Aftermath

by Vanessa Kier

  “Oh, my, yes.” Siobahn closed her thighs, trapping his hand as she moved against him.

  “No.” He pulled his hand back and turned Siobahn onto her back, holding her in place with one hand on her softly rounded belly as he shucked out of his boxers. “We’re not going to rush this.” He paused and took a moment to just admire the way she was spread out in front of him on the bed, the red of her hair a bright contrast against the pale green sheets.

  She arched her back, thrusting her breasts higher. He loved that she wasn’t ashamed of her feminine curves, the occasional age lines and the dimples of cellulite on her body. Her confident smile, proclaiming that she knew he found her attractive, only jacked his arousal higher.

  He wanted to spend those hours exploring her body that he’d promised, but one glance at the clock and he realized he didn’t have much time before he had to head to the office.

  Siobahn noticed the direction of his gaze and frowned.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, settling between her legs. He pressed a kiss to her throat. “I’m not going to leave you unsatisfied.”

  Her hand reached down and circled him. “I should hope not. That would be incredibly…painful for you.”

  Her throaty comment had him laughing against her mouth. Then gasping as her fingers squeezed. In retaliation, his hand found and kneaded her breast. When he tweaked her nipple, she gave a little cry and her grip on him loosened. “Hmm. Have I found a weakness in the mighty Siobahn Murphy?”

  Her answer was to run her fingernails along his length while her teeth nipped at the juncture between his neck and shoulder. “Enough.” He was already so hard he was about to burst. “Condom?”

  She nodded toward the bedside table.

  Ryker was shocked to see his hand shaking as he opened the foil packet and slipped the condom on. Siobahn also must have noticed, because she took his mouth in a deep kiss. Breaking the kiss, she smiled that seductress’s smile and guided him inside her until he was fully seated within her wet heat.

  For a long moment Ryker held still, staring in wonder at the woman looking back at him with desire and something even warmer in her bewitching green eyes. With a small movement of her hips, she encouraged him to move.

  Well aware that there was an SSU agent within earshot and that the bedroom door wasn’t locked, Ryker pressed a finger to Siobahn’s lips to indicate silence as he began to thrust slowly in and out of her. Her wicked smile turned into gasps and soft cries that he muffled with his mouth as his rhythm picked up speed.

  He felt her inner muscles clench a second before she tore her mouth from his and arched her neck. She bit her lip as her climax took her, stifling her cry of completion. Ryker thrust one more time deep inside her then buried his face in the pillow to muffle his own shout as his semen jetted out of him.

  Siobahn’s fingers smoothed down his back as he relaxed against her.

  “Well, that was certainly a lovely wakeup call,” she whispered against his ear. “Let’s do that again. Soon.”

  Ryker chuckled. “It will be my pleasure.” He snuck another glance at the clock. “But now I need to go.”

  She sighed. “Don’t go, Ryker.”

  “I have to.” He paused. “And it’s Ryan.”

  “What?”

  Ryker gave her a mischievous smile. “My name. Ryker is short for Ryan Broderick Kerrigan the Third. My teammates in Vietnam shortened Ryan Kerrigan into Ryker. Because my parents and I had a major falling out regarding my war service, I’ve gone by Ryker ever since. But legally, my name is still Ryan Kerrigan.”

  “Which is why I couldn’t find any information on Ryker when I searched the Internet.”

  “Yes. That and the fact that the SSU buries information about its employees for security reasons.”

  She nodded. “Makes sense. Should I call you Ryan, then?”

  “Absolutely not. It’s Ryker.”

  “Hmm…”

  Laughing, he kissed her again. A few minutes later, he finally detached himself and padded into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. He took a quick shower, dressed in yesterday’s clothes, and returned to the bedroom.

  Only to find that Siobahn had fallen asleep.

  He quietly let himself out of the room, then left the house.

  “Good morning, sir.”

  Ryker nodded to Alain McCormick, a new member of the team who’d come highly recommended from Faith’s brother Toby. The slight curl to McCormick’s mouth let Ryker know that the news he’d spent a second night at Siobahn’s house would be all over the SSU by noon. No one gossiped more than a tight-knit group of soldiers or spies.

  Striding down the block toward the place he’d left his car, Ryker wondered what his team would think if they saw the hickey Siobahn had left on him. Grinning to himself, he beeped open his car’s doors and slid behind the wheel.

  He’d just cranked the engine when his phone chirped. The text message from General Wehrig held him frozen with a combination of fear and hope.

  Meeting of gang of five. Same time and place as last time.

  Today the pang of grief that came from seeing the number five, instead of six as it had been when Eric Paterson had been alive, was sharper than it had been in a long while. Probably because his talk with Siobahn had awoken memories of the man he’d considered his best friend.

  I’ll be there, Ryker typed back.

  He checked his watch. It was a good thing he had a change of clothes at the office, because he didn’t have time to go home first. There was too much data he needed to put together for this meeting.

  National Arboretum

  Washington, D.C.

  Ryker walked warily toward the picnic table at the National Arboretum. Several months ago this group of former soldiers from Vietnam had met to discuss the possibility that the President of the United States had ordered the murder of thousands of innocent people.

  With MacAdam, Kaufmann and Jamieson all dead, Ryker wasn’t certain if he could still trust his friends. Only someone who knew about the anniversary demonstration and had top level security clearance could have arranged for the deaths.

  Someone like the men seated around the table. Yet they’d been through hell together, so until he found proof, he’d give them each the benefit of the doubt.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, nodding politely as he stopped several yards away from the table. His caution prompted one “What the fuck” and a couple of speculative frowns.

  “Before I come any closer, I need assurance from each of you that you had nothing to do with the deaths of President MacAdam, Dr. Kaufmann and Wayne Jamieson.”

  Their expressions ranged from outrage to relief to disappointment. Ryker realized that some of them had held the same doubts about him. Which only made sense. The knowledge of the whole affair had been confined to a select group, making each man here a suspect in the murders.

  One by one, Ryker’s friends looked him in the eye and gave him the assurance he needed, easing the knot that had formed in his gut when he first suspected one of them had betrayed everything he believed they stood for.

  “I swear to you by the honor of spec ops team Achilles One that I did not order, have prior knowledge of, or condone the murder of President MacAdam, Dr. Kaufmann or Wayne Jamieson.” Brit Remington, head of the House Judiciary Committee, swore his oath with a grim smile, then turned to General Aldrick Wehrig.

  Wehrig, dressed today in casual civilian clothes like the others, sighed, then lifted his eyes from his perusal of the battered canvas messenger bag sitting in front of him. “I had no idea there was any threat of murder ahead of time, but the autopsies made me suspicious. The faint traces of a top-secret chemical indicated involvement by someone in our neurotoxin research branch.” He opened the bag and pulled out four manila envelopes, which he distributed among the group.

  Ryker, hearing the true regret in his friend’s voice, took his envelope and sat down.

  “Captain Armand Devraiz,” Wehrig said, “was the leader of a team o
f researchers in our biochemical weapons department. He joined shortly after Nevsky’s death and pushed hard to continue Nevsky’s research into creating a super soldier. When it became clear that the funding did not exist for a program that had such deadly side effects, he went silent on the topic. Switched his focus to creating antidotes to weaponized neurotoxic substances.”

  Ryker sat very still, dreading where this would lead.

  “Nine days ago, one of Devraiz’s assistants died in the lab after inhaling fumes released from a broken beaker. The body disappeared before it could be autopsied. One of the other assistants in the lab later reported that she’d overheard a conversation indicating that Devraiz had been responsible for removing the body. When we moved in to question Devraiz, he panicked. He took the lab assistant hostage, then threatened to disperse a toxin into the building’s air ducts if we didn’t let him leave.”

  “What happened?” Matt Jordaine of the FBI asked.

  “He’d forgotten that everyone at the DOD gets weapons and self-defense training. The assistant fought back and broke free. Devraiz was shot in the ensuing struggle. On the way to the hospital, the ambulance was ambushed and Devraiz escaped.” Wehrig glanced down at the briefcase. “Unfortunately, in the aftermath, our inventory turned up several missing toxins. We’ve started a manhunt for Devraiz and have to assume that he has the ability to release those toxins on the public or any pursuers.”

  “Christ,” Jordaine said. “Why weren’t any of us notified? This guy has been running around for nine damn days?”

  Wehrig sat up straighter. “I only just found out about it myself. It seems that certain elements within the DOD ordered an information blackout after they discovered encrypted files on Devraiz’s home computer that suggested he provided the neurotoxin that was used to kill President MacAdam and the others. Unfortunately, our investigators still haven’t discovered whether Devraiz acted alone or was taking orders from someone else.”

  Ryker cursed. The expressions of the other men around the table mirrored the anger he felt.

  “On another note,” Wehrig continued, “we’ve uncovered what we believe to be the last of the DOD employees who helped Jamieson target and kidnap soldiers who met Kaufmann’s requirements.”

  “That brings me to my news,” Ryker said. “I’ve just received confirmation from an SSU reconnaissance team that a newly discovered compound in South Dakota has at least three teams of men that show signs of being enhanced by a program similar to Kaufmann’s.” Ryker placed several photographs on the table.

  “Dammit, I thought we’d found all the victims,” Remington snapped. “Just how many offshoots did Kaufmann have?”

  “It gets worse,” Roger Brown commented. “The CIA has implemented extra security measures in the aftermath of Jamieson’s deception. We’ve placed hidden cameras and microphones in the areas surrounding Jamieson’s office and the suite of offices he used for Kerberos’s headquarters.” He added another photograph to the pile in the middle of the table. “This is Myron Zybriesky, a former analyst for Kerberos who was shifted into another department. He’s talking with a man we’ve identified as former Lance Corporal Gene Franzia.”

  The former Marine wore one of Kaufmann’s distinctive black uniforms. Ryker recognized the man as Siobahn’s intruder and again noticed the unfamiliar multicolored stripe on his collar.

  Brown nodded at the photo. “We have tape showing Franzia looking lost and confused when he discovered that Jamieson and Kerberos’s offices were empty. Zybriesky informed him that Jamieson was dead and that Kerberos no longer existed. Franzia admitted to being one of Kerberos’s newest assassins and that he needed new directions.”

  “Data suggests that Kaufmann had also continued the second branch of Nevsky’s research,” Ryker interjected. “One focused on creating mind controlled, super intelligent spies and assassins.” He tapped the picture of Franzia. “I believe the multicolored stripe indicates Franzia was part of this second branch of the program.”

  “The mind control would explain why Franzia agreed so eagerly to follow Zybriesky’s orders,” Brown said. “Which were—”

  “To follow and then kill newspaper editor and reporter Siobahn Murphy,” Ryker finished for him.

  “Yes. I gather the SSU intervened?”

  “Correct.” Ryker explained what had happened. “We sent Franzia to our laboratory facility in Georgia. Initial blood tests suggest he was given some similar chemical compounds as found in the other victims from Kaufmann’s lab, but in Franzia’s blood these were combined with other, as yet unidentified substances. The man appears to have faster reflexes and above average strength, but not to possess the extreme bulk that we have seen with the other victims.”

  Ryker gave each one of his friends a glance. “We’ve asked for the man’s consent to reverse the effects, primarily the mind control, but he’s refused. Since cognitive tests show he retains enough self-awareness to make such a decision, we’re not going to proceed against his wishes.” Remington nodded approval.

  “At this point,” Ryker continued, “the only legal reason to hold him is for breaking into Ms. Murphy’s home and using a Taser on her that resulted in a fall and a concussion.”

  There were several murmurs of condemnation.

  “We’ll take him back,” Wehrig said. “Technically, since he’s not dead, he’s AWOL.”

  “At this time, we don’t know whether he’ll remain mentally stable,” Ryker warned. “Or how he’ll react to being cut of from a handler. Our medical team reports that he seems fidgety. Agitated. I believe it would be wiser to keep him with the SSU until we better understand his situation. The medical team needs to determine whether his body is deteriorating in the same way as Kaufmann’s physically enhanced soldiers.”

  “Understood.”

  “Has there been any progress in locating backup files for either Kaufmann or Jamieson?” Remington asked.

  Ryker shook his head at the same time Jordaine said, “No.”

  “It’s possible that the South Dakota facility is also serving as a backup center,” Ryker said. “We’ll know for certain once we get inside.”

  He glanced at Jordaine. “I’m assuming you want the SSU to head this.”

  Jordaine nodded. “Yes. We still haven’t located whoever was responsible for picking the FBI and Homeland Security agents to be conscripted into Kaufmann’s program.”

  “All right. Rafe Andros is team leader on this. He’ll know how best to proceed.”

  Wehrig nodded. “Good to know Andros is back up to speed. It was a terrible thing that happened to him. Just terrible.”

  The group gave murmurs of agreement.

  “In the meantime, if there are men and women you trust implicitly,” Ryker said, “I suggest you ask them about any new disappearances in their ranks. Rafe thinks the men in South Dakota aren’t more than six weeks into the program, which means they had to have been nabbed around the time we took down Kaufmann’s lab. Making the odds good that the South Dakota compound can carry out the complete program on its own.”

  More somber nods.

  “All right then,” Wehrig said. “The DOD will continue to search for Devraiz.” He glanced at Jordaine. “With help from the FBI?”

  Jordaine nodded. “In conjunction with the DOD and the SSU, the FBI will continue its search for the victims of Kaufmann’s program.” He shot a glance at Ryker. “Which will now include locating any of Kerberos’s enhanced spies and assassins.”

  “The CIA will keep tabs on Zybriesky,” Brown said. “If he’s trying to restart Kerberos, he’ll need outside help.”

  “The SSU will continue to investigate the compound in South Dakota and report back. Also, once we determine Franzia is stable enough, we’ll turn him over to the DOD.”

  “I’ll continue to work with the current President and deflect any members of Congress who get too close to the truths we’re under oath to keep secret.” Remington didn’t quite manage to keep the distaste off his face, a sen
timent Ryker agreed with.

  “All of us need to consider who has the power and the clearance to order the murder of the President,” Jordaine added. “I trust we’re all taking extra security measures to ensure we’re not next.”

  The grumbled agreements had Ryker fighting back a smile. Due to their busy, mainly administrative jobs, most of the men at the table were no longer in fighting shape. Jordaine was the only other man fit enough to offer a challenge if physically attacked. Not that his friends would ever admit out loud to needing protection. Still, Ryker knew they’d take the necessary precautions. They might be proud, but none of them had survived this long by being stupid.

  Despite knowing more men were currently suffering under Kaufmann’s program, Ryker felt more optimistic than before as he said good-bye to his friends and headed back to the office. Confirming that his friendship with these men hadn’t been built on a lie was a staggering relief.

  It felt right to be working as a team again. Realizing how much he’d missed them, Ryker vowed that when this was over he’d make more of a point to keep in regular touch with the men who were the closest thing he had to brothers.

  Chapter Nine

  Siobahn shut down her office computer with a sigh. She’d just sent her team’s final installment in their latest story to the editorial director.

  I’m really sick of these late hours. I honestly don’t want to be working here this time next year.

  Whoa. Where had that thought come from?

  Siobahn thought back to her conversation with Ryker, but knew that her discontent had been building for some time. Even while she’d been trying to coax Faith back into taking her old job as a reporter, part of Siobahn had hoped she could convince her friend to take over running the investigative team. But after spending time with Faith, Siobahn realized that she really wasn’t going to return. Whether running her local high school newspaper and teaching journalism would sustain Faith’s investigative instincts for long, Siobahn couldn’t say. But her friend had that rare glow of true happiness. Not even at the height of Faith’s career as an investigative journalist had she looked so satisfied.