by Lynn Ames
He heard the quiet ding signifying that the file upload was done. Now all that remained was for Orlando to “discover” it. He would bring it to his boss’s attention, a man for whom neither he nor Daniel had much use. He was a pompous, self-important stump of a man who cared little for the nitty-gritty details of his agency’s work. That was the type of thing for which he had a deputy director, as he often reminded Orlando. His boss would then elevate the information to the appropriate authority’s attention. That authority, of course, would be Daniel Hart. And it would be done.
By late tomorrow morning, there wouldn’t be any place that Sedona Ramos could hide.
Wayne Grayson finished his evening exercises in the yard at the federal penitentiary and headed back inside.
“Your lawyer wants to see you,” the stocky guard on the door reported. “Don’t bother going back to your cell. We’re taking you to the meeting room.”
Grayson showed no emotion, he simply shuffled along with the gait of a man who spent too long behind bars and aged before his time. Those who had watched him for a long time knew not to be deceived by this. His eyes and his mind were razor sharp. Behind bars or free at large, this was a man to be feared.
When he entered the private meeting room where lawyers met with their clients, his lawyer already was seated at the table.
“Stanley, you’re looking well-fed.”
The lawyer looked up at him and blinked. “I have some documents for you to review.” He slid a folder across the table.
Grayson cracked his knuckles and caressed the folder like a lover. He opened to the first document, which was a request to have his sentence commuted by the president. He smiled. “That’s rich,” he mumbled.
He impatiently thumbed through until he got to the middle of the pile. Then his eyes lit up. There was the transcript of that nebbish nephew threatening the computer geek’s cat. Grayson cackled. “What an ass.” Still, at least this time the idiot didn’t kill anyone. Yet.
“Do you want me to do anything about him?”
“Hmm?” Grayson was engrossed in the rest of the word-for-word transcription of every conversation, live or on the phone, Astin had conducted in the last week.
There were the usual blustering threats and the bone-headed business decisions. Those didn’t bother Grayson. He expected as much from his younger sister’s only boy. She had him as an out-of-wedlock teenager when she could barely take care of herself. She came weeping to her big brother, begging him to take the boy in and make something of him.
Grayson loved his sister, so he tried to teach her son the ways of the elite business world. But the boy had about as much aptitude for business and social interactions as a baboon, and it quickly became clear to Grayson that he would have to find some place to stash Astin where he would do no harm. The little oil company Grayson Enterprises picked up in a hostile takeover seemed the perfect place.
Grayson’s unfortunate arrest and conviction for treason for the kidnapping and attempted murder of President Hyland created a new set of challenges. It was nothing insurmountable—Grayson certainly could continue to lead the organization from his jail cell—but he would need a figurehead. A stooge. Astin was the perfect candidate.
No doubt Astin thought he actually was in charge. For years this worked to Grayson’s advantage. But not anymore. He broke the cardinal rule, which was to leave no trace. He was getting sloppy and it had to stop.
It was a shame, really, but Grayson had carried him along as long as he could. He was sure his sister would understand from her perch in Heaven.
“I asked, do you want me to do anything about him?”
Grayson focused on the lawyer. “Not yet.” He read further. “Hart is handling the actual search?”
“Yes, sir. He tells me the lady suddenly has become of great interest to Homeland Security. Seems she’s a terrorist.”
“How interesting,” Grayson smirked.
“She’s moved to the top of the ‘imminent threats list’ and is presently being hunted by every law enforcement officer from here to Baghdad.”
“She must be very dangerous.” Grayson’s smile widened. “What is the current status?”
“Beginning tomorrow morning, there won’t be anyplace that woman can go that she won’t be recognized and apprehended.”
“Excellent, Stanley. I do love when you bring me good news.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is there a separate team in place at the facility, just in case she gets that far?”
“Yes, sir. There’s an elite eight-member squad strategically stationed around the perimeter. I’m assured she won’t be able to get in.”
“I want to know the second she’s finished. And Stanley, I do mean finished. No messy loose ends, like a trial.”
“Understood, sir.”
“What about the group we think she’s traveling with?”
“Anyone she’s allied with will be considered aiding and abetting a terrorist, of course, and will be dealt with accordingly.”
Grayson nodded his approval. “Make sure the same instructions apply to them, as well.”
“Of course, sir. Anything else?”
“How’s that oil pipeline coming? Has Kincaid gotten it through her committee yet?”
“She’s mustering the votes as we speak, sir.”
“Tell her to hurry it up. All of these things must be perfectly timed, otherwise this will have been a wasted exercise. I do so hate to cause thousands of potential deaths and a possible war for no reason.”
“Yes, sir. Is that all?”
“For now, Stanley. For now.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Vaughn watched Sedona sleep. She was curled up facing the window, but her profile was fully visible. Her face was relaxed, her mouth turned up in a half-smile. Vaughn couldn’t remember ever seeing such beauty. She deliberately turned the other way.
The problem with long flights was having too much downtime. Up until now, it had been easy to avoid thinking about the events of the past few days. But here, flying over the ocean at 37,000 feet, there was nothing but time to think.
“What the hell is it about me and damsels in distress?” she muttered. First, it was Sage and the race across the desert sands of Mali to find and save her. Now, it was Sedona. Was she simply attracted to women who needed her? Could it be that these two situations were her way of recreating the scene with Sara and coming up with a different ending?
“Good Lord.” Vaughn ran her fingers through her hair. Was that it?
Sedona groaned in her sleep and Vaughn automatically put a hand out to soothe her. Immediately, she settled back down and Vaughn removed her hand.
Sedona was not Sage—that much was certain. It wasn’t just that one was dark where the other was light. Sedona was battle tough. Sage was softer and gentler. Sedona was edgy. Sage was bookish.
But they shared some qualities too. Both were intelligent, resourceful, observant, and analytical. Both were attractive, although in very different ways. Vaughn glanced at Sedona once again. Oh, yes. She was definitely exquisite. Vaughn wondered what she would look like without her clothes on. A lightning bolt of desire flowed through her and she stifled a moan. She reminded herself that they were on assignment and that, when this was over, they would go their separate ways.
Vaughn replayed the conversation with Justine. Was she right? Was Sedona destined to be collateral damage? Was Vaughn incapable of real love anymore?
Certainly it was true that a part of her died with Sara. How could it not? Sara was the yin to her yang. She was the balance. She understood Vaughn in ways no one else could. Vaughn was lost without her and suspected she always would be. So yes, Sara’s death irrevocably changed Vaughn. For that, she offered no apologies.
What, then, was this thing with Sedona? Was it anything at all? A few moments of passion on the beach hardly counted for a relationship. Vaughn glanced at Sedona again. She wondered what Sedona thought was between them. Sedona hadn’t seemed to b
e in any rush to discuss what happened either. Was she even looking for a relationship?
That was pretty presumptuous. Vaughn laughed at herself. Maybe she was getting ahead of herself. Perhaps sometimes a tryst really was just a tryst.
The director of the NSA chewed on an unlit cigar. “You’re sure about this?”
Orlando Niger tried not to roll his eyes. “Yes, sir. Our internal affairs team discovered the incriminating documents on her hard drive this morning. They had the translation independently verified. There is no question of the communication’s authenticity or that it came from Ramos’s computer.”
“I see. Well… Damn. Well… It’s a shame. Her record up until now was exemplary.”
“Sir, with all due respect, we need to move on this now. We have no idea where this woman has gone. The documents seem to indicate she may be heading to the Middle East with vital, top-secret details about our information-gathering processes and technology. If she reaches her destination, this could be catastrophic. Not only that, but it would be a huge stain on the agency’s reputation. This could be a major blot on your record.” Niger knew an appeal to the director’s vanity and ego would likely push him to action. “I’m just trying to protect your legacy here.”
The director put down the cigar and scanned the report once again. “Okay then. If you’re sure, I’ll give a call over to Homeland Security and send this up the flagpole.”
Niger breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, sir. I know you’re doing the right thing.”
On the way out of the office, he glanced at his watch—it was 9:27 a.m. Once Hart had the official report, it would be only a matter of minutes until the order would be given and alerts would go out. Within the hour, there wouldn’t be any place in the world Sedona Ramos could hide.
Heathrow Airport was a mass of people scurrying to and fro. The first thing Sedona noticed was the unusual number of cops swarming around. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and a chill ran through her. She glanced to the side. If Vaughn was alarmed, she didn’t show it.
Archangel Michael, is this trouble for me? Immediately, her body was suffused with heat. This was another way that Archangel Michael communicated with her. Her gut tightened and she nodded imperceptibly. Okay. Thank you, Michael, for being with me. Please protect me and give me crystal clear guidance as to how to proceed.
“Vaughn,” she said quietly, her lips barely moving.
“Yeah.”
“We have a problem.”
“What do you mean?”
Sedona debated what to say. If Peter were walking with her, she would’ve been straightforward. Somehow, she didn’t think that this was the proper time to tell Vaughn about her abilities. Still, she wanted to be as honest as she could be.
“Do you see the increased police presence?”
“Probably standard protocol these days.”
“I don’t think so.” Sedona wrapped her arm inside Vaughn’s elbow and tugged.
“What are you doing?”
“Do you trust me?” Sedona’s eyes pleaded with Vaughn.
“Y-yes.”
“Okay.” Sedona pulled them up short and kissed Vaughn passionately on the mouth. She turned them so that Vaughn completely blocked her from the view of passersby.
At first, Vaughn resisted and Sedona could feel the shock running through her. Then she yielded. Sedona struggled not to get lost in the kiss. When the cop who had been looking in their direction passed, she released Vaughn.
Vaughn stumbled back a step. “What the hell—”
“Get Peter and Lorraine on the coms. Tell them to do a little poking around. Those cops are looking for someone specific.” She inclined her head to indicate the officer that just had passed. “I think that someone is me.” Sedona worked hard to keep her voice calm.
Vaughn moved back in toward Sedona and casually shielded her by leaning in and resting her hand on the wall behind Sedona’s head. “Peter, Lorraine. Do you copy?”
“Here,” Lorraine answered.
“What’s your position?”
“We’re approaching the loading area for DHL. Why?”
“The package may be opened by security. Can you investigate ASAP?”
“On it.”
“We can’t stay here like this. It’s too open,” Vaughn said.
Sedona surveyed the area. She spotted a unisex handicapped bathroom a short distance away. “There,” she pointed.
After assuring themselves that no one was watching, they entered the private bathroom and locked the door.
“Are you okay?” Vaughn asked.
“I’m fine. Sorry about the kiss. It was the first thing I could think of that would hide me from view.”
“You’re sorry about the kiss?” Vaughn asked.
“Do you want me to be?” Sedona’s heart beat hard against her ribs. She wasn’t sure whether that was the potential danger of their situation or anticipation of Vaughn’s answer.
“Vaughn?” It was Peter.
Sedona closed her eyes and willed her breath to return to normal.
“Here.”
“We have serious trouble.”
“We’re listening.”
“The place is on high alert. They’re looking for an American—a dangerous terrorist.” He paused. “Sedona Ramos.”
Sedona’s knees buckled and she leaned against the wall.
“Jesus,” Vaughn said. “Okay. Let’s think this through.”
“We could lie low here in the UK until things calm down,” Justine said. “By the way, Sabastien and I are sitting on the cargo plane.”
“I don’t think that’s a good answer,” Lorraine said. “They’re not going to stop looking. She’s classified as an imminent threat.”
“Damn!”
“How the fuck—”
“Let’s worry about the ‘how’ later,” Vaughn broke in. “Right now, we need a plan.” When she looked at Sedona, there was sympathy in her eyes.
“I know what to do,” Sedona said, holding Vaughn’s gaze.
“Hold on. Sedona has an idea.”
Sedona moved closer to Vaughn so she could be heard over the coms. They were close enough that Sedona could feel Vaughn’s breath on her neck. “Cuff me.”
Vaughn rocked back on her heels. “I’m sorry. What?”
“Cuff me. Your cover is law enforcement. Cuff me and take me prisoner. You’ve apprehended the dangerous terrorist and you’re escorting her to Kuwait to one of the CIA’s super-secret interrogation facilities. You can’t question me properly in the US because of those pesky, inconvenient, due-process laws.”
“That’ll never fly—” Vaughn started to say.
“It could work,” Peter said.
“We’d need to switch to a commercial flight,” Justine said. “Sabastien is here with me. He’s booting up his laptop to look right now.”
“We’d never be flying on a British Airways commercial flight,” Vaughn countered.
“You want to get me to Kuwait right away, before any human rights group has a chance to make the torture of an American terror suspect an issue.”
“It’s a huge risk,” Vaughn argued. “We’d be better off making a run for it to the cargo plane.”
Sedona could read the worry in Vaughn’s aura. She put a hand on her arm. “We’d never make it undetected. A commercial flight is the best chance we have. Once we get to Kuwait, your friend will be waiting with the helicopter, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then if we can get to Kuwait safely, we should be fine.”
“Sedona’s right,” Lorraine said. “With the place swarming the way it is, there’s no way we can get her onto that cargo plane without someone stopping her.”
“There is a British Airways flight leaving for Kuwait in a little more than an hour,” Sabastien said. “If you give me the word, I can have us all confirmed on the flight under the aliases we used in Miami. If you want, I can even back time it so it appears we were scheduled for the flight
months in advance and we checked in yesterday.”
“It’s our only chance, Vaughn,” Sedona pleaded.
Vaughn chewed her lip. “Okay, Sabastien. Do it. But don’t confirm Sedona or me. If you do, it’ll raise too many questions.”
“You’re right,” Lorraine said. “If the alert just went out while we were in the air, where did Vaughn apprehend her? How could she have known that she would need a seat on that flight?”
“That’s a problem,” Justine said.
“Not necessarily,” Peter said. “It’s not unheard of for US marshals to give no prior notification. It doesn’t endear them to the airlines or the flight crew, but sometimes that’s the way it goes. You’d better hope that no one was booked in the last row, though. If so, they’re going to get bumped off the flight and they’re not going to be happy about it.”
“Sabastien? Can you see if we’d be bumping anybody to get on the flight?” Sedona asked.
“Of course,” Sabastien said. A few seconds, later he said, “You are all clear. The flight is only about seventy-eight percent full. All is well.”
“Okay, I guess we’ve got a plan,” Vaughn agreed.
“We’ve got another issue to consider,” Peter said. “If we’re going to pull this off, we’d need someone already undercover as a Kuwaiti to meet and escort the prisoner when we arrive.”
“You mean someone who’s with the Company?” Vaughn asked.
“I can take care of that,” Justine offered. “I’ll make the call right now. In the meantime, can I make a suggestion?”
“What is it?” Vaughn asked.
“I can’t believe the president is aware of Sedona’s designation. He would’ve stopped it. We have to get word to him.”
“There’s nothing he can do about it without tipping our hand. If he cancels the alert, it either means he knows something—”
“Which would tip off whoever’s behind this.” Lorraine finished Peter’s sentence.
“Or else somehow the word gets out and he looks soft on terrorism. Either way,” Peter said, “he can’t help us.”