by Cassie Cole
“Jack’s in the Agency,” Cairo said. “The CIA. You okay?” He put a comforting hand on my shoulder.
“I’m great. How’s your girlfriend?” He frowned, so I said, “Ariel.”
“Ahh.” He patted the strap of his gun, whose barrel was poking out above his shoulder. “She’s peachy.”
“Barcelona!” Jack yelled down the hall. “Was nice while it lasted!”
“I liked the Little Mermaid too,” I told Cairo. “But I would’ve guessed Jasmine was your crush.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Wow, racist much?”
“No!” I sputtered. “It’s because I didn’t expect you to have a thing for redheads!”
Hunter barked a laugh. He was still a little woozy. “Redheads are fucking hot.” He saw my glare, and quickly added, “They’re almost as hot as blondes. Or, umm, dirty blondes.” He squinted at my hair.
Logan disappeared and returned with a bath towel. “Give Ariel some modesty. Don’t want anyone on the street seeing her.”
Cairo took the towel, unslung his rifle, then began wrapping the towel around it. “This is wet.”
Jack stomped back into the kitchen. He’d changed clothes and was wearing sneakers now. “Can’t a man take a shower without being pestered? Lord almighty! First you made me go to ground this morning because of some ridiculous rumor about the CLF knowing my location, then you blow my cover completely, and now you’re insulting my towel? What kind of asshole insults a man’s towel?”
“Your towel’s great,” Logan said in a patronizing voice. “And we’re sorry about the cover. I’ll buy you a nice bottle of scotch.”
“Do you know where I was stationed before this?” Jack demanded. “Moscow. As in, the middle of Putin’s Russia. Snow drifts as high as my head!”
“We need your car, Jack.”
He grumbled and tossed a keyring to Logan. “They’ll probably send me back to Russia. No sandy beaches within a thousand miles. Women bundled up like Eskimos. Borscht for every goddamn meal.”
Logan ignored him and turned to Hunter. “How are you doing?”
He grinned a silly grin. “You know me, LC. I’m always a happy camper.”
“I mean how’s the morphine? You sober yet?”
Hunter put his hand over his heart like a student reciting the pledge of allegiance. “As sober as the day I was baptized. Leg’s good, too. Give me an energy gel and I’ll run the Boston Marathon.”
“Sober my ass,” Logan muttered, pulling out his cell phone.
Jack put his hand on my back. From his demeanor I expected him to comfort me, but he quietly asked, “Have you ever been to Moscow, honey?”
“Umm, no.”
“Lucky you!” he barked. “Don’t go! It’s terrible!”
“I’ll take that under consideration.”
Logan spoke into his phone and then shoved it into his pocket. “We’re cleared with Intel to move to the secondary safe house.”
We followed him out of the kitchen and down the hall. A wide staircase ran up to our left, built from expensive looking wood, and the room to our right held a piano and a drink cart with at least two dozen bottles of expensive liquor. I could see why Jack was upset about suddenly needing to leave this lifestyle behind.
Logan paused to peer out the windows by the front door. “Intel texted me the coordinates. The safe house is two clicks west of here. Shouldn’t have a problem on such a short drive since the CLF has no idea we’re here.”
“Oh, sure, you get a safe house,” Jack complained. “I get to visit the embassy for a one-way flight back to Washington.” He looked to me for sympathy. “I’ve made friends here! I’m in a bridge club! We have a game tomorrow!”
Logan smacked him on the shoulder. “Thanks for everything, Jack.”
“Kiss my ass.”
Logan opened the front door.
And then he was shot.
23
Karen
The gunshot was muted, and came from somewhere outside. Logan grunted and flew backward, away from the door. He collapsed on his back with his arms spread out, limp, like a puppet whose strings had been severed.
I screamed at the same time Cairo yelled, “Fuck me!”
Logan wasn’t moving, but Jack was quick to grab the SEAL Lieutenant Commander and drag him away from the open doorway. “Logan! Lord almighty, are you alright?” Jack’s entire demeanor was different as he turned to Cairo. Worried and helpful rather than complaining. “It hit him dead-on. So the shot came from directly across the street.”
Cairo leaned against the frame and glanced outside before yanking his head back. “How’d they know our location!”
“Oh fuck,” Hunter wailed, eyes glued to Logan. “They shot the LC! Cairo, you see this?”
“Shut up.”
“Cairo, they shot Logan…”
Cairo ignored him and chanced another look out the window. “I don’t see anything.” He removed the towel from Ariel and tossed it to the ground.
“Game over, man!” Hunter yelled. “Game over!”
Logan finally groaned and pushed up to a sitting position. “Will you put a sock in it? Christ, that hurts.” He flicked at a flat piece of metal on the front of his vest, just below the heart. The flattened bullet clinked on the floor like a coin.
Jack sighed with relief. “Logan, I…”
Logan grabbed a fistful of Jack’s shirt and pulled his face close. “You were compromised before we even got here!”
“I… no,” Jack protested. “There’s no way! It’s impossible!”
“Then how did they have someone waiting for us on this end? Now I don’t feel so bad about blowing your cover with our escape tunnel.”
“That was supposed to by my escape tunnel in case I needed a quick getaway, not the other way around!”
“Shut up,” Cairo hissed. “I don’t see anything, and I’m not risking another look.”
“There’s no way to get to your car now.” Logan grimaced. “What’s your secondary evac plan?”
“Upstairs,” Jack said. “To the roof.”
We made sure we didn’t pass in front of the exposed open doorway as we climbed the stairs to the second floor. Aside from our footsteps on the creaking wood, the world was eerily quiet. I could feel the tension: everyone was waiting for the next gunshot. For the next attack.
“How many do you think are out there?” Jack asked. His neck was covered in a sweaty sheen.
“There were half a dozen at our cafe,” Cairo said as we reached the landing and started up the next flight. “Hopefully the guy who shot Logan was just a lookout or something.”
“Hell of a shot for a lookout,” Logan groaned, touching his chest and wincing.
We reached the roof level, which was blocked by a wooden door. Cairo swung it open and aimed his rifle. “Clear.”
“Too clear,” Hunter mumbled. “There’s no cover.”
“I’ve got some to the right. Gonna take a peek. Stay here.”
He darted off. The rest of us crammed against the wall by the door, where we could barely see him. He crouched low while running to a small brick chimney at the edge of the roof. It had to be less than two feet wide, but Cairo crouched behind it anyway.
He jerked his head around the chimney, then back again. “Where was he?”
“No idea,” Logan hissed. “Second floor, maybe? It was a direct shot.”
Cairo sneaked another glance around the side again. “Every window on that building is open. Nice weather.”
“Yeah bro, lucky us,” Hunter said.
Jack nodded across the roof. “We can run all the way across the roof to the other door, but we’ll be exposed.”
“Not much choice,” Logan said. “Cairo, I’ll flush him out for ya.”
“I don’t like that idea!”
Logan took a deep breath, chest heaving underneath the vest. “Me neither. Don’t let me get shot.”
And then he sprinted out across the roof.
Cairo immed
iately raised his rifle, resting it on the top of the chimney to aim at the building across the street. I could see him searching, the rifle darting left, left, up, right as he looked through the scope.
It was obvious from the way Logan ran that he was in pain. He tucked his left arm close to his body like a wounded bird, which gave him uneven steps. He was totally open for at least 100 feet until he reached the door to the stairwell at the far end. The longer it lasted the more I cringed, waiting for a bullet to cross the air and hit him where his vest offered no protection…
Ariel barked with a flash of muzzle fire. A single shot. “Found him. Roof across from us, behind the rain barrel.” He fired a second time. “I’ve got him pinned. Get moving while you can.”
Hunter took my hand in his. “Say your prayers, baby.”
We ran out into the evening air, my fingers holding his tight for courage. I was very happy to have changed into sneakers and jeans; running for my life in flip flops would have been a comical way to die. I focused on Logan, who was waving us forward with one hand while speaking into his cell phone with the other. The red tiles of the roof bounced in my vision as I ran as fast as I could.
Cairo continued firing, single shots with short pauses in between. Hopefully that was making the other guy keep his head down.
It took an eternity to cross the exposed roof. It was like those dreams where you’re running in slow motion, unable to force your legs to go any faster. But Logan’s handsome face drew closer, 30 feet, then 15, and then Jack threw himself down and slid the rest of the way behind cover. I tried to do the same thing but my shoe caught on a tile and turned it into an awkward tumble. Hunter fell because the morphine was still affecting his motor skills, and he landed on top of me.
He pushed up so that his face was right above mine. “Sup girl.”
Even in the crazy circumstances, it made me laugh.
Logan began firing his rifle like Cairo: individual shots every three or four seconds. Cairo sprinted across the roof and arrived in a blink, ending with a flawless tactical slide while holding Ariel across his chest.
“We’ve got evac downstairs in 60 seconds,” Logan said, pausing to fire another bullet. “Knock the door down.”
Cairo rose. He struck a handsome pose, his bulging arms glistened with sweat while holding his assault rifle. He had a calm, determined look on his face. The look of a powerful soldier who had an order to obey. I would have hated to be on his bad side.
He planted his boot against the door and kicked it in.
We rushed downstairs into a luxury apartment identical to Jack’s. A woman appeared in the doorway of a bedroom, took one look at the three SEALs running past her, and promptly fainted. Two little boys appeared at the bottom of the next flight of stairs and held out their hands for high-fives. Cairo and Logan ignored them, but Hunter gave them an enthusiastic, “Right on, bro!” and smacked his palm against theirs.
Even though the front door faced a different street than the one with the shooter, Logan paused with his fingers on the handle. “Want me to go first this time?” Cairo asked with a half-smile.
Logan glared at him. “No use wasting time.”
He threw the door open and disappeared into the street. We followed right behind, Cairo aiming his rifle at the windows and rooftops while walking backwards. We swung around another corner, then crossed the street—ignoring the honking cars we blocked—and then darted into a service alley wedged between two restaurants. The smell of grilled pork and garlic was strong as we ran down the alley.
Logan stopped when we reached the next street, then cursed.
“Where’s the evac?” Cairo demanded.
“They’re supposed to be here.” He looked at his watch. “We’re four seconds late…”
Suddenly a boxy truck like a white UHaul pulled up, brakes screeching. The back door opened.
Jack shouted a warning. Cairo yelled, “Karen!”
A man I didn’t know grabbed me by the arm and yanked me inside the truck.
24
Karen
The back of the box truck was like a prisoner van: windowless, with two benches against the side walls with straps that could be used as seatbelts. The man who had grabbed me wore a blue uniform, similar to a police uniform but without any identification anywhere. He sat me down on one of the benches, then reached a hand out to pull the next person inside.
Friendly. This was our evacuation.
“Sorry,” Jack said as he lowered his heft to the bench across from me. “Didn’t recognize the van at first. You don’t move up in the Agency without a little healthy paranoia.”
The others piled inside and the van roared away.
“You’re late,” Logan told the man in the blue uniform. “12 seconds later than agreed.”
The man only shrugged.
Cairo, who was sitting next to me, slid over until our thighs touched. “You okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“You’ve had one hell of a day.”
“So have you,” I pointed out.
He flashed a white smile, a striking sight in contrast with his olive skin. “Yeah, but I’m used to it. You’re used to microscopes and computer screens full of data.”
“This is true.”
Hunter, across from me next to Jack, nodded once. “Karen’s tough as nails.”
I didn’t feel tough as nails, but it was a nice sentiment anyway.
The truck bounced along the old Barcelona streets for a while, then slowed to a stop. When the doors opened we were in a parking garage, with an identical van backed up in front of us with the doors open. We transferred to that truck and drove some more.
The morphine must have worn off because Hunter leaned his head on Jack’s shoulder and fell right asleep. Soon his snores filled the truck.
Finally we came to a stop in another parking garage. Three taxis waited. They were painted black except for their doors, which were bright yellow. They looked like three shiny bumble bees.
Jack hopped to the ground and gave a mocking salute. “Pleasure knowing you, safe travels, best of luck ruining some other CIA agent’s day.”
“Enjoy Moscow,” Cairo said with a sneer.
“Fuck you too.” Jack got into the back of one taxi, which immediately drove away.
I looked at the two remaining taxis. “What’s going on?”
“We’re splitting up,” Logan announced. “Safer that way.”
Cairo nodded. Hunter rubbed his eyes and blinked as he tried to wake up. “For how long?” I asked.
“Until our Intel officer tells us it’s safe to regroup.” Logan pointed. “No point in delaying. The left car is ours.”
Cairo flinched like he’d been punched in the gut. “Why’s she going with you?”
“Because I need you to watch Hunter until he’s back at 100%.”
Hunter yawned. “Aww, come on, LC. I’m sober as a Russian.”
“Russians aren’t exactly known for their sobriety.”
Hunter snorted. “I know, right?”
Cairo leaned Ariel against the van and then hugged me. I felt my chest shudder and my throat tighten, as if we were parting for a long time.
Why do I feel this way about a guy I’ve known for a day?
Hunter hugged me next, his hands sliding down to try to grab my ass until I pushed his arms back up. He gave me a quick peck on the cheek. Logan looked annoyed by all the delay.
“Don’t let Mr. Hardass get you down,” Hunter said as he got into his taxi.
“Stay safe,” Cairo said. Then, to Logan: “Keep her safe, LC.”
“Don’t insult me,” Logan growled.
Logan and I slid into the back seat of the taxi. A fat duffel bag was waiting on the floor, which Logan pulled up into the seat between us. I moved my own bag of clothes onto my lap and asked, “Clothes for the trip?”
He pulled open the zipper. “Something like that.”
There were some folded camo clothes on top, but he moved them out of the
way to reveal the primary contents of the bag: weapons and ammunition. Two more assault rifles, the dull metal poking against my leg through the bag. There was even a case of grenades wrapped in protective padding!
“Oh my God,” I said.
“Yeah,” Logan grumbled, “they skimped on our supplies. It’ll have to do for the next day or two. You ever fired a gun before?”
“Do videogames count?”
His glare told me they did not, in fact, count. “Good time to learn.” He shifted the packs of ammo around and unzipped a smaller bag filled with food rations. Wrapped tubes of processed food that looked like industrial-sized power bars, and freeze-dried MREs. Wherever we were going would be bare-bones. I tried not to groan. All I wanted was a hot shower and a real meal.
My phone buzzed in my pocket from a text message:
Cairo: Has Logan made you learn how to fire a weapon yet?
I chuckled, ignored Logan’s questioning glance, and responded:
Me: He threatened to teach me. I didn’t realize I had your number in my phone.
Cairo: I added it in your contacts when you were at our place.
Cairo: Hope that isn’t weird.
Me: My dude, that’s probably the least weird thing that’s happened to me in the last 24 hours.
Me: Although it kind of ruins the whole one-night stand thing to give a girl your number.
Cairo: I don’t think you can call it a one-night stand if you eat tapas with a person the next day.
Cairo: And then, you know, fuck them in the bathroom ;-)
I blushed at the memory of what we’d done at the tapas restaurant. Hot and fast and with more urgency than I’d ever felt in my life. Like the world was going to end if we didn’t come before our food arrived.
I was trying to think of something witty to say back when he changed the subject:
Cairo: Don’t let the LC push you around. Listen to him when it makes sense, but if he’s being unreasonable then feel free to push back. He’ll keep you safe. He’s one of the best men I know.
Me: That’s good to know.