Finding North

by Christian, Claudia Hall

  Alex took his hand with both of hers. She looked deep into his eyes and saw death waiting there.

  “I will tell them that you were incredibly brave,” Alex said. “I will tell them how handsome you were when we were in training. Women used to work our KP just to be around you.”

  “Not you?” He coughed, and blood splashed onto his lips.

  “I didn’t have time for men,” Alex smiled. “But I will tell them I tried to woo you with my cookies. You loved my peanut butter-chocolate chip cookies, but you never said, ‘Thank you.’ Not even once. You’d stuff your gorgeous face, scowl at me like you were tough, and stomp away.”

  “Huh,” Hank chuckled. His face was blanched white.

  “Then I’ll make up the most outrageous lies about your accomplishments,” Alex said. “They will believe them because I’ll order Mac Clenaghan and Olivas to make up even more outrageous lies.”

  She gave him a warm smile.

  “They will remember you as a great man,” Alex said. “I will, too.”

  He looked at her for a moment.

  “They took KP to see me?” Hank asked. “Really?”

  “It’s the truth,” Alex nodded.

  “Hey, Jesse,” Hank grinned. “How . . .?”

  Hank lost consciousness. The next thing Alex knew, she was surrounded by soldiers and agents of every rank from various corners of the building. They dropped down to give Hank first aid. Alex heard The Monk scream her name. She jumped to her feet. The Monk had been tackled by a number of soldiers.

  “He saved me!” Alex yelled. “Get off of him! Get off!”

  She ran to the door and pulled at a few of the men. The paramedics arrived with Air Force Security Forces. She was able to free The Monk in time for the officers to take him into custody. For good measure, they arrested her, too. They were marched down the hallway and shoved into the back of a car. In the car, Alex gave The Monk her fatigue jacket. He put it over his shoulders.

  “We need medics,” Alex said.

  “We’ve already called,” said the officer in the passenger seat.

  The officer driving turned on their siren and took off across the base.

  “Hank was alive when we left,” Alex said in a low tone to Monk.

  “He knew,” The Monk nodded. “He just knew. He told me last night that he wouldn’t survive the day.”

  The big man’s eyes welled with tears.

  “He was my friend, my brother,” The Monk said. “My only family . . .”

  In the pre-dawn light, Alex saw tears roll down The Monk’s face.

  “Hey,” Alex kicked the back of the driver’s seat. “Can you check on our friends? Did they survive?”

  The driver gave her a dark look in the rearview mirror, before asking about Hank and the Colonel’s status over the radio.

  “En route to Anschutz,” the radio replied. “Touch and go. The civilian arrested, but they were able to get him going again. The Colonel is responsive.”

  They arrived at the Buckley Air Force Jail. They were led into the building and into the same cell Alex had spent quality time in a few years ago.

  “Did you punch out the shooter’s eye with a spoon?” The Monk asked after the officers left.

  “I have skills,” Alex said.

  The Monk chuckled. They sat down on the cot, and Alex put her arm around him.

  “Sir,” said the captain in charge of the Buckley Air Force Base jail as he walked toward the cell. Alex remembered him from her last visit to this jail. “We were just informed that the civilian has died. I thought you’d want to know.”

  “What?” The Monk asked. “Hank’s dead?”

  The Monk began to wail. He rocked back and forth on the cot.

  “The colonel is in surgery,” the captain said.

  “Thank you, Captain,” Alex said.

  “I need your clothing and weapons,” the captain said. “But, wait until I can bring you warm clothes.”

  “Blankets,” Alex said. “Coffee.”

  “Yes, sir. I took the liberty of calling Dusty,” the captain said. “He should be here in a minute. If you have things you don’t want pawed through, I won’t stop you from giving it to him. We just need your clothing, shoes, and weapons — that’s all. I also took the liberty of retrieving your friend’s property, his cane, from the scene. I’ll give it to Dusty.”

  “Do you know who shot Colonel Gordon and Hank?” Alex asked.

  “The colonel’s driver,” the captain said. “Funny thing is that he came highly recommended from Lackland. He had the appropriate security clearance. He was here only to cover the colonel’s usual driver’s R and R week. This would have been the second time he drove the colonel.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Alex said. “No background check would have uncovered his motives.”

  “He did not survive to tell us, either,” the captain said.

  Alex nodded.

  “And, sir?” the captain asked. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” Alex nodded.

  Alex turned to The Monk and grabbed on to him. In his intense grief, he fought with her.

  “It’s Alex, Ethan,” Alex said. “It’s just Alex.”

  His entire body relaxed against her, and he wept in her arms.

  FFF

  Saturday afternoon

  May 21 — 2:54 p.m. MDT

  Buckley Air Force Base, Aurora, Colorado

  Alex shivered and hunkered down into her thick Fey jacket. She had not been able to stop shivering since the Buckley jail. It was as if a cold wind had blown up her back and not let go. It didn’t help that the heat had been turned off in the building. She wished she had her warm scarf.

  Of course, her right scapula had cracked when she’d tried to shoot the driver. The medics had shot pain medication into the site and given her a sling. She had three stitches on her left side where she’d just managed to miss a bullet. They encouraged her to get to the hospital when she was released.

  She was sitting in this frigid building instead.

  Everything was a big mess.

  She swallowed hard and looked around the team workroom. She’d never been here by herself. The acting Colonel suspended her team while “the incident” was investigated by Air Force Security Forces.

  It didn’t matter that the driver wasn’t on their team.

  It didn’t matter that she was attacked.

  It didn’t matter that Hank was killed.

  It didn’t matter that her team had immediately jumped into gear and found that the driver owed more than a hundred thousand dollars in gambling debts.

  It didn’t even matter that the driver was paid out of an account that had paid for terrorist acts around the globe.

  What mattered to the interim commander of Buckley Air Force base was that she was not Air Force.

  She should be glad that she wasn’t still in Buckley Jail. She was released to meet with the Admiral, who was currently meeting with the interim commander.

  She bit her nails and wondered how that meeting was going. She shook her head like her dog Maggie did when she came out of the river. She couldn’t afford to worry about that now.

  She forced herself to continue her life review. John had received a call from Colonel Gordon’s wife while the Colonel was en route to Anschutz. Mrs. Gordon wondered if John would mind helping her with all the medical mumbo-jumbo.

  John, in turn, was furious with her for not calling him to let him know what had happened. Or, at least, he seemed furious when she was finally able to speak with him two hours later. There, in the Anschutz waiting room, he’d repeated the same words he’d said when they were twenty years old. “You are a member of a family, not some lone warrior.” “How could you not consider that I’d be worried?” “How dare you be so careless?”

  She still had no answer to these questions.

  Yes, she knew she was a part of a family. Yes, she’d known he’d been worried. No, she hadn’t tried to be careless. She’d been a
rrested and kept from a telephone. They would have continued their usual fight, but White Boy came to tell John that Colonel Gordon was getting out of surgery. He’d hung up on her.

  Alex sighed and wondered exactly how mad he was.

  Was he “at the moment” mad? Was he “worried” mad? Was he “one-day mad” or a week-long “you suck” mad? Was he “you need to leave the Army” mad? Or maybe an “I can’t do this anymore” mad?

  She dropped her head to the table in front of her and replayed all the times he’d been these different kinds of mad. She couldn’t tell which mad he was. If she had a phone, she would have called and asked him, but Dusty had her cell phone, and she was locked out of her office. Anyway, the phones in this building were shut off.

  As soon as the interim commander had been assigned, Alex was cut off from her team, her family, her friends, and even the Intelligence Center. Raz and Trece had been thrown out of her cell. The interim commander had also shut down the other intelligence teams by saying the entire building was closed due to “the incident.” He was going to rid Buckley of intelligence teams, or at least that’s what he’d told her.

  And The Monk.

  She’d managed to get Ethan Samson Fitzgerald out of the Buckley Jail. Joseph had called the Major General in charge of Australian Special Operations. According to Joseph, he’d lit a fire under the interim commander’s arse. The Monk was stripped of the clothing they’d given him. The Security Forces officers had dropped the naked Australian off at the gate. Colin and MJ had picked him up and took him to her house. At least that’s what she thought had happened.

  She had no idea what would happen next.

  According to the interim base commander, the life she had enjoyed had ended the moment the driver had shot Colonel Gordon. He’d rambled some idle threats that she had been too stunned to listen to. She’d just stood at attention until he’d vented his spleen.

  Alex refused to think of her friend Colonel Howard Gordon. She’d met him when she was in Special Forces training. He’d been her friend her entire career and her champion these last few years. When she was barely surviving, he’d created a safe, warm valley for her to rest in. She said a silent prayer to whatever God that was listening that he’d survive his injuries.

  She heard footsteps in the hallway and got up to see who was coming. The Admiral and his personal bodyguard, Waltry, walked down the darkened hallway. The Admiral’s personal bodyguard indicated that she should join them in the hall. Rather than stopping, they continued walking. She had to jog to catch up. They went out the back. They got into a waiting limousine. For the first time in the entire time of knowing the Admiral, his personal bodyguard got into the back of the limousine.

  “What . . .?” Alex started.

  The Admiral shook his head. The limousine drove off the base. Alex turned to look as the metal bar fell.

  She was being escorted off base. It was likely she’d never be able to return.

  She looked at the Admiral. His face was impenetrable. The limousine turned left at Sixth Avenue and took an immediate right at Airport Avenue. The limousine pulled into a civilian car wash, and the Admiral’s bodyguard got out of the vehicle.

  “You need to exit the vehicle,” the bodyguard said. “Lieutenant Colonel?”

  Alex was so surprised that her eyes spontaneously welled with tears. Rather than make a scene, she scooted out of the car. She was about to step out when the Admiral grabbed her left arm. Their eyes caught.

  Alex felt the depth of his rage and indignation in her gut. She nodded. He slipped an inexpensive cell phone and a hundred-dollar bill into her hand. Alex got out of the car. The limousine pulled through the car wash. Alex watched as the limousine pulled back onto Sixth Avenue and headed toward the highway.

  She stood, shivering in the wind, and watched the Admiral’s limousine until it was out of sight. Stunned and more than a little confused, she stared in the direction the limousine had gone.

  Maybe her team would show up.

  Maybe her father.

  She stood in the wind for fifteen minutes.

  No one arrived.

  She was alone.

  A taxicab pulled up in front of her. Maybe this anonymous driver would take her home.

  She opened the back door and got inside.

  “Where to?” the driver asked.

  When she leaned forward to tell him, she realized that she knew him. He was the Somali taxi driver who lived in the apartment building two blocks from them. He smiled, and she relaxed.

  “Take me home, please,” Alex said in Arabic.

  Speaking in Arabic, they argued over Somali politics and commiserated about khat, the drug that they agreed was behind the destruction of Somalia. In the end, he refused to take her fare. He dropped her at his apartment complex and took off toward downtown.

  She waved as he drove off and walked the rest of the way home.

  She let herself into her side of the rooming house. The house was dark and quiet. Everyone was off living their lives or resting from the last adventure. Unsure of the level of threat against them, John had sent Quince and the twins to Colorado Springs. Alex was standing in the middle of the kitchen when Max came in from his side.

  He hugged her. Taking her hand, they went downstairs to the basement room they’d set up when Wyatt moved in. This was their room. Without saying a word, they went into the room, locked the door, and sat down on the couch. He tugged on her until she rested against him.

  Only then did she allow herself to cry.

  F

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Saturday evening

  May 21 — 5:33 p.m. MDT

  Denver, Colorado

  For the last hour, people had trickled home to the rooming house. Troy’s boys ran across the floors above. Ooljee and Paddie played video games in the shared living area while Cian and Neev started dinner. The water turned on and off a few times as people took showers or baths.

  Alex and Max sat together in their twin room.

  At some point, they would start living again. They would talk about what Max had found in New York and the trip to China. Eventually, they would get around to what had happened in Alex’s office and to all the implications of her removal from base.

  But right now, they were enjoying the silent community of each other. Alex closed her eyes and sighed.

  “Yeah, it’s probably a good time to get moving,” Max said.

  “When are you going to have a crisis?” Alex asked.

  “Have something planned?” Max asked.

  Alex smiled.

  “I had a crisis last year,” Max said. “A big freakin’ life crisis, remember?”

  Alex shrugged.

  “I seem to be the one who does all the crying,” Alex said.

  “You’re the girl,” Max smirked. “Boys don’t cry.”

  He repeated what he used to say when they were children.

  “Girls are crybabies,” they said together and laughed.

  “I can make you cry,” Alex repeated her usual line.

  Max laughed. He patted his lap. Alex put her head on his lap.

  “I think the world has been after you these last few years,” Max said. “You’ve had a lot to cry about.”

  “I guess,” she said. “Did John call you?”

  “After he yelled at you on the phone,” Max said. Imitating John’s London accent, he said, “I was a complete arse. God’s sake, I didn’t even ask her if she was injured.”

  “God’s sake,” Alex said. “What did you tell him?”

  “You cracked your scapula and had a flesh wound,” Max said. “Two stitches?”

  “Three,” Alex said. “I bet that made him feel bad.”

  “He asked,” Max laughed. “Did he . . .?”

  “Full rant,” Alex said. “Then he hung up on me.”

  “Ah,” Max said. “Well, he’s sorry.”

  “Hmm,” Alex scowled.

  Max laughed. He bounced Alex’s head until she laug
hed.

  “You ready to hear what happened today?” Max asked.

  “Did something happen today?” Alex asked.

  Max laughed. She smiled at him.

  “Do I have to give up pouting?” Alex asked.

  “No,” Max said. “But you just might feel better.”

  “Go ahead,” Alex said.

  “First off, you should know that Dusty was lucky to make it off base,” Max said.

  “What do you mean?” Alex asked.

  “If he’d been even ten minutes later, the new commander would have stopped him,” Max said. “As it was, the Security Force officers went to his house and asked for your belongings. He gave them something — clothing, stuff like that. Stuff he had.”

  “That was smart,” Alex said.

  “I don’t think we’d have gotten as much done if they hadn’t come to harass him,” Max said.

  “We?”

  “I took command of your team,” Max said.

  “You did?”

  “I pretended to be you,” Max said. “Fooled them completely.”

  Alex laughed.

  “No,” Max said. “When Dusty called Joseph, we did some quick shuffling so that the team wasn’t under the interim commander’s jurisdiction. It’s tucked into my team for now.”

  “Why?” Alex sat up.

  “I’d tell you, but we have to go in order; otherwise, you’ll get mad,” Max said.

  “Fine,” Alex lay back down so her head was on his lap.

  “They went to Dusty about fifteen minutes after he left the base,” Max said.

  “He lives right there,” Alex said.

  “Exactly,” Max said. “He called Joseph when they left. Like I said, we wouldn’t have had any idea the shit was coming down the pipeline if they hadn’t come to his house.”

  “Huh,” Alex said. “Do you think . . .?”

  “Yes,” Max said. “I think they were sent by your friend, the captain in charge of the Buckley Jail, to let the team know this was going down. But get this.”

  “What?”

  “They started trying to get into your computer system around the same time,” Max said.

  “They did?”