Turn the Tide

by Ruggle, Katie

  Six men and women in suits and earpieces with the government trademark white coil cord attached trained their drawn weapons on her. The real BfV.

  She raised her hands, clinging to the thumb drive. It would’ve taken ten minutes, zehn minuten, to complete the download. They got some of the files in the short time the drive had been connected to the computer, but not all of them. She’d glimpsed the toolbar showing that 30 percent of the data had been uploaded and transmitted via a link somewhere.

  The rest of the data might’ve been erased from the USB device, but if it hadn’t, she wasn’t letting the drive go.

  Two of her captors, who had ridden in the van with her, opened fire from behind the German officers. But there were two more lurking somewhere.

  Ducking out of the line of gunfire, Ashley spotted Mike aiming at her assailants.

  She dove behind a massive concrete pillar, taking cover. Her face throbbed with pain, and a vicious ache pulsed in her left hand. Once they made it through this—and she was making it out alive with Logan—she needed a tetanus shot.

  Glasses dashed through the front doors. Without hesitation, he shot at the BfV. His gaze flickered to hers, and he took aim, but security guards burst outside, seizing his attention.

  She dashed to the next column while he was distracted pumping ammo into the guards.

  Her heart was a hammer. Her nerves overworked. Determination was the only thing powering her. She hugged the cold pillar. Being out in the open—close, too damn close to Glasses—was no good. Five feet to the next column. If she hurried, she’d reach it.

  She scrambled to put more distance between her and Glasses. A fusillade of bullets raked the ground near her feet and smacked the stone beside her head.

  Risking a glance over her shoulder, she spotted Glasses on the move in her direction.

  Something heavy sideswiped her, bringing her down to the hard ground. Her head slammed against the pavement with a crack, and her ears rang.

  The man who’d tackled her—one of her previous captors—stood in front of her. Glasses emerged in her blurry vision, towering over her beside the other guy.

  He stomped on her hand with his boot heel.

  Agony exploded. She screamed, the sound washed out in the thunder of gunfire. Her other hand opened on reflex.

  The thumb drive clattered to the ground, and the second man picked it up.

  Glasses aimed his gun at her head.

  Her heart locked. Please, please, no. Don’t let it end like this. After running, fighting for what’s right, reuniting with Logan, she didn’t want to die.

  But Glasses was going to kill her.

  Her final prayer wasn’t Hail Mary, full of grace. It was for Logan, that her death not cause him any more pain, that he not blame himself. He deserved peace and happiness.

  Glasses gave a ghost of a smile, a triumphant gleam in his eyes, and squeezed the trigger.

  Click! The hammer struck the firing pin.

  His gun was empty.

  Something electric snapped through Ashley like the crack of a whip. She drew in both legs, leaning back for added power, and kicked him. The best defense when you were down on the ground.

  He stumbled backward, his arms windmilling.

  A bullet whizzed overhead and clipped Glasses. He scrambled out of the trajectory of rifle fire, holding the side of his neck.

  Another hot slug slammed into the other man’s temple. The USB device skittered onto the concrete. Eyes frozen open and mouth gaping, he dropped to the ground.

  Ethan. He must be in a sniper position.

  Glasses scurried out from the safety of his hidden position behind a stone column, making a move for the thumb drive. A precise spray of copper-jacketed lead sent him rolling in the opposite direction before he reached it. More bullets hit the ground where he’d just crouched, the line of incoming fire driving him further back. The sound of his footsteps pounding in retreat mingled with the peppering of bullets striking stone and steel.

  Ashley hauled in a sobering breath. She scooped up the drive and clambered to her feet, hurting everywhere—a soul-deep pain she’d never forget. Fatigue ran leaden in her muscles. She wanted to keel over and lie down someplace safe and warm, curled up beside the man she loved.

  Strong hands gripped her arms, turning her.

  The beautiful sight of Logan gave her a quick jolt through the chest. She fell against his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her breathing was labored, legs trembling, and she swallowed the sob lodged in her throat.

  Police sirens pierced the rumble of ongoing gunfire.

  “We have to go. Before the police arrive. We have to see Sanborn. He’s in country by now. We can’t outrun this. It’s too big.”

  She clenched her hand closed around the thumb drive. Thank God she hadn’t lost it, but she would’ve handed it over to Glasses, traded anything in the world, even her life, to protect Logan.

  Giving the USB drive to Sanborn, to the Agency, could possibly jeopardize the lives of countless others, but she’d do that, too, in order to keep him safe.

  Nothing in the world was more important.

  Chapter 11

  Berlin, Germany

  Sunday, March 6, 2:58 p.m. CET

  “I told you to wait for me.” Sanborn stood in the safe house’s dining room, wearing a dark suit without a tie, shirt open at the neck, his clipped tone burning hotter than napalm.

  “Look at what they did to her!” Logan said. “Would she even be alive if we had waited?”

  Sanborn cut his fiery gaze from him to Ashley. “I trusted you, ensured you had the right training to survive, believed you could get this mission done. An assignment you lobbied for. All you had to do was follow orders. Instead, you endangered the team. What were you thinking?”

  Ash hunched over the table, wrapping her arms around herself as if trying to keep a storm of feelings contained. Weariness hung on her bruised face.

  “The Agency does countless unethical things. Is never held accountable for its actions.” She peered up at Sanborn. “When I realized what was on the drive, I didn’t know how it would be used. If you could go back in time and had the power to prevent…say, the atom bomb from ever being invented, would you?”

  Sometimes working for the CIA had been like serving the Evil Empire. Who knows, maybe the data on the thumb drive was the equivalent of the blueprint for the Death Star?

  “I thought it best if the Company didn’t have it,” she said.

  Sanborn’s normally unflappable composure fell back over him. He stood cold and hard as granite, his face implacable. “That wasn’t your call to make. It still isn’t. I’ve seen the surveillance footage from outside the Reichstag. I know you have the drive. Give it to me.”

  After an audible swallow, she straightened. “If you want to keep serving in hell as Satan’s greatest little helper, so be it. But you’re going to know what’s on that drive first.”

  “I know about the Ianus project. Word of it first came through the Counterterrorism Division. What I read was heavily redacted, but there’s concern it threatens our national interest. That’s all I need to know.”

  She recoiled, but from the sharp gleam in her eyes, those wheels in her head were turning, spinning fast. “Do you have any idea how BioGenApex planned to use it? Do you know all the horrifying implications of how the Agency could possibly use it?”

  That must’ve given him pause. Logan could almost feel the weight of Sanborn’s scrutiny leveled upon her.

  “Okay. Educate me.” Sanborn extended a hand, directing her to the privacy of the back room.

  This was a matter of need-to-know. Sanborn obviously felt they didn’t have a need, or it was simply safer for them not to know.

  Ashley went to grab Mike’s laptop.

  “No,” Sanborn said, raising a palm. “It’ll ping La
ngley.”

  She nodded. Then they disappeared in the room down the hall and the door closed.

  Logan couldn’t sit still while they waited. Part of him itched to know what was on that drive. The smarter, saner part of him wanted to bury his head in the proverbial sand and never hear another word about it.

  Ethan rubbed the back of his neck like he had a crick in it. Mike opened a bottle of water, took a sip, closed it. Seconds later, he was twisting the top off again and peeling the label from the plastic container.

  Only Knox stood composed, leaning against the wall. Sometimes his mannerisms, the way he handled situations, was so much like Sanborn it was scary.

  A whack came from the back room. Logan was on his feet and moving toward the hall.

  Knox blocked him, putting a hand on his shoulder, and gave him a look that said Sanborn would never hit her. Logan knew it to be true. Sanborn was driven, yes, excellent at what he did, of course, but he was also honorable. He was a good man.

  But another whack had Logan tensing again.

  When the two of them returned, Ashley wore a shining look of vindication and dumped the shattered pieces of the drive on the table.

  “Wow,” Mike said on a low breath.

  That was an understatement. If Sanborn had destroyed the drive, then it must’ve been something truly cataclysmic.

  Ashley sat beside Logan. “Glasses, the man who tracked and interrogated me, uploaded about 30 percent of the data on the USB device, from what I could tell. It’s out there somewhere. Who those men were and what parts of the research they have, I don’t know.”

  “What’s going to happen now that the Agency won’t get the information?” Ethan asked.

  “That’s not what any of you need to worry about,” Sanborn said easily.

  Too easily.

  Why wasn’t he concerned about who had a percentage of the data? Or the repercussions of the Agency not getting their hands on any of it?

  The CIA played for keeps, and they wouldn’t let this go.

  “The stunt you pulled at the Reichstag resulted in the deaths of two civilian security guards, one BfV officer, and three CIA cleaners. Others were injured. You all came this close”—he held up two fingers an inch apart—“to being whitewashed.”

  A heavy silence settled in the room. Cleaners echoed through Logan as he swallowed past a knot in his throat. The CIA was so dirty it disgusted him.

  Sanborn pulled on a solemn expression—a look Logan had only seen on him when the boss was about to tell them someone on the team had died. Everyone in the room seemed to brace themselves.

  “You’ve all been disavowed for your insubordination,” Sanborn said.

  The statement struck Logan like a two-by-four, leaving him mute.

  “The decision was made above my head. I argued to at least let me get your side of the story first, but…” Sanborn clasped his hands in front of him. “Mike, Ethan, Ashley, you no longer exist as far as the Agency is concerned. No pension. No work history. You. Are. Ghosts.”

  “Wait. Wait a minute.” Mike stood up, shaking his head. “Fire us instead.” His tone was tight and pleading. “With Missy pregnant, my health insurance would carry over for six months. It’s a high-risk pregnancy, and she’s already had complications. I could collect unemployment to tide us over.”

  “My hands are tied with the Agency.” Sanborn cut his gaze to Ashley. “You shouldn’t have run. Instead, you should’ve come to me.” The hard light in his eyes softened when he pressed a hand to his chest. “Trusted that I would’ve listened. Trusted that my ethics would’ve outweighed my sense of duty. Trusted me to protect you.”

  In that moment, one thing rang clear as a bell—before ambition or allegiance to the Agency, Sanborn was faithful to his people. The hindsight stung.

  “This wasn’t about not trusting you.” Ashley’s eyes turned glassy. “I never wanted to betray the trust you put in me, but it’s not like I could’ve picked up the phone and had a chitchat about this or sent you an email.”

  The National Security Agency monitored comms for the D/CIA and heads of every division at Langley and on their personal devices. They had no such thing as privacy.

  Sanborn’s gaze swung to Logan. “I brought you in to help. You should’ve convinced her to turn the drive over to Knox and explain things to him, to give us a chance to find a solution. Instead, you took them down with you. As of right now, you never worked for the Agency either, which means no more work-related disability checks.” His mouth twisted in disappointment. “I never thought you’d fail, Logan, and make things worse by creating an international incident that was captured on CCTV.”

  Fail? His only goal was to find Ash and get her through this safely. He was up-front about that from the get-go. Mission accomplished in his book. And screw the disability payments. Things would be a little tight without them, but he made enough from his consulting work to live.

  “What about that drive?” Logan asked, looking at the shattered pieces on the table. “Are we going to be in danger because the CIA didn’t get their doomsday formula?”

  “This goes higher than the Agency, but no one is in danger anymore. I’ve taken measures to ensure it. The key players will settle for some of the data rather than nothing. I’ll come up with an explanation for the destroyed thumb drive. That’s all you need to know.”

  The Agency had the information? Somehow. Some way. They must’ve recovered the 30 percent of the data, or this shitstorm wouldn’t be over.

  A horrible, dark thought crawled inside his head like a cockroach. Had Glasses been working for the CIA? Had their own people tortured Ashley for the drive?

  “What about Knox?” Ashley asked with genuine concern in her voice and looked at him, where he stood, jaw clenched, his stance loose, ready.

  He was a fast-burner destined for great things. Regardless of their issues, Logan still hoped that was true. The last thing he wanted was to tank his career too.

  “Knox wasn’t caught on CCTV in the middle of a firefight with the BfV and Reichstag security guards,” Sanborn said. “Ethan, a camera on a nearby rooftop caught you. Just like these three.” Naked emotion washed across his face, tugging at Logan.

  He would’ve sworn this went deeper than disappointment. Something closer to heartbreak. Their actions had hurt the untouchable Bruce Sanborn.

  The sight of it rocked Logan to his core.

  In this ugly business, everyone got their hands dirty, but compassionate leaders worth their salt tended to get the short end of the stick protecting their people. It wasn’t fair, damn it.

  “I’m sorry.” Ash glanced around the room. Her cut bottom lip quivered. “I thought I was doing what was right. I’m so sorry.”

  They’d come so far, sacrificed so much. It hadn’t been a mistake.

  “Don’t apologize for following your conscience.” Logan curled an arm around her shoulder, bringing her trembling body against him. “Don’t you dare. What would this world become if good people stopped trying to do what was right? You have to make a stand for things to change, or you just keep rolling along with the system. The Agency would be better if more people followed their conscience even if it conflicted with orders.”

  It took Ashley risking her life to get Sanborn on a plane and in a room so she could convince him. No telling how this would’ve played out if she hadn’t run. Maybe Glasses would’ve gotten to her sooner and she would be floating in the river. Maybe the CIA might have all the data instead of a random 30 percent.

  At least no one would ever be able to do harm with the 70 percent that was smashed to hell. And that had to count for something.

  Logan held her tighter, pressing his lips to her hair, grateful she was at his side. Her wounds would heal and together they’d work through the mental scars.

  Tears of joy and hope stung his eyes. He struggled desperately t
o keep it together.

  Knox pressed off the wall. “I wish you had listened. To Sanborn and to me. We were never the enemy.”

  “Yeah, well, water under the bridge.” Logan didn’t let a hint of remorse show.

  “Not for some of us,” Knox said. “How can you be so fucking cavalier about this? Your actions cost others. I’m now indebted to the devil and because of the deal Sanborn made to save your lives he’s going to los—”

  “Knox.” Sanborn shook his head. “Enough.”

  “What deal?” Ashley asked, stealing the question from Logan’s mouth.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Sanborn said, calm, measured. “What does is that I’m appalled at how the Agency and the West Wing handled this. They share the blame in this god-awful mess as far as I’m concerned.” He looked around the room. “You made mistakes. Big ones. But your hearts were in the right place. You’re still my people. I won’t leave you high and dry simply because I’ve been ordered to.”

  Even after they’d created this FUBAR—fucked up beyond all recognition—situation that could’ve ruined Sanborn’s reputation, the big guy wasn’t turning his back on them and leaving them out in the cold. It shouldn’t have surprised Logan, but it did. It left him in awe.

  Sanborn never gave up on those he cared about, and despite his lethal skills as a warrior and his brilliance as a strategist, his humanity was his greatest strength.

  “I will always take care of my own,” Sanborn said. “I’ve agreed to head up a new covert agency. The Gray Box. No ties to the CIA or DoD. I’ll report to the president and keep the director of national intelligence in the loop. Only a handful of people will know it exists. I’ll have the power to accept or refuse any mission. I can’t use you in an official capacity, considering the circumstances, but I’d like to keep you on retainer, under the table, as backup. Think of yourselves as the final-hour cavalry. I’ll only call when absolutely necessary.”

  And they’d collect a small check every month until then? That was beyond generous, more than they deserved. After Logan recovered from the car bomb and declined to go back to the CIA, it’d been Sanborn who arranged Logan’s first few freelance clients. Logan wasn’t supposed to know, but success had fallen into his lap without him trying. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.