by Amy McKinley
The guys would be double- and triple-checking the area to ensure the building inhabitants’ safety. In a suit and tie, Jack looked different than how she was accustomed to seeing him. He was handsome. Dangerous. Lethal. He fit the security role he portrayed.
The short walk passed in the blink of an eye, and she climbed the stairs to the entrance. With a push from her free hand, she entered the UN headquarters and stepped over to the security guard on the left.
Dropping her bag into an awaiting bin, she took a last sip of coffee then tossed it in the garbage. With confidence, she walked through the metal detector. The guard barely acknowledged her as her bag cleared to the other side, where she lifted it and placed it back on her shoulder. She hadn’t recognized him but didn’t expect to. There were a lot of people on the Gray Ghost team, and he could’ve been a contact of theirs or Rich’s who had allowed her weapons to pass through undetected.
A hearty laugh echoed down the marble hall. Henry. They hadn’t figured him this early into the equation. She ducked into a stairwell and jogged up, her heels clicking and echoing in the confined space. Her heart pumped at the idea of harm coming to him. Not to mention that he expected her to arrive closer to the time the meeting started. It wouldn’t do for him to catch sight of her before she was supposed to be there.
Determination spiked in her as she exited the stairs then pushed open the door to the ladies’ room. In quick movements, she stripped off her heels and replaced them with flats. Securing the bag’s strap so it rested across her body, she took out the gun and tucked it in the waistband of her pants, where it would be hidden by her suit jacket.
As she exited the bathroom, she methodically checked each room she passed, clearing the second floor. Jack was taking care of the first floor, and the guard was watching for anyone not on the meeting’s list. They would be detained. Jack’s team was monitoring all activity as well—the cameras and the grounds, the rooftops of the surrounding buildings, and especially the rooms and windows that encased the UN general-assembly hall.
Awareness sizzled though her, a sixth sense showing her what she would have done. They aren’t out there. It was too big of a mission. They would already be inside.
With the floor clear, Hannah ascended the stairs to the next level—one with additional security. The meeting would be held in the largest hall at the very end. Lounges, other rooms, and the hall itself had to be swept.
With a shove of the heavy door, she cleared the threshold and stepped into the long hallway. Security was easy to pass with the badge she wore. No one gave her a second’s notice after she flashed it.
She turned the corner, her footsteps muffled on the deep red carpet. Low voices carried from around the corner. Increasing her pace, she neared the corner, slowing down just as she turned. Two security guards exchanged words. Her heart thumped against her ribs as recognition slammed into her. I know him. He was a year or two older, and she’d seen him once or twice during her time in school—during sparring matches in the ring. The other one looked vaguely familiar too.
A grin curved his lips as he tipped his head in her direction, causing the man he spoke with to turn just as Jack exited a nearby room. Jack must have already finished with his assigned floor as well.
The second man’s eyes hardened, and he walked away without a word. Their gazes collided, and she gave Jack a barely noticeable nod in the retreating guard’s direction. Jack stiffened. Stepping into the man’s path, Jack clasped his shoulder, his mouth moving in silent communication before they moved inside one of the rooms.
“Comrade,” the pseudo-guard addressed her as an unnatural stillness filled the air between them, “I expected Sergei.”
“He’s been detained, and as I had clearance for this meeting, I was sent instead.”
“I would have been informed.” His eyes narrowed. “We’ll have to check in and see if there has been any change to the plan.”
She held her ground, her gaze unwavering. “Sergei made it clear he was in command. He must have already cleared the change.” A second passed with neither of them speaking. “Where are we targeting the prime minister from?”
“You won’t be. Ilya was to do the honors.” His gaze narrowed. “That is, until Sergei made a change.”
Everything in her stilled. The man had answers. “Since he isn’t here, we need to proceed with me in place. Where is the weapon?”
“If that were truly the case, you would already know.” He leered and took a threatening step in her direction.
That’s right, come closer. She had plans for him. While the weapon was important, it wasn’t what she really wanted to find out about. What drove her was her desire to uncover the reason behind her stolen childhood—the senseless murders of her mother and her sister. Despite her churning stomach, she donned the cloak of an assassin, what she had been trained so well to do. Only it wasn’t what her Russian trainers planned. It had become her game.
Her objective was to locate her father and wring answers from him.
Jack
Five minutes passed while Jack worked over the security guard Hannah had ousted as an imposter. Again, his fist slammed into the guard’s face, landing a direct hit between his chin and cheek. The satisfying strike pumped adrenaline through his body. With a thud, the guard fell in an unconscious heap to the wooden floor. It wouldn’t do for a spy to remain conscious while unattended.
He’d learned nothing from the guard. The only thing he proved to be was a plant within the security team for the meeting and a waste of valuable time. Hannah had recognized them, or one of them. That’d been good enough for him to take action.
He patted the guy down then removed some plastic zip ties from his pocket and made quick work of securing the man’s wrists and ankles. He stripped him of all weapons then tore a section of the guard’s uniform and tied it around his mouth in a makeshift gag.
With a kick to the guard’s feet, Jack swung him around and dragged him to a corner of the room away from the door. The man could still get free, but by the time he woke, another member of Jack’s team would be sent for him and would handle the situation.
Jack pulled his phone from his pocket and texted everyone. They couldn’t talk through earpieces because they had to keep Chris’s sound-filtering ones in just in case. That’s what Chris needs to do: develop an earpiece that blocks harmful sound waves and allows us to communicate with one another.
Relaying the location of the guy he’d secured, he let his team know he was almost positive it would be a guard that would attack, based on the guy’s hostile demeanor. They needed to surround the room but also be present within the meeting, specifically near Prime Minister Nikolaev.
Each of the guys sounded off where they were located and who would take what position. Jack would be in the meeting, as would Connor. Hayden, Keegan, and Mike would cover the adjoining rooms and adjacent windows.
Where the hell is Hannah? He hurried down the hallway with no sign of her. The meeting was going to start in a few minutes. He rounded the corner and met Connor as they slipped inside the meeting.
The floor was a special-access section of the building. Even so, the Russian agents were there. The murmur of the men and women present in the room rose and crested as the last of the attendees entered. Chairs scraped and creaked as they took their seats in a sea of dark suits.
Jack was positioned on one side of the room with his back to the wall. Connor took the opposite side, just inside the door. The onsite security had been notified of their presence. He and his team made a point to blend in with the FBI and CIA agents. Jack surveyed the people. His team had gone mostly radio silent. All attention needed to be on the pending attack.
People mingled, talked, and laughed as they situated briefcases, folders, and loose papers. He caught sight of Hannah as she weaved through the crowd and stopped by Henry’s side. She’d slipped on a tapered suit jacket and managed to hide the weapon he knew was shoved into the waistband of her slacks. His worry eased, and he
continued to scan the room.
The horseshoe-shaped table began to fill, as did most of the chairs lined up at the table’s opening. Still, some people mingled. When the last seconds before the meeting had fallen away, silence descended over the group, and they all found their seats. Hannah and Henry sat close by, almost kitty-corner to the Russian prime minister.
The council president called the UN Security Council’s meeting to order. As he addressed the security heads and the secretary, Jack tuned him out a bit and instead swept the room, monitoring everyone for unusual body language. The emergency meeting had been called due to the attacks on US special-ops forces and various groups of peacekeepers in Cuba, Mali, and Iraq. They had been specifically targeted by sound warfare, and the government heads were called on to swiftly investigate all threats of terrorism.
As the meeting progressed, the other guards in the room held their positions. The only movement was by personal assistants fulfilling tasks their employers requested. They were few. Even so, Jack and Connor kept a close watch, with Connor slipping out with a few of the PA’s whose clothing could conceal a weapon. They paid special attention to the people closest to the high-ranking individuals.
His gut tightened as he readied for the pending attack. Worry for the people in the room sharpened his focus. It will happen soon.
Connor accompanied an assistant, a tall, dark-haired woman, back into the room, and their gazes caught, a quiet communication passing between the two. They were both on high alert.
Five feet from the Russian prime minister would be easily accessible for any of the surrounded attendees to fire the sonic weapon Chris had designed. Their security all had weapons. That could be a problem. He recognized a few. The ones he didn’t, he motioned for Connor and Mike to remove.
A young woman two rows down rose. Her hair was in a bun, and she clutched a folder to her chest and had a pen stuck behind her ear. An easy smile took residence on her face as she made excuses to close the distance to the prime minister by tapping another woman on the shoulder. Her folders shifted, and Jack’s instincts exploded.
As she leaned near one of the guards to whisper to a woman in a gray jacket, Jack leapt into action. Their angle was too convenient, directly in line with the prime minister. Her hand dropped, and the security guard shifted. Connor also advanced, but Jack was closer.
Several pops exploded percussively from the building beyond the closed doors, halting their progress.
Panic spread quickly. People jumped up, and chairs toppled. Pushing and shoving ensued. Chaos erupted as the attendees scrambled for the exits in an attempt to put distance between them and where they’d heard gunfire. Security sprang into action to establish order in the melee while Jack zeroed in on the suspicious woman, who remained calm, her gaze glued on the prime minister.
Jack shoved his way through the row of people, shrinking the distance to his target. The speaker barked out a question to the closest security guard about the reason for the disturbance. Jack was fixated on her movements and the position of the guard angled diagonally from the Russian prime minister. He jumped to the edge of the table and launched himself over the remaining seats. The cries of protest and alarm from those he shoved faded into the background.
The guard’s hardened gaze met his, and Jack tackled the man. Connor dragged the woman back. Chaos continued to erupt around them. Chairs were pushed back, and people scrambled to get out of the way.
The guard shifted to the side, his hand on his gun, a 9-mm. Chris had designed the sound wave gun to resemble a regular weapon. That has to be it.
Determination propelled Jack forward, and he grappled with the guard for control. They rolled on the ground. Chairs fell and shifted as they fought. The guard landed on top, his hands squeezing Jack’s throat. He bucked, but the guard held fast.
Jack’s hand flailed until he grasped a flat, hard object. Holding it tight, he struck the guard on the side of his head. It was a laptop that must have fallen. The hold on his neck weakened, and he sucked in air.
He slammed the edge of the laptop into the guard’s throat, breaking the grip on his neck. Following the momentum, he punched the man in the nose. Blood splattered. They broke apart, each rolling to his feet.
The gun wasn’t in the guard’s possession. It had to be on the ground.
Jack lunged, a fist in motion. He landed hard punches to the man’s jaw and gut before moving back to his face again. The guard blocked the last one and retaliated. They continued to exchange blows. The room was emptying. Connor would detain the Russian prime minister. Jack focused on the guard. He was it—he had the weapon.
Jack spun and delivered an elbow to the guy’s cheek. Blood continued to run down the guard’s face. Jack’s eye swelled. The guard grabbed the gun from his holster. Jack clamped his hands around the guard’s wrist and shoved the gun to point at the ceiling. Leaning into him, he swept his feet out from under him. They went down. Jack slammed the guard’s hand into the ground. The guard kidney punched him, and Jack reflexively released one of his hands. Shoving the gun down with his weight, he slammed his elbow into the guy’s face once. Twice. Three times. The man’s grip on the gun loosened, and it skidded a few inches away.
“Mike!” Jack evaded an uppercut. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw a flash of metal under a chair. It was a weapon. “Get the gun!”
Jack shifted, effectively blocking the guard’s path to retrieving the weapon. With a growl, the guard smashed his fist into Jack’s jaw. His head whipped back, and the guard shoved him and rolled free. He flipped to his feet, but Jack rose at the same time. They came at each other again. The guard landed a kick to the stomach, and Jack fell against the table’s edge.
The guard advanced with a knife in hand. Jack grabbed a pad of paper. The guard struck, but Jack blocked him with the paper. With the blade through the cardboard back, he twisted and struck the guy’s elbow with a satisfying crack. Jack threw the pad and the knife then landed a heel thrust to the guy’s inner knee with another crack. Then he delivered a knockout punch to the guy’s chin. His head knocked back. His eyes rolled until the whites were only visible, then he crashed to the ground in a heap.
Jack sucked in air and bent to pick up the gun as Connor and Mike came through the door. “Where the hell were you?”
“Did you miss me?” Mike chuckled as he kicked the guard’s foot. “Took you long enough.”
“Oh, hell.” Connor lurched toward where the Russian prime minister had been.
Jack’s grin fell away. The prime minister and his aide lay on the ground, unmoving. Fuck! He’d gone after the wrong gun.
Two other individuals staggered away from the fallen ones, obviously off-balance and clutching their ears. He scanned the room, searching for Hannah. Only her purse remained where she’d been beside Henry during the meeting.
There’d been no loud noise, but the weapon would emit a sound a human ear wouldn’t be able to detect. It was dangerous. If within its range, people’s organs would vibrate, become damaged, and potentially rupture. Even an indirect hit could cause concussion-like symptoms and possible hearing damage. The two still standing appeared to be affected.
There was no doubt that the weapon had been fired.
Not only that—Henry and Hannah were nowhere to be found.
Chapter 34
Russia
Hannah—17 years old
Days at the Academy were long. Half the time I got to spend with my sister in classes. For the rest, we went our separate ways.
Our mornings began early and were filled with lectures and classes on technology, chemistry, and psychology—which included how to lie and how to tell if someone was lying. We learned how to recruit sources and get them to give up secrets by building relationships, listening to problems, and talking the targets through their issues. We also had classes in international politics, law, geography, and foreign language proficiencies with an emphasis on English.
The afternoons, for me, were spent in combat trai
ning and learning driving techniques to evade and uncover a tail. The evenings varied and often consisted of first aid, how to handle a crisis and attacks, and psychological and theoretical discussions. Our free time mostly consisted of watching movies and TV to immerse ourselves in the culture of the countries we would eventually go to.
The smell of sweat and blood assailed my nose as I stepped into the sparring ring. I spent hours there each day. In the beginning, I had left the ring covered in bruises, sometimes needing to be carried out. I’d learned how to deliver my fair share of punishment. It’d taken me a while, but I worked hard and eventually managed to win against all those in my age group. Through rigorous training, I’d progressed. Because of that, things were about to change.
I flexed my knuckles, making sure the tape wasn’t too tight. The grunts, sounds of fists hitting flesh, and bodies slamming into the mat echoed off the high ceiling in the large gym. Still, I waited for my opponent. I had been assigned a new one, as my last failed to deliver a single hit. I’d learned well, but there was room to improve.
It wasn’t a day to be confident. I didn’t know who my sparring partner would be or what their weaknesses were. I would observe, assess, then strike, which would continue to move me up the ranks. I would not be left behind when my sister went to America. And I rather liked sparring.
Two instructors approached as I finished stretching. One entered the ring, and my focus narrowed. All rules ceased to exist when someone entered the ring, aside from delivering the final blow. Keeping my arms in front for protection, I kept him in my sight as we circled one another.
His dark eyes flashed, and he grinned as he stepped back, the ropes at his back. “I’m not fighting you, Hannah. Not today, anyway.”