by Thomas Locke
Charlie had known he was going to do this from the instant he had heard Elizabeth confess her secret reason for ascending. He was going to go up and go out. And ask if Gabriella would ever be his. And if so, when.
And if not, when he could be free.
He ran his finger over the symbol marked by a simple X. Breathed in and out. Forcing the fear down and clamping the internal lid tightly in place. Just like he would before combat.
He pressed the button. Set the iPod on the bed.
And shut his eyes.
The sound of Jorge’s voice was very comforting. Charlie may have been alone in a faceless motel room. His nostrils tingled slightly from the smell of bathroom disinfectant. The mattress springs made corduroy creases across his back. But he heard the calm sound of a young man Charlie knew very well, and was comforted.
Jorge counted him up, just as Elizabeth had said. His instructions were simple in the extreme. Rise up. Open his other eyes. And look around. And determine if there was anything important to him or the team that he should be aware of. The silence that followed these instructions was Charlie’s signal to really begin.
But as soon as Charlie ascended, he knew he was not going anywhere. Even before he was fully aware of his surroundings, he knew he was trapped.
Charlie did not know if what he sensed was the same as Elizabeth’s experience. But he would not have called where he found himself a room. It was more like a cage. He did not need to test his boundaries. The impression was as genuine as anything he had experienced while ascending. Charlie felt that the reason for his ascent was in fact not proper. It did not belong to the moment, or perhaps to the act of ascending. How he knew this, he could not say. But this lack of reason did not make the impression any less real.
So he hovered.
The feeling was not at all unpleasant. In fact, the longer he remained, the more it seemed that his senses gradually opened to a new dimension. He could see now that he was indeed still in the hotel room. The impression was somewhat dreamlike. He had to turn in a particular direction and focus down very tightly to see anything of his surroundings. He did this several times, then stopped. Because the physical room was not important. There was no danger. His body was resting comfortably. There was something else he needed to focus upon.
He extended his senses, probing the enclosure’s boundaries. The cage seemed to follow the room’s confines, as though the intention was to hold him in the here and now. Charlie reached forward, wondering if the boundaries themselves were the message. He made contact with something, a suggestion that he remain where he was. Charlie had the distinct impression that the boundary was pointed outward. As though it was not there so much to hold him as to protect him.
From what, he had no idea.
Then it happened.
Long before he realized what precisely was going on, he felt the incoming energy. A frisson that tickled the periphery of his senses. Everything he looked at became rimmed by a golden light. He did not feel fear so much as a growing sense of being prepped.
Gabriella entered then. Her presence was a reality that did not require vision to be authentic. Charlie recalled what Elene had said in the restaurant, how she had sensed his flavor.
Gabriella was with him now. In this room.
Instantly Charlie realized how close he had come to losing the chance for this moment. How weakness and doubt had almost shut him out.
He remained where he was. Which was nice in a special fashion, because it meant that she could make the move herself. Do what he had dreamed of. Close the distance between them.
If her presence could be named, it would be of meadows in a springtime dawn. A distinct flavor that was unmistakably her.
Charlie felt her love flow out, strong as a physical embrace. So powerful he felt an earthquake grip him and shake him until his senses could hold nothing more. Everything was lost to him except the feel of her love.
Gabriella spoke to him. Not in words. But in a shared impression. Their hearts were finally able to sing in a unison of conquering time and distance and all the reasons that kept them apart.
Their melody had but one word. It was the only word that mattered.
Finally.
56
Reese told her team, “This is Amanda Thorne. She is our main ally in Washington. She has a problem, and she needs our help.”
They were gathered in the control room. It was the first time her entire team had been together, at least officially, since Elene’s disappearance. Reese could see the worry and the strain etched in every face. Even Jeff, the security chief, looked exhausted. Consuela sheltered behind Joss Stone, clearly uncomfortable with this arrival of officialdom.
Reese knew what they were thinking. Whatever Elene Belote had encountered in her search had so spooked her she had fled the scene. And perhaps Reese should have seen it coming and locked them down. But to what end? Either they volunteered or the whole deal fell apart. She couldn’t lock them up and maintain a sense of cohesive unity. Part of the mystique was their independence. But she knew they were all tempted by the same thought. Bug out before the bad dreams struck and they landed in one of the beds downstairs.
The only way Reese could see to salvage her team was to take aim. “Our target is a clandestine intel facility in the hills of Maryland. It is run by NSA.”
Neil, her gamer, was the only one who registered what she was saying. “Is this for real?”
“As real as it gets.”
“We’re going to break into the National Security Agency?”
“Roger that.” She waited. Hoping against hope.
Neil gave her what she had hoped for. Which was a fist raised high and two words almost sung with delight. “All right.”
Joss said, “What’s the big deal, fat boy?”
“Joss,” Reese said.
“Hey. I’m just asking.”
“Then ask nice. He’s your partner in this.”
“Whatever you say.” The Marine offered a mock dulcet tone. “Bro, what’s the haps?”
“You don’t know nothing, mister Marine. You only think you do.”
Reese sighed. “Neil.”
Neil said, “The NSA is the Everest of hacks. And the lady is letting us go in legal.”
Reese said, “Here’s the deal. Amanda Thorne represents the White House chief of intelligence. I hope you understand what I say there. Her boss answers directly to the President of the United States.”
Jason complained, “That is not information for public—”
“Jason,” Amanda said.
“But Clawson is relaying—”
“This is her team. Let her handle things as she sees fit.” Amanda Thorne did not need to raise her voice to squelch her aide. When he subsided against the side wall, she said, “Proceed.”
Reese said to Jason, “These are frontline troops. They risk everything to meet your request for assistance. If you have any doubt on that score, I’ll be happy to take you back downstairs and give you another chance to scope out the casualties in our clinic.”
Jason only glared at the floor by his feet.
“That’s what I thought.” Reese turned back to find a glimmer of humor in most of the gazes. Which was what she’d been after all along. Draw them together by a shared sense of commitment. “The intel chief faces serious friction in the ranks. NSA and CIA are top of the list. They oppose the new chief’s desire to draw all US intelligence under—”
“Ms. Thorne, please,” Jason whined, “I must object to—”
Amanda snapped, “Zip it, Jason. That’s an order. Roll with it, Clawson.”
“NSA intends to arrive at the next presidential briefing with data they should have supplied to Amanda Thorne’s boss, but haven’t. Amanda’s sources suggest the data pertains to inroads that Chinese intel has made into stealing secrets related to America’s recent discoveries in cryptography.” Reese examined the faces one at a time. Then she turned to Amanda and said, “Do you have anything to add?”
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Amanda took her time, giving each of the team five seconds of her laser focus. Then, “Secrets are the lifeblood of our government. Whoever controls the secrets holds the only power that counts. Which means your work here is not merely important. You are vital.”
Reese said, “This is not a test. The time for trial runs is over. This is as real as it gets.”
Reese watched as Karla, her techie, readied her team for transition. Amanda Thorne had followed them downstairs. To her surprise, Reese did not particularly care that the woman was in the transit room. Amanda stood by the exit, a tiny silent wraith. Reese found it easy to ignore her and focus on the team.
They were still nervous. Which was natural. But the frantic tension had been replaced now by a sense of grim determination. Reese waited until Karla finished fitting the monitor cords in place, then quietly repeated the instructions for the fifth time. “Your objective is a safe in the NSA director’s office. You’ve broken into safes before. There will be a file marked ‘Priority One, Director’s Briefing Report.’ Your objective is to read the file and return. You have been divided into three teams. Each team will scope only their two pages. Pages one and two, three and four, five and six. This should speed up your read and help your retention. The NSA chief is known to hate lengthy reports. If for some reason there are more than six pages, which is highly unlikely, you are to ignore the rest. We’re not after everything. We just want enough to arm our allies.”
Reese took a breath, then started in on the words that had become rote but at the same time sounded totally new to her this time. “You will have five minutes at the target site. You will remain in complete control at all times. You will go, you will achieve your aims, you will return. You will stay safe. You will obey no other instructions, you will hear no other voice than mine.”
They watched her with a singular intensity. Ten faces, ten pairs of unblinking eyes, one focus.
She met each gaze in turn. Reese said quietly, “I am so very proud of you all.”
Back upstairs, the Departures Lounge held a spectral tension stronger than among her own team. Reese totally understood the mood. There was a helplessness to the moment. These were people accustomed to wielding enormous power. Yet here and now they could do nothing. They could not even observe.
Reese counted her team down. She had never felt such an intense precision to her words, her tone, her cadence. She repeated her orders for them to remain in control, stay safe, keep a tight focus on her voice. Then she ordered them away.
The clock had never moved more slowly.
She brought them home. Her heart raced. She gripped the base of the microphone so tightly her hands were chalk white. But her voice remained utterly calm. She heard herself count them back up in a drone that belonged to some other woman. Someone who did not feel as though she was stretched out there beside the others. Silent and still and unearthly.
She took the hardest breath of her entire life and said, “Open your eyes.”
Reese felt the others crowd up close to the window. She did not bother to order them away. Beside her, Karla said, “They’re back. All of them. They returned.”
Reese fought against the tension that had gripped her throat in a choke hold. Then she found she could not rise from the chair.
Karla brushed by her as she hurried for the side stairs. Reese wanted to go with her. But she could not find the strength to rise.
Amanda Thorne leaned over Reese and said softly, “It’s hard, your sending troops into Indian country. Especially when you’ve already faced unacceptable losses. Isn’t it.”
Reese tasted the air. Again. She managed, “Very. Very. Hard.”
“Concern for your frontline team is not something you can teach. Either the individual has it or they don’t. But I consider it vital for any officer on my watch.” Amanda patted her shoulder. “Go welcome your troops home.”
Kevin Hanley joined her in the stairwell. “I have known Amanda Thorne for almost ten years. I’ve never seen her offer a compliment before.”
Reese did not respond. She entered the transit room and joined in the tumult. She felt as though she was standing at a distance, even as she exchanged smiles and shouts and laughter and high fives.
Her team.
From somewhere overhead a phone rang. Then the intercom squawked. Reese heard words shouted so loud they silenced the returning crew.
Karla was the first to look up, frowning at the windows overhead.
Jeff stood at the window, pounding on the glass with one open palm while he pressed down the microphone’s button with his other.
“—emergency that can’t wait! You’ve got to come now!”
Then Joss gripped her arm and started to tug her forward. But by then she was moving for the stairs.
They all were.
57
The redesigned prion molecule does not require a host to maintain its active state,” Trent told Shane. He could not stop the hand holding the phone from shaking. “The revised form I created left it capable of devouring inanimate materials. And people. Apparently it still held on to the same traits as the Creutzfeldt-Jacob structure, because as soon as it was respirated into a human system, it attacked the host’s brain.”
“I’m really sorry you had to see that.” Though Shane was clearly very troubled, her voice held a sense of detachment. “At least you know why you couldn’t come with me.”
“I have to stop them.”
“Of course you do. Should I come back?”
“No, Shane. This doesn’t change your reasons for going to England.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Is everything okay?”
“You mean, other than hearing how your research has created a totally destructive molecule?”
“You just sound, I don’t know, disconnected.”
“Shell-shocked is probably more like it. I got my passport in no time flat. I’m checked in for the flight. Elizabeth is here.”
“Who?”
“The woman you met in the café.”
“She’s there? How do you know her name?”
“Because we’ve talked. She’s explained where we’re going. It’s not England. It’s an island in the English Channel. They’re buying it.”
“Who is?”
“Her team. It’s a long story.” A loudspeaker blared in the background. “The pilot is saying I have to cut off my phone.”
“Can I speak with her?”
“What, now?”
“It’s vital, Shane.”
“Hang on.”
There was a muffled moment, then a different voice said, “This is Elizabeth.”
He recognized the hard edge instantly. “I need help.”
“I know.” The woman sounded more removed than Shane. As though she had been dulled by overexposure to whatever had drawn her into that Starbucks. A victim of too many close calls. “You need to speak with Charlie. You got a pen?”
“Yes. Who is Charlie?”
“Charlie Hazard is the man who . . .” Elizabeth coughed into the phone. “Sorry. Write this down.”
Trent took down the number, hesitated a long moment, then asked, “Does he know how to make a bomb?”
Shane found she could not meet the other woman’s eyes as Elizabeth handed her back the phone. Overhead the pilot welcomed them on board and ordered them to shut off all electronic devices for takeoff. Shane stowed her phone in her purse and said, “I brought your briefcase-purse with me. The second one. It’s in my checked bag.”
“Keep it.”
“That thing cost nine hundred dollars.”
Elizabeth already had her eyes shut. “It doesn’t suit me. Give it to Gabriella.”
“Who?”
“The lady waiting at the other end. She’ll love it.”
The hostess walked down the aisle, offering them champagne or orange juice. Shane said, “The world sure looks different in business class.”
“You don’t travel much?”
Elizabeth swiveled her head on the pillow. “Your friend seems nice.”
“He is. Very.”
“You’re worried about him.”
Shane found herself swallowing another lump in her throat. Which was very odd. When she had first met Elizabeth at the check-in counter, Shane had instantly known who the lady was. The spiky-haired blonde had stared at her with an intensity that was unmistakable. And those clothes. They were like a biker’s idea of Valentino. Tight and aggressive. Like the woman. Even so, Shane had taken that first long look and burst into tears. She felt like doing the same right now. “Worried and scared both.”
“Don’t be. Charlie is the best there is at keeping people safe.”
“That’s the guy you told Trent to contact?”
“Yes. Charlie is . . .” Elizabeth’s features went tight, then relaxed again. Shane had the impression it was done by strength of will alone. As though she had spent years perfecting the ability of tamping things down and locking them away. “Charlie is a professional. If anybody can keep your Trent safe through whatever comes next, it’s Charlie.”
Shane had the sudden impression that Elizabeth was in love with the guy. Which left her wanting to confess her own flood of emotions over Trent. Instead, she said, “I never cry.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes once more. “I get that a lot.”
58
Charlie found it difficult to remain stationary. His body still vibrated. His heart rate remained a trace below redline. When Gabriella came on the line, he could hear the slight tremor to his voice.
“I’m supposed to be leaving for the airport,” Gabriella said.
“This can’t wait.”
“I’m meeting Elizabeth because you told me it was important, Charlie.”
“Have someone call her. She’ll be in the air. Leave her a message.” His thoughts were scattered. For every word he spoke, he thought a dozen. All in different directions. What was more, he didn’t care. “We have work to do.”