Alex nodded. She flicked a switch in her pocket that would scramble the security cameras in the entire building.
“Thank you,” the colonel said.
He went out into the room and down a wide-open modern cement stairwell. He stopped at the two modern metal doors at the base of the stairwell. He waited for them to catch up before opening the door.
“Call your men,” the colonel said.
Alex whistled, and Joseph materialized out of the darkness. She gave Fong to Joseph. They started moving across the plaza to the hotel.
“You need to stay, Agent Rasmussen,” the colonel said.
Alex whistled again, and Royce appeared. Royce took Ji from Raz and ran across the plaza. Amam Ibn Hinna followed Royce. Alex waited until they were halfway across the complex before turning to the colonel.
“Why take the risk?” Alex asked.
“You don’t remember me,” the colonel said. “I can’t expect you to. I was only eight when you rescued me from . . .”
“I remember now,” Alex nodded.
“I never knew why you did it,” the colonel said. “Why would you care if a Chinese orphan is beaten to death?”
“I cared,” Alex said.
“Yes,” the colonel said. “And the woman you placed me with?”
Alex smiled. On their way to rescue the child of a politician, she had saved a young boy and a young woman from the clutches of a brutal man. Because she didn’t have time for another solution, she told the young woman that the boy was now her son. They had left together for her hometown.
“How did that work out?” Alex asked.
“She cared for me every day since then,” the colonel smiled. “It turned out very well.”
“I’m so glad,” Alex said.
“I have something else for you,” the colonel said.
Alex watched Trece greet Fong as she made it to the hotel. The colonel followed her eyes, and, for a moment, they watched White Boy take Ji from Royce. The colonel took a small cloth-wrapped package from his pocket.
“You’ll need this,” he said.
“What is it?” Alex asked.
“It is an aid to translate old Chinese to Linear A,” the colonel said. “It may not be one hundred percent. It was most likely translated into old Chinese from nomadic Xiongnu.”
Alex was so moved that she touched her heart.
“You can use it?” the colonel asked.
Alex nodded.
“Good,” the colonel said.
“Thank you,” Alex bowed to him, and he smiled.
“I went to college,” the colonel said. “I have everything — a home, a wife, even a young mistress. My mother is grandmother to my son. All because of what you did.”
“I’m so glad,” Alex said.
“To repay you even a little bit . . .” the colonel said. “You have made me very happy.”
The colonel turned to Raz.
“We must hurry,” the colonel said.
The colonel jogged up the steps. Alex and Raz followed close behind. They bent over and jogged to get down the hallway. The colonel turned right into the small room where they had left the bodies. Alex and Raz slipped in behind him. To their surprise, Amam Ibn Hinna was waiting for them there.
The colonel started yelling in Chinese. He nodded to Alex, and she yelled at him in Mandarin. Amam Ibn Hinna got involved in the yelling. After a few moments, the colonel pulled out a large-caliber revolver and shot the male body in the face. The large-caliber bullet destroyed most of the man’s head. Playing her role, Alex screamed. Raz yelled, “No,” and the colonel shot the female body in the face. The colonel grabbed Alex by the arm and marched her toward the cave with the waiting soldiers.
He threw her out of the main room. She landed wrong and collapsed to the ground. Raz ran to her side.
“You have not heard the end of this!” Amam Ibn Hinna yelled at the colonel.
The colonel sneered, and the soldiers shifted to ready. Raz helped Alex to her feet. Amam Ibn Hinna grabbed her other side, and they ran down the stairs. They hurried across the plaza and were in the back of the private car in minutes.
“That was close,” Amam Ibn Hinna said.
Alex nodded and then scowled.
“Did you know?” Alex asked.
“I was told he would kill Ji and Fong,” Amam Ibn Hinna said. “I knew of your connection to him. I thought maybe that might keep him from killing the Songs. Seems like it worked.”
“That was quite a risk,” Raz said.
“Not really,” Amam Ibn Hinna said. “Did you get the codex?”
“What?” Alex asked.
“Good,” Amam Ibn Hinna said. “I’ll tell you, Lieutenant Colonel. You are much smarter and braver than I’d ever hoped you would be.”
Aman Ibn Hinna nodded.
“You just might pull this off,” he said.
“Pull what off?” Raz asked.
Aman Ibn Hinna just smiled. He didn’t say another word about it. At the airport, he said his good-byes, leaving Alex and Raz to wait by themselves for the team. Most of the team arrived in taxis, while Colin and White Boy appeared on camels. Within an hour of Fong and Ji’s mock murder, they were on Amam Ibn Hinna’s plane and on their way to Beijing. Rather than change planes in Beijing, Bestat’s pilots took the place of Amam Ibn Hinna’s pilots. They refueled and flew out of China.
They cheered when they were out of Chinese air space. Amam Ibn Hinna’s plane landed on the US Navy Base at Yokosuka. The team grabbed their gear and left the plane. The team met medics, who escorted Ji and Fong to the Naval Hospital, the same hospital Ji’s father, Steve Pershing, had been in six months ago. When Ji was rushed into surgery and Fong was settled, they boarded a Hercules C-130 and headed for home.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Saturday, early morning
May 21 — 3:10 a.m. MDT
(5:10 p.m. China Standard Time)
Buckley Air Force Base, Aurora, Colorado
The moment her foot hit the Buckley Air Force Base parking lot, Alex’s phone rang.
“We’re going home,” Raz said.
Raz was walking beside her, and Troy was standing next to her Jeep CJ. Because it was so early in the morning, Alex had insisted that they could make their way home without a driver. Alex looked at her phone and groaned.
“No! No! No!” Troy said. “I know that groan. Do not answer . . .”
“Good morning, Admiral,” Alex said.
“Lieutenant Colonel,” the Admiral in charge of Special Operations said.
“What can I do for you?” Alex asked.
“I’m wondering why the Fey Team has been flying all over the globe, and I . . .”
Alex stopped walking. She waved for Raz and Troy to head home. Raz gave a “What?” gesture, and she pointed to the phone.
“Yes, sir,” Alex said.
She turned in place and started back to her office. Raz jogged back and took her duffle bag from her. She smiled her thanks while she waited out the Admiral’s rant. She went down a flight of stairs and started down the cold hallway where her office was located.
“Are you out of the parking lot?” the Admiral asked.
“Yes, sir,” Alex said.
“In the hallway?” the Admiral asked.
“Yes, sir,” Alex said.
“Stay there,” the Admiral said.
Alex stopped walking and leaned against the cinderblock wall. She waited through a series of clicks while the Admiral changed to a more secure phone.
“Good work retrieving your target,” the Admiral said. “Fong and Ji were not to leave the country.”
“Yes, sir,” Alex said.
“They eliminated the rest of his team,” the Admiral said. “Any idea why they disbanded the team?”
“None,” Alex said. “The younger target has severe, life-threatening injuries. We were fortunate that he survived the trip. He would not have survived a plane change, so the pilots switched planes rather than the team.”
“Good thinking,” the Admiral said.
“Our host,” Alex said.
“Yes,” the Admiral said. “I’ve received a report which says the younger target has survived his first round of surgery and that his father is with him.”
“That’s very good news,” Alex said. “I’m relieved.”
“Yes,” the Admiral said. “Fort Leonard Wood, five o’clock. Don’t be late.”
“Yes, sir,” Alex said.
“Bring the kids,” the Admiral said. “I haven’t seen my Godchildren in a while.”
“The husband spoke with the Afghan,” Alex said.
The Admiral gave a heavy sigh.
“And?”
“It went better than expected,” Alex said. “The Lebanon solution helped.”
When Joseph’s adoptive son, Alex, was an infant, he was at the center of a tricky hostage situation involving his grandparents. Alex’s solution was to bring the child to the US. In agreeing to the plan, the child’s grandfathers — one a powerful Imam and the other a powerful Christian cleric — made the first agreement which would eventually lead to years of peace in Lebanon. Alex’s code name for the boy who bore her name was “The Lebanon solution.”
“Better bring the husband, too,” the Admiral said. “While you’re at it, bring Rasmussen. I want to hear about this goddamned NYPD partner.”
“Yes, sir,” Alex said. “Shall I bring dinner?”
The Admiral laughed and hung up the phone. Alex sighed. She would meet her boss’s boss at Fort Leonard Wood in Missouri to review their last missions. Since Dom’s assistant was killed in Paris, she and the Admiral had met in person whenever she briefed him or he had something he needed to relay to her. It was the only way she’d been able to keep him in the loop while keeping their conversations private.
She’d have to wake Zack to get him to fly them and round up Trece to be her bodyguard. So far, the three of them had managed fifteen private conversations in almost six months. Hopefully, today’s visit would go off without a hitch.
She unlocked her office door and stopped in the waiting area. Someone had been smoking cigars in her office. She made a disgusted face. She looked up at the ceiling while she weighed her options. Making a decision, she walked toward her office. And then she smelled the beer.
Alex looked at her watch before picking up the phone on Sergeant Dusty’s desk and dialed Australia.
“Sir, Lieutenant Colonel Hargreaves,” Alex said.
“What’s he done this time?” the Major General asked.
“Broke into my office,” Alex said.
“Cigars?”
“And beer,” Alex said.
“I’ll talk with him,” the Major General said.
“Permission to use deadly force, sir,” Alex asked.
The Major General laughed and hung up on her. Two for two. She’d managed to vaguely amuse the head of the United States Special Operations and his Australian counterpart.
Her office door opened.
“What’d he say?” asked the large, red-haired man known as The Monk.
“He said I could kill you,” Alex said.
Ethan Samson Fitzgerald tipped his head back and laughed. He looked like he’d just come off a long mission. His hair was a wild, red, curly mess and his beard long. His pants were torn in a way that made it look like his muscular thighs had torn through the fabric. His shirt was sweat stained, and he had beer foam in his beard. He gave her his most charming grin, and she grimaced.
“Did you have to smoke?” Alex asked. “Here? In my office? I’m going to catch hell about if for months. This is a . . .”
“Non-smoking building,” The Monk said. “Yes, I know. But, I couldn’t exactly meet you at home. What would the husband think?”
“That you stink?” Alex asked.
“He might just see how much you fancy me,” The Monk said. “Irish Republican — a Kelly, no less — might just end an old Pict like me.”
Alex laughed. The Monk held out his arms, and Alex let him hug her. He laughed and kissed her cheek. He was called The Monk for his ability to work complicated assignments by himself. Of course, his solitude had led to his capture on more than one occasion.
“What do you want?” Alex asked.
“You’re unusually cranky,” The Monk said. “Rasmussen falling down on his job? Should I step in as your personal gigolo?”
“Very funny,” Alex said. “We just left China, and I have to get to Missouri.”
“Meetings?” The Monk nodded.
“Missouri,” Alex said. “Doing my job in China.”
“Did you ever think we’d be the ones widening our arses in meetings?” The Monk shook his head.
“Last few years, I haven’t been all that sure I’d make it at all,” Alex said.
The Monk hugged her until she protested.
“No, really,” Alex said when he let her go. “Why are you here?”
“I was assigned to kill you,” The Monk said.
In one fluid movement, Alex jumped back and pulled her handgun.
“I was joking, Hargreaves,” The Monk said with his hands raised. “Jeez. What’s got you so wound up?”
“I don’t like being threatened,” Alex said.
“Even by your old mate The Monk,” he said.
Scowling, Alex holstered the handgun and pushed past him to get in her office.
“Sorry,” The Monk said. “I didn’t mean to . . . I don’ know, Alex. I’m an arsehole.”
She nodded.
“I finished your whiskey while I waited,” he said.
“There are two glasses here.” Alex pointed to two glasses sitting on her long conference table.
“That’s why I’m here,” The Monk said.
Alex turned to look at him.
“I was in the bush with someone you know,” The Monk said. “He told me a story that . . . I thought you should hear.”
“Who?”
“Hank Zutterberg,” The Monk said.
Alex pulled the handgun again. The Monk took a step toward her, and she flipped off the safety.
“I know he can be difficult,” The Monk said. “But, you’ve got to hear him out.”
“Why?”
“For your sake, mostly,” The Monk said. “He says he’s in trouble, and I believe him. I brought him with me because I’d be surprised if he survived the week.”
Alex raised her eyebrows.
“You’re not the only one who wants to kill him,” The Monk said. “I took a chance you’d be here without Mac Clenaghan or Olivas.”
“He doesn’t want to see them, either?” Alex asked.
“It’s not that,” The Monk said. “You need to hear his story.”
“Where is he?” Alex asked.
“Toilet,” The Monk said.
Alex looked at the bathroom door.
“He’s being set up,” The Monk said.
“What?”
“You just have to hear him out,” The Monk said. “I thought I’d take a shower while you talked. When I’m done, I’m taking him home with me. Safer there.”
“Why are you his babysitter?” Alex asked.
“Because I know what it’s like to have everyone against you,” The Monk said. “To be alone. He’s alone now, and in trouble. It’s a kind of hostage taking by rumor and inference. It will likely end in his death.”
Alex rubbed her head.
“Plus he’s family,” The Monk said. “My family.”
Alex scowled.
“Will you listen?” The Monk asked.
“No,” Jesse appeared next to The Monk. “No. Alex — don’t do it.”
Alex’s eyes flicked to Jesse. She blinked to indicate that she’d heard him.
“Can I get rid of you any other way?” Alex asked.
“Not a chance,” The Monk laughed.
“Fuck,” Jesse continued in Spanish. “Let’s roll out the lies.”
The Monk laughed and tapped on the bathroom door.
Hank Zutterberg opened the door. He was dirty and thinner than she remembered.
“Did you get Ji?” Hank asked.
“I did. His mother, too,” Alex said. “He’s in Yokohama. Looks like he’ll survive.”
“Ji’s safe?” The Monk asked. “Now there’s some very good news — and a fine start to your chat.”
The Monk pushed and prodded Hank out of the bathroom before going in and locking the door behind him.
“Hank,” Alex said.
“Alex,” he said.
“Have a seat,” Alex said. “I’ll make coffee.”
She ground fresh beans and set up the drip coffee maker.
“I don’t like this,” Jesse said. Alex nodded.
“We drank all of your whiskey,” Hank said.
“How likely is that?” Alex grinned.
Alex took a fresh bottle from the air conditioner.
“We have to hide it because there’s technically no alcohol on the base,” Alex said.
“How do you get away with it?”
“This whiskey belongs to the Fey,” Alex said. “It’s his.”
For the first time in all the years of knowing Hank Zutterberg, Alex noticed him actually smile. Not a big smile, not a laugh, but a small, private smile.
“You always had a way of working the angles,” he said.
“Dick,” Jesse said.
“Childhood training,” Alex said.
He smiled.
“I won’t ask you about your family,” he said. “Or insult you with polite conversation. I know what you think of me.”
“What do I think of you?” Alex asked.
“I’m a lazy crybaby who is endangering your missions and your team,” Hank said. “How’s that?”
“I’ve heard that opinion,” Alex said.
“And you?”
“Honestly?” Alex glanced at the bathroom door. “I don’t know. The evidence looks pretty clear cut.”
He opened his mouth as if he were going to say something.
“I don’t like it when everything lines up,” Alex said. “Usually means that good people are going to wind up dead for no reason.”
“So I have a chance?”
“I promised Ethan I’d listen,” Alex said.
“Ethan,” Hank smiled. “Not many people know his name.”
“You do?”
“We’re related,” Hank said. “Same great-grandmother.”
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