by Gabby Grant
But what Mark understood even more was that he was in a unique position to help stop this madness. And he was going to do his damnedest to take care of it before one more person suffered from its physical or emotional out-lash.
At least there was hope for Ana’s safety. And the assurance that his daughter Isabel was in the best of hands.
***
“Where’s the baby?” Carolyn demanded.
Marybeth Miller shook her head with a pained expression. “The Captain said... I thought she was-”
Carolyn’s skin went slick with perspiration. “You were ordered, Lieutenant, to keep your eye on the baby!”
“Yes ma’am,” Marybeth said, the color draining from her olive complexion. “But...”
Carolyn thumped her bags down onto the floor. Twenty minutes. Neal had granted her twenty minutes to go home and get what she needed for her and Isabel’s indefinite escape. And Carolyn, wanting to cover her bases, had been extra careful in leaving, not one but two persons in charge of Isabel, one of whom now was clueless. “Who had her last?”
“Well, the nanny was giving her a bath-”
“The nanny, Lieutenant? Maria? Are you totally unaware of our situation here or just deaf, dumb and stupid?”
Marybeth hung her head.
“Lieutenant!” Carolyn said, snapping her subordinate to attention.
“Deaf, dumb and stupid, ma’am,” Marybeth answered through tight lips. “But Major, Captain Peterson and I were with them every second. I only left for a minute to...”
“To what, Lieutenant?”
Lieutenant Miller colored slightly at her temples and cheekbones. “I’m on my period, ma’am.”
Carolyn drew a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “Do you understand where you are and for whom you work, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, sir... Ma’am. Major, ma’am.”
“Well then, fuck your period, Lieutenant! What the hell you think happens when you’re combat? The ladies take time out to powder their noses?”
“No, ma’am.”
“And Captain Peterson?”
“She, she was right here...”
“Dismissed, Lieutenant,” Carolyn said, barreling out of the room.
Lieutenant Miller hurried after her.
Carolyn stopped mid-stride and spun in her tracks, settling steely eyes on Marybeth’s unsteady gaze.
“I’m coming with you, ma’am,” she said, beating back the quiver in her voice. “Coming to help.”
“Oh, you’ve helped plenty,” Carolyn said, pushing her aside. “Out of my way, Lieutenant! And get on the horn and call security!”
Carolyn frantically searched the bathing quarters, the mess hall, the suite kitchenette.
Nothing.
Blood pounded in her veins as she checked her wrist watch. In fifteen minutes, Mark Neal would be here to pick up his baby daughter. Holy Christ. Not only would Neal have Carolyn’s head on a sliver platter, she’d cut it off herself and hand it to him if she didn’t find his baby.
Carolyn breezed around a corner, almost trampling over Captain Peterson.
“Captain!” she said, “Thank God, I’ve been looking all over!”
“Afternoon, Major,” Peterson said, soda in hand, totally unperplexed. “Just heading back to check on bath time.”
Fire ricocheted from Carolyn’s collarbone to her wrists, as she grabbed Peterson by her lapels and slammed her back into the wall.
“Major!” Peterson croaked, as the soda can hit the floor and sent a black geyser spewing.
“You mean to tell me, Captain...” Carolyn said, angling in toward Peterson, as she gave the lapels another shove, “you intentionally left your station? That you have no idea-”
Peterson’s fair chin reverberated. “I was only going to-”
“Arrgghh!” Carolyn growled, sending Peterson’s shoulder blades into the wall with renewed force. “Isabel?” Carolyn demanded through clenched teeth. “Where the hell is-”
“Major?”
Carolyn turned her head to find Maria standing at the far end of the corridor, holding a newly-buffed Isabel, a pink-cheeked cherub in tights and a fluffy white dress. “Everything ees okay?”
Blood drained from Carolyn’s face, as she looked from Maria to Captain Peterson, then back again.
Carolyn released Peterson and lowered her fists. If the earth could open up right now, no gap could possibly be wide enough.
“I just took the baby to say goodbye to all her...” Maria stopped walking toward them, as Peterson cleared her throat and straightened out her bent lapels. “...friends.”
“If you two will excuse me,” Peterson said, stepping out from between the wall and Carolyn, “I’ll...”
Carolyn looked at her, rattled by the Captain’s trembling expression.
“Permission to be excused?” Peterson asked.
Carolyn swallowed hard. “Of course, Captain.”
Peterson backed up a few steps before turning.
“Oh, Captain-” Carolyn said, just catching Peterson’s eye.
“Won’t happen again, ma’am,” Peterson said, breaking free and scurrying away, as three civilian officers from the DIPAC security force stormed the hall.
CHAPTER 22
Ana stepped from the shower and slipped back into Joe’s flannel shirt and the panties she’d done her best to wash out and ring dry inside a towel. Now, if she could only find her way out of here or a way to ensure trying to get home would be safe.
But, who knew what sorts of dangers lurked in the woods just outside this safe little cabin? And putting herself in further danger right now was not a good idea. Not good at all. At least with Joe, Ana felt reasonably safe. Joe’d always had that way about him. The diamond in the rough appeal. The sort of man any woman could...
Ana paused mid-thought and halted in her tracks as Joe pressed in through the cabin door and bolted it at his back.
“You alright?” Ana asked, noting the sweat-streaked undershirt and the hint of moisture that matted his hair against his brow.
“Just been doing some chopping,” Joe said with a heavy breath. Whatever he’d been chopping, had sure taken a toll on his windpipes.
“Firewood?” Ana asked, doubting his empty arms. A little nervous tickle settled into her stomach as she weighed his reasons for bolting the door when this cabin was so apparently isolated in the wilderness.
Joe shrugged a laugh and headed for the kitchen. “Yeah, well, these old Virginia redwoods will give you quite a work out.”
“Do tell,” Ana said, joining him in the kitchen and surveying his dusty jeans. “Fight back, do they?”
Joe, who’d pulled a beer from the refrigerator, set it down on the counter. “You are tough, aren’t you?”
Ana bit into her lower lip, knowing with a certainty he was hiding something. “Joe, is there... Did you see something out there?”
Joe took a swig of his beer. “Lions and tigers and bears, oh-”
Ana swatted him across the forearm. “Not funny.”
“Don’t worry, beautiful, you’ve got me here to protect you.”
“Not funny either,” she told him.
“Hmm...” Joe studied his beer label, then looked up with sincere probing eyes. “Well, what would make you feel better? That some bastard came after me with a pistol and I chopped him to bits with my axe?”
Ana recoiled. “Joe!”
“Not to worry about the firewood,” Joe said, striding toward the bedroom. “I’ll fetch it after I shower, then maybe we can make some chow and settle our plans.”
“Plans sound good!” Ana called after him, as an icy chill shimmied up her spine. Anything but sitting still in the middle of the woods with bogeymen coming after them.
***
Carolyn Walker reached over and adjusted Isabel’s car seat strap. “She’s wriggled out of the shoulder holster again,” Carolyn reported to Mark, as she wrestled with the baby’s arm to get it back in a safe position.
Isabel gig
gled, delighted by the Major’s silly game, and wriggled her round shoulder back out of the harness.
“A real escape artist,” Carolyn quipped with a smile.
Mark, who’d surveyed the scene in his rearview mirror, chuckled. “Comes by it honestly, I guess.”
“Yes, sir,” Carolyn assured him. “How far’s the cabin?”
Mark checked the map on the seat beside him, then focused his attention back on the increasingly winding road. “Should be just a couple more miles now.”
“Nice to have a place like that to go to,” Carolyn said.
“You bet.”
“Ever been?” Carolyn asked.
“What’s that?”
“To this particular safe house, sir.”
“Didn’t even know it existed.” Mark checked his mirror, but noted Carolyn displayed no signs of surprise. She understood secrets in this business were routine- even among family. And in the Kane family, it seemed, revelations of hidden truths appeared to surface daily.
Mark was glad about the cabin and relieved to have someplace safe to stash Isabel until this whole sordid mess was over. During the brief hour he’d checked in at the DIPAC to retrieve Isabel, he’d been informed of more than one hundred and thirty new occurrences. And the occurrences had escalated from relatively benign cyber warfare, to stalkings and home invasions, kidnapings, and...
Mark rounded another sharp curve, gripping the wheel, not wanting to let himself think about it. But, in spite of himself, his mind reeled back to the gruesome pictorials: the crime scene photographs the DIPAC had gotten by fax: the broken and mutilated bodies, the severed limbs...
Mark wheeled around a possum crossing the road as Isabel squealed with amusement park delight.
Carolyn rocketed an arm across the baby’s chest to keep her car seat from spilling forward, but said nothing.
Mark studied the map and took a hard left at the fourth country mailbox.
The sickness was spreading and the intelligence work force was being scared to death. It was an analytical nightmare and the worst reign of terror against the intelligence community Mark had ever witnessed. Rather than have themselves- or worse yet their families- face the prospect of the unspeakable horrors that had already befallen the few who had refused to cooperate, analysts were vacating their jobs in droves.
The most unnerving aspect of the whole attack was the fact that the analysts were unprepared. Unlike operatives who were trained in the field work and taught to anticipate and thwart danger, analysts were basically trained for desk jobs. The fact that many of them had military backgrounds did little to prepare them for such an unmitigated and unanticipated threat. If Mark had had an inkling of that threat, they wouldn’t all be here now. He’d have found a way to put a stop to it, found a way to limit Ana’s involvement and ensure her safety.
Mark gritted his teeth hard against his naivete. Yeah, right. As if Mark had ever been able to limit Ana’s involvement in anything she’d put her mind to these last three years.
Isabel appeared to notice she was no longer the center of attention and gurgled in protest, wriggling her fat little arm out of her car seat strap for maybe the twentieth time in the last thirty minutes.
“She’s very determined,” Carolyn said, tucking Isabel’s chubby arms back under their shoulder straps.
“Gets that part from her mother,” Mark answered, slowing the car at the crest of a hill.
***
“Just how are we going to get out of this?” Ana asked, rummaging through the stash of non-perishables to see if there was anything worthy of dinner. Joe had cautioned her against going back to Central Virginia and he’d been right. There were too many risks involved, not only for Ana herself, but for her entire family. At present, she was better off “dead.”
Joe’s assurance about the coat had helped ease her mind about Mark’s concern. Joe was right. Mark and her father were definitely smart enough to figure it out and they’d find a comfort in that connection. At least, Ana was relatively sure, her father would. She didn’t know about Mark.
“Sure as hell don’t know,” Joe grimaced, tugging the cork from the wine bottle. “But there’s no sense in letting fine wine go to waste while we’re trying to figure it out.”
Ana gave him a twisted smile and set a couple of cans on the counter. “Same old Joe.”
“Some kids never grow up,” Joe returned with a shrug. “Whatdaya think? Good year?”
Ana took the opened bottle and studied the label.
“A Valdepenas. The best.”
Joe pulled two wine glasses from the cabinet. “Gotta say,” he told her, filling their goblets each halfway, “when your old man plans a safe house, he does it in style.”
It was true. For all of his shortcomings, Ana’s father did indeed have class. But now Ana was eager to play the student and have Joe be the teacher. There was still far too much she didn’t know.
“So,” Ana said, accepting her glass, “your operation was in the Middle East and that’s all you’re telling me?”
“I told you about Al Fahd,” Joe said, taking a sip of wine and leaning back into the counter.
“Yes, that you worked for him, but not what you did.”
Joe shook his head. “Need to know, Ana.”
It was old intelligence protocol that everyone within the system was only told as much as they needed to know to fulfill their own individual missions, particularly when sensitive information was involved.
“Fine,” she said, slowly savoring a swallow that hinted at birch and cherry. “Then tell me what you think Al Fahd’s connection is to Sun-tzu and his henchman.”
Joe took another swallow then set down his glass. “They’re working together on something big.”
“Big, involving computers?” Ana asked.
“Computers?”
“Information warfare, maybe?”
Joe appeared to consider this, then nodded. “Has something to do with Y2K.”
“Y2K? But the party’s over.”
“That’s what I said.” Joe scooped up the bottle and refilled his glass. “Though you’d never know it from the Arab’s stash of balloons.”
“Balloons?” Ana questioned. “You’re not serious!”
Joe shook his head and took a quick swallow of wine. “No, I wasn’t, sweetheart. All a big, fricking joke.” He gave her a grand sweeping smile she didn’t quite buy. “Sorry.”
“Wait a minute...” Ana said, holding over her glass for a refill. “Y2K...of course!”
Joe poured, then looked up.
“Don’t you see the link? Y2K, computers?”
Joe shrugged. “A bug? What are you saying? And how, pray tell, are you linking this to Al Fahd?”
Ana surrendered a breath. “I have no idea how I’m linking this to Al Fahd, Joe. All I have is a gut instinct that is telling me-”
“Uh oh,” Joe said, slowly shaking his head and raising his wine to his lips. “Gotta watch out for those gut instincts.”
“Why?” Ana asked.
Joe sputtered a laugh into his goblet. “Because, dear, beautiful friend, once you start getting that instinct, you’re in trouble. Once you start getting that niggling sensation that you can work the puzzle-”
“I can work the puzzle,” Ana interrupted with a frown.
“I wasn’t saying that you couldn’t.”
“Most certainly were. At least, you were implying it.”
Joe cocked his head. “Look, I was only-”
“I know damn well what you were trying to say, Joe. You were taking me for a fool. Poor, silly little housewife getting in way over her head.”
“Hey!”
“No, you, hey!” Ana set down her wine and stepped toward him. “And listen to me one damn minute. I don’t know who you and Mark-”
Joe put his own wine aside. “Mark?”
“Yes, Mark,” Ana said, setting her jaw against its impending tremble. “You both-”
Joe held up a hand between them. �
�Uh, huh. Don’t you go putting me in that mix. I haven’t even talked to your beloved in over three years.”
Ana slapped a palm down onto the counter top and Joe encircled her wrist in his hand.
“Listen,” he said, his voice a mellow whisper. “That’s not what I meant at all.”
His hand slid up her arm and Ana spun to face him. Suddenly, she was inches from his chin, inches from his honey-brown eyes and that thick auburn moustache.
Was she insane? That problem had nothing at all to do with Joe. It was between her and Mark, alone. Mark was the one who’d doubted her veracity, not this man here. This man who’d snatched her from the jaws of near-certain death and pulled her to safety.
“Joe,” she said, feeling ridiculous, “I didn’t mean to over-react. I know you-”
“Hey,” he said lightly gripping her upper arms, “no apologies.”
Why then did Ana feel the sudden need to apologize for every terrible thing she’d ever done to him, every rotten thing she’d ever said. Of all the people she’d known, Joe was one of the best: loyal, fierce, honest to the core. Unlike Ana, he’d never once pretended to be anything he wasn’t. He’d never once lied about his feelings.
“And, no looking back,” he said, strengthening his hold and falling into her eyes with a gaze that held her captive. “I mean it.”
But, right now, with Joe being this close, with the heat of his hands on her skin- palpable still through the thick flannel of his shirt- not looking back was next to impossible. Ana couldn’t help but think how different her life might have been. Couldn’t help but wonder how it would have felt being lost forever in somebody’s arms who worshiped her completely.
Ana found it impossible to pull away from the anchors of his eyes. Impossible not to remember how very much together the two of them once had been. More impossible still to imagine another woman had not already come along and claimed a man like Joe for her own.