Jackson nodded. “He’ll appreciate us proving his innocence more, but I’ll make an effort, Doctor. Thanks for your concern.”
“Of course.” Dr. Vargus left the table and then the room.
Morgan checked her watch, which showed 9:45. “Phone conference at four.” She grabbed her handbag. “Jackson, let’s go get those photos.”
Out in the hall, Commander Drake intercepted Morgan. “A moment, please.”
Morgan told Jackson, “I’ll be right back,” then joined the commander, and they walked a few paces down the hall.
“I’m having Darcy check deeper into these coins,” Sally Drake said, eyes shining. “I’d like to put Amanda on it, but she’s tied up with her wedding and she’s pretty stressed out about that …”
“Understandable considering the abuse in her history, Commander,” Morgan whispered.
“Totally,” she agreed and blew out a sigh. “Tell your team to expect an invitation to her bridal shower, and warn them that Kate’s giving it.”
Surprise shuddered through Morgan. “Kate?” She was the last person Morgan expected would throw a bridal shower. She’d consider them ridiculous frou-frou fluff.
Judging by Commander Drake’s expression, she apparently agreed Kate doing it was beyond odd. “Expect Blue Bell Double Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream, a cake shaped like some weapon, and drinks with umbrellas in them.”
“That’s quite a mix.” Morgan chuckled. “Umbrellas?”
“She’s been on a tropical kick since she and Nathan have been rendezvousing on some island somewhere close to wherever they are every four weeks.” Commander Drake sighed again. Deeper. “I’m doing my damnedest to get General Shaw to assign him to Providence.”
“What would Nathan do at Providence?” Morgan asked.
A twinkle lit in Sally Drake’s eyes. “Command the base.”
“What about Colonel Gray?” Morgan hated to mention the name of the commander’s nemesis, but it couldn’t be avoided.
“He’ll be retiring in less than a year.” Glee flitted across her face. “We’re marking off the days on the Home Base calendar out at Regret,” she added. “When that jerk retires is when I’ll throw a party.”
He was an ass; Morgan had to agree, and she didn’t cross paths with him nearly so often as Commander Drake did. “I hope you’re successful,” she said. “And Amanda’s shower should be an experience.”
“With Kate at the helm, you can bet on it.” Sally Drake smiled. “Morgan, she had Darcy pull research to see what to do at a bridal shower, and after she read the notes, she had fifteen pages of questions. Darcy was ready to commit murder.”
Morgan laughed. “I’ll bet she was, but you’ve got to give it to Kate. She’s trying to do things right for Amanda and Mark.”
“Yeah, but she is so out of her depth. The woman can take apart a bomb or build anything that explodes, but she can’t order a cake without a congressional act. It’s a riot.”
It was. “I’ll warn the others to expect anything.”
“Especially Taylor Lee. Jazie is more diplomatic—”
“Taylor Lee is diplomatic, too.”
Commander Drake slid Morgan a deadpan look. “The woman has the tact of a Mack truck.”
Morgan couldn’t deny it, so she said nothing.
“If Taylor Lee should happen to say the wrong thing, with Kate’s, er, let’s say, short fuse, there could be bad trouble, and with Amanda being skittish about all this wedding and marriage business, anyway …”
“It wouldn’t be good,” Morgan filled in the blank.
“Not good at all.” Commander Drake grunted. “If there’s bloodletting at her bridal shower, Amanda’s bound to take it as a bad sign and …”
“Mark will wear out a dozen pairs of running shoes trying to catch her.”
“Exactly.” Sally Drake reached into her purse, pulled out an apple, and took a little bite. “That would cause an unwelcome distraction in my command.”
And that meant there’d be hell to pay. Sally Drake was a good woman and a strong commander, but mess with her command, and she was hell on wheels. “I’ll talk to Taylor Lee. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.” It was. Especially when the cure could be painful for many.
“Good.” Commander Drake took another bite of apple and then swallowed before going on. “I wasn’t sure where you’d placed Jackson on your need-to-know list.”
“Front and center,” Morgan said. “He’s too perceptive to be anywhere else.”
She nodded, worrying her lower lip. “Any conflicts?”
“None.” Morgan didn’t hesitate. “If anything, he’s more skeptical about Bruce than the rest of us.”
“Picked up on that.” She twirled the apple in her hand, thinking. “You bend over backward to be objective and end up being unfair to those who mean most to you.”
Morgan nodded. “It’s a rough position to be in.”
“It’s hell.” Sally ran her tongue over her teeth, making sure no apple bits were clinging to them.
Morgan hiked her handbag’s strap on her shoulder. “So what’s Darcy doing on the coins?”
If the commander was surprised that Morgan had intuited there was more, she didn’t show it. “It’s valid currency, but a commemorative coin. Not circulated. They minted it for a festival and distributed it largely to collectors throughout the region.”
Morgan knew a festival had been involved. Reassured about her sensory perception on that, she prodded. “So it won’t pinpoint a single island for us?”
“No, but that was too much to expect anyway. There are over nine hundred islands in that area, and just under four hundred of them are inhabited.”
Morgan digested that and then stilled. Uninhabited islands. G.R.I.D. compounds. Kunz had used remote places before—Kate had clashed with him in a compound built in an underwater cave. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Probably. Laura is pointing us to the festival, not to the island.” Sally Drake worried her lip with her teeth. “From what Joan said, Kunz hit his primary target every time. What I need to know is why Laura Stern, a wife and homemaker who was not a government employee, was on the radar of the world’s largest black market intelligence broker.”
“I’ll do what I can, Commander. If Laura were alive, we’d be able to pick up on a lot more than we can with her dead. That’s especially true, across the board, when a victim dies violently. At the moment of death, their entire focus—all their energy—is pinpointed on their survival. So not much else is there to be intuited or seen or heard. Know what I mean?”
“Yes, I do. When Kenneth died, I was intensely focused, too.”
Morgan nodded. “Laura wanted us to see that film. She went to a lot of trouble seeing to it that we did.”
“I can’t prove it, Morgan, but I think she thought it was important enough to die for, which makes it pretty frigging important to me, and I expect it’ll be even more important to Bruce.” Sally Drake slicked back her spiky hair. “I’m going to keep Bruce incarcerated, by the way. We could release him based on the DNA evidence not matching up, but with those G.R.I.D. goons around looking for a fight, I think the man’s safer in jail than out of it.”
“I agree. It’s bad enough to have to worry about Jackson, Commander. He continually insists on putting himself in the kill zone.”
“Where he can see them coming,” she surmised. “There’s solid strategic logic in that line of thinking.”
“Yes, there is, but it still scares the hell out of me, and I would rather not be sidetracked by them both being on the loose and in the kill zone.” There wasn’t a doubt in Morgan’s mind that if Bruce was set free, he’d be right there with Jackson.
A speculative gleam shone in the commander’s eyes. “Is there anything going on between you and Jackson that I need to worry about?”
“Worry about? No, not at all.” Morgan started to shun further disclosure, but reconsidered. The commander had picked up on t
heir attraction and she would be fine with it, provided it didn’t come with lies. In her command, omission definitely rated as a lie, and lies were always unwise. “I like him, Sally.” Morgan deliberately used the commander’s first name, making the matter personal rather than keeping it on a professional footing. That was something she rarely did.
“You like him?”
Morgan nodded. “A lot. He’s a good man.”
“Okay, then.” She gave Morgan a steely look. “I’m glad you two like each other. A lot. But don’t go stupid on me. Your heart and hormones can flutter all they want—later. Right now, you’re dealing with G.R.I.D. Thomas Kunz is a master at emotional manipulation, and to protect his interests, he’ll kill you, Morgan. Don’t let Cupid make it easy for him.”
The same lecture Morgan had been giving herself all along. “I won’t.” She nodded to Jackson, who waited just down the hall, indicating she’d be just a minute more. “I’m not even sure it isn’t the intensity of the case at this point.”
“Good.” Sally Drake shrugged. “It should be considered. It changes the complexion of things.”
It did. And honestly Morgan couldn’t decide at present if the thing with Jackson was right or good. But she did want to explore and find out.
“Keep me posted.”
“I will.” Morgan walked away, back down the hallway to Jackson. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” He fell into step beside her. “Everything okay?”
“Perfect,” she said. “Just a little operational housekeeping.”
“And a warning not to get so close to me that you don’t see the forest for the trees.”
There it was again. That sharp, uncanny perceptiveness of his. “That, too,” she admitted.
“You don’t have to worry, Morgan. I’m safe.”
Safe? The man could break her heart in ways no man ever had. But she trusted him, and she smiled her appreciation for his reassurance, brushing a hand over his forearm. “But Thomas Kunz and his G.R.I.D. assassins are not. That’s who the commander is worried about.”
He waited for a woman carrying a lab box to walk past them in the hall. When she had, he said, “We’re paying attention.”
“We’d better.”
He stepped outside and held the door. “By the time we get to the lab, the photos should be ready.”
Morgan walked out into the heat. The glare was blinding.
She grabbed her sunglasses from her purse and put them on. “I hope to hell they tell us something.”
“They will,” he said, and then leveled her with an unwavering look that sent a little chill down her back. “I don’t pretend to understand this, but Laura’s actions have been very deliberate. That changes the question. It isn’t if the photos will tell us anything, but if we’ll be sharp enough to decipher what the photos tell us.”
Morgan slid in behind the wheel of the rental Camry, certain Jackson was exactly right. She cranked the engine and turned up the air conditioner full blast. It was already pushing ninety degrees outside, and the full heat of the day was still hours away.
“I need to make a quick call,” she said, then pulled out her cell and dialed.
“Jazie Craig.”
“It’s Morgan.” The parking lot was emptier than usual for this time of morning. The hospital must be working a field disaster exercise or something. “Are you researching from the office or from home right now?”
“The office. Secure tracking seemed prudent.”
“Excellent,” Morgan said. “Check to see when there was a festival of the arts in the coin’s immediate area of distribution.”
“Travel there would be pretty much airlines or boat,” Jackson said. “For what it’s worth.”
Which was a great deal, considering the line of thought it spurred. “When you narrow the time, check travel from here to that general area—air and boat in particular—and let’s see who turns up.”
“That’s going to take awhile,” Jazie said. “Pretty big area—several island chains.”
“But hopefully not so many festivals that warrant a coin being minted to commemorate them.”
“That should help substantially,” she said. “I’ll get back to you.”
Morgan dropped her phone back into her handbag, then reached for the gearshift and looked over at Jackson. “Now, let’s see about those photos.”
CHAPTER 10
The photo lab was located in the central area of the base, which should have been crowded on a weekday morning. Morgan checked her watch—11:10.
“Something’s wrong.” Jackson placed a hand on her thigh. “Stay away from the building.”
She had the same instinctive feeling. Was it from him, or—?
The building exploded.
The impact knocked the Camry thirty degrees right. Morgan fought for control and stomped the gas. “Get my cell. Speed dial one.”
Jackson scrambled for the phone, hit the button, and then passed over the phone.
“Morgan?” Sally Drake said in a rush. “What the hell is going on? It sounds like you’re in a war zone.”
“We are, Commander.” She hit the brakes and came to a hard stop at the foot of the parking lot.
“Where are you?” She shouted, “Darcy, activate Big Brother on Cabot—now!”
Big Brother was a satellite locator system enabled by a chip embedded in Morgan—and every other S.A.S.S. operative’s neck—and activating it made the chip susceptible to interception. “No, Commander. I’m at Providence, on base outside what used to be the photo lab.”
“Darcy, cancel that Big Brother order,” she said, and then spoke to Morgan, “Used to be?”
Sirens sounded in the distance.
“Base emergency personnel are responding,” Jackson said. “Clear out of here.”
“The lab’s gone. Blown up. Kate needs to be here, to run fingerprints and see who created the device.” They were very specific, and even in rubble a lot could be learned about who had made the bomb. Morgan’s money was on G.R.I.D.
“The film?” the commander asked.
“Gone.” Disappointment hit Morgan hard, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Laura might have died to get that information to them. It was so unfair. So damned unfair for it to be lost forever.
Jackson touched her arm.
She looked over and saw he was holding something in his upturned palm. Stunned, she stared at it, at him. “Hold on a minute,” she told Commander Drake. “Is that—?”
“The film,” he said. “I’m sorry, Morgan. I had a bad feeling. G.R.I.D. hasn’t been diligent in pursuing us, and that’s atypical for them. Normally we’d be under constant attack until they killed us or stopped us or did whatever their mission is to do. So I switched the film. I was going to tell you, but we didn’t get any private time so I could—”
“I heard that,” the commander said. “Morgan, chew his ass out for deceiving you later. Right now get that damn film to the processing plant on 98 by the marina. I’ll call ahead. Stand there with it and wait for those damn photos. Eyes on all the way.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And get the hell away from the lab before Gray gets me on the phone wanting to question you to see if you blew it up.”
“They’re getting close, Morgan,” Jackson added. “Go, go, go—now!”
Morgan hit the gas and cleared the parking lot, then turned on a side street. “We’re out, Commander.” They were four blocks down the street before the first fire truck passed them.
“Uh, you didn’t do it, right?” Commander Drake asked.
“No, ma’am, I didn’t.”
“And you vouch for Jackson?”
Morgan tilted the phone. “Did you put explosives in the film canister or plant any other device to cause the lab explosion?”
“No.” He smiled. “I didn’t.”
She smiled back at him. “No, ma’am. Neither of us blew up the lab.”
“Darcy, where’s Kate?” The line went dead.
The
commander was done. “Don’t take offense to that question, Jackson.”
“I didn’t,” he said. “She asked you, too. But I’m taking serious offense to your driving. Would you please slow down?”
Morgan backed off the gas. “Seventy?”
“Yeah.” He was gripping the dash. “In a thirty zone.”
“Sorry.” She drove out of the base gate moments before the gate guards scrambled out of the guard shack and closed it.
Colonel Gray had Providence Air Force Base on lockdown.
Jackson looked back in the passenger side mirror. “Too late,” he predicted. “They’re long gone.”
“G.R.I.D.?”
“Who else?” He tumbled the film canister in his hand. “What the hell could be on this film that has Kunz so afraid?”
“We’ll soon find out.” Morgan drove down to the main drag in Magnolia Beach, then turned left on Highway 98 and headed for the marina.
When they came up on the photo lab’s processing plant, Jackson said, “Circle the block.”
Morgan kept going. “Jackson, if G.R.I.D. is responsible for the lab explosion, they think they got the film. They aren’t going to be looking for us to show up at a photo lab, especially one open to the public. They haven’t had time to figure out that you switched the film.”
“You willing to bet your life on it?” He looked out the window, left then right, scanning cars and those occupying them. “How freaking assassins got base access is what I want to know.”
The gate guards at Providence pulled a 100 percent ID check as a matter of routine and had since 9/11. That was one of Gray’s policies Morgan appreciated. “There are doubles we know about but haven’t yet accounted for or located,” she said. “Last count, forty-three of them.”
“I know that,” he admitted. “What I mean is how did they get on this base this morning?”
“I don’t understand.” Doubles were in jobs where they would have access. Braked at a stop sign, Morgan looked over at him.
His hand fisted around the film canister, and his knuckles went white. “Where’s Bruce’s double now?” he asked. “He was here while Bruce was in Iraq. He was gone when Bruce returned home three weeks ago, and Laura and Bruce no doubt talked about that. So when Bruce’s double disappeared on Bruce’s return, where did he go?”
Vicki Hinze - [War Games 04] Page 20