by PM Kavanaugh
Outside the target chamber, a pair of female recruits passed in front of her with their rappelling gear still on. God, they looked young in their matching tank tops and loose-fitting pants, hair pulled back from their tired faces. Both sported fading bruises on their bare arms, the signs of hand-to-hand training sessions. She remembered those long days and short nights of seminars, classes, workshops, tests. The anxiety of wondering if she would make the cut. The fear of being rejected, like all those times at the orphanage. The sight of the recruits’ harnesses and grip gloves made her think of Mari. She wondered how the mission was going. Maybe she would grab some food in the dining annex and wait around to find out. She liked that idea more than returning to her apartment. Now that she knew about the agency’s routine searches, the loft held less appeal, like a safe house under constant surveillance.
Anika’s stomach rumbled, a reminder that her last proper meal had been the previous night at Vasquez’s house. It was mind-bending to think of all that had happened in the intervening hours. Infiltration of Tobar’s house, confrontation leading to a change in mission plans, exfiltration of Vasquez, return to agency, debriefing. The successful completion of her first extended cover mission. Even Second’s warning about getting emotionally involved with Gianni, her insinuation that he had only seduced her for the purpose of mission prep, couldn’t take that win from her. Her step lightened as she headed toward the exit at the front of the facility.
She noticed a small group of recruits in a half circle, their backs facing her, in the hand-to-hand training zone. Their bodies were clustered together and prevented her from seeing what was happening in front of them. She overheard someone say, “Look at her go. She’s kicking his ass, too.” Another said, “Who is she again?” A new voice spoke up. “New head of ops tech. Mega-hot. Name’s Evelyn, I think.”
Anika pushed between two sets of sweat-slicked shoulders and took in the scene before her. A man with a bloodied nose lay face up on the floor, unconscious. Another man lay on his back and absorbed blow after blow. On top of him sat Evan, one knee digging his groin, while she punched the life out of him. The man wasn’t even trying to hit back, but only using his arms to shield his face from Evan’s fists.
“Get a medic down here,” Anika said to the girl on her right. “Now.” She ran over to Evan, whose left eye was swollen shut. “Evan, that’s enough.”
The ops tech didn’t seem to hear. She jerked her arm back for another blow.
Anika grabbed hold of Evan’s arm. “Stop it. You’ve won.”
Evan broke through the hold and landed another punch.
Her strength surprised Anika, given her small frame. Anika twirled her sweat towel into a makeshift blindfold and whipped it across Evan’s eyes, holding on tight to the ends. She grabbed the back of Evan’s collar and pulled her away.
Evan ripped off the towel and whirled to face Anika. Her lips snarled. She jabbed at Anika’s throat.
Anika blocked her, and leapt back to create distance between them. “What are you doing?”
Evan charged.
Anika stopped her with a kick to the torso.
That did it. Evan slumped to her knees. Gasped for breath through her open mouth.
Anika anchored her hands on her hips. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
Evan spit out a stream of saliva and blood onto the gel mat. She dragged the back of her hand across her mouth, raised her gaze—her eyes glittered in anger. And something else.
“Mari’s dead.”
Chapter 20
Darkness swallowed Anika. All around her, inky silence. She couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear. Couldn’t talk. Couldn’t feel...anything. It felt good not to feel. Feeling was dangerous. Feeling would destroy her. Better, safer not to feel.
She lay on the couch in her living room, too exhausted to climb the stairs to her bed, and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. She willed her mind to stay blank, residing in a gray state between wakefulness and sleep.
At some point, sleep won out. She realized this when she awoke to the sensation that someone had entered the room. Without opening her eyes, she knew who it was. A tug of connection pulled at her. Gianni.
Was he going to say how sorry he was? That he knew how she felt? That he, too, had lost a fellow operative, a friend, in a mission? And he had gotten through this dark time. That she would, too.
She didn’t want to hear it.
She rolled away from him, her back a silent command. Go away.
“It’s been forty-two hours, Anika, since you logged into the agency. Your tracking chip situates you here all that time.”
Forty-two hours. It could have been forty-two days for all she knew.
“It’s time to come back inside. Run sims. Return to the training facility. Study up on your languages. Memorize safe house locations. You have to maintain your proficiency levels.”
At his choice of words, the dispassion in his voice, a spark of fury shot up Anika’s spine, from tailbone to the top of her head. Even though she didn’t want his sympathy, his complete lack of feeling infuriated her. She fisted her blanket and jerked back to face him, muscles coiled as if ready to strike. Gianni stood one meter away, a dim shadow in the darkened room.
He was acting so cold. Where was the man who had made champagne-fueled, crazy-hot love to her in this very place only days ago? The man who had left her the intimate message? Where had he gone? Maybe he didn’t exist, except in her imagination. Maybe Second was right and Anika had mistaken Gianni’s behavior for something it wasn’t. Maybe it was just the necessary preparation of a junior agent for a dangerous undercover mission.
Fury burned through her. “That’s all you care about? My proficiency levels?”
“You have to train as if your life depends on it. Because it does.”
“What are you implying? That Mari—” She couldn’t say it out loud. That Mari died. “That Mari...is responsible for...what happened to her? Because she didn’t train hard enough?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what? If Mari wasn’t ready, why didn’t you stop her from being assigned a mission?”
Anika saw again Mari’s face, her big brown eyes radiating fear, before she headed to Transport. Mari had been so scared, despite her final brave words. Guilt stabbed at Anika. Why didn’t I stop her? Why didn’t I push her harder on rappelling?
“Put aside your feelings. Recommit to your training,” Gianni said. “Lying here isn’t going to bring Mari back.”
Anger, guilt, sadness pummeled Anika’s insides until she felt numb.
“Meet with Psych. Take meds. Do whatever you need to do,” Gianni said.
“I can’t do anything. I can’t move. I feel...” Empty, nothing, blank. Anika collapsed back against the couch, shrunk into the blanket. “I feel...dead...inside.” She searched out his gaze, wanted desperately to connect with the man, not the operative. But the dimness of the room prevented her from seeing anything except his shadowy outline. Not even a glint of the pendant he always wore. “Maybe that’s what it takes to succeed in U.N.I.T. If so, I should leave—”
“Don’t,” Gianni said, cutting her off. He took a step closer. Tension vibrated off him. “Don’t say it. Don’t think it.”
“Go away,” Anika said, fatigue coating her throat. “Just...go. Please.”
“You’ve been assigned your first interrogation. It’s a chance to put your training into practice.”
“Haven’t you been listening?” She blew out an angry breath. “I can’t go back in right now. I just...can’t.”
“You’ll be interrogating the hostile who shot Mari.”
“What?” Anika bolted upright. “Mari was shot? I thought she fell. She told me the mission required a long rappel.” Anika knew Mari shouldn’t have told her anything about the mission. It was against orders. But what did that matter now? Mari was dead. “She was so scared before she went out.”
Anika had replayed the horrible scene i
n her mind, over and over. Mari falling backward in space, her slender frame plummeting to the hard ground. Eyes wide, mouth open in a silent scream. Only she hadn’t died that way.
“Mari completed the rappel. She was hit after she landed,” Gianni said.
So, Mari had conquered her greatest fear, Anika thought. All that additional practice had paid off. Except... she was still dead.
“Her body armor didn’t protect her?”
“It did. She had removed her night vision patches. Perhaps they had gotten damaged during the descent. Wardrobe discovered a crack in the right one. The bullet caught her...”
“Oh my God,” Anika whispered. The bullet had caught Mari between the eyes, or penetrated one eye, or a cheek. A new horrible scene replaced the one she had been imagining. “How did you capture her killer?”
“We sent out another team. They acquired five targets. One of Mari’s team members identified the man who shot her.”
Gianni’s words lit a small fire inside her, chasing away some of the darkness. “What does U.N.I.T. want from him?”
“The cell’s planned attack that Mari’s team was sent to disrupt is still active. We need specifics. Day, time, location.”
“Why me?” Anika asked.
“As I said, it’s part of your training.”
Anika wasn’t sure she could be trusted in the same room with the man who had killed her friend. What if she lost control and... “I’d like to practice with a sim first.”
“There’s no time. The attack could be imminent.” Gianni paused, as if debating whether to say more. “If you extract the necessary intel, U.N.I.T. will have no further use for the man. He will be terminated. You can request handling it yourself.”
Anika’s breath caught in her throat. She only had to maintain control long enough to get the man to talk. After that... The fire inside her burned hotter. “What do we know about him? Anything we can use?”
“His name is Mick Ryan. He was recruited into the cell when he was seventeen. His file’s been uploaded on your handheld,” Gianni said. “Passcode is alpha-tango-seven-three-zero.”
As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, she snatched up her handheld, punched in the code, and started reading.
Chapter 21
Anika strode down a corridor that led to the agency’s interrogation zone. Her boots hammered against the floor. The deadening despair of the past days was gone. A renewed sense of purpose flowed through her, like a rain-replenished stream after a long drought. She had Gianni to thank for that. Even if she still bristled at his tactics, he had pulled her out of the darkness.
She nodded at the dark-haired, broad-chested guard outside “A” Room, then stepped forward into a room that resembled the one where she had debriefed her last mission. Only this time, she wasn’t the one sitting in the hard metal chair. This time, she was the one who’d be asking the questions. And getting answers. Ones that would prevent innocent lives from being destroyed.
Mick Ryan looked older than the picture in his file, which approximated his age as mid-twenties. Anika wondered if spending years in the shadows, under constant threat of being discovered as a member of a terrorist cell, aged a person. He was still attractive, in a boy-next-door way, with reddish brown hair, even features, and an athletic build. His hazel eyes were bloodshot, most likely from lack of sleep. His fair skin, at least the parts not covered by his T-shirt and camo pants, displayed no marks of previous interrogation, though the magnetized shackles around his ankles and wrists would leave bruises. The intel in his file had been thin, mostly full of the anti-everything screeds he had been writing since the age of twelve from his hometown of Boston, Massachusetts. Still, she had something to work with. Or, she would, as soon as the tech-geeks sent her what she had requested before leaving her loft.
Ryan glanced at the tube of water in her hand, then looked away. But not before she caught the flicker of interest in his gaze. “Fuck that,” he said. “You think that’s going to make me talk? Bring in the bad op, sweetheart. You’re wasting my time.”
Anika quirked her lips into a smile and held up the tube. “What, this?” She popped open the top. “It’s not for you.” She forced back a few gulps, even though she wasn’t thirsty, then tossed the half-empty container on the floor. A thin stream of the liquid dribbled out, in range of Ryan’s vision. He licked his lips and swallowed. “This, however...” she said, drawing out the hand laser from the back of her waistband. “This could be for you. It all depends on how quickly and accurately you answer my questions.”
“Like I said, you’re wasting my time,” Ryan sneered. “Just shoot me and be done with it.”
“But you haven’t even heard my questions,” Anika said.
“What are you doing?” Gianni’s voice sounded through her ear comm. He was in the observation room nearby, watching and listening. “Stop stalling. Ask about the planned attack.”
She stepped behind Ryan and stared into the camera in the upper corner of the room. She raised her crossed hands, palms up, then lowered them into closed fists. Trust me, she signed.
“Proceed,” Gianni said.
Anika circled Ryan until she was standing in front of him again. The handheld in her front jacket pocket vibrated. Finally. She removed the device and studied the video that had been uploaded only seconds ago. A young boy, about ten years old, rode an airboard down a tree-lined street.
“How much do you love your little brother?” She turned the screen so the man could see it. Tapped the replay button. Ryan stiffened, his gaze riveted on the image. “His name’s Richard, isn’t it?” Anika said. “Ricky, for short. Only you call him ‘Sticky Ricky’ because he loves taffy.” She pulled the handheld away. “Sweet.”
Ryan’s lips tightened into a thin, mean line. “Fuck you, bitch.” His right hand curled into a fist.
“Wrong answer.” Anika jammed the barrel of the laser into Ryan’s mouth. His eyes goggled. “Let’s try again. Different question.” She could see the tiny inflamed veins, the flecks of gold around his pupils. “We know your cell is planning another attack. We want the details. Where and when? You tell me that and your little brother will continue to eat taffy. Will continue to attend St. Francis Academy in West Roxbury. Will continue to live.” She shoved the laser in deeper until he gagged, then yanked it out and stepped back.
Ryan coughed and sputtered, his chest heaving. When he had regained control, he said, “You’re bluffing. You won’t hurt him. You people have policies. Rules. You don’t kill innocents.”
“True,” Anika said. “However, that’s not how my people would describe your brother.”
Ryan’s brows formed a question.
“In this particular case, we consider him collateral damage.”
Ryan lunged against his restraints. “I’m going to fuck you up.”
Anika held her ground. She activated her handheld. “Alpha Team,” she spoke into the device, “get ready to grab the boy. On my count.” She paused to look at Ryan. “Five seconds.” A beat passed. “Four-three-two—”
“I’ll tell you,” Ryan said. He dropped his head, mumbled a few words.
“One. Go—”
“Wait.” Ryan’s head snapped up, his eyes bulging with fear and fury. He dropped his head back, opened his mouth, and howled, like a trapped animal. When he spoke, his answers were clear and direct.
The agency had twelve hours to avert the attack in a megaplex in downtown Seattle. Anika hoped it would be enough time.
“Stand down, Alpha Team,” she said. “Do you copy?”
“Well played,” Gianni spoke into her ear comm. “I’ll be leading our counterattack team. Second is doing the briefing. I’m headed there now. As soon as the intel is verified, he’s yours. Do you copy?”
Anika stared into the camera. The question, unbidden, stole through her mind. Will you come find me when you get back?
“Copy that.” She slid the handheld back inside her pocket. She wished she hadn’t discarded the tube of
water. Her mouth felt as dry and hot as the noonday sun in a New Angeles summer. She looked down at Ryan, his frame collapsed against the chair. “We’re confirming what you’ve just told me. Once we do, we’ll recall the team on your brother.”
“Then what?” he asked. “You’ll drop me in some deep dark hole?”
“The only hole you’re going into is on the other side of a laser blast. It’s called hell.”
“You may want to rethink that,” he said.
She crossed her arms. “Oh?”
Ryan’s eyes softened. A smile tugged at his lips. The combination emanated boyish charm—if that boy hadn’t grown up to be a terrorist. One who had killed her friend. “If you keep me on this side of hell, you can arrange to intercept comms from my...colleagues about the next attack. And the one after that.”
“We have other colleagues of yours. We don’t need you.” You cocky prick.
“That may be so. But I’m, well...not all my associates are equally informed.”
“Don’t tell me,” Anika said. “You’re one of the masterminds?”
“Your word, sweetheart, not mine.”
“Well, here’s a word for you. Three, actually. Fuck your offer. My orders are to terminate you. And I’ve never been so happy to follow orders as I am now.”
“Even if it means risking the lives of so many innocents?”
“Innocents?” Anger rose within Anika, a red-hot geyser ready to erupt. She whipped out her handheld and jabbed the screen. The picture of Mari she had taken at the bottom of the rappelling wall stared back at her. Her friend’s rosy cheeks and bright eyes vibrated with life. Pain and loss stabbed Anika. She turned the screen to face Ryan. “Her name was Mari. She was my friend. She was also part of the team sent to stop your attack. Trying to prevent innocents from being killed. For God’s sake, she was an innocent. And you shot her. So I’m going to shoot you.” Anika drew out her laser. Set the barrel against Ryan’s forehead, between his eyes. “Right here. Like you did to my friend.”