True Honor

by Dee Henderson

  “Five minutes. Fifteen if I’ve got the luxury of time.”

  “I’d love to see that.”

  “The techniques are classified. And it does take some preparation work before I head to the field.”

  “Meaning you could be telling me a tall tale and I’d never know it.”

  “True.”

  Sam enjoyed seeing the smile. “I’ll trust you. But I still want to see this someday.”

  “The Agency doesn’t pay that well, but it’s got really great toys.”

  “You should see what the military has. We get to spend the big bucks.”

  “Can you see around corners yet?”

  “Better than that, Dar. I can see through walls.”

  “Now you’re joshing me.”

  “Classified toys are by far the best.” Sam went back to a point that needed to be stressed again. “When this war is over, I want to see this house you’re remodeling.” He would enjoy helping her on such a project if only to see how she handled being a carpenter.

  “I had the bathroom tile partially ripped up before this all started. Months later and I still have that job waiting for me. I wish it had been something like laying new carpet instead.”

  Sam saw her glance back behind them again. “Are you sure there’s not someone looking for you, Dar? You’re skittish.”

  “It sounds like someone is crying. Don’t you hear it?”

  “It’s the sea breaking across the shoals back there.”

  “What?”

  “Listen.”

  She stopped walking to stand and listen. “How long has it sounded like that?”

  “Sometimes the sea sounds peaceful. Tonight it sounds sad. The only thing more memorable is when it sounds mad.”

  She turned to look at him.

  “We occasionally fight in bad weather,” Sam simplified.

  She searched his face but didn’t ask. “Tell me about that Western you were reading.”

  Sam told her his version of the story, stretching out the tale. He doubted she could understand just how good it felt to have her company tonight, just how much he appreciated moments like this. He’d missed her. This was the life he fought to keep safe, an evening with a lady he really liked.

  Nothing was simple about Darcy, from the job she did to the way she struggled with the implications of it. He admired what it showed about her spirit. Despite the cost, she poured her whole heart into the effort and did not back away.

  A romance in a time of war—he never would have planned it this way, but there were small blessings in it. He got to see her under stress, and he was learning what she really valued.

  The animation was returning to those blue eyes as she laughed at the stories he told. Darcy paused in her wandering of the beach to look up at him. “What?”

  He hugged her. “I’m just enjoying the laughter.”

  “It feels good.” She looked ahead. “Where does this beach end?”

  “New Jersey.”

  “I don’t think I want to walk that far.”

  He turned them around. “So we’ll wander back toward the car.”

  “Slowly, Samuel.”

  He liked the sound of his name when she said it. “Who’s in a hurry? I’m the one with two weeks off.”

  Fifteen

  * * *

  MAY 22

  Wednesday, 6:15 a.m.

  Norfolk, Virginia

  The bed-and-breakfast pampered its guests. Two newspapers were set outside the door along with a carafe of coffee, and the buffet breakfast started at seven. Darcy tugged on her tennis shoes to go running before breakfast, feeling more lighthearted than she had in days. Sam had offered her a day enjoying what the town had to offer. He had missed out on a lot of things in the months away, and she was looking forward to joining him for a day with no particular objective, maybe ending it with Chinese takeout for dinner and a video store for the best of the movies he had missed.

  She laughed and took off her shoe to shake sand out into the wastebasket. She loved this time off. Sam made her so happy—last night had been an oasis in the middle of war. She could share the pressures of work and know she was understood.

  Darcy relaced her shoes. The phone rang in her room as she confirmed she had her keys in her pocket. She leaned over to grab it as she danced around on one foot to get the old tennis shoe from curling at the heel. “Hello.”

  “Hi, partner.”

  “Hey, Gabriel. I love the bed-and-breakfast. It’s a great spot.”

  “There’s a theory that bad news always comes when it’s least welcome.”

  Her smile faded. “What’s happening?”

  “Luther’s number two was in Yemen. He’s not anymore,” Gabe said carefully, for the line was unsecured and the message was in what he didn’t say.

  Her hand curled into the bedspread. She didn’t need the words. Vladimir had been in Yemen, and when he left, he hadn’t been alone. He wouldn’t have been there to hire a bookkeeper or a chef. “You’re sure?”

  “I want you to put the puzzle pieces together to confirm what I see, but yes.”

  “How soon do you need me there?”

  “Get breakfast, then head this way. We’re going to be working against the time zones on this one. My guess is he’s got a twelve-hour head start on us.”

  She already wanted to find two aspirin. “I’ll pack.”

  “Did you at least get to enjoy dinner?”

  “Yes.”

  “Be grateful for small blessings. I’m sorry but I need you, Dar.”

  She knew they were words Gabriel did not say lightly. “I’m on my way.”

  She hung up the phone and bowed her head, then reached over for her bag to start packing. She’d have to call Sam and cancel their plans. As much as she regretted that fact, she accepted it. Whatever disruptions in her life she had to pay were minor to getting the job done. They had to get Vladimir. If he was moving, she was chasing.

  * * *

  Sam had forgotten how nice it was to make a mess in his own kitchen. Eggs for an omelet were simmering as he diced ham when the phone rang. He wiped his hands and reached for it. “Hello.”

  “Sam.”

  He knew as soon as he heard the tone of her voice that their plans would change. “Good morning, Darcy.” He turned off the heat under the skillet. “You’re calling to say you’ve lost a few more days.”

  “I leave as soon as I can pack.”

  He reached over and made a pyramid of the oranges. “Glum doesn’t suit you,” he teased, trying to take the disappointing news lightly.

  “It’s necessary.”

  He knew that; she wouldn’t be going otherwise. “Want a chauffeur?”

  “It will be a long drive with some lousy company. I’ve got a lot of stuff on my mind.”

  “All the more reason to let me drive. I’ll take you home, then catch a cab to the airport, head west to see my folks.”

  “You can arrange a flight that easily?”

  “Flights heading west are hardly fully booked these days. It won’t be a problem. I don’t need a direct flight, just the next one heading the right direction.” Come on, Dar. Let me in. These are the moments that make a relationship stronger.

  Her hesitation was brief. “I’d like the company.”

  “Pack. I’ll be over shortly.”

  Sam set the items for his breakfast back into the refrigerator. The toast he buttered and put together into a sandwich to take with him. Darcy would learn not to be so worried about calls like this one. The military was built around accepting changes in plans in order to get the mission done. He spent his life on call, never knowing when he might get word of trouble and within an hour be on a plane heading somewhere into danger. Adapting was something he had grown comfortable with. One of the many reasons he liked Darcy was her unconventional job. He’d take a rain check on a day with her and make sure he collected with interest.

  She was waiting for him at the bed-and-breakfast, her bag already packed.
He paid the cab driver, then transferred his bag and hers to her car trunk. She offered him one of the two cinnamon rolls she held. “What time is it in London?”

  Time in London . . . He opened the passenger door for her. “They’re five hours ahead of us, so coming up on noon.”

  “Just checking.”

  He paused in closing her door. “Darcy.”

  She licked sticky fingers. “I really need one of those world time watches. You enter the country code and get the current time, adjusted for daylight saving time of course. Mine disappeared sometime after I retired.”

  He’d asked about birthday ideas last night, and she had been unable to come up with anything better than a book. The date was months away, but he liked to be prepared. “The suggestions are getting better.”

  “You still haven’t given me one yet.”

  “I’m working on it,” Sam promised. He slid on sunglasses and checked the map she offered him. He accepted the car keys. “What’s the name of your perfume?”

  “What?”

  “I like it. What’s the name?”

  “Kodia. It’s made by a small company in Poland. They grow the most wonderful flowers in their greenhouse as a laboratory for fragrances to inspire their perfume creators.”

  “I’d recognize you in disguise, Dar, if only by your perfume.” He caught her small smile as she opened her briefcase. “What?”

  “Why do you think I wear a perfume that is so distinct from what someone might be able to buy in America? Your subconscious knows me, so when I want to disappear, changing perfumes is as much a part of the disguise as changing my appearance.”

  “You choose it because you love it. But like everything else, it gets used in your job.”

  “Basically.” Darcy opened her portfolio. “I’m afraid I’ll have to work while we drive.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “You were fast getting here.”

  “I always keep a bag packed.” He turned on the radio. “Are you okay with a news station or do you want music?”

  “News, please,” she replied gratefully.

  “Missing your morning briefing?”

  “The world news in the local papers can be measured by a few column inches.”

  He drove them north. Darcy hummed as she worked, and she kicked off her shoes soon after the drive began. She filled nearly a full legal pad with notes before she paused as they came near the Virginia border. “How well advertised is the fact your team has returned stateside?”

  He looked over at her, surprised by the question. “It’s not advertised, but it’s also not a secret. Anyone who wanted to know we were home could figure it out with a little looking around Norfolk, either the base or the community. We travel as teams. See a few men and you can correctly guess which teams are stateside.”

  “So if someone wanted to pay you back for Morocco it wouldn’t be that hard to find you.”

  “Besides British SAS guys and some classified analysts like you, it will be decades before anyone links SEAL Team Nine to Morocco.”

  “I wish I had that same confidence.”

  “Assume it is known. What are the odds someone who plans attacks against soft civilian targets is going to try and hit a hardened target like a Special Ops unit in our own backyard? It’s possible but not likely. Too many of us walk around armed and ready to defend ourselves. I worry more about you.”

  “Compared to the risks of war, the rumors of my death and the bounty that was paid are dormant concerns. I’ll be warned if something there changes.” Darcy pointed out the upcoming turn. “Why don’t you head toward the airport? We can grab lunch along restaurant row, and I’ll make sure there are flights heading west and drop you off.”

  “I’ve got your direct number now,” he remarked. “When’s a good time to call?”

  “Whenever you happen to think of me.”

  He laughed. “Remember you said that. I’ll be calling.” Sam saw the restaurant options ahead. “How about pizza for lunch?”

  “Sure.”

  He pulled into the parking lot. “When life slows down a bit, block a day off on your calendar. We’ll try a day out again.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  They didn’t linger over lunch. When they parted at the airport, he made a point of keeping the good-bye casual. Sam knew her thoughts were already on work, and it wasn’t fair to complicate the departure. He planned to do some reconnaissance when he reached South Dakota. It was near enough to North Dakota to allow him to do some looking around on Darcy’s home turf.

  “Call me when you get in?”

  “Will do,” Sam promised. “Take care, Dar.”

  She hugged him and buried her face against his shirt. “You too, Samuel. Watch your back.”

  He relished the hug and squeezed her tightly. This relationship had found its footing. They’d build on it from here. “You too, Dar.”

  MAY 22

  Wednesday, 1:38 p.m.

  Central Intelligence Agency

  Darcy read the notes as she sat in Gabriel’s office, having not yet gone to her own. Luther’s number two, Vladimir Kurst, had indeed slipped in and out of Yemen. Seeing the evidence for herself left little doubt about that fact.

  The plane tail numbers and fuel loads showed a small commercial jet leaving Yemen for Egypt. From there it appeared the flight had departed for Greece. Darcy studied the Athens airport security tape the NSA had scanned. The images were grainy, but it was Vladimir and behind him a man she had reason to fear. “Jerry did a pretty good job of changing his appearance: maybe nose, eyes, and a little chin work? Still clean shaven, styled haircut, and a European suit. He looks more like a rich tourist than a hit man.” Jerry Summit was one of the best snipers who had ever come through the American armed forces. He’d gone rogue nine years ago.

  Gabe rolled his wheelchair toward the bookcase and brought down a reference file. “I was hoping the guy was dead. I suppose it was too much to wish for two lucky breaks in one war. Vladimir must be arranging something that will happen either in Europe or America. He hired the one sniper who can blend in there and bide his time.”

  Darcy nodded. “Jerry is also a highly wanted man. Why draw the added lightning? Wherever he’s hiding, Luther must truly think he’s safe again to take the chance of sending Vladimir out to make this contact.”

  “He probably calculated that it’s worth the risk. Luther is out to hire the best.”

  “Who’s the target?”

  “You don’t hire Jerry if you want to shoot the local drug dealer.”

  Darcy studied the logs. “Yemen. We had the ports covered. Why couldn’t he have taken a boat like we expected? And what happened to good airport security?”

  “Ten to one, bribed and threatened,” Gabe replied. “This isn’t all bad news. Vladimir is vulnerable for the first time in months,” Gabriel said. “He’s on the move. Dansky went out to talk to people and he’s dead. You can now hear the clock ticking on Vladimir. Luther will be the tougher one to get. He’s probably shifted entirely to secondhand communication now. Something sent to a dead drop, a message passed through Vladimir.”

  “His wife will break that silence eventually.” It was the one thing Darcy thought would give them the lead they needed for the man they most wanted. “So how do we track Jerry?”

  Gabriel smiled and tossed her an apple from the sack on his desk. “Think. That’s why I called you.”

  * * *

  Darcy stretched out on the couch in her own office, the lumps and taut springs against her back uncomfortable in a familiar way. She’d often slept here. Someone had painted over the smoke-stained tiles on the ceiling. The building had caught on fire a year ago August, and it had taken a long time to catch up with the minor cleanup. Darcy tipped her head to see the direction of the brushstrokes. She missed the gray smoke. It could be cloudy when she needed something else to be cloudy besides her thoughts. Her computer began to play the song “Hound Dog,” and she reluctan
tly reached back to release the door lock. “Go away.”

  “You don’t have to find Jerry in the next hour,” Gabe said.

  “Do too. And I’ve got a headache.”

  He tugged a lock of her hair. “Sam will call.”

  “I hope not in the next hour. I’m in a bad mood and I’ll snarl at him.” She held up a sheet of a paper for Gabriel to read. “The Athens cops think Jerry may have gone toward the ports. A cabbie recognized the photo.”

  “We can find out every boat that has left during the twenty-four hours after his arrival at the airport,” Gabriel said.

  “Already did. Two passenger cruise liners, sixty-two personal crafts, and eleven cargo ships from the docks. That’s assuming he isn’t sleeping and playing solitaire in the cabin of a boat still moored in the harbor just to make our lives difficult. You know how hard it is to track where boats go?” Darcy asked.

  “Let the guys at NSA map it out.”

  “They already groaned and asked, ‘How many boats?’ They’ll try but no promises.” It was yet another lead where they were a step behind being able to do anything with it. Jesus, I’m tired of the missed opportunities. Really tired.

  Gabe settled into her desk chair. She thought about ignoring him until he went away, but he had more patience than she did. “You’ve got something else.”

  “The package the Brits were sending over arrived earlier than expected.”

  She swung her feet to the floor and shoved her hands through her hair. “It’s a day for puzzles. Keep this one simple.”

  “They raided a safe house on the coast of Ireland near the town of Bangor. They found the man they expected to find, a retired sniper for the IRA, who unfortunately died during the exchange. They also found a few items that were a surprise to them. He had cash, a lot of it. And this.” Gabriel handed over a folder.

  One eyebrow rose as she saw a photo of a piece of paper laid out beside rulers to show its dimensions, the page filled with lines of numbers in neat rows. “What is this? Connect the numbers?”

  “It’s got Luther’s prints on it.”

  She looked over, startled.

  “That was about the Brits’ reaction too. They now think Vladimir had hired the IRA sniper to do some work in London. Luther’s sending encrypted messages now to the men he hires. The Brits couldn’t crack this one.”