Cover image: Venezuela Radar Map © Bubaone, courtesy of istockphoto.com; Soto Cano Air Base, Honduras © Stocktrek, couresy of gettyimages.com; Auyan Tepui on Carrao River Near Lagoon of Caniama National © Vadim Petrakov, courtesy of shutterstock.com; Businessman with binoculars. Over gray background. © kurhan, courtesy of shutterstock.com
Cover design copyright © 2014 by Covenant Communications, Inc.
Published by Covenant Communications, Inc.
American Fork, Utah
Copyright © 2014 by Traci Hunter Abramson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any format or in any medium without the written permission of the publisher, Covenant Communications, Inc., P.O. Box 416, American Fork, UT 84003. The views expressed within this work are the sole responsibility of the author and do not necessarily reflect
the position of Covenant Communications, Inc., or any other entity.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are either products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real, or are used fictitiously.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing: October 2014
ISBN 978-1-62108-897-4
For Mom
Thank you for the gift of Venezuela.
Acknowledgments
Ten years ago, Covenant Communications published my first novel. Thank you to all of the readers who have shared these adventures with me. I want to thank everyone in the Covenant family who has helped me along this journey and made this career such a joy. Thanks to Kathryn Gordon for your continued confidence and for always assigning me amazing editors. My special thanks to Samantha Millburn for always being willing to explore my crazy ideas and help me turn them into a finished product. Your efforts throughout the editing process are truly appreciated, as is your friendship.
I cannot express my appreciation enough to Rebecca Cummings for her many years of helping me discover my voice and for her continued input and guidance during the initial editing process. My thanks to Kathryn Brown and Jennifer Leigh for suffering through my first draft with me and to John Garvin, Stephanie Read, Darlene Sullivan, and Jen Leigh for carrying so many burdens when I “go dark” and disappear into my fictional world.
Thanks to the Central Intelligence Agency’s Publication Review Board for your support throughout my writing career.
Thank you to my husband, Jon, for supporting me in everything I do and to my children—Diana, Christina, Lara, and Luke—for understanding my crazy schedule and for loving me in spite of it.
Finally, my thanks to Sylvia, Domingo, and Elizabeth Navas. Thank you for the gift of Canaima.
Chapter 1
Paige Vickers embraced the flutter of excitement bubbling inside her. Today she would find out where she would spend her tomorrows. Her personnel officer at the Central Intelligence Agency had already approved her transfer, and in two hours, she would receive her new assignment.
Her career as a psychiatric nurse had been born out of necessity, but those needs were behind her now. It was time for her to make her own choices, to choose her own path.
Paige pushed open the door to the CIA’s counseling center to find Jennifer standing behind the reception desk, a clipboard in her hand. Jennifer’s brown hair curled wildly around her face, her cheeks full and laugh lines beginning to form at the corners of her eyes.
The moment she saw Paige walk in, she skirted around the desk to meet her by the door as though she couldn’t wait for her to walk the few steps to close the distance between them. “I found the perfect guy for you.”
“No,” Paige answered instinctively. This was another thing she wouldn’t miss when she transferred: Jennifer’s incessant compulsion to set her up on blind dates. Finding guys who shared the high moral standards she’d been raised with wasn’t always easy, but at twenty-four years old, she didn’t feel any sense of urgency to be in a relationship.
“You haven’t even heard what he’s like.” Jennifer sulked. As a married woman of almost ten years, she apparently felt the need to match up all of her single friends.
“I don’t need to hear what he’s like,” Paige insisted. “Besides, for all I know, I could get transferred out of the area.”
“I still think you’re crazy to go through with this transfer. You have no way of knowing where you’re going to end up.”
“Yeah, but we both know I can’t do this anymore. I need to try something new, something away from psych units and counseling centers.” Paige could see by the expression on Jennifer’s face that she was already formulating her counterarguments. “You aren’t going to talk me out of it this time. This career isn’t for me. I don’t think it’s ever been the right fit for me.”
“How can you say that? You started studying nursing when you were sixteen years old. A few more classes and you can be a nurse practitioner.”
“That’s just it. I don’t want to be a nurse practitioner. I want a normal life, dealing with normal people.”
“We have normal people here,” Jennifer said, though Paige could tell even she didn’t completely believe her own words.
“Are you kidding me? What about the guy who is convinced some Iranian is after him even though he’s never worked in the Middle East? Or the woman who wants us to check out every guy her daughter dates in case someone is trying to get to her through her kids?” Paige gave her a pointed look. “And that was just last week.”
She reached out and took the duty roster from Jennifer. As she scanned through her appointments for the day, she was even more resolved to follow through with her plans.
“What if you hate your new job?” Jennifer persisted.
“I want to start the new year off fresh. Is that too much to ask?” Paige held up the clipboard to emphasize. “I feel like my life is getting stale here, and it’s time for me to find a new adventure.”
The door opened, and Paige noticed another of their former patients in the doorway. Emmitt Kemper had spent three months counseling with Paige after his daughter’s death. A CIA operative with extensive training, he had gone through a battery of testing with Jennifer and their resident psychologist a few weeks before and had been deemed emotionally stable.
Emmitt’s voice wavered, and his face flushed when he asked, “Where is she?”
Almost instinctively, Paige analyzed Emmitt’s appearance. She sensed distress and pain in his simple question and noticed the tension in his body.
“Where is she?” Emmitt repeated, the agitation in his voice increasing.
“Where’s who?” Jennifer asked.
“My daughter.” Emmitt spoke as though the two women should be able to read his thoughts. His next comment confirmed his absence from reality. “I know you’re hiding her from me.”
Paige swallowed. So much for the man being stable . . . or safe. She knew his file well, and she knew he had killed in the line of duty before. She also knew he didn’t need a weapon to do damage.
Jennifer looked at Paige, her confusion clear and a healthy dose of fear emerging. “Emmitt, we talked about what happened with your daughter. Don’t you remember?” Jennifer asked.
“She’s supposed to be home.” He shook his head as though trying to fight against the confusion that was so clearly consuming him. Then he reached out and curled his fingers around Jennifer’s arm, his grip viselike. His voice became eerily calm, his eyes boring down into Jennifer’s. “Everything was fine until I came here. You took her from me.”
Now Jennifer’s voice trembled when she spoke. “Emmitt, calm down and let me go. We can talk about this. We can talk about your daughter.”
“I’m done talking.”
Paige gripped the clipboard holding the duty roste
r tighter as she saw the light in his eyes change, a darkness shifting over the normal pale blue. On the surface Emmitt seemed calm now, but Paige’s own heartbeat picked up speed.
The muscle in Emmitt’s arm flexed, and he pulled Jennifer closer. Paige knew enough about his training to see what he intended: an arm around Jennifer’s throat, his other hand against her head in preparation to snap her neck. Paige didn’t wait to see if Emmitt would follow through and prove her suspicion correct. Instead, she surrendered to impulse. Her arm came up, and the clipboard went flying and caught Emmitt on the side of his head.
His grip loosened enough for Jennifer to put an arm’s length between them but not enough for her to break free. Paige hit the panic button on the desk and grabbed the syringe beside the button.
Emmitt shook his head, but before he could regain his focus, Paige slid the cover off the needle and quickly injected the sedative into his arm.
Jennifer pulled free as Emmitt slumped onto the carpeted floor and the door burst open with security rushing in. Paige willed her heartbeat to slow back to its normal rhythm, and she looked over at Jennifer. “When I said I wanted some adventure in my life, this wasn’t quite what I had in mind.”
* * *
Damian Schmitt breathed in the crisp morning air, a light breeze ruffling his dirty-blond hair and causing the manila envelope in his hand to flutter. He stared at the envelope, weighing the gravity of the moment. Inside was the answer to where he would serve his first assignment as a Navy SEAL. But it was more than just an assignment. This was his future: where he would live, the specialty training he would receive, and who he would come to trust.
He heard paper ripping as the other new graduates from BUD/S, the training program for Navy SEALs, opened their orders. Damian still didn’t open his. He wanted to savor this moment.
At twenty-five, he was older than nearly everyone in his class. The other enlisted men were in their early twenties and had followed the traditional route of joining the military and then applying for SEAL training, which was difficult to get into, but unlike the others, Damian had been promised admittance to the program when he’d first been recruited as a civilian. His high aptitude scores and language skills had guaranteed him a spot in BUD/S, but completing the program and earning his trident pin had been up to him.
Six years of working in the oil industry and a year in international banking had been more than enough for him, and he was excited to start this new chapter in his life. Making it through SEAL training had been harder than he had ever thought possible, but he’d been determined. Not only had he made it, but he’d also graduated among the top of his class.
“I’m staying in San Diego,” Nick, who was standing beside Damian, said excitedly. Nick Trahan had been Damian’s swim buddy throughout their training, and they had become close friends. “What did you get?”
Slowly, Damian broke the envelope’s seal and slid the contents free. He read through the first page, his eyes widening.
“You’re not going to believe this,” Damian said, his Venezuelan accent still evident in his voice even after more than a decade of living in the United States. He held his orders out for Nick to see.
“The Saint Squad?” Surprise and awe reflected on his face. “No way!”
Damian read through his orders again. Everyone in his BUD/S class knew about the Saint Squad. Several of their missions had been used as case studies on how to adapt when things didn’t go as planned. Never had he expected to find himself a member of the highly respected unit.
Nick slapped Damian on the back. “You are so lucky. I never thought the Saint Squad was a possibility. I got the impression that their personnel was set in stone.”
“I thought so too.” From everything he had heard during his training, the Saint Squad was unique beyond its uncanny success rate. Despite its small size, the unit was more than half officers, an unusual situation in itself. Rumor also had it that the unit was still made up entirely of the original members and was closed to new personnel. Everyone said the higher-ups were so pleased with their success that they were afraid to make any changes. Apparently that was no longer the case.
Damian read through his orders again, almost expecting the words on the page to change if he stared at them long enough. Finally, he flipped through the rest of his packet, and reality hit him. This was his last day in California. Starting tomorrow, his home would be in Virginia.
Chapter 2
Snow blanketed Virginia, a series of storms over the holidays leaving more than a foot on the ground. Paige trudged across the icy parking lot of the CIA’s training facility with her personnel officer, Fred Zimmer, walking beside her.
She wasn’t sure where personnel had originally planned to send her, but they had made a change after the incident in the counseling center. That change had resulted in a transfer out of the area and into completely unknown territory.
A sense of excitement and anticipation bubbled inside her. New people. A new home. A new future. She had been waiting so long to find one for herself, one where she could try something new.
This new position would be a complete change from what she had done before. From what she’d been told, the woman who ran the training course for undercover operatives was an experienced agent who was well respected and knew how to get results. She also worked with trainees who had been carefully screened and were psychologically stable.
Fred held open the door for her, and they passed through the building’s lobby and down a long hall. “Give me a minute to talk to Vanessa first,” he said, slowing his pace.
Paige nodded, wondering what he could possibly need to talk to Vanessa about without her in the room. After all, from everything she had been told, this was a standard transfer. Then again, she had thought it a little odd that Fred had insisted on escorting her to the new assignment, especially when it was so far from headquarters.
Paige stood awkwardly outside the door while Fred and the woman inside greeted each other.
Then Fred spoke. “I have something for you.”
“What’s this?” the woman asked.
“The file for your new assistant.”
The room fell silent except for the rustle of paper. Then the woman’s voice carried through the open doorway. “Absolutely not.”
A moment later the door closed with a quiet click. Paige strained to hear what was said but couldn’t make out the muffled voices. Only a minute or two passed before the door opened once more and Fred motioned for her to enter. She passed through the office door behind him and studied the woman across the room.
She was younger than Paige would have expected, maybe thirty, but she carried an air of authority. Smooth dark skin complemented her high cheekbones, and her inquisitive eyes sized Paige up without any sign of pretense.
“Paige Vickers, this is Vanessa Johnson, your new boss.”
“For the time being,” Vanessa said flatly before Paige could respond. “As my last four assistants can tell you, I’m not an easy person to work for.”
Paige saw Vanessa’s words for what they were, simple truth and a challenge. “I don’t expect any job to be easy, but if you’ll explain your expectations, I’ll save you the trouble of dealing with personnel anymore.”
Vanessa’s eyebrows lifted, and she spoke to Fred. “I think I like her already.”
“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” he said with a note of triumph in his voice. “And, Vanessa, remember that Paige is Agency personnel, not military. Don’t call her in during the middle of the night unless it’s an emergency.”
“Fine.” As soon as he left, Vanessa said to Paige, “Which brings us to my first expectation. You need to have your phone with you and on at all times.”
“Even after hours?”
“Even after hours.” Vanessa motioned toward the door. “Because when Fred said I call people in during the middle of the night, he wasn’t kidding.”
* * *
“Kel, you’ve got to be kidding me. Br
ent takes leave for three days, and you pick now to tell me this?” Lieutenant Seth Johnson stared at the commanding officer of SEAL Team Eight, a man he had fought countless battles with, a man he considered a friend. A man who had clearly lost his mind. Seth’s Southern drawl was barely noticeable beneath his frustration. “The squad is working great together, and now you’re going to mess it up?”
Commander Kel Bennett stared back at him, clearly waiting for Seth to work through the shock of what he was asking. Changing up the Saint Squad was drastic, he knew, but he believed it was also necessary. The teams needed their new recruits to be ready for anything, and that wasn’t going to happen unless they trained with men who had already seen battle, men he could trust to train these new SEALs right.
“I’m not messing anything up. I’m just giving some of our new guys the chance to learn from the best.”
“Flattery’s not going to work.”
“It’s not flattery. It’s the truth. And I don’t need your permission. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m in command. All I have to do is make this an order.”
“Then why don’t you make it an order when Brent gets back?” Seth asked, referring to the Saint Squad’s commanding officer, whom Seth was currently standing in for.
“Brent will find out about the change soon enough. I only found out we were getting new men a few days ago,” Kel said. “When I looked through the personnel files, I was impressed that two will fit exceptionally well with your squad. One of them is a Latter-day Saint, and the other was raised Catholic, but he has an aversion to drinking alcohol.”
“I can appreciate wanting to throw the Mormon boys together, but we really don’t need any new personnel. We’re doing fine on our own.”
“You have been doing fine on your own, but like it or not, the Saint Squad is expanding. You’ll have to deal with it.”
“Who are these guys, and when do they show up?” Seth asked, resigned.
Kel lifted a file from his desk and handed it to Seth. “The Latter-day Saint is still finishing his BUD/S training and won’t report for another six weeks. The other one, Damian Schmitt, will be here in twenty minutes.”
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