Every Last Breath

by Juno Rushdan

  Chapter 16

  International Waters, Atlantic Ocean

  8:13 p.m. EDT

  Dust and smoke clogged the air. Maddox’s eyes stung, and her throat burned.

  She clambered to her feet. The spinning room came into focus. Shattered glass covered the floor to her right. Flaming pieces of metal and smoldering debris littered the deck. Black smoke wafted from the upper level. Unbearable heat pressed down through the doorway.

  I’m alive.

  A wave of dizziness bowled her over, and she stumbled. Her bare feet sank into the thick, soft carpet. She shook off the disorientation and found her bearings.

  “Maddox!” Cole rushed to her from the other side of the room. Ash dusted his hair and clothing. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Fine.” Minutes ago, she’d been at the fingertips of death, but now she was…fine. Nausea churned in her gut. Her head swam in a dense pool of muck and her legs wobbled, knees threatening to buckle.

  Cole roped her into a hug.

  “Are you hurt?” She pulled back, inspecting him.

  “The explosion knocked me against the wall, but nothing serious.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I lost Kassar.”

  Shaking her head, she lowered her gaze and turned away. “Not Kassar—he’s a hitman named Aleksander Novak. Shit. Van Helden got away too.”

  She scanned the room. Reinhart lay on the floor, his head in a puddle of sticky, dark blood, his bodyguard beside him. “Castle? Reece? Where are you guys?”

  Her chest tightened in a cold clench, then she grabbed her throat. Her necklace was gone. They couldn’t hear her.

  The bomb. What if they’d been close to the helm during the explosion? Or worse, on it?

  “Cole—”

  “Let’s go.” He was right behind her as she pushed through the other set of glass doors out toward the bow of the yacht, where the Gray Box helo sat on the second helipad.

  Spokes of fire roared overhead, back by the helm. Plumes of black smoke billowed. Flames lashed out, bright red and orange, licking the night sky. The heat bearing down on them was intense.

  Castle and Reece hustled down the steps. Soot and smoke clung to them, their tactical gear singed. They’d been too close to the blast.

  “Oh my God, are you guys okay?” She rushed to them, clutching each of them by the arm. Castle had scrapes on his face. Reece’s shoulder had exposed pink flesh.

  “We’re walking and talking. We’re solid,” said Castle. “But the blast fried our comms.”

  “Your shoulder, Reece.” Maddox glanced at the bruised area.

  He winced and wiped his face clean of expression just as quickly. “Looks worse than it feels.” A familiar phrase they used to distract from injuries. “Is the weapon contained?”

  “No.” Maddox shook her head with disgust. “Aleksander Novak—the man posing as Kassar—got away with it.”

  “Damn it.” Castle pounded the air with a fist. “We had him in our sights. If it hadn’t been for the explosion, we could’ve taken the helo out.”

  They made their way toward the helicopter.

  “You okay?” Reece asked her. “Sounded like you were caught in the thick of a nasty scuffle. We lost your comms right before the explosion.”

  Cole snatched Maddox by her arm, bringing her to a stop. His grip was so tight, it nearly hurt. “I told you to wait for me.” He jostled her with a firm, unnerving shake. “He could’ve killed you.”

  Everything flooded back in a rush. The pressure. The pain. The fear.

  She’d clawed, fought. Prayed. Her airway shut off.

  Remember this mercy, Agent Maddox Kinkade.

  Oh God, the Ghost knew her name. She didn’t want that man to know anything about her. She shuddered, unable to speak one word about the fight that had nearly claimed her life.

  She was broken out of her thoughts by Cole cradling her face in his hands. He caressed her cheeks, his eyes wide with concern. “I told you to stay away from that scary motherfucker.”

  For just a second, she wanted to fall into his arms and take a deep, long breath. Admit she’d been scared. Terrified. But there was no room to be soft. She slapped Cole’s hands away.

  Castle clamped a palm down on her shoulder and yanked her gaze toward him. “And I told you to listen to Lover Boy.” Castle eyed Cole. “This once. Just to be clear.”

  Allowing the job to become personal was always a mistake. Yet there was no other way to take this sexist bullshit. “I’m more than your little sister.” She glared at Cole. “And I’m more than your…”

  His what?

  His past.

  The only reason they were standing side by side in the present was because of this mission. Not because he needed her. Or had come to find her. Or had bothered to pick up the phone.

  She wrenched free of their grasps. “I’m an operative like you, Castle, and you, Reece.”

  “Don’t drag me into this chauvinistic crap.” Reece raised his hands. “I know you can handle yourself, Maddox. You can shoot, stab, and snap necks alongside the best of us. I’ve got no issue with you covering my back on anything.”

  Castle eyed him. “Not helpful.”

  Reece cut his gaze back to Maddox. “I’ve got your back. Without question.”

  She gave a nod of appreciation for the support. She could rely on ever-ready Reece, no matter what.

  Castle heaved a deep breath. “You’re a good operative, Maddox. Solid as they come. I’ve only worried about you on a mission twice. Your very first time, you had your cherry plucked on a real nasty one. You proved you could handle it. The only other assignment to concern me is this one.” He shot a steely glance at Cole, then looked back at her. “I warned you the same as I would’ve Reaper or Reece. Novak killed a really good officer. The things he’s reportedly accomplished took serious skill. I’m talking sharp. We need to take him as a team.”

  Castle thought of her as good, solid. She’d had no idea, since he steered clear of her for some reason. Her chest filled with the kind of warmth she hadn’t felt since their father had given her an attaboy.

  She wanted to give Castle a hug, but they weren’t big on mush. “We’ll take him as a team.”

  “And I’m a part of the team,” Cole said, “until this is done.”

  His sloppy phrasing slapped her three different shades of wrong. “And then what? You run off? Fake your death again, only better this time so I can never find you?”

  “Maddox.” He looked downright flustered, like he wasn’t sure what he planned to do.

  “Well, somebody kind of had that coming,” Castle said.

  Cole stepped in to face off with her brother.

  She moved in between them. “Get on the helo. Now.”

  Reece was the first to move, cutting the tension.

  They boarded and put on headsets. Their helicopter was a fine piece of machinery but lacking luxurious amenities.

  “Are comms open?” she asked through the microphone.

  “Internal only.” Gideon piloted the helicopter into the air. “Do you want me to open a secure channel to the Gray Box?”

  “No.” What she needed to say, she didn’t want anyone back at headquarters to hear. “My cover was blown.”

  “Novak sounded like he suspected one of you was undercover.” Castle’s gaze bounced between her and Cole, seated beside her.

  “He knew it was me,” Maddox said. “He knew my full name and expected me to be there.”

  “What do you mean?” Reece pitched forward in his seat across from her.

  “At first, I thought Cole might’ve said too much and Ilya got word here somehow.”

  “I’d never.” Something cold and ugly snapped in Cole’s eyes. “I’m not the one who can’t keep a secret.”

  A low blow she deserved, but she couldn’t get sidet
racked again with their personal mess. “Castle, we may have a leak in our office.”

  Her brother’s face twisted into a frown. “Not possible.”

  “I can’t think of another explanation for what the Ghost knew.” As much as she wanted to come up with something. The thought they might have a mole made her sick.

  “The chance the Gray Box is compromised is next to nil. There has to be another explanation.” Castle’s gaze wandered as if he was trying to think of one.

  With the highly sensitive nature of their work and access to classified information from multiple agencies, the Gray Box had the most sophisticated security there was. And their operations facility was housed six stories below ground and had every safeguard imaginable to prevent interception of communication.

  “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Reece said. “What if there’s some next generation tech, some new spyware? Hackers come up with crazy things every day.”

  “The bunker is shielded,” Gideon said. “No electromagnetic signals can get in or out. We can even take the hit of an EMP.”

  Shielding from an electromagnetic pulse was no small thing. A high-energy EMP could drop a Boeing 747 from the sky.

  Cole gave a low whistle like he was impressed. “No one is hacking into your sandbox.”

  External spyware sounded farfetched to her too. Besides, Sanborn had only decided to send Maddox to the auction mere hours ago. There wouldn’t have been any digital record of a plan to send her in.

  “Anything is possible,” she said, not wanting to believe one of their own was a traitor. A leak would mean they were screwed on so many levels that it scared her.

  “But only one scenario sounds probable right now,” Cole said. “It might be a bitter pill to swallow, but it’s not so hard to believe. You’re a bunch of professional liars. Right?”

  Maddox ignored the jab.

  For a few, the Gray Box was a second chance, but for most, it was the end of the operative line. No other options. And for someone getting twitchy under the anvil of desperation, maybe treason was a different form of freedom. An alternative that outweighed loyalty or duty or honor. And the reality was they did lie and deceive for a living. They were all quite good at it.

  Castle scrubbed a hand over his face. “Let’s assume you’re right and we have a leak. If the mole knows we’re on to him, it’ll be that much harder to plug. We need to keep this close-hold.”

  “The fewer people you trust on this,” Cole said, “the better.”

  “Did Lover Boy just say I was right?” Castle folded his arms across his chest.

  “No.” The word stabbed the air. “I only said you weren’t wrong.”

  “I agree.” Maddox stared at her brother, knowing he was going to fight what she had to say next. “I don’t think we should tell Sanborn.”

  “Sanborn needs to know,” Castle said as if issuing an order rather than making a suggestion.

  If Sanborn wasn’t the leak, she’d be the first in line to tell him.

  “If we have a mole, it could be anyone,” Gideon said, echoing her thoughts.

  A frosty calmness settled over Castle, sending a chill creeping over her skin. “Not him. Not the DGB.”

  She didn’t want to entertain the idea either, but someone inside the Gray Box had just jeopardized this mission and their lives. Someone they trusted without a doubt before tonight.

  “Castle, you sound awfully certain,” Cole said, “like you hold him in high esteem, but what do you know about him?”

  The one person who knew Sanborn the best was Knox and he was deployed.

  Sanborn was tight-lipped, epitomized discretion, kept their black ops pitch-black. In the intelligence community, he was respected and feared. Their boss knew so much about government dark arts, it was piss-your-pants scary, which also meant he’d know everything about how to cover his tracks.

  “I know he keeps his distance because getting too close to us would cloud his judgment,” Castle said. “He has to make tough calls and sometimes, he needs to bring down the hammer if we step out of line. I know he wouldn’t sell out this country for money. I know I can trust him with my life. With your life.” Castle stabbed the air in her direction.

  “That snazzy suit of his wasn’t simply tailored,” Cole said. “The perfect fit, handcrafted stitching around the lapels, working cuffs—it’s custom. Expensive. And he’s wearing a Tag Heuer watch. A chump change government paycheck didn’t pay for that.”

  Sanborn was always impeccably dressed, but she had never examined his clothing under a microscope. Cole made a good point that civil servants weren’t rolling in dough.

  “The DGB is the very antithesis of an open book. I don’t know anything personal about him,” Reece said. “Do you?”

  “He was married for a long time,” Castle said after a moment of silence. “Janet let it slip once that his ex-wife bought those suits, the cuff links, and watches he wears. When he talks about marriage, it’s with fondness, like he doesn’t enjoy being single. I know the Gray Box and his reputation are all he has.” He squeezed one hand in the other. “He’d never risk losing or damaging either.”

  “Maddox almost died tonight.” Cole rubbed the back of his neck. “Trusting the wrong person, someone who has most likely had special training in deception, could get all of us killed. You can’t afford to take that chance.”

  Her brother rolled his eyes.

  “There’s too much at stake.” Maddox stared at Castle. “We need to find Novak and retrieve the bioweapon. Then we’ll tell Sanborn about our suspicions that we have a mole. That’s the safest, smartest play. Am I wrong?”

  Castle’s jaw hardened, Adam’s apple bobbing as he met her eyes. “You’re not wrong.”

  Chapter 17

  Gray Box Headquarters, Northern Virginia

  11:22 p.m. EDT

  The adrenaline high had drained from Maddox somewhere over the Atlantic on the helicopter ride. Fatigue was sludge clogging her veins.

  Her bruised ribs hurt. Sitting in the conference room, her only comfort was from the baggy running shorts and V-neck tee she’d changed into and a couple of aspirin. The frosted walls pressed in on the room. She squirmed in her seat, anxious for the briefing to get underway.

  Janet circulated around the table, refilling coffee cups, handing out her homemade jam thumbprint cookies and slices of zucchini bread the guys gobbled by the fistful.

  Maddox sipped her coffee, clutching her sore neck. A hot shower would do wonders, but that luxury would have to wait.

  “The drone tracked the helicopter from the yacht. It landed at the WMN-TV heliport,” Sanborn said.

  He’d been ticked they’d lost the bioweapon, but his obvious concern for their welfare, his relief they were alive, had been overwhelming. Undeniable. Her gut was sure that Sanborn could be trusted with the full truth, with their lives, but listening to her head was for the best.

  “The news station?” Gideon asked.

  “Yeah.” Cutter yawned. “The one right next to the Department of Homeland Security and the National Presbyterian Church.”

  “The drone tracked Novak and his companion after they exited the building but lost them somewhere in the square,” Sanborn said. “We only had one drone, so we also lost the helo and Van Helden, which means we have no link to the seller. Willow managed to get a tail number and she’s trying to track down the helicopter.”

  For a second time, the Ghost had slipped right through their fists.

  Harper rushed into the conference room and handed Maddox two folders. “Thick one is everything on Aleksander Novak. Slim one is everything unclassified, the way you asked.”

  “Thanks.” Maddox guzzled more coffee and opened the thick folder.

  Sipping coffee from a flag football mug, Sanborn gave Harper the nod to begin. She tapped the screen on the table, bringing up a pictur
e of the Ghost.

  A phantom vise tightened around Maddox’s neck. She massaged her throat, trying to erase the sensation of asphyxiation, of dying. No air. Choking. Fear throbbing in her heart.

  Remember this mercy, Agent Maddox Kinkade.

  “Aleksander Novak. Born November 4, 1969, in Berat, Albania. Served as a sharpshooter in the Albanian Special Forces. Married Sonia Shehu March 9, 1987. Son Valmir, born later that year. Daughter Mila born 1995.”

  Harper clutched a pen, fingers strained bloodless, disgorging facts about his military service without any notes, validating her reputation as the factinator. No other analyst could sort through copious amounts of data, stringing together the relevant pieces and memorizing it, in such astonishing time.

  Maddox fingered through the thick file while Harper briefed everyone.

  Novak had a pristine military record. Special Operations Battalion, most elite unit in the Albanian Army. One of the finest sharpshooters in his battalion, broke records for number of kills, known for going deep and staying out in the field for long periods. Several early promotions. Commendations and decorations up the wazoo.

  “There was a photo of the son as a young boy in his file,” Harper said. “I ran it through age-progression software. Ninety-five percent probability he was the man with the Ghost on the yacht.”

  “Any idea about the current whereabouts of his wife and daughter?” Sanborn asked.

  “No, sir.”

  “How does a highly decorated guy in special forces go from the fast track to becoming an assassin stealing a bioweapon?” Maddox wondered out loud. They were missing something.

  “Harper, what kind of discharge did he get?” Castle asked.

  “Honorable, with thirteen years of service. He had just reenlisted the year prior. After he left the army, he fell off the grid with his family. There’s nothing on him until the CIA started tracking him as the Ghost.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense.” Maddox shook her head. “He reenlisted three times. That was a career for him and he was one of their best. Why would they discharge him after he’d just signed up to do four more years?” She looked around the room, but of course everyone was stumped the same as her.