Aftermath

by Vanessa Kier

  “I’m working on it.”

  Whether the scientists would know enough details to rebuild Kaufmann’s program or whether the old man had, like his boss Dr. Nevsky before him, kept his employees in the dark except for the small area of their individual responsibilities, Myron didn’t know. He could only hope that someone would be able to piece together enough data to get a new lab up and running.

  In the meantime, Jamieson’s office, despite the yellow tape, beckoned. It wouldn’t take much effort to get into the office undetected. Myron had a few ideas where to look for Jamieson’s backup. Places the investigators might have overlooked.

  The most important information he needed was a list of bank account numbers and instructions on how to access the money. The man on the other end of the phone line had already explained that with the government in chaos after the death of President MacAdam, not to mention the increased scrutiny of all areas of government while the Kerberos investigation was winding down, it would be impossible for him to send funds in the near future.

  “Let me know if you find anything interesting in Jamieson’s office,” his contact said. “In the meantime, I’d like your help eliminating a few pesky loose ends. First on the list is reporter Siobahn Murphy.”

  Myron made a note of her name and five others who were deemed threats. “I’ll do my best to find someone up to the task,” he promised. “But with Kerberos dismantled, most of our agents are either in custody or have vanished.”

  “Hire a freelancer if necessary. Just make the problems go away.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Myron stared into space after ending the call. He was mainly an analyst. Part of the administrative staff. He didn’t have contact with the assassins and field agents. How then could he satisfy his contact’s request?

  Putting that dilemma aside for later consideration, he checked the clock on the wall. Good. It was late enough in the evening that there should be no foot traffic past Jamieson’s office. He exited his office and found that indeed, the hallways were mainly deserted. Thankful that there were no security cameras in Jamieson’s corridor, he used his key to open the door and then ducked under the yellow crime scene tape.

  One glance told him his search was futile. All that remained were a few dust bunnies. Every piece of furniture and equipment had been taken away, including the carpet tacks. Gaping holes in the wall indicated where hidden safes had been torn free.

  Myron quickly left the room and scurried through the deserted hallways until he came to the series of rooms that had been the heart of Kerberos.

  Only to find the same emptiness.

  Now what? He’d needed there to be an answer in one of these rooms. Instead, the utter thoroughness of the evidence removal was a clear sign that the FBI had no intention of allowing anyone to start Kerberos back up.

  “What happened?”

  The voice from the doorway startled Myron out of his thoughts. Turning around slowly, he saw a man wearing the office uniform of Kerberos’s most recent team of enhanced assassins—a black nylon dress shirt with colored stripes at the collar, and black slacks.

  Here, then, was the answer to one of his dilemmas. “The FBI has shut down Kerberos and stripped the office of anything that might contain potential evidence. Jamieson and Kaufmann are dead.”

  The assassin flinched. He was average height and weight, with thinning brown hair and intense brown eyes. He watched Myron with a focus that made him feel as if the man were cataloging a thousand different details about him. Or figuring out how best to kill him.

  Myron shuddered, then sighed in relief when a moment later the man turned his attention to the empty room.

  A somewhat lost expression flashed across the assassin’s face. “I didn’t know. I was out on a mission and just now returned.”

  He turned to look again at Myron. “What am I supposed to do now? Who will take my report? Who will give me my next order?”

  “You’re one of Kerberos’s new assassins?” he asked, just to make certain who he was dealing with.

  “Yes.”

  “Very good.” A slow smile broke across Myron’s face. “I’ll take your report. And I have the perfect mission for you.”

  Chapter Three

  Siobahn took a glass of wine off the server’s tray and surveyed the well-dressed crowd at the invitation only gala. Now that she was inside, the creepy feeling of being watched that she’d had ever since leaving home this evening had gone away. Some wine should relax her so that she wasn’t jumping at shadows.

  You’re getting soft in your old age, girl.

  No, she really wasn’t. Years of war reporting had honed her instincts for danger. She’d been followed plenty of times in her life and knew the difference between benign surveillance and malevolence. Whoever had followed her here definitely gave off a threatening vibe.

  Shaking off her nerves, she began working the crowd. Several of her contacts also attended this celebration of the reopening of the National Museum of War and Peace, but the man she’d arranged to meet hadn’t shown up yet. She stifled a pang of worry. Maybe Lieutenant Brian Golding had changed his mind regarding passing on whatever information he’d considered so important that he insisted on meeting her in public. Or maybe he had a family emergency. Still, it wasn’t like Brian not to call. And since he’d been one of her few contacts who’d actually seen some of Kaufmann’s “freaky” soldiers in action, although at a distance, she really wanted to hear whatever new information he had for her.

  She discretely checked her phone. Nope. No message. She’d already left him a voicemail, sent him a text, and DM’d him on Twitter. It was his move now.

  Since Faith also hadn’t returned Siobahn’s call, or her subsequent follow-up attempts, she had to wonder if word about the FBI raid had gotten out and scared her friends away.

  Or maybe you’re just over eager to get to the root of this story.

  Sighing in impatience, Siobahn gave an approving glance to the pristine marble surrounding her. Not a trace remained of the extensive fire damage that a bomb had caused last year. Her newspaper had already run an article on the original incident. Tonight, another reporter was in charge of collecting data for a follow-up piece now that the renovations were complete.

  Still, as Siobahn moved through the crowd exchanging pleasantries and small talk, she kept her ears open for any interesting tidbits. But only part of her mind was on tonight’s gossip.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about Ryker, the man she’d run into at the Capitol. A satisfied smile curled her mouth. She took a sip of wine and praised herself for still having keen instincts. All during the congressional hearing she’d fought the niggling suspicion that the name Ryker should mean something to her. But for the life of her she hadn’t been able to remember in what context she might have heard his name.

  So on her way home to change for tonight’s affair she’d stopped by the local bank where she kept a flash drive with her notes on the search for Faith’s brother. Sure enough, she found a reference to Ryker in a summary of a phone conversation she’d held with Faith.

  Siobahn had been listening to her friend beg her to end her investigation into the missing personnel.

  “Ryk—” Faith had coughed quickly to cover her mistake. “I’ve been promised that the men involved will face justice, Siobahn.”

  Siobahn had made note of Faith’s smooth cover-up of the name she’d almost let slip. At the time, she’d wondered who “Riek” was and why he was in a position to promise Faith justice.

  After today, Siobahn was certain that Faith had been about to say Ryker, the spelling gleaned from his visitor’s badge. But that was all she knew. Either the man was a ghost, or he had a team of computer experts erasing all mentions of his name, because her online searches had found absolutely nothing on the man. She didn’t even know if Ryker was his first or last name.

  Siobahn stared at the remaining wine in her glass. Her obsession with a man she’d seen for perhaps two minutes was ridic
ulous. Had she really looked Ryker up online hoping to determine what his role had been in helping Faith find her brother?

  No, it had been pure feminine curiosity. Siobahn had simply wanted to learn about Ryker. What was his profession? Had he ever been married? Did he own a house? She’d looked for any data that would round out her impression of him.

  Yet she’d found nothing.

  She swirled the last bit of wine in her glass. Wariness warred with attraction, leaving her jittery. A man who didn’t exist on the Internet aroused her suspicions. While Uncle Sheldon wouldn’t have been so friendly toward Ryker if he operated on the wrong side of the law, Siobahn had enough contacts in the military and intelligence communities to know that some black ops work skated very close to the line between right and wrong.

  If that was true, then a smart woman would give up now and leave the mysterious Mr. Ryker alone.

  But every fiber of Siobahn’s being rejected that idea. That in itself was probably a sign that she really should put him out of her mind. Yet she couldn’t ignore the powerful reaction she’d had to his touch. The thought of never seeing him again was unacceptable, because…dammit, to get all sappy about it, she’d felt more than just a physical attraction to him. She wanted to explore his mind as well as his body.

  Danger.

  She shook her head, ignoring the too-late warning. The memory of the strength of Ryker’s hands as he’d stopped her from falling morphed into a fantasy of what his touch would feel like on other parts of her body. Her nipples tightened and she gave thanks that between her molded cup bra and the beading across the front of her midnight blue cocktail dress, the proof of her body’s arousal wasn’t visible.

  The corner of her mouth lifted. Well, at least she’d disproved the warnings that working too hard or being pre-menopausal would diminish her libido.

  She’d almost made her way back to the refreshments table, when her father stepped into her path.

  “Are you going to ignore me all night, Siobahn?” he asked gruffly, a teasing glint in his deep green eyes. Although he’d retired from the Army several years ago, tonight he wore his full dress uniform.

  Careful of her wine glass, Siobahn gave him a one-armed hug. “Of course not, Dad. But you were having such an animated discussion with Admiral Gregg that I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  “Hmph. I always have time for my only daughter. So, I suppose you’re working tonight?”

  “You know me, I’m always working.”

  “That’s what worries me. Your mother and I—”

  Siobahn rolled her eyes. “Dad, don’t start tonight, okay?”

  “You know we only want what’s best for you.”

  Recognizing that her father was about to get started on one of his favorite topics, Siobahn blurted, “What do you know about a man called Ryker?”

  “Ryker.” Her dad’s eyes narrowed. “Just what are you involved in now, Little Sib?”

  Her lips curled ruefully at the childhood nickname. It really was true. In the eyes of your parents, you never completely grew up.

  “So you know who Ryker is? I can’t find any information about him on the Internet.”

  “Did you stop to think that there might be a reason for that?”

  “Listen, Dad, I ran into him at the Capitol today. He was with Uncle Sheldon, so I’m sure Ryker isn’t some major criminal. I just…” Hell. Did she admit she was interested in the man in a romantic way, earning another one of her father’s lectures about throwing her heart after every intriguing man she met, or did she indicate that she’d heard his name in regards to an investigation?

  Since she didn’t know what danger might still be clinging to the facts surrounding Toby’s disappearance—Faith had refused to tell Siobahn the full story—she decided to go with the instant attraction.

  But her father hadn’t made it to four star general without knowing how to read people. “Ryker isn’t a candidate for another one of your short-term crushes, Siobahn. He’s a good man.”

  She bristled at the implication that she dated bad men. Okay, they weren’t always the most suitable for long-term relationships, but that’s one of the reasons she chose them. She’d never dated a crook or an abuser. Just men looking for a good time. Which, she had to admit, did not seem likely to be Ryker’s style. His quiet intensity made her think he was an all-or-nothing man.

  Another reason why she should run far and fast. Instead, she asked, “Is he married?”

  Oh, way to go. Pumping Dad for information on a possible lover.

  There was a startled pause while her father struggled with his surprise and when he spoke, his voice sounded strangled. “Um, as far as I know he’s not married. But sweetheart, he’s got to be at least fifteen years older than you. Once a man passes sixty, his body…uh…”

  If the conversation wasn’t so horrifyingly embarrassing, she’d have chuckled over her father’s discomfort. Besides, remembering the feel of Ryker’s well-muscled forearms underneath her fingers and the easy way he’d stayed balanced on the stair with the grace of a martial artist, she figured Ryker was in exceptional shape for his age.

  Not that she’d criticize him if he did need Viagra, but…

  God. Will you listen to yourself? Stop it, already. You don’t even have any way to contact him should you decide to ask him out.

  Feeling as awkward and as hormonal as a teenager, Siobahn swapped her empty wine glass for a full one off the waiter’s tray. “Dad, just tell me if there’s anything wrong with Ryker’s character.”

  “What? No? He’s one of the most honorable men I’ve ever known. Of course, I don’t know what types of covert assignments the government sent him and his team on during Vietnam, but he runs that organization of his on a strict moral code. The country is safer for having Ryker doing the work he’s doing.”

  “What organization?”

  “Oh no, you don’t,” her father chided. “I’m not going to be your source for information on Ryker. If you want to find out what he does for a living, you’ll have to ask the man yourself.”

  Un-believable. Her seventy-five-year-old father still managed to talk without giving away any information she could use to track Ryker down. Apparently she’d been naïve to think that retirement made her father the easiest target in the family for getting the lowdown on Ryker. Lord knew her four brothers with their various military and national security jobs would keep tight lips on anything she’d find of value.

  Thank goodness none of them were here tonight. After the way her father had picked up on her personal interest in Ryker, she didn’t dare mention the man’s name to her brothers. Not unless she wanted to be teased until eternity about not being able to stay away from military men, despite her vow never to date one again.

  She sighed. At least her father had confirmed that Ryker was one of the good guys. “Never mind, Dad. Forget I asked.”

  “Yes, well, under other circumstances I’d say he’d make a good match for you, Siobahn. He’s the steadfast type who would never let you down. But I hear he’s even more of a workaholic than you. He’d have to be, with everything he’s forced to deal with. Besides, the age difference isn’t trivial.” Her father cleared his throat. “If you’re looking to settle down, I’m sure your brothers and I can find you someone closer to your own age.”

  And this was why she didn’t call every day. Her father was even worse than her mother with the “Siobahn, you should settle down with a nice man and stop poking into other people’s business” routine.

  “No, thanks, Dad. I prefer to do my own looking. I just found Ryker fascinating, that’s all.” She paused. “Can you at least tell me if Ryker is his first or his last name?”

  “Both. As far as I know, everyone just refers to him as Ryker. You know, kind of like that Sting fellow. If Ryker has another name, I’ve never heard it.”

  Siobahn rolled her eyes. Figured. The man just had to present the type of complicated, multi-layer puzzle that she adored. To only go by one name, there
must be one hell of a story involved. “Ah. Okay.”

  Luckily, they were interrupted by one of her father’s friends, another retired general. After a few minutes, the general wandered off and Siobahn started toward the refreshments table.

  Her father followed her. “When are you next coming over, Little Sib? Your mother’s in another one of her baking phases and you know I can’t eat all of those cakes and pies.”

  Siobahn laughed. “Stop complaining, Dad. I happen to know that all your daughters-in-law will gladly take the baked goods off your hands.” All her brothers except the youngest were married. To their collective dismay, none of their wives could cook beyond the basics. But that’s what they got for marrying career-oriented women who chose to focus their energies outside of the kitchen.

  Siobahn and her father filled plates, then chatted with more family friends. Eventually, though, her father kissed her good-bye and went off to speak with some of his military buddies. Siobahn glanced at her watch. It was late enough to safely say that Brian wasn’t going to show.

  After setting down the half-full glass of sparkling water she’d been sipping, she said her farewells. Then she went over to the guard standing at the station just inside the front door. “Would you please call me a cab?”

  “Leaving so soon?” a voice said behind her.

  Siobahn shrieked and spun around. The quick move caused her to lose her balance on her stilettos. Once again, she found herself being steadied by Ryker’s strong hands.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  She gave a shaky laugh. “Guess the wine didn’t calm my nerves as much as I’d hoped.” Her heart beat a panicked rhythm and she wondered if Ryker could feel her accelerated pulse through his grip on her arms.

  As soon as she had the thought, he released her. Siobahn shivered, mourning the loss of his touch.

  “It is a bit chilly out here.” He offered her a warm smile. “Can I convince you to rejoin the party while you wait for your cab?”