Next Exit, No Outlet

by CW Browning

  Stephanie glanced over her shoulder to where Michael stood near the back, sunglasses covering his eyes, his hands folded in front of him. He was dressed in a black suit and, with the sunglasses, look dark and forbidding. He had taken Alina’s death just as hard as they had, but he refused to talk to them about her. While he was more than happy to listen and be a friend for them, Michael had made it clear that he would mourn alone. Blake said it was just his way and that he would be fine, but Stephanie wasn’t so sure. He was distancing himself from it, and that was a recipe for mental disaster.

  He stood next to a man in dark charcoal suit whom she didn’t recognize and she frowned, realizing that she didn’t recognize any of the people at the back of the small group with the exception of Michael. Turning her head back to the priest, she pressed her lips together, wondering if any of them were Alina’s boss. If so, she would love to go give him a good punch on the nose.

  The priest finished reading from his Bible and closed the book, offering his own words of support and encouragement in a clear voice. Stephanie tried to concentrate on what he was saying, but her mind refused to cooperate. Who was Michael standing with? And why wasn’t he up here with them? After everything they had all been through, they should be together right now. Yet he had chosen to remain in the back, at a distance.

  Angela’s fingers touched hers and Stephanie gripped her hand tightly as the priest finished speaking. She jumped at the first of three rifle volleys as the honor guard fired blanks into the air. Angela’s fingers tightened on hers and Stephanie glanced at her. Tears were streaming down her face and Stephanie swallowed hard. Angela’s left arm was still in a sling, a constant reminder of that night. She blamed herself for Alina even being on the yacht in the first place. Stephanie had told her repeatedly that it wasn’t her fault, but it didn’t ease Angie’s feeling of guilt. She wasn’t sure anything could.

  As the sound of the rifle fire faded, Stephanie inhaled deeply. Two Navy officers stepped forward in full dress whites to remove the flag from the casket and fold it. Shee felt her chest tighten and tears filled her eyes as they carefully and solemnly folded the last flag to fly over Alina’s memory. Even though she was no longer active military personnel, she had died in service of her country. Stephanie knew that the only concession Alina’s mysterious Organization was making to her silent death was the burial with military honors. In all other respects, it was as if Alina had never existed. No one outside of the four of them knew anything about what, exactly, Alina Maschik had done for her country over the past year alone, nevermind what disasters she may have averted before that. As far as the world knew, she didn’t exist.

  Except that she had existed, and Stephanie and Angela would never forget her or her sacrifice to keep them safe and free. The honor guard was the least her agency could do to pay tribute to a woman who had given so much and asked for so little in return.

  The tears spilled over her lashes as the tightly folded flag was presented to Alina’s mother and Stephanie took a deep, ragged breath, willing them to stop. It was done. It was time to go about picking up the pieces of her life and moving forward. Alina wouldn’t want them to cry forever. She had fought and sacrificed so much so that they could live their normal lives in relative peace.

  It was only right to honor that sacrifice by getting back to living the life she had fought so hard to preserve for them, and that life could continue now. It was over.

  Now it was time to move on.

  Amsterdam, Netherlands - One week later

  Alina moved through the crowds in the open market square, pausing to look at the offerings at a fruit stall. After looking at the variety thoughtfully for a minute, she smiled at the vendor and moved on. A moment later, a man dressed in jeans and a zippered sweatshirt passed her, going in the opposite direction. As he did so, his hand brushed hers and she took the phone he pressed into her palm. Without turning her head, she slipped the phone into her jacket pocket and continued to the next stall. Once again, she paused, examining the wares for a moment before moving on.

  Five minutes later, she had left the market behind and was crossing an old, arched bridge that stretched over one of the many canals winding through the city. Stopping at the apex of the bridge, she leaned on the railing and gazed out over the water. She could see why Damon loved this city. It was not only beautiful, but it’s long, rich history virtually seeped from every narrow building, brick and cobblestone. It was truly different from any of the other cities she had been to.

  Taking a deep breath, she pulled the phone from her pocket and powered it on, watching as the security settings began to load. Raising her eyes, she glanced into the canal as the bow of a longboat emerged from the bridge beneath her, moving languidly along the waterway. There were several of these boats moving throughout the canals, and she wondered briefly what it would be like to cruise Europe’s rivers in one of them, carefree and relaxed.

  The phone in her hand vibrated briefly, drawing her gaze from the receding boat. She swiped the screen and opened the secure message from Charlie. It was an image and, when it finished loading, Alina stared at it for a long, silent moment. It was a photo of the headstone in Arlington, etched with her name and rank, date of birth, date of death and then a single line: FREEDOM ABOVE ALL ELSE.

  She knew it was coming. She had planned it herself, along with the entire operation. It was the only way to end it cleanly. With her anonymity gone and her cover shattered over multiple continents, Viper had two options: to die or retire. She opted for death over retirement, at the unabashed urging of Charlie. It was the perfect plan. That is, until it almost became a reality.

  When she climbed out of the underwater delivery vehicle and into the hatch of HMS Trident, Alina had no idea how she was still conscious. Sheer will had propelled her to the rendezvous with the pod underwater where Hawk and the Royal Navy driver were waiting. When she was close, Hawk saw the blood in the water and got out to help her the rest of the way. If he hadn’t, she wasn’t entirely sure she would have made it. Her chest had been on fire and simply drawing air through the breathing tube attached to the tank on her back had been a laborious ordeal. Ten minutes later, they were attached to the hatch of the Royal Navy nuclear submarine.

  And that was the last thing she remembered until she woke up on an aircraft carrier. When she went into the water as the yacht exploded, debris had hit her, resulting in a long piece of metal penetrating her torso and puncturing her lung. Another piece of debris had embedded itself in the leg already torn open by Harry and his vodka bottle. As soon as the submarine doctor saw the severity of the damage, she had been airlifted to the carrier where the ship surgeon had performed two separate surgeries, as well as stitching up the stab wound in her side. When she woke up, Damon was beside her, looking as if he hadn’t slept in days. That’s when she learned that the surgeon hadn’t expected her to survive the surgeries.

  One week later, she had been transported again. This time she’d been flown to London, where she alternated between convalescing and debriefing with both Charlie and Jack. It was there that she balked at continuing the charade of her death. After such an up close and personal brush with it, she was reluctant to tempt fate by going forward with the original plan. It took the combined efforts of both Charlie and Hawk, and ultimately Jack as well, to convince her that it was necessary. She would never be free. Harry had made sure of that. Viper had to die.

  And so she did.

  Now, looking at the proof in white marble, surrounded by rows of identical markers, Alina felt a sense of numbness steal over her. Below the image, Charlie had typed a single line.

  Your funeral was last week. Operation was a success.

  No one questioned her death. Her parents, Stephanie, Angie, Michael: they all bought the deception and believed she was dead.

  Instead of feeling relief, Alina felt an overwhelming wave of sorrow crash over her. Her parents had lost both their children now, both in service to their country. Except, they had no idea
she had still been serving her country. They thought she had been a civilian for the past five years. It was better for them to believe she had died in a tragic boating accident off the coast of Georgia, and that was the end of it. They could never know the truth. For them to do so would be to expose them to danger from the many enemies who wished pain upon Viper and all who knew her. And so they had to believe a lie.

  Michael was the one she and Hawk had been the most worried about. His clearance gave him access to information and, if he decided Alina was still alive, there would be no stopping him from digging until he found the truth. Luckily, that didn’t need to be a concern any longer. Charlie’s note confirmed that Michael didn’t suspect anything.

  They all believed she had died in the explosion. Just weeks after losing her partner, Stephanie had now lost her oldest friend. Worse, she had been there to bear to witness to her death. It had been necessary to sell it, but now Alina felt nothing but remorse at the pain and grief her friend was going through.

  It wasn’t fair that it had to end this way. Harry had left them all no other choice but to play the game until the very end, forcing her to choose between herself and the safety of the only friends she had ever known. There had never really been a contest there. Alina had chosen the safety of her friends and her country over her own life, almost making her fictional demise a permanent state in the process.

  And now it was over.

  Harry was dead. Angela and Stephanie were safe now, Michael and Blake could go back to their work in Washington without looking over their shoulders. The remaining assets spread across the world working for the Organization could resume business as usual. It was over, and they were all free.

  Freedom above all else.

  Alina slid the phone into her pocket and turned away from the railing. She had done what she had to do, what her duty and honor required. Now she had an opportunity to start over and do what she wanted to do for her. ‘Self-care’ Angela had called it. Her lips curved faintly as she made her way off the bridge and along the ancient paving stones towards a hotel a block away. If nothing else, Angela would be happy that she was finally taking the time to focus on herself and her future. She inhaled deeply, looking around with wondering eyes. It was time to set the past behind her and look to the future.

  It was time to find out just what it meant to be free.

  Damon walked across the hotel lobby to the only concierge desk with someone behind it. The woman looked up as he reached it and he smiled at her, balancing his rolling bag on its end in front of the desk.

  “Welcome to the Hotel Pulitzer, sir. May I assist you?”

  “Good afternoon. I have a reservation,” he told her in German, slipping his carry-on from his shoulder and setting it on the floor between him and the desk wall.

  She smiled and switched effortlessly into German.

  “Very good. And what name is it under?”

  “Becker. Hans Becker.”

  The woman typed on a flat keyboard, turning her eyes to the monitor. A second later, she smiled.

  “I have you and one other guest for five nights, is that correct?” she asked, looking up.

  “Yes. My wife and I are on a long-overdue honeymoon,” Damon said easily, smiling. “Tell me, if we decide to extend our stay, will that be a problem?”

  “It shouldn’t be a problem, Herr Becker,” the woman assured him. “I’ll just need the card you made the reservation with and your identification, please.”

  Damon pulled out his wallet and handed over a credit card and identification card.

  “Will your wife be joining you later?” she asked as she entered the information into the computer.

  “Oh, she’ll be along in a few moments. We passed a market on the way in and she insisted on walking through.”

  The woman looked up with a laugh.

  “Ah yes. The market is very popular this time of year.”

  “I hope she doesn’t tire herself,” Damon said. “She’s convalescing from quite a bad car accident. It’s why we had to postpone our honeymoon.”

  “Oh my!” The woman paused and gave him her full attention. “How terrible!”

  He nodded solemnly. There was no need to fake being a husband who had just almost lost his bride. The gut-wrenching terror was still a vivid and fresh memory, and one that still woke him in the middle of the night.

  “I almost lost her before our life together had even begun. So how can I deny her time to wander through the market?”

  “I’m sure she will be fine,” the woman assured him. “The market is just around the corner.” She paused then, looking at her screen before turning her dark eyes back to his face. “I have you in a suite on an upper floor. Would it be preferable for you to have a ground floor suite? I have one available that is very accessible for individuals with restricted movement.”

  Damon pretended to be horrified and shook his head.

  “Oh no. She would be furious with me,” he said with a laugh. “She’s determined to make a record recovery. Oh, that reminds me! Does the hotel have a fitness center?”

  “Yes, indeed. It has state-of-the-art equipment and a swimming pool for laps. We also have bicycles for hire to explore the city.”

  “Very good. That’s excellent.”

  The woman went back to checking him in and Damon turned to scan the lobby, noting the security cameras and the positions of exits out of habit. He was just turning back to the desk when the front door opened and Alina entered the hotel.

  Damon watched as she paused to look around, leaning heavily on her cane. His lips tightened. He knew the walk through the market would be too much for that leg, but she’d not only insisted, she’d also refused to allow him to accompany her. Her face was pale and drawn, evidence of the physical and emotional trauma that she’d been through in the past six weeks. But when she spotted him, she smiled and started towards him, the weariness leaving her face.

  Damon exhaled silently and felt his chest tighten at the sight of her. She had lost quite a bit of weight over the past month and had added several new scars to her collection, yet to him, she was beautiful. And she was his.

  And he had almost lost her.

  Damon knew he would never forget the absolute helplessness of watching her get loaded onto a helicopter from a submarine, not knowing if she would even survive the trip. Then, once they arrived on the aircraft carrier and the surgeon took a look at her, the prognosis had been grim. He was told that she probably would not survive the surgeries and to prepare himself to say goodbye. Damon wasn’t a man given to prayer, but he had prayed that night and every night following for the next two weeks. It wasn’t until they were in London that he finally allowed himself to believe that she had, once again, cheated death’s reaper.

  Watching her limp across the lobby towards him now, Damon felt a profound sense of relief. It was over.

  His heart filled with joy and his blue eyes met hers across the distance, his lips curving into an answering smile. They were embarking on their tour of the cities they wanted to explore together, starting with Amsterdam. For the next few months, all they had to worry about was where to go next and where they would settle at the end of it.

  Viper and Hawk were dead. There would be no more ops and no more suicide missions. The future was no longer an ambiguous possibility that they would face if they were lucky enough to get there. It was here.

  And they were free.

  Epilogue

  Washington, DC - 6 months later

  Michael looked up as a shadow fell across the scarred, wood tabletop in the back booth of the bar. He nodded and watched as a man dressed in a charcoal grey suit seated himself across from him, setting a pint of dark ale down on the table. Grey eyes met his and Michael raised his own beer to take a sip.

  “Did everything go as you expected?” he asked, setting the half-empty pint glass down.

  The man across from him nodded.

  “Everything is in place. You’ll arrive in Dubai two days
before your asset, giving you time for surveillance. Your ticket is under the name Josef Carnelucci.” The man sipped his ale. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? Once you get on that plane, there’s no turning back.”

  Michael looked at him steadily.

  “Did you tell Alina that before she flew to Cairo?” he asked softly.

  The man smiled faintly.

  “There was no need. She knew the risks. She had trained for them.”

  “So have I.”

  “Yes, but in a different capacity.” The man studied him for a long moment. “I arranged for a twenty-four layover in Italy, as you requested. What do you think you’ll find in Sorrento?”

  “What do I think I’ll find? Nothing.” Michael reached for his beer again. “What do I hope I’ll find? A newlywed couple living the life Dave always wanted for his sister.”

  “You still believe she’s alive?”

  Michael’s jaw tightened and he stared at the man across from him. “Yes.”

  The man was silent for a long moment, then he lifted his beer and drank, his eyes never leaving Michael’s. Finding the scrutiny unnerving, Michael reached for his glass again.

  “When you approached me seven months ago, was it because you wanted to serve your country again? Or was it because you wanted to hunt for a ghost?” the man finally asked.

  “To serve my country again.”

  There was no hesitation in his answer and the man nodded slowly. Michael was aware that those sharp eyes missed nothing, and he was conscious of a feeling of relief when the man accepted his answer. It was the truth, but even so, his new boss had a way of making him feel as if he were lying when he wasn’t. He supposed it came with the job. After Harry’s treachery, they were all a little skeptical these days, and rightly so.

  “And the hunt for the ghost?” the man asked softly.