“What was that?” Raz asked.
Alex shook her head. Buckling into her seat, she stared out the window at the dark clouds of the snowstorm.
What was that indeed?
FFFFF
Two hours later
Tuesday Night
March 25 – 7:30 P.M. MDT
Military Intelligence, Buckley Air Force Base
Alex waited until the last of the men checked through medical before returning to her office. She sent her Sergeant home, shut off the phones then began filing out the stack of paperwork on her desk. Every assignment came with at least one stack of papers. This year, she and the men had completed one stupid assignment after another until the paperwork towered on Alex’s desk. Flipping on her coffee maker, she settled in for a long night.
The coffee maker had finished its last burble when a coffee mug entered her line of site. She looked up to see her boss, Colonel Howard Gordon. He was wearing a dark cap and his overcoat as if he stopped by on his way home.
“I was surprised you didn’t look up when I came in,” he said. “Fascinating paper work?”
“Oh...” She sighed. “I fill in the boxes while I think about something else. I was miles away.”
He sat down across from her.
“How did it go today?” he asked.
“Which part?”
He laughed.
“You might have missed the reports, but there was an incident while attempting to interview the Weasel.” Alex shrugged. “I know you’re busy.”
“Yes, Major. I missed entirely the destruction of a national wilderness area.”
“I guess that’s not funny,” she said. Holding up a stack of pages, she added, “But it does provide for some excellent paperwork opportunities!”
“You have a Sergeant to do your paperwork,” he said. “You have a second in command. Hell, you have an intelligence officer in training who has nothing to do.”
“Oh shit, I completely forgot about him,” Alex said. “Is he still locked away at Fort Carson?”
“He was released by Captain Mac Clenaghan. While you were with Agent Rasmussen at the hospital, Captain Mac Clenaghan drove to Fort Carson for Sergeant Flagg. They are on their way to Denver right now.”
“Oh, thank God,” Alex said. She took a long drink of her coffee. “See, my second in command can’t do the paperwork. He’s busy with Flagg.”
“Major Drayson.”
“Yes sir,” Alex said.
“How did it go with your team?”
“What team?” Alex asked. “They fought with each other. They thought I was crazy. I had to yell at them to knock it off more than once. They were like competent tornados each working toward their own end. I... “
She shook her head.
“I suck,” she said. “I can’t do this ‘command a team’ thing.”
“Every leader feels that way sometimes,” Colonel Gordon said. “You need to get your feet under you.”
“I was wondering, sir, if I might join a team?”
Colonel Gordon’s scowled. This was not the first time he had heard this request.
“I’d happily take a lower rank and...”
He opened his mouth to say something then changed his mind. Shaking his head, he looked away from her.
“There are two wars going on, sir,” she said. “I’m an okay intelligence officer. And as you know, there’s more than a hundred people held hostage in the world at any given time. I could join the team that replaced us and...”
“Alexandra Hargreaves!”
“Sir?”
She scanned his face. His bushy eyebrows betrayed his worry over his obvious anger. She smiled as if he caught her with her hand in the cookie jar. He sighed.
“Maybe I could go back to drawing maps?” She gave him a big smile.
“Alex.” Pulling his cap off, he ran a hand through is bushy gray hair. “Every leader goes through exactly what you’re feeling. Hell, I’ve had many sleepless nights over this very same issue. The key is to find what works for you.”
“Charlie was so...”
“Charles O’Brien is dead, Alex,” Colonel Gordon said. “He was an exceptional man, a natural leader, and my friend. But he is gone. You have to learn to carry on without him.”
Nodding, Alex pursed her lips to keep from displaying her desperate grief at the words: ‘Charles O’Brien is dead.’
“Listen,” Colonel Gordon said. “I’m sorry. I see so much potential in you and wish you could see it yourself. You collected these men from assignments around the world. They came to here to work with you. Each man is the best soldier in his class. Period. And they aren’t easy. You didn’t pick them because they were easy. You picked them because they were your friends. And they left great assignments to work here with you.”
“But sir…”
“They’re pains in the ass. Every single one of them. Did you hear the feed from the Jakker while he waited for you? He disobeyed a direct order to return to base. A big fat ‘fuck you’ from the Jakker.”
“Are their repercussions to his defiance?”
“Christ, Alex. That’s my point. Everything the Jakker does is defiant.”
Alex shrugged.
“It might help if you filled the other slots in your team with neutral players,” Colonel Gordon said. “You still need...”
“No Marines,” she said. “I’ve never had good luck with Marines, sir.”
“You need at least one more Navy and two Marines. That’s not to mention your glaring lack of medics.”
“See, I suck as a leader.”
Alex tried her ‘please-sir-can-I-stop-doing-the-job-I-suck-at’ smile. Colonel Gordon glared in response. Her smile faded.
“The Fey Special Forces Team’s first year was not easy, you know.”
“But we had...”
“Charlie,” they said together.
“Yes,” he said. He softened. “Listen, I’ve never known anyone who has continued working after what you have been through. Most people retire.”
“I could retire,” she said. “Ben said he’s retiring this year. I could...”
“You know you cannot retire,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I could draw maps.”
Her eyes lit up with glee at the idea of retreating into the solitary joy of cartography.
“The Admiral would like you to return to extracting hostages. You’re supposed to be...”
“Creating a team that will extract hostages around the world,” Alex finished his sentence. “Problem is? I suck.”
“Alexandra.”
“Ok, you know what I’m really good at?” She pointed to the paperwork on her desk. “Paperwork is my specialty.”
Colonel Gordon raised his hands in submission to her sarcasm.
“What do you need to make this work?” he asked. “I’m authorized to give you any resource, training...”
“I need Joseph Walter,” she said. “He would know how to pull this team together. You’re right. We need to a few neutral members. He’d know how to choose the right people.”
While Colonel Gordon nodded his head, he eyes spoke his remorse.
“But?” she asked.
“It’s complicated. Fort Carson had dibs on him for their training staff. He can’t come here and be there. You know that.”
Alex nodded. She did know that. She just hoped for the help she needed. Sometimes she felt as if she was set up to fail. She sighed at her no-win situation.
“Don’t give up, Alex,” he said. “That’s really what I came in here to say. Everyone struggles, especially their first year. Just don’t give up.”
Picking up his cap, he stood to leave. He stopped in front of a photograph of the Fey Special Forces Team goofing for the camera. The photo was taken after they had rescued their first hostages – five journalists from the jungles of Central America. Colonel Gordon leaned closer to look at their faces. They seemed so young and happy. He stepped back from the photo.
“What did the Weasel have to say?”
“Nothing. Everything. Who knows?” Alex replied. “There are so many little itsy bitsy pieces to this puzzle. Somehow they fit together, but how? I have no idea how to connect the dots.”
“Perses was there? I always thought he was a myth or legend.”
“Perses accepted a contract to assess the viability of a hit on the Fey and the Weasel. He led us to Shelter 17. I probably could have found it but not in time. Plus he had the key.”
“Odd behavior for an assassin.”
“He owes me a favor or six. And, yes sir, he’s odd.”
“Well good night,” Colonel Gordon said. “We’ll talk again tomorrow.”
“Yes sir.”
“And Alex, go home. You’ve done enough today,” he said. “Let Sergeant Flagg become an expert in paperwork.”
“Yes sir,” she said.
He raised a hand in ‘good-bye’ then walked out of her office. Looking from stack to stack, she finished her mug of coffee then poured another. She wandered to the place where Colonel Gordon stood. Her finger touched each face.
“Go home, Alex,” Jesse said appearing beside her. “There are no answers here.”
Nodding to Jesse, Alex dressed in her winter gear. Limping on her injured hip, she pulled her office door closed.
“Walk you to your car?” Jesse asked.
She nodded.
“Did I ever tell…?”
FFFFFF
Tuesday night
March 25 — 9:40 P.M. MDT.
Fillmore Auditorium
Denver, CO
John and Max were watching the roadies finish setting up for DeVotchka.
“Remind me. Why are we here?” John yelled to Max over the background music.
Max raised his eyebrows. He nodded his head toward the Slavic Sisters. The women trapeze artists were testing their aerial silk cloth.
“Yes, very interesting,” John nodded. “But...”
John felt a hand on his shoulder. He grimaced to Max then turned to see who touched him.
“Hi John,” the woman said. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
John tried to remember the woman’s name. She worked at St. Joseph’s Hospital or at least he thought she worked at the hospital. She spent so much time pushing her inflated chest and lips in John’s direction that conversation was nearly impossible. Too polite to actually dismiss her, he avoided her as much as possible.
“I heard your wife is out of town.” Her tiny hand caressed his arm. “When I saw you here, I figured you were looking for some company.”
John stepped away from the woman. She bat her long eyelashes at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Max laughing at him.
“Listen,” John started but his words were lost over the trumpet playing announcing the start of the concert. His attention jerked to the stage. Maybe if he ignored this woman...
While the band played their first song, the Slavic Sisters vibrated the aerial silk to the music. The silk tapestry billowed down from the stage hitting John’s face. He stepped back to stay out of the way. The trapeze artist winked at John then flipped the fabric from his face.
Smiling her crooked smile, Alex stood in its place.
In a breath, she was in his arms. She giggled when he lifted her from the ground. She wrapped her legs around his middle, their lips fused in passionate consumption.
When John pulled back to look at her, DeVotchka’s lead singer, Nick, yelled, “Drayson, get a room!” The crowd cheered in agreement.
With a nod to Max, John carried his laughing Alex through the crowded venue to Colfax Boulevard. He set her down for a moment then instantly regretted the decision.
“The cab’s waiting for us,” Alex started.
He lifted her back into his arms and carried her to the cab. Nestled in the back of the cab, they took the short ride to their new home. John scooped her off the sidewalk and carried her into the house. They kissed and stroked their way up the stairs until, unable to wait any longer, they made fast love on the third floor landing.
“Wanna try out the bath?” Alex asked.
“Very much so. But the water’s not hooked up to it yet.”
“What?”
“It’s a long story. Shower?”
“Bed?”
“You’re so traditional,” he said.
Opening the door to their bedroom, they were hit with a blast of cold air.
“NO HEAT?!?”
Alex ran to jump under the covers.
“You weren’t due back until tomorrow.”
“Lemme guess, long story?”
“I know how to warm you.”
Slipping under the covers, he did just that.
F
CHAPTER SIX
Three hours later
Wednesday early-morning
March 26 – 1:00 A.M. MDT
Denver, Colorado
Alex woke with a gasp. Her abdomen cramped and her mind flooded with images and emotions. In her sleep-induced stupor, she stumbled to the bathroom. She splashed water on her face to clear the nonsensical images. She startled when John spoke.
“What is it?” John asked. He was standing in the door. “It’s freezing, love. Come back to bed.”
He wrapped her in a blanket then guided her back to bed.
“Nightmare?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Your PTSD has...”
Next to the bed, a telephone rang. Rolling on his back, John reached for the phone.
“When was that installed?” Alex asked.
“Yesterday,” John said. “Shall I answer it? We don’t have an answerphone yet.”
“They’ll call back. What were you saying?”
“Your PTSD has been in remission for a while. Do you think you were triggered by your adventures?”
“Maybe,” Alex said. “I don’t remember having this kind of… experience.”
The phone stopped ringing then began ringing again.
“Sorry, love. I know you hate the phone. I wanted to make sure you could get me if… anything happened, you know? Shall I answer it?”
She nodded. He kissed her nose then picked up the phone.
“It’s Ben.”
John gave Alex the phone.
“Alex,” Ben said. “There’s been a kidnapping. The president asked for your help. He specifically requested ‘the Fey.’ Do you know the president?”
“Of course not.” In an attempt to get warm, she pulled the covers over her head. “The boys and I received the Presidential commendation last year. I mean Major Drayson did, not the Fey.”
“Well he’s asking for the Fey.”
“The Fey is on temporary duty. He won’t be back until sometime tomorrow.”
“Very funny,” Ben said. “We don’t have a choice here. The President of the United States requested our help in finding and rescuing his friend.”
“Who’s the friend?” she asked.
“Cee Cee Joiner,” they said in unison.
Fuck.
“No thanks.” She hung up the phone.
“What was that?” John asked.
“A nasty situation I don’t want to be involved in,” Alex said.
Rolling to her side, she stroked his naked chest. She slipped on top of him when the phone rang again. She kissed John’s lips. Moving, she kissed his neck. She continued working her way down his body with her lips until the phone was silent.
“It’s going to be okay,” John said when the phone started ringing again. “I’ll stay right here.”
John spooned around her and she answered the phone.
“Alexandra Hargreaves,” Ben said.
“I’m kind of busy here.”
“Get up. I’m sending the intel to your computer then I’m in the air. I’ll be there in a couple hours.”
“No,” Alex said. “No, not this time. No. Cee Cee Joiner. My plate is full. I’m supposed to put together this team and...
Please Benji, no.”
Ben fell silent at her use of the name ‘Benji,’ her acknowledgement he was her father.
“You cannot refuse a presidential order,” Ben said. Switching to French, his voice was gentle. “You just can’t.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Raz has left for a briefing. It’s my expectation that you, and your men, will be ready to go. You have six hours.”
“Until what happens?”
“In six hours, you will need to function as a team.”
Alex’s hand flew to her mouth. Jogging to the bathroom, she managed to make the toilet before her anxious stomach voided its contents. She looked up when John gave her a wet washcloth.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Your hip is off,” he said. “I didn’t notice because...”
“You carried me in,” she said. She smiled. “That was fun.”
“You’re shivering. When do you have to...?”
“I have a couple hours,” she said.
“Come back to bed.”
He led her to the bed and layered down comforters over her.
“I have a cortisone shot in my bag.”
Knowing better than to argue, she rolled on her right side. Before her new hip, this was a twice daily ritual for Alex. He pulled down her pajamas and stuck a needle full of steroids and pain medication deep into her hip. She groaned.
“In pain?”
“Where’d you get the shot?” she asked.
“Habit,” he said. “All done.”
He slipped over her to the bed. She rested her head on his shoulder. Her hand looped through the chain for the dog tag bearing her name which he wore around his neck.
“Did you throw up because you were anxious?”
“Anxious,” she said. “I haven’t been eating so there’s not much to throw up. It’s ...”
“Automatic, yes,” he finished her statement.
Warm and relaxed, she snuggled against him. She was almost asleep when he said:
“Is there something you wish to tell me?”
She jerked up to look at him.
“What do you mean?”
“I thought we weren’t going to do this anymore,” John said. “We agreed in Scotland to stop hiding from each other.”
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