by Lynn Ames
“First, let me say that whatever bug you’ve got up your ass about me, you’d better get over it.” Justine poked her finger in Vaughn’s chest. She vibrated with anger. “You’re the one who called me for this op, not the other way around. If you don’t want me here, just say so. I’m happy to go back to my nice, quiet life.”
Vaughn closed her eyes. It seemed that everything these days was a confrontation and she was tired of fighting friends. No doubt she would be better served if she saved that for their common enemies. “I want you here,” she conceded.
“Okay.” Justine removed her finger from Vaughn’s chest and gripped the railing, instead. “So what the hell is your problem?”
“Which one?” Vaughn barked a laugh.
“Nice deflection. That self-defeated, martyr tone doesn’t suit you, Vaughn. And it sure as hell is a far cry from the Vaughn I know.”
“Maybe I’m not that girl anymore. Has that occurred to you?”
“Bullshit.” Justine pivoted to face her. “I let it go when you moved to the middle of nowhere. I cut you slack when you never answered my phone calls or e-mails after Sage left. I even made excuses for you with mutual friends.”
“I never asked you to reach out to me and I certainly never asked you to make excuses for me,” Vaughn said, still looking straight ahead.
“You didn’t have to. You’re my friend. Helping each other out is what friend’s do. But maybe you’ve forgotten that.”
Vaughn winced. “Maybe I never knew it to begin with. I told you a long time ago that I was a lousy friend. You chose to stay anyway. Don’t blame me because I came as advertised.”
Justine grabbed Vaughn by the arm and swung her until they faced each other. It was then that Vaughn could see just how deeply she’d hurt her friend.
“I’m done making excuses for you, Vaughn. I’m done cleaning up your messes because you checked out of life when Sara died.”
Vaughn flinched as if she’d been slapped.
“I lost my best friend too. But you were too busy feeling sorry for yourself to notice. You were too busy wallowing in your misery to realize that the world went on without you and yes, without Sara.”
Tears formed in Vaughn’s eyes and she blinked. She acknowledged the corresponding tears in Justine’s eyes.
“I’m sorry if that hurt. I’m sorry you couldn’t save Sara. I’m sorry she’s not here right now. If she were, she’d kick your ass from here all the way to Iraq without the benefit of a plane. She’d kick your ass for treating Sage so badly.”
Vaughn dropped her chin to her chest. Justine was right about all of that.
“And she’d surely kick your ass for the way you’re behaving toward Sedona.”
Vaughn’s head snapped back up. “What does Sedona have to do with anything?”
“Ah. That got a reaction out of you, didn’t it? Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about the fact that the sparks between you two are hot enough to start a forest fire and yet, I know you. She’ll just be more collateral damage when you’re done because you refuse to rejoin the human race. You refuse to come back to the land of the living.”
“You’re way off base.” Vaughn’s voice shook with emotion.
“Am I? I don’t think so. I saw you follow her down to the beach two days ago. I saw the look on your face when you came back alone. Then I watched you follow her again this morning and I watched your expression when you returned together.”
Vaughn’s eyes closed involuntarily. She had hoped they’d slipped back unnoticed. She should have known better.
“You’re torn up. I could see it in your face. Sedona doesn’t know you yet, so she doesn’t know what that look means. I’ve seen it before. You’re attracted to her. Your heart draws you toward her. But you’re so closed off, you’ve already determined that any relationship between you can’t happen.”
“Are you done psychoanalyzing me yet? In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of an op. There’s no time for the personal.” Vaughn’s face was inches away from Justine’s now.
“Really?” Justine leaned back. “That’s rich coming from you.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Explain to me exactly what strategic advantage there is to having Sedona defended by one person when she could be defended by five.”
“It’s my jo—”
“Oh, my God. Please don’t give me that tired bullshit about Sedona being your responsibility. Admit it, you’re afraid she’ll end up like Sara and it’ll be all your fault. Wake up, Vaughn. We’re all in this together. We’re a team, and you’re not utilizing the incredible resources you’ve got around you. I’ve never seen you make such wrongheaded decisions in the field.”
Justine clenched and unclenched her jaw. “I strongly suggest you take a minute to sit with yourself and figure out what this is really about. And then get your head back in the game. We can’t afford to get on that plane this afternoon without the Vaughn I know to lead us.”
Vaughn could only watch after her as Justine retreated into the condo.
“And by the way?” Justine called over her shoulder, “I’m pretty sure Sedona can take care of herself.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Sir, I have something for you. I think you’ll be pleased.” Steven Ochs, the acne-faced, owl-eyed computer geek, folded, then unfolded his hands. He took in the trappings of the office from his seat across from the infamous Astin Trulander. The place was impressive. Still, he’d heard stories of people who came in here to give this man news and never came out. He wasn’t one to put stock in gossip or rumors, but somehow, he believed this one. He’d felt that kind of vibe when Trulander came to visit him in the bat cave.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Trulander said.
“Yes, sir.” Steven picked up the manila file folder he held on his lap. Unfortunately, his hands were shaking so badly that the papers slid out before he could transfer the folder to the desk.
“You idiot,” Trulander thundered.
Steven’s hands shook harder. “I-I’m sorry, sir.” He got down on his hands and knees and collected the papers and stuffed them back in the folder. With both hands on the folder this time, he placed it on the desk.
Trulander snapped it up impatiently and whipped it open. He perused the top document, then the next and the next. His eyes were gleaming. “How sure are you that this information is accurate?”
Steven, who still was getting up off the floor, swallowed hard. He believed with all his heart that his next answer could make the difference between going home to his cat tonight or exiting the office in a body bag. “Accurate in what sense, sir?” He slid back into the chair.
“How many senses of accurate are there?” Trulander boomed. “Either the information is good or it isn’t. Which is it?” His face was turning purple.
Steven sat on his hands to keep them from shaking worse than they already were. “I…” It came out as a squeak, and Steven cleared his throat to try again. “I’m absolutely certain that the debit card used belongs to Sedona Ramos, sir. I can also verify that the card was used to purchase airfare from New York to Istanbul, with a stop in Frankfurt, Germany. The purchased ticket lists John F. Kennedy International Airport as the originating airport and the flight is a British Airways flight scheduled for a 7:15 a.m. departure the day after tomorrow.”
Trulander stroked his chin. “And if I asked you again whether you truly believe Ramos will be on that flight, would you stake your cat’s life on it?”
Steven was glad he was sitting, because his knees went weak. Trulander knew about Spock? “Um, statistical probability indicates—”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about statistical probabilities.” Trulander slammed his palm on the desk for emphasis. “I asked you a simple question and I expect a direct answer. Would you swear on your kitty-cat’s life that Ramos will be on that plane?”
Steven thought his head would explode. He had a fifty-fifty chance of being right. What if he picked the wrong fifty? “Well, sir, if it was me and I’d paid that much for a flight, I’d certainly get on it.”
Trulander continued to stare at him, his fingers drumming on the desk. “I sincerely hope you’re right. If you’re not…” He let the implication hang in the air.
“I hope so too, sir,” Steven mumbled. “God, I hope so too.”
“Get out.”
Steven rose shakily to his feet and stumbled out of the office.
“I’m not buying it. It’s too easy,” Daniel Hart said. His voice vibrated in direct correlation to his footfalls on the treadmill at the exclusive gym.
“I agree with you. She’s too savvy, with too much field experience, to make a careless mistake like using a traceable debit card.” Orlando Niger, deputy director of the NSA and fellow Gulf War veteran, ran effortlessly on the adjacent treadmill in the otherwise empty facility.
“I’m curious,” Hart said. “Did you ever meet this woman?”
“I did. It was at a dinner in the director’s honor a few months ago.”
“What was your assessment?”
“Apart from the fact that she’s one sweet-looking piece of ass that I wouldn’t have minded tapping?”
Hart chuckled. “Yeah, apart from that.”
“Smart. Resourceful. Driven. Not easily intimidated or rattled.”
“Too bad she’s on the wrong side of this.”
“Yeah. It’s a damn shame.” Niger powered down the treadmill and toweled off. “What’s your plan?”
“That ass, Trulander, actually believes Ramos will be on the plane from JFK. He wants me to put resources there.”
“Are you going to do it?”
“For the moment, I don’t have much choice. Grayson insists that we give this asshole enough rope to hang himself—let him continue to think he’s the big man.” Hart decelerated to a walk. “So I’m tasking a minor team with airport and flight duty.”
“And the rest? What do you suppose Ramos is really up to?”
Hart shook his head. “I wish I knew. I do think Trulander is right about one thing—she’s probably headed to Tuwaitha.”
“Since she gave you a Turkish route, it seems doubtful that she’s heading into Iraq from the north.”
“Exactly. We’ll cover it, but I’m focusing more resources on the other possibilities. My guess is she’ll try to sneak in either through Iran, which would be damn ballsy, or Kuwait, which would be less convenient, but also less risky.”
“That’s a lot of area to deal with. You’ve got enough resources to cover it?”
“That’s where you come in, my friend. I need you to get a little creative for me.”
“How so?”
“Ramos has been absent without leave for at least a week now. I need you to ‘find’ some documents on her hard drive that indicate she was in communication with some of the targets of the voice intercepts. That would explain her being on the run.”
Niger’s mouth dropped open. “You want me to elevate her to the terrorist watch list.”
“More than that.” Hart smiled wickedly. “I want you to make her an imminent threat to national security. By tomorrow morning, I want every TSA agent, every police officer in every jurisdiction, every border agent, every soldier at every military checkpoint from here to Iraq actively looking for her. I want our military bases in Iraq on high alert and her picture disseminated to every embassy so that if she tries to seek asylum in any country in which we have a diplomatic presence, she’ll be arrested on the spot.”
“You’re going to use the resources of the government so we don’t have to be everywhere.”
“I knew there was a reason I made you my second-in-command in C Company twenty years ago. You’re a sharp guy, O.”
“I can do this, but I’m going to have to be careful about it. The debacle with the Tuwaitha file required some really fancy footwork. I can’t take a chance on another snafu.”
“That was most unfortunate.”
“Especially for the jerk who accidentally sent the file instead of leaving it in the usual drop location—the spam folder.”
“He certainly won’t be making that mistake again.”
“Too bad for his wife, who was nine months pregnant at the time of his ‘accident’.”
“She’ll get survivor benefits. That’s more than he got.” Hart slapped Niger on the back. “I have confidence you’ll get this taken care of discreetly.”
“I’ll see to it personally. I always did enjoy creative writing.”
The drone of the engine and the propellers lulled Sedona to sleep. Her legs were stretched out in the aisle of the small plane for the short flight to Miami. She had the row to herself, which was more than fine with her. She’d been sure to get on first and find a seat. Her emotions were too raw; she needed the space to try to untangle the jumble of feelings swirling in her heart.
Every time she nodded off, she saw Vaughn’s face enraptured and felt Vaughn’s muscles contract around her fingers. Sedona jerked awake and crossed her legs. That line of thinking and the visceral memory would not do either of them any good where they were headed.
Besides, she had absolutely no indication that Vaughn wanted anything more to do with her. They had not spent a single moment alone together since that morning on the beach. And the dust-up over the travel arrangements had done nothing to improve either of their moods.
What was it Vaughn had said? “You have no idea what I’m feeling…” or something like that. Sedona recognized the truth of that statement. Vaughn’s expressions and her demeanor gave away nothing, and Sedona refused to use her other senses to ferret out the truth. If Vaughn wanted her to know what she was thinking and feeling, then she would share it on her own. If not, so be it.
The problem was, Sedona didn’t know how she was feeling about what had transpired. Obviously, she was attracted to Vaughn in a way she hadn’t been attracted to anyone other than Rachel.
Rachel. What would she have thought of this situation? Tendrils of guilt swept through Sedona. Until Vaughn, there hadn’t been anyone who touched Sedona’s heart and few who touched her body. On those rare occasions when Sedona craved female company, she paid for it. That way, there were no emotional entanglements, no misunderstandings, and no danger of anyone stealing Sedona’s heart and then dying on her.
Sedona swallowed a cry and turned toward the window. How was it possible, after three years, that Rachel’s loss still hurt so much? And how could Sedona even think about any kind of relationship with Vaughn when her heart would always belong to Rachel—her lover, her life-long best friend, her soul mate?
Her eyelids grew heavy again, and this time, Sedona allowed herself to succumb to sleep. She would need the rest, because once they got where they were going, it was anybody’s guess when the next downtime would come.
Vaughn scanned the crowd in the Miami airport. There was the usual complement of TSA agents and cops. No one seemed to be paying them particular attention.
She insisted that Justine and Sabastien go through security first, a full two-and-a-half hours ahead of the scheduled flight. Vaughn and Sedona would go next, an hour and forty-five minutes before the plane took off, and Peter and Lorraine would go last, half an hour after that, in case anything went awry. In that case, Peter and Lorraine would have an opportunity to break off the plan and find an alternate route to Kuwait. Under that scenario, the rest of the mission would fall to them.
Sedona walked beside Vaughn, and Vaughn noted that she seemed perfectly at ease. Vaughn knew she couldn’t be, but she admired the acting job just the same. Neither one of them had said a single personal thing to the other in the two hours they’d been alone together since arriving at Miami International.
“All clear so far,” Vaughn whispered into the coms. The tiny piece of plastic in her ear was almost too small to see. The transmitter on her hip appeared from the outside t
o be an iPod. Next to her, Sedona bopped to imaginary tunes on an identical iPod, her headphones tuned, instead, to the com frequency Sabastien had set for all of them. They made the decision not to give Sedona a microphone, since that would be difficult to explain if they got stopped.
To facilitate her ability to defend Sedona, Vaughn had Sabastien spoof the identity of a Deputy US Marshal transporting a high-value protectee to witness protection. This enabled her to carry her Glock-40 on her hip and her Walther .380 in an ankle holster. It also made it legal for her to check the rest of the group’s weapons, and resulted in a decreased level of scrutiny for her. In addition, it forced the TSA agents to give her and Sedona a wide berth.
“Ten-four,” Peter answered. “Everything still looks quiet outside security.”
“All is well in the gate area,” Justine reported.
“See you all on board,” Vaughn said, signing off. She lightly grasped Sedona by the elbow and steered them toward a Starbucks. It was a red-eye flight, and she was going to need some help to stay vigilant.
Orlando Niger chewed his fingernail to the nub as he waited for the changes to the file to upload. He considered himself risk-aversive these days, so this bit of late-night creative writing and file replacement gave him hives. Still, he owed his life to Daniel Hart for saving him from a sniper’s bullet, and it was time to repay the debt.
When Daniel approached him and recruited him several years ago, Orlando hadn’t fully understood the extent of the commitment, nor the reach of the organization to which he was pledging his allegiance. Now, it was too late to back out. He was in too deep, and he knew too much. The best he could hope for was to make himself indispensible. Turning Sedona Ramos into a reviled terrorist would go a long way toward accomplishing that goal.