Above Reproach

by Lynn Ames

  “The point is,” Astin said, “since we don’t know where they are, we need to anticipate where they’re going.”

  Hart nodded in agreement. “I see where you’re heading with this. The Ramos woman must have gotten a better look than we thought at those images. That’s why she was trying to get another peek at Tuwaitha.” Hart drummed his fingers on the table. “You think she’d head to Iraq?” He directed the question to Astin.

  “She tried to get more images of the place and failed. Going there in person is the next logical step.”

  “I think it’s more of a leap than a step, Astin,” Emily said. “Even if she were behind the satellite episode, what makes you think she’s capable of taking it any further? She knows she’s being watched. It’s why she’s being so careful. If I was her, I’d lie low. She’s got to be scared out of her mind.”

  “She’s not you, Emily,” Astin snapped. And there it was—the reason he’d been turned off by her in the end. She lacked a spine.

  “We have to assume she had something to do with the satellite deal,” Hart said. “That means either she’s remarkably resourceful, or she’s recruited some friends. If that’s the case and they have the wherewithal to take out six of our best soldiers in an explosion of that magnitude, it’s a safe bet that she’s not done causing trouble.”

  “I say, let ’em come to Tuwaitha. We’ll take ’em out before they ever get close. My boys will handle it,” Randolph said.

  Astin bristled. “We’ve already had to send seven of ‘your boys’ back to the Irish ghetto they came from for calling attention to themselves. Pissing on the wall of the mosque? What part of ‘be inconspicuous’ didn’t your men understand?”

  “You and your uptight southern ass. The boys was just having a bit of fun, that’s all.”

  Astin stood and shoved his chair back. He towered over Quinn. His fist quivered at his side.

  “Sit down, Astin,” Hart said. “Both of you, simmer down. This isn’t getting us anywhere.”

  Astin itched to knock Quinn into next week, but he recognized that Hart was right—this wasn’t getting them anywhere. He sat back down. “Daniel, what kind of resources can you put in the field to take care of Ramos and anyone she might bring with her?”

  “I can have a team standing by within forty-eight hours. I’ll also alert forces at every border into Iraq. That’s easy—I’ll just label her a jihadist. It’ll save us using other resources.”

  “Do it,” Astin said. “The order stands as before for Ramos, and anyone else with her. Initiate a permanent solution. I’ll inform Mr. Grayson tomorrow.” He gathered his papers and rose. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got another meeting to get to.” He stuffed the papers in a leather briefcase. “The next time we see each other, it should be to celebrate the successful annihilation of our pest problem.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The president sat across from Kate, his expression grim. Vaughn’s report forced him to face the very real probability that Americans were at least partially responsible for whatever was going on at Tuwaitha.

  “I have to say, this was not the news I was hoping for.”

  “I know, Mr. President.”

  “She blew up her own house?” He shook his head in wonder. “I don’t think I could’ve done it.”

  “I imagine that was one of the reasons you selected Vaughn to lead the team, sir. She’s as strong as they come.”

  “Mmm. Still, I feel horrible about that.”

  “I know Vaughn, sir. I suspect it was more important to her that she prevented the intruders from completing their mission, while suffering no casualties to her team. The house was secondary.”

  “Yes, I believe you’re right about that. You said that when you spoke with her, she mentioned a boat.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Any idea where they were headed?”

  “No, sir.”

  The president swiveled in his chair so that he could retrieve his iPad from the desk behind him and see the map that was open on the screen. He swiveled back and put the iPad on his lap, running his finger from the green pin that represented Vaughn’s house, to the nearest landmasses accessible by boat. There were several possibilities. “Depending on what kind of boat she was using, assuming it was a personal boat and not a larger vessel, she could’ve gone any one of several places. None of those include the United States mainland.”

  “I don’t think she wanted to operate domestically if she could avoid it, sir.”

  “I understand that and I respect her judgment. In her part of the world, it’s much easier to take care of incidents like the one with those intruders without a lot of unwanted scrutiny. Speaking of which, was there any backlash? Any legal ramifications?”

  “Not that I’m aware of, sir.” Kate smiled. “Vaughn was much beloved on that island. I think many people would’ve stepped up to protect her privacy and her reputation. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to find out that the explosion had been classified an unfortunate accident, and that there was no mention of any casualties in the blast.”

  “Good.” The president nodded to himself. “Good.” He refreshed the iPad screen. “I don’t suppose she outlined their next steps for you?”

  “No, sir. I’m not sure Vaughn had gotten that far.”

  “Hmm. Even if she had,” the president ventured, “I doubt she would’ve shared that information.” He recognized Kate’s quizzical expression and continued. “Plausible deniability. If anything goes wrong that calls attention to the mission and I don’t know what they’re up to, I can honestly say I had no knowledge.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Unfortunately, it also means I’m in the dark about what may well be the most important operation of my presidency to-date.”

  Kate started to say something then clearly reconsidered.

  “What is it, Kate? You know you’re welcome to speak freely here.”

  Kate frowned. “Then let me ask you a hypothetical question.”

  “Okay.” The president leaned forward.

  “If I were, say, to give you my best guess as to what was happening now, based on my close relationship with Peter and my knowledge of how he thinks and works and the similarities I see between him and Vaughn, would that affect your plausible deniability?”

  The president laughed. “Hypothetically speaking, since any information from you would involve only pure conjecture and supposition, I’d say there would be no harm in entertaining hypothetical scenarios.”

  “In that case, sir. I’d look…here.” Kate reached over and adjusted the map’s coordinates so that it showed a view of the Middle East. She pointed to Iraq.”

  The president’s mouth made an O, though he said nothing for several seconds. “Huh. In such a case, I’d be worried that they might not have everything they needed.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully with his finger.

  “Sir, I can imagine what you’re thinking, but I wouldn’t recommend it. This team is very resourceful. Anything you might do or supply, no matter how indirect, would leave a trail. I’m sure that’s exactly what they are trying to avoid for your own good.”

  The president bit his lip. He knew Kate was right, but he still didn’t like the idea of leaving people in the field without any visible support or backup.

  “If it makes you feel any better, sir, I’m sure if it became absolutely necessary to the security of this country, they would ask for assistance.”

  “That’s small consolation, Kate.” The president closed the cover to the iPad. “In my time in office, I’ve come to discover that sitting on my hands and doing nothing is often harder than taking action.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  The president stood and walked Kate to the door. “Do you think you’ll be hearing from our friend again anytime soon?”

  “We left it that she would contact me when necessary, sir. So it’s anybody’s guess.”

  “If you do talk to her, please tell her ‘Godspeed’ from me. My th
oughts and hopes rest with her and her team.”

  “Yes, sir, I’ll be sure to pass the message along. I’m sure they’ll be happy to hear that.”

  “I’ll look forward to your next update.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  After the president bid Kate goodbye, he leaned against the door. The situation at Tuwaitha could be the defining moment of his presidency, not to mention a catalyst for a nuclear attack and, potentially, the largest war since World War II. How Vaughn and her team handled the mission could mean the difference between war and peace, heroism or ignominy. However the events of this action turned out, the president understood that the fate of his career and his legacy rested on the shoulders of six civilians acting without portfolio. He only hoped he had chosen well.

  Sedona let the rising sun warm her face. She listened to the rhythm of the waves and imagined the crystal clear blue waters cleansing her of any lower energies, any remnants of shadows.

  She pictured the sun as God’s golden light filling her from within. As she did every morning and night, she cleared, grounded, and protected herself, calling on the archangels and ascended masters to help her along the way. Her mother taught her long ago that shielding herself psychically and spiritually was every bit as important as protecting herself physically.

  She took in a deep, cleansing breath, then another, and another. On each inhale, she imagined herself breathing in the essence of the Universe—Divine white light and perfect love. With each exhale, she imagined herself eliminating a gray mist that represented any negativity or fear.

  She invoked Archangel Michael to cut any cords of fear. She asked Archangel Michael, Archangel Raguel, Archangel Jophiel, Archangel Haniel, and the Ascended Masters El Morya and Lady Nada to turn on the spiritual vacuum cleaner and vacuum away any lower energies or remnants of shadows that might be in her field. She imagined the pure waters of a beautiful waterfall washing away any lingering energies. Then she called upon Archangel Metatron to use his geometric shapes to clear and open all of her chakras.

  She sensed a now-familiar energy behind her, but chose to ignore that for the time being, especially since the part of the routine that remained—protecting herself—was quick and essential to her well-being.

  When she finished a few minutes later, she acknowledged Vaughn’s presence. “If you’ve come to yell at me for venturing out on my own—”

  “I didn’t,” Vaughn said. She came up alongside Sedona. “May I sit down?”

  “Sure.” Sedona noted that Vaughn left a healthy barrier of space between them.

  “I came to tell you we’ll be shipping out shortly.”

  “Okay.” Sedona continued to watch the waves roll in and out.

  After a lengthy silence, Vaughn asked, “What were you just doing?”

  “Meditating. I do this every morning and night. Why?”

  “You…you looked so peaceful. I wondered what you could be thinking that put that expression on your face.”

  “Now you know.” Sedona imagined that someone like Vaughn—a woman of action, not words, would reject the idea of taking the time to go deep within.

  “Please don’t get defensive about it. I-I was thinking I wish I had something in my life that made me feel as serene as you looked.”

  “Oh.” Sedona finally shifted her gaze to Vaughn’s profile. The sun gilded her tanned skin. The sight nearly took Sedona’s breath away. She swallowed hard. “Y-you could do that, you know.”

  “Meditate?”

  “Yes.”

  “I doubt it. Sitting still like that isn’t in my DNA.”

  “No?” Sedona turned fully toward Vaughn. “What do you do when you’re on a sniper assignment and you’re waiting to pull the trigger? You wait for just the right conditions. The correct wind speed, the proper trajectory, the perfect angle. No doubt you regulate your breathing before you pull the trigger. Am I right?”

  “Yes on all counts, but…”

  Sedona was amused that Vaughn seemed surprised by her intimate knowledge of the craft. Dom taught her well. “But, what? What you go through in those moments leading up to the kill is a form of meditation.”

  Vaughn shook her head. “Somehow I don’t equate preparing to take a life with the peace I saw on your face just now, or yesterday afternoon, either.”

  Sedona smiled. “So, you’ve been spying on me?” She watched as an appealing blush crept up Vaughn’s neck to her cheeks.

  “No. I happened to glance out the window yesterday afternoon.”

  “Sure.”

  “Anyway, we’d better get back and gear up.” Vaughn stood abruptly. She put her hand out to help Sedona up.

  Sedona took the outstretched hand. It was strong and supple and the contact sent a frisson of unexpected warmth to Sedona’s belly. They were nose to nose, their hands still connected, palm to palm. Sedona could feel Vaughn’s breath on her lips, see Vaughn’s chest rising and falling in a quicker than normal rhythm. She knew her own heart was matching that beat.

  This time Sedona was the one who pulled Vaughn close. She hesitated only for a fraction of a second before tightening her grip on Vaughn’s hand and pulling her against her body. This kiss was every bit as electric as the first, and maybe more so. This time, it was Sedona who set the pace. Her free hand found Vaughn’s ass and squeezed. Vaughn’s moan only served to increase the heat between them.

  She felt Vaughn moving the hands that still were joined between them until they were pressing against both of their centers. Sedona gasped at the exquisite pressure and freed her hand. She wasn’t sure whether she undid Vaughn’s zipper or whether Vaughn did it herself, but it didn’t matter. Her fingers slid into Vaughn’s warm wetness, and she was lost. She was vaguely aware of Vaughn breaching the barrier of her shorts and panties, the simultaneous strength and gentleness of her fingers inside her. She devoured Vaughn’s mouth with her teeth and tongue and stroked her until they both exploded.

  Neither of them withdrew. They leaned against each other, forehead to forehead, breasts heaving, bodies still quivering. The shock of what they’d just done left Sedona speechless. Never in her life had she wanted and taken with such animal intensity and without conscious thought. She couldn’t even imagine what had propelled her down this path. All she knew was that this connection—whatever it was—between her and Vaughn, was too powerful to be ignored or willed away. The thought frightened her more than the dangerousness of the mission they were about to embark upon.

  Astin detested this place—the gray walls, the rancid smells, the desperate people. But to refuse a command to “visit” with his maternal uncle, the infamous former business magnate and power broker Wayne Grayson, was akin to cutting off his own balls with a butter knife.

  He fussed with the buckle on his bolo tie while he waited for prisoner number 77722 to be led into the visitor center at the maximum-security federal prison.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the frail-looking man in the orange jumpsuit, his hands and feet shackled together, shuffled over to the opposite side of the booth and picked up the phone. Even through the scratched Plexiglas, Astin could see the menace in Grayson’s expression. It sent a shiver through him.

  “I don’t like what I’ve been hearing lately, boy.” Grayson leaned forward, close to the glass, his head tilted to the side to hold the phone because the length of chain on the shackles wouldn’t allow him to easily raise his hand to his ear.

  Not knowing what to say, Astin said nothing.

  “Our people are dying with alarming regularity, mostly at your hands, the way I hear it.” Grayson emphasized the your by jabbing a bony finger at the partition. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  Astin squirmed. It shouldn’t have surprised him that his uncle had other sources on the outside, but he thought he’d been discreet. “They were underperforming.”

  “Sit up straight, punk.”

  Astin pushed his ass back in the seat and threw his shoulders back.

  “You lis
ten to me.” Spittle formed at the corners of Grayson’s mouth. “Only a complete idiot would think that killing the messenger helps motivation. All that does is keep people from wanting to work for you.”

  “You used intimidation all the time.”

  “I used finesse. I used leverage. I didn’t run around like a goddamned cowboy firing off my six-shooter to prove the size of my penis. Have I taught you nothing?” He was so close to the Plexiglas that the last word left a fog on the surface.

  Astin flinched. “They didn’t get the job done. We needed results.”

  “There’s a little word called subtlety. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? Instead of offing these people, you find their weaknesses and exploit them.”

  Astin willed himself to sit still. He knew the telltale signs—a lecture was about to begin.

  “The poor slob you shot in cold blood in your office last week, for instance. You know, the one who gave you the information about the origin of the satellite intrusion?”

  The light dawned for Astin and he remembered the man standing across the desk from him. “It took him twenty-four hours to report the breach and when he did, he didn’t have the name of the owner for the place where the intrusion originated.”

  “You sniveling idiot! He brought you the best lead you have to date. Do you really think anyone else is going to want to bring you an important piece of information that may not be everything you want it to be? No! They’re going to avoid you like the plague. In the end, you’ll have nothing and no one left to blame but yourself.”

  “What would you have me do? I had to make an example of him.”

  “Bullshit!” Grayson shouted.

  “Is there a problem here?” the burly guard asked, coming to stand next to the prisoner.

  “No, sir. Just excited about some family news.”

  “Well, keep it down over here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  When the guard moved away, Grayson lowered his voice. “If you want to own these people, find their weaknesses. That man owed seventy-five thousand dollars in gambling debts. He’d been evading his bookie for months. If you had taken the time to know that, all you would’ve had to do was threaten to tell his bookie where to find him if he didn’t come up with a name attached to that house.”