will that take?”
“There’s an aircraft carrier with a surgical team close to them,” the admiral assured him. “Captain, have they dispatched the transport?”
“We’re just contacting them now, Admiral. Stand by.”
He looked at Jack.
“The carrier will send a helicopter to rendezvous with the submarine. The Trident will meet them halfway, where they’ll surface and the package will be transferred to the helicopter,” he explained. “They’ll be on the carrier within an hour.”
“And once they’re on the carrier?”
“The ship has a full surgery. Your agent will be in good hands.”
“Transport is on its way, gentlemen,” Captain Fletcher announced, coming back onto the line.
“Thank you, Captain. What information do you have on the injury?” Jack asked.
“From what I’m told, there are multiple injuries. The most serious are a deep laceration and shrapnel impaled on a leg, and a puncture wound to the torso. A long piece of metal is embedded in the chest and has punctured one of the lungs. It’s a bloody miracle the package made it to the pod for the rendezvous at all.”
Jack’s lips tightened.
“Thank you.” He turned away and went to the door, glancing over his shoulder at the Admiral. “Excuse me. I have to make some arrangements.”
Admiral Jessup nodded and Jack left the room, closing the door softly. Once in the corridor, he exhaled and rubbed a hand across his eyes. This whole operation was a suicide mission from the beginning, but Maggie was certainly no stranger to supposedly impossible tasks. She had taken on an entire Taliban camp single-handedly just to get him out alive. But, perhaps, this was the mission that was just one too many.
He lowered his hand and pulled out his phone. Until the surgeon on the carrier declared her dead, he had to assume she was still alive. He’d made both her and Charlie a promise that he intended to keep.
And that meant getting some people out of bed on both sides of the pond.
When Angela opened her eyes, she winced and squinted in confusion at the bright, white light. Where the hell was she now? The last thing she remembered was being in the back of a Cadillac Escalade with Michael, and it had been night. Now, she was in a bed and it was very clearly, and very brightly, day.
Fluorescent lights shone above her and bright sunshine streamed through a window, reflecting off the white blanket that covered her. She was in a hospital. The realization came to her suddenly and she let out a soft gasp. Squinting against the light, Angela turned her head slowly on the pillow to look at the heart-rate monitor next to the bed, and the IV stand next to it. IV? With a frown, she lifted her right arm and looked at the tube running from her hand to the clear plastic bag.
Dropping her arm back onto the bed, Angela stared at the ceiling, trying to concentrate. She and Michael got into the back of the SUV and...and then what? She didn’t remember anything after that. Panic began to set in and she looked around the room frantically, looking for some sign of Michael. Where was he? What happened? Why was she all alone in a hospital room?
She was just working herself up into a cold-sweat when the door opened and Stephanie walked in, a large paper cup wrapped in a heat sleeve in her hand.
“Stephanie!” she gasped. “Oh, thank God!”
“You’re awake!” Stephanie said, going over to the empty chair next to the bed. “You’ve been out cold since I’ve been here.”
“Where is here? And how long have you been here? For that matter, how long have I been here?”
Stephanie sat in the chair and sipped her coffee before answering. Angela frowned, noting the big sunglasses that covered half her face.
“You’re in a hospital in Charlotte, Georgia,” she finally said, lowering the cup. “Michael brought you here last night. He said you passed out on the way in and when he got you here, they rushed you straight into surgery.”
“My shoulder?”
She nodded.
“The doctor will tell you more, but they were afraid of nerve damage. I’m not sure how extensive it is, but apparently the surgeon was optimistic. Michael stayed with you all night. He just left about an hour ago when I got here.”
“How is he? Why did they let him go?”
“Why wouldn’t they?” Stephanie asked, startled.
“He was shot!”
“What?”
Angela frowned. “He didn’t tell you?”
Stephanie slowly shook her head. “No. He didn’t say a word.”
She studied her friend for a long moment. Stephanie was being uncharacteristically quiet and her voice seemed almost void of emotion. While she was always the calmer one, Angie would have thought that she’d show more reaction to Michael being shot. And she was still wearing her sunglasses.
“Steph, what’s going on? Why did Michael leave? And why are you here?”
“What do you mean? I’m here because you’re here,” Stephanie said, looking at her. “You were kidnapped, rescued and then rushed into surgery. You’re my best friend. Where else would I be?”
“At Lina’s house in Medford, where you’d be safe and, I might add, where you were when I was taken.” Angela frowned as a thought occurred to her. “While we’re at it, what happened last night? Where are Alina and Damon? Did they get off the yacht?”
Stephanie visibly blanched and her hand with the coffee started shaking. Angela watched her, a deep sense of foreboding stealing over her.
“What is wrong with you?” she demanded with a frown. “What’s going on?”
Stephanie reached over and put the cup of coffee down on the side table near the bed. Taking a ragged breath, she clasped her trembling hands in her lap and looked at Angela.
“I...oh God, I don’t want to say this,” she said, her voice strained. “The boat that you were on, there was some kind of explosion. It...it blew up.”
Angela stared at her, stunned, and felt all the blood draining out of her head.
“What do you mean, it blew up?” she whispered. “When?”
“Not long after Michael got you off.” Stephanie took a deep, shuddering breath and sat back in the chair, rubbing her face.
Angela felt as if her whole body had been shocked and her muscles went wobbly as her breath caught in her throat. She tried to suck in a large gulp of air as her heart pounded in her chest.
“And Lina?” her voice came out in a raspy gasp. “Was she...”
Stephanie lowered her hands, her lips trembling.
“She was on the deck when it happened. The Coast Guard is looking for...” she broke off abruptly and Angela felt her stomach drop out of her.
“For
what?” she demanded, her voice sharp. She needed to hear Stephanie say it.
Stephanie looked at her hopelessly. “Her body.”
Michael buried his hands in his jacket pockets as he walked along the wide path through the meticulously manicured lawns of Arlington Cemetery. The sky was overcast and there was a chill in the air, Mother Nature’s reminder to them that it was still Spring. A gust of wind blew into his face and Michael’s eyes smarted with the blast of cold air as his cheeks tingled.
He walked along the well-known path, feeling numb. When Blake called in the middle of the night, he almost hadn’t answered it. Not recognizing the number, he had been about to ignore the call when something made him take it. Michael was a sensible man, not given over to excessive flights of fancy or superstition. Yet some sense of premonition had compelled him to take the call.
He still couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it.
His jaw clenched and Michael felt his chest tighten again, as it had been all day each time he considered the probability that Alina was gone. Even now the Coast Guard was pulling what bodies they could from the ocean at the site of the wreckage. Blake was with them, on hand to identify who he could, and he was waiting for the call to say that Alina was among those recovered.
The hollow feeling that had been with him since Blake described the explosion weighed heavily in his gut as he walked. Somehow, somewhere along the line, he had managed to convince himself that Alina was invincible, that Viper was invincible. Time after time, she had survived against overwhelming odds through pure and unadulterated luck. Last night, on the shore, she had been focused and all business, and he had never truly considered the possibility that her luck would run out.
Michael inhaled deeply and felt his gut clench. Even though the SEAL was there, he hadn’t wanted to leave her on that boat. She had left him no choice by making him responsible for Angela, but he couldn’t help thinking that if he had stayed, perhaps things would have ended differently. Maybe he could have extended that incredible lucky streak of hers and she would still be...
His mind blocked the thought even as it formed. There was no point in thinking like that. His lips twisted humorously. He could almost hear Alina’s voice saying that thoughts like that were counter-productive and a waste of time. She had been nothing if not absolutely grounded in reality.
Looking around the cemetery, Michael wondered what he was doing here. When Stephanie showed up at the hospital, he had all but run out the door. Unable to sit helplessly in a chair while others were searching the Atlantic in a perfunctory and useless rescue effort, he had told Stephanie he would check in later and left. It wasn’t until he got outside that he remembered Stefan’s message from Viper. He caught a cab to the airport, booking a seat on the next flight to Ronald Regan Airport from his phone, and landed in Washington, DC, three hours later. Her last message to him had brought him here, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know why.
There was only one place they both had in common here, and Michael stepped off the pavement to move along the grass towards Dave’s grave. As he drew closer, his brows came together in consternation. Something was hanging on the headstone. He glanced around as he closed the gap, looking to see if anyone else was nearby. There was no one, and he returned his gaze to the grave.
Reaching out, Michael lifted the chain off the stone and turned one of the dog tags over, sucking in his breath. All at once, tears blurred his vision as his gut tightened painfully. His fingers closed over the metal plates and he blinked away the tears, trying to regain control over himself. She had left him her dog tags. There was only one reason she would have left them behind.
Alina knew she wasn’t coming back.
He dragged in a ragged gasp of air and stared down at his best friend’s grave.
“Dave, I’m so sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I tried. I really did. And now...”
His voice cracked and Michael looked up to the sky, willing the hollow feeling of sorrow to go away. It was a futile effort, and he knew it. After a long moment spent staring up at the overcast sky, he lowered his eyes to his fist and opened his hand to look at the dog tags.
“Your sister was one hell of a sailor, Davey,” he said, dropping to his knees before the headstone. “You would have been proud of her. And her gear! Holy crap, what we would have given for just one of her rifles. She made us look like amateurs.”
Michael raised his eyes from the metal in his hand and looked at the tomb stone in front of him. He’d been to see his old friend many times over the past couple years, but never had he felt as alone as he did now. Yet he couldn’t stop himself from talking to the cold marble that couldn’t answer back.
“She managed to make me believe she was invincible. Hell, she had so many close calls the past few months, it was only a matter of time before her luck ran out. I wanted to be there with her, you gotta believe that. She made sure I was well out of it, though. Your sister was just like you, you know. She made sure everyone else was taken care of, and then she went after the bastard who killed you. Did you see that up there? After all these years, she found out what the hell happened in Iraq. You were right, by the way. There was something fishy going on out there with our weapons getting sold to the insurgents. It was Colonel Shore behind everything.”
Michael exhaled and shook his head.
“It’s probably stupid of me to be talking like this. If anyone could hear, they’d think I was crazy. Maybe I am. I just like to think that you can see us from where you are, and that you understand. I wish I could have saved her, Dave. God, I wish I could have saved her!”
Michael’s fingers closed around the dog tags again and he dropped his head as anguish rolled over him. There was no stopping the grief, no plugging the hollow hole that had taken up residence inside him. The past nine months had been a whirlwind as he got to know the woman who had saved them all from more than anyone could ever know. Not only had she saved her country, but she had saved each and every one of them individually in one way or another. They all owed her so much, yet no one would ever know about any of it. It was all classified. Her extraordinary life would pass into oblivion, no one knowing her name or what she had sacrificed for their peace and safety. She would become just another identical headstone in this sea of military recognition, known only to those who knew where to look for her.
It was a long time later when Michael slowly got to his feet and turned away to head back. He tucked the dog tags into the inside pocket of his jacket. It was time to go back to Charlotte, and back to Angela. He’d promised Alina he would make sure she was safe. Until he was satisfied that Harry hadn’t left any outstanding orders, he could still fulfill at least one of his promises to the Maschiks.
Michael left the cemetery as he had arrived: feeling numb. As the cab that he’d called pulled up to the side of the entrance, a fat raindrop plopped onto his hand and he looked up. The rain that had been threatening was finally here. He paused, vividly remembering another overcast day nine months ago when he’d been caught in the rain here, with Alina. That was the day he had unknowingly become part of a parade visiting Dave’s grave, arranged by Viper to throw off anyone looking for her.
A feeling of amusement tried to break through his anguish. It failed. But as he opened the door to the taxi and got in, Michael suddenly knew that someday, he would come here and be able to smile about the past. He would be able to remember her without this gut-wrenching agony of loss, and he would once again appreciate the extraordinary person he had grown to know and love.
That day just wasn’t here yet.
Chapter Forty-Three
Arlington National Cemetery - 1 month later
Stephanie stood on the grass next to Angela and stared at the flag-draped, empty coffin. Alina’s parents were standing in front of the small group and Stephanie shifted her gaze to them. Mr. and Mrs. Maschik didn’t know what really happened to their daughter. They had been told that there was a tragic boating accident off the coast of G
eorgia when the superyacht she was on suffered a mechanical failure that resulted in an explosion. As far they knew, Alina had been on the yacht with several others from her security firm, enjoying the successful acquisition of a lucrative client. The importance of neither of them ever knowing what really happened had been pressed forcefully on all of them, and Stephanie knew that not one of them would ever speak of the true events to anyone but each other. And so, Alina’s parents would never know what a hero their daughter had been, or that she’d died the way she had lived her life: on her own terms.
Stephanie turned her gaze back to the coffin as the priest opened a prayer book to begin. She had never thought to ask Alina what her parents thought she did for a living. Now she knew that Alina had told them she worked for an international security firm in Paris. She even had a Paris phone number, which her parents used frequently to contact her. They spoke to her on the phone and emailed her regularly, but neither of them had physically seen their daughter in over five years. They believed it was because she was so busy. Stephanie knew it was because Alina wouldn’t risk their safety. Now they would never see her again.
They had flown into DC last night, and Stephanie and Angela had met them for dinner. Over rich food and red wine, they had shared memories from the past and caught up on the present. The Maschiks were handling the death of their daughter as well as they could, as well as they all could. The shock had worn off, as had the initial grief. Now all of them were in the same place emotionally. They had accepted the reality that Alina was gone and were moving forward with that as the new normal. This funeral service was the last formality to give them closure, and it was long overdue.
Blake’s fingers closed around hers and Stephanie was grateful for his solid presence beside her. He and Michael had done everything they could to make this past month as painless as possible for both her and Angela. It hadn’t been easy for them. Neither Alina nor Damon’s bodies had been recovered, causing both women to cling to a sliver of hope that their friend had survived. As the days turned into weeks, that hope slowly died and the two friends clung to each other for support. Through it all, Blake and Michael had checked in regularly, offering what support and comfort they could.