Assassin Games (Tarnished Heroes)

by Bristol, Sidney

  Carol’s office was off the main atrium. It provided easy access to her and on-the-spot analysis of ongoing situations.

  Irene was glad to see that much of the glass wall was covered in taped-up papers. Whatever Carol was working on during the day for the division must be big.

  Irene tapped on the door, opened it, and stepped through before she heard Carol’s voice.

  It wasn’t unusual for Irene to seek out Carol’s expertise, but these were different times.

  “Irene. Hi.” Carol blinked at Irene, eyes wide like she’d been caught with her hand in a cookie jar.

  “Did I interrupt something?” Irene sat in one of the guest chairs.

  “No.” Carol laid her phone on the desktop, facedown. “What can I do for you?”

  “I wanted to check on that political climate report we talked about. Are you finished?” Though Carol was working on an updated report detailing the shift in things since the new South Korean president was ousted again, that wasn’t the report Irene was asking for, and they both knew it.

  “Not yet, sorry.” Carol folded her hands together and smiled.

  The phone vibrated so loud Irene almost winced. Carol’s hand twitched as though she wanted to pick it up that instant, but she didn’t.

  Carol didn’t want Irene to see her on her phone.

  Who was she talking to?

  Why were they keeping secrets?

  They weren’t close, but since their investigation had begun in earnest, they’d operated with as much honesty with each other as they could afford. This new avoidance bothered Irene.

  She didn’t look at Carol’s hands, but she did study the young woman’s face. Carol’s smile lost some of its brightness.

  They couldn’t let Carol fall into the wrong hands. She wasn’t a field operative. She wasn’t battle hardened. She’d break, and when she did, they would all go down.

  Noah was right, the bastard.

  Carol was their weak link. Except she was too valuable. Inside her head were the keys to unlocking their bigger plan.

  “Well, maybe when you have a minute we can talk? It’s not urgent, so later is fine.” Irene returned Carol’s smile and stood.

  They needed to know who Carol was talking to, what she was hiding, and why. It could be innocent, and it could be a setup. Carol didn’t have the same kind of training as the rest of them. She could unwittingly be setting herself up if they weren’t careful.

  Irene let herself out of the office, uncertainty knotting her stomach. Something was always on the brink of disaster. This time, it was her career and the safety of the nation’s secrets.

  “Irene? Hey, Irene, wait up.” Mitch jogged to catch her at the entrance to the department. A stray lock of hair fell over his brow. She had the strangest urge to put it back into place. She’d done that once, on a whim. Now she regretted it. She knew how soft his hair was, how his gaze smoldered with desire. A line once crossed was harder to find again.

  “Yes?” She tightened her grip on the files and forced a polite, professional smile into place.

  “Have you had lunch yet?” Mitch shrugged into his coat.

  “No…”

  “Come on.” He hooked his hand under her arm and propelled her forward.

  They didn’t take the turn back toward Irene’s department or even the nearest exit. Mitch guided her down a seldom-used hall, pushed open a door, and pulled her through after him.

  “Mitch—what the hell?” She blinked at him in the near darkness of the room. Blackout curtains obscured most of the light.

  “You’re ignoring me,” he said, voice ragged, none of that professional smoothness soothing his words.

  Irene was grateful for the darkness. She opened and closed her mouth. It was the truth. She was ignoring him, avoiding him whenever possible. She couldn’t deal with Mitch McConnel. Not after…

  She swallowed.

  Irene didn’t make mistakes. She couldn’t. And what they’d done, while not a mistake, was ill-advised. One time, one night, that was it. Nothing more. Not for anyone.

  “Why?” His voice softened.

  “Because this can’t happen.” Her insides quaked, but she held firm.

  “It did happen.” He tightened his hand on her arm.

  “It can’t again.” She pulled out of his grasp, needing distance.

  “Not now? Or not ever?”

  “Not ever.”

  “Irene…” His hand found her shoulder, then her neck.

  “No, Mitch.” Irene flattened her hand against his chest. Her traitorous fingers itched to curl into the fabric and pull him closer. She couldn’t blame him. She’d been the one to pull him closer, because she’d needed the connection, the human comfort. It couldn’t be more. She locked her elbow, keeping him at arm’s length.

  “All right.” His hand left her skin and he backed up, giving her space. “We only have one life, Irene. Not every part of it has to belong to the Company. It doesn’t have to be just one night, you know? It doesn’t have to be a dirty secret or that thing we don’t talk about. We could be good together.”

  She wanted to stamp her foot and tell him he was right, but she couldn’t. The world wasn’t fair, and it wouldn’t be nice to her or Mitch if they explored where that kiss, that one night together, took them. It couldn’t happen again, no matter if she wanted it to. She had to think about her sister, their future. Irene had loved a man once, and he’d left her. She couldn’t live through that again.

  …

  “Kristina, bitch,” Kristina Butler muttered under her breath. She’d made the mistake of letting her absentminded supervisor call her Tina in the very beginning, and now everyone did it. She hated that she’d ever been that timid woman, too scared to demand people call her by the right name.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Sorry.” Kristina forced herself to smile and spun around to face the front of her desk since it appeared that Irene wasn’t going anywhere. “Talking to myself. You need how many of this?”

  “Just one, please. And thank you. I swear, you’re the only one with the magic touch around here.” Irene shook her head.

  “I’ll take care of this in one tick, okay?” Kristina amped up the wattage on her smile. It felt fake, and if it felt fake these CIA types would start to get edgy.

  “Take your time.”

  Damn right I will.

  Kristina glared daggers at Irene’s back.

  What was she up to now?

  Off to talk to that arrogant snob, Carol Sark?

  Irene and Carol were made for each other. They didn’t notice anyone under them and each thought they were so high and mighty.

  Kristina glanced around. The other offices were dark or their doors were shut. The coast was clear.

  She pulled out a small black box from her purse and plugged it into the USB drive of her computer. She toggled to an alternate virtual desktop and smiled to herself. The device allowed her to move around the CIA database without leaving a digital trail, making her essentially invisible. She had work to do, stuff she couldn’t let others see her doing.

  Carol had been noticeably absent from Irene’s office as of late.

  Kristina had seen the memo regarding Carol the special investigation team had sent out to their members a week ago, the one detailing her fancy algorithm and the theory that she was working with the dead mole, Charlie. Brilliant bit of cover-up work there. As much as Kristina hated to admit it, Irene was beyond their ability to handle right now. But Carol?

  “Holy shit…” Kristina stared at Carol’s logs, the blood draining out of her face and hands.

  She shivered.

  This…was not good.

  Kristina recognized half of the entries Carol had pulled, because they were ops Kristina had handled. She’d fixed them. Or been part of the team within the team that ensured things went their way.

  Forget Irene.

  Carol was the sleeper threat. She might not have a grasp on what was going on yet, but she was getting
close.

  Kristina snatched up her desk phone, finger hovering over the button.

  Think about it…

  Three years ago, someone had approached Kristina while she’d sat outside by herself, eating her lunch. She’d been moved out of the division she’d cut her teeth on and put in a back office, surrounded by people who didn’t appreciate her dedication. She’d begun working for the CIA as a way to make her life matter. To do something good. And then she’d learned there was no good side. The only side that mattered was the one that paid the best. She wasn’t a secret agent. She didn’t have to be. What she did—assisting with operations of a secret intel agency—mattered to her bank account. At the end of the day, that was what counted.

  But he did. And he’d shown her the way things really were.

  She’d seen the world for what it was, companies rather than countries. He saw Kristina’s place in things, what she could do, how she could help and someday manage. Was this her chance? She could handle the Carol situation. Take a step up the ladder.

  Her mentor had been killed in action, but she could still feel his guiding hand on her life, hear his voice.

  Kristina set the phone back in its cradle.

  What would he do?

  What had Kristina seen him do with people like Carol?

  Kristina needed to assess Carol. What were the chances of turning her? What was she motivated by? Could she be of use to them?

  Carol’s knowledge, her place in things, that was valuable. But with her family history, turning her was putting them all at risk.

  No, Carol needed to be handled.

  Who could do it?

  Kristina pulled up the encrypted list of assets. Out of the hundreds of people on file, there were six who performed cleanup jobs.

  One was inactive.

  Three were on assignment. Kristina knew two of them were on her team, but not which two. She couldn’t pull them from the field without higher authority.

  One was MIA.

  One asset was available.

  Anderson Gratney.

  Kristina winced.

  No way.

  Andy was a wild card. He was good at what he did, but difficult to work with. Kristina didn’t understand why the CIA continued to use him, except that there must be something about him that she wasn’t seeing. Some unnamed quality or history that was redacted to the point of being erased.

  Kristina sat back in her chair and studied the problem.

  Her usefulness in the web within the CIA was her direct line to the assets. Her familiarity with people. Her social invisibility.

  Could she make Andy work for them?

  Not willingly, of course, but could she coerce him? Fool him?

  He had a hardcoded set of rules. Whoever he was sent after had to be a “bad” person. Someone who’d done horrible things worthy of death. Given the kinds of people the CIA went after with assets like Andy, that wasn’t often a difficult stipulation to rule out. But Carol… Kristina would have to dirty her up a bit.

  What could she do? How could she make this stick?

  The answer was right in front of her.

  Kristina smiled.

  There was no reason to get creative when Carol was up to her elbows in dirt already.

  Carol was a traitor.

  Andy was a patriot.

  It should be easy enough to get him to pull the trigger.

  Kristina wiggled her fingers.

  First, she’d lay the trap, then she’d set Andy after the bait, and right before it was taken care of, she’d present the whole mission to her bosses. What was better? She could pin this call on Irene, so when Carol wound up dead, her blood was on Irene’s hands.

  It was perfect…

  …

  Andy stared out at DC, the snow falling, blanketing the city in a pristine shroud of innocence. He didn’t move, barely breathed for fear of disturbing the moment.

  He’d done a lot of bad in his life, but nothing wore at him like lying to Carol. He wasn’t simply passing himself off as a coworker or a new neighbor, he was making her smile. Altering her routine. She had a connection with this fake version of himself. Not him.

  This didn’t sit well with him.

  She was…good. She needed him to protect her so she could continue to work on the algorithm program. He didn’t have to like their methods, though.

  The low hum of a car engine rumbled through the parking structure. The power was cut so there was no security or lights, which would make scaling to the top even in a car slow going, but it was worth it. No chance they could be caught on cameras speaking.

  The marching instructions had come through at last in the early morning hours. He’d spent the whole day making final preparations.

  The safe house was ready.

  The flight booked.

  The getaway car packed.

  The only thing missing was Carol.

  This meeting tonight was a courtesy to Irene and Mitch. It was time that Andy took over things, made Carol disappear. And then he’d have to face his lies and see the trust he’d built with Carol disintegrate.

  She’d get over it. In time. This was business, protecting lives, that was all. She’d understand that much.

  Yeah, he was lying to himself. He could almost hear the hitch in her breathing, see the way her body language changed on camera when a text from him—no, Mark—came in. He’d be taking that small joy away from her. Andy wasn’t certain he could forgive himself. He’d add it to the long list of sins he’d take to his grave.

  One car, then a second, rounded the end of the parking garage. Both had their lights off.

  He hoped Irene and Mitch had sorted out whatever was going on between them. They were about to have enough trouble on their hands once Carol found out how far this deception went without those two mucking things up more.

  Irene got out first, crossing to stand next to Andy without so much as a hello.

  That’s what he liked about her.

  No pleasantries, no wasting of breath, just down to business.

  “Some spot you picked,” Mitch said.

  “It’s started,” Andy said. “We’ll leave tonight.”

  “When did you get the mission?” Irene asked.

  “This morning. It’s coded with your handler ID.” Andy pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. “Someone wants me to think I’m getting this from you. Watch your back.”

  It was an ingenious bit of plotting. Under normal circumstances, the digital message was all he’d need to send him on his way. Only, these weren’t the usual days anymore. He knew Irene hadn’t sent that message, which meant someone who had oversight control was involved and that opened up a new problem. They couldn’t trust their digital communications.

  Irene pulled a lighter out and set the corner of the paper on fire.

  “Wait—what?” Mitch gaped at Andy.

  “It’s someone close to us. Someone who would have access to sensitive information, protocols. Who?” Irene’s mind was already spinning out answers.

  “If it’s someone who has that kind of access, it’s a bigger fish. Someone higher up,” Mitch said.

  “Has to be.” Irene shrugged. “They planted the memo about Carol, now this? That takes some serious weight.”

  “Okay, now what?” Mitch spread his hands. This wasn’t his usual mode. Mitch was a slow game, big goal kind of guy. He was a fish out of water.

  “We let this play out.” Irene glanced at Andy. “You need anything from us?”

  “No.” Andy shook his head.

  “Good. We will work on whom the orders came from, you stay on Carol. Get her somewhere safe—I don’t want to know where—and help her with the program. Everything hinges on that right now. Once we have that, we can make our next move.”

  “Got it. I’ll make contact when I think it’s safe, not through the Company.” He nodded at the pile of ash. “I’ll use that ID to feed misinformation to whoever is behind this. While we’re gone, see if you can figure
it out without me.”

  Andy turned toward the stairwell, pulled up the hood on his coat and put the two handlers out of his mind.

  He could only manage one problem at a time, and right now, his focus was Carol.

  …

  Carol flipped through the latest news reports from South Korea, paying special attention to the minor election chatter. The upheaval was trickling down. She marked tallies on her pad of paper, noting the number of candidates in what political parties. She starred the ones that seemed like a sure thing.

  The outcomes mattered. South Korea had an infection. Cleaning out one infectious president after another sent ripples throughout the country. The now-disgraced president had been in favor of US-South Korean relations. Given how upset the population was, it left the door wide open for election tampering. If China or North Korea were successful in getting candidates elected who had different political views it could go poorly for the US. It could all come down to elections in minor areas, remote regions.

  She didn’t like it.

  There was too much at stake, the risk was too great.

  How much was this information worth?

  She stared across the room, letting her vision unfocus. After the Asian courier, Sarah, was rescued and the plot to sell secrets ruined, they’d thought the problem was over. Until Carol started looking deeper. What she found indicated there was a bigger leak than just one person.

  What would they do with something like her tallies?

  What was it worth?

  Under normal circumstances, campaign money might make its way from government hands through a variety of shell companies, contractors, and then find its way into US-friendly candidate pockets, ensuring American interests in the region were supported. If a mole network knew that was happening, and they’d already sold information to both North Korea and China, what then?

  It put Carol in an ethical dilemma.

  Her job was to analyze what was going on, report on it, and inform her team so they made the best decisions possible. But how did she factor in knowing there was a mole? What was the right decision?

  She closed the files and set them on the coffee table.