“I knew I’d find you here,” Wraith said in a terse whisper.
The Mister gave the man a bored look before turning back to watch Alex. Ben’s sharp eyes followed Wraith.
“You knew what would happen,” Ben said in the same tone.
“It wasn’t us!” Wraith said so loudly that the President’s eyes flicked to look at him. “We didn’t do anything!”
Wraith gave the President an assuring smile. Alex passed the President the basketball, and his focus returned to their conversation.
“It wasn’t us,” Wraith said in a lower tone. “We have entire units of people working on the Black Skeleton. We were completely blindsided.”
“You see everything,” the Mister said with a smug look.
“You can trust me when I say that we did not see this coming,” Wraith said.
The Mister gave a derisive snort, and Ben still watched the Wraith.
“She can’t just disappear!” Wraith said in the same angry whisper.
“She already has,” the Mister said.
“No,” Wraith said. “No.”
His intensity caused both the Mister and Ben to turn and look at the man.
“Don’t you get it?” Wraith asked. “If she disappears now, everything will vanish into thin air. Every single one of our allies has seen evidence that this thing is coming. Every leader of every country, ally or not, has contacted our group in one way or another.”
“Then you have what you wanted,” the Mister said.
“Without Alex, we have nothing,” Wraith said. “Her intel and reputation are the only thing that’s keeping everyone on the same page. Without that, there will be world war.”
“World war?” Ben raised his eyebrows to indicate he thought Wraith was lying.
The man groaned with exasperation.
“How long have you known me?” Wraith’s finger jabbed into Ben’s chest. “When have I ever gone off on some tangent or rant or been hysterical?”
“Point taken,” Ben nodded.
“Do you have any idea how much money is being poured into fringe terrorist groups?” Wraith’s head started bobbing up and down. “That’s something Alex caught. Rather than creating a big war or doing the actual work to change governments, this Black Skeleton is giving mentally deranged people millions of dollars and access to caches of weapons. They’ve let them loose on the world.”
“You’re referring to countries who have opened their prisons to let the violent predators out,” the Mister said.
“Everyone knows that,” Wraith’s head shook back and forth. “What people don’t know is that these weren’t random crazies. They are soldiers — organized, well-funded, properly trained, and battle ready. They have vast support networks and expensive technology.”
“They were in prison for terrorism,” the Mister shrugged. “Wouldn’t they be that way?”
“No,” Wraith said. “Absolutely not. These people have a plan. And you know what that plan looks like?”
“The world in flames,” Ben said.
Scowling, Ben turned to look at Alex. The Mister and Wraith followed his look. Alex was laughing at something the President had said.
“She cannot disappear,” Wraith said.
“Then we need to figure out what to do,” Ben said. “She won’t continue if she’s not a Green Beret. She’s too locked into SF resources and personnel. She fought like hell to get that damned beret. Losing it will kill her.”
“And frankly, SF is too hooked into her,” the Mister said. “Did you know that every single living member of her SF class is still in the service? Every single one. Those men now run much of Army Spec Ops.”
“They are incredibly loyal to Alex,” Ben said. “Even the ones who don’t like her.”
“The entire division will crumble without her support,” the Mister said.
“We’re thinking . . .” Wraith started.
“Sir?” a Secret Service Agent said as he poked his head into the gym.
The President nodded to Alex. He said something to Alex. She responded with a sad smile. He touched her arm in a gesture of support before picking up a towel and leaving the court. The President never acknowledged the Mister, Ben, or Wraith, which they preferred. Alex walked over to them.
“What?” Alex asked.
“We need to talk,” Wraith said.
“These guys don’t speak for me,” Alex said.
Ben had to turn away to keep from grinning. The Mister scowled to keep from cheering.
“I’m not five,” Alex said. “Or in a hospital bed. You break your promises, you can, at the very least, give me the courtesy of apologizing to me and not the good ol’ boy spy network.”
“I have spoken with your father,” Wraith said.
“And he said?” Alex asked.
“‘Who?’” Wraith asked.
Alex nodded. She looked at the Mister and Ben.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Alex said. “I need to get some food into these old men before they choke on their own smug superiority.”
Wraith grinned at Alex. The Mister handed Alex her long-sleeved T-shirt and a thick sweater. She dressed quickly. She nodded to Wraith. He opened his mouth to say something, but, gauging her look, he nodded instead. She left the gymnasium with Ben and the Mister. They walked side by side until they reached the car. No one said a word until they were on their way to the Sheridan Circle Mansion.
“I’m excited to be going home,” Alex said from the back seat. She touched Ben’s arm. “You coming?”
“Not yet,” Ben said. “It may surprise you but I have some people to catch up with here.”
“Including me?” Alex asked.
“Yes,” the Mister said. “We need a couple hours of your time.”
Alex shrugged.
“Raz is coming at four,” Alex said. “We’re flying a commercial to San Diego.”
“Under what name?” the Mister asked.
“I’m Alex Drayson,” Alex said. “Wife of John, who was Max’s roommate at UCLA.”
“That’s easy,” Ben said.
“A lot more than Alyssa,” Alex said. “Who came up with that?”
Ben nodded toward the Mister, who didn’t respond. Alex smiled and leaned back in the seat.
“How are you?” Ben asked.
“Tired,” Alex said. “Ready to retire.”
Ben and the Mister laughed. Every time they stopped laughing, one or the other would start laughing again.
“Hey, a girl can dream,” Alex said with a smile. In an intentionally off-tune voice, Alex started singing “The Impossible Dream” from The Man of La Mancha. “To dream the impossible dream . . .”
Ben and the Mister laughed. They fell silent for a moment.
“To fight the unbeatable foe,” Ben sang the next line.
Alex burst out laughing. The Mister glanced at Ben for a moment before joining in with the next line.
“To bear with unbearable sorrow,” the Mister and Ben sang together as Alex laughed.
“To run where the brave dare not go,” Alex sang.
They sang the rest of their way to the mansion.
F
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tuesday afternoon
October 11 — 4:31 p.m. EST
Washington, DC
“I have a confession to make,” Alex said.
She looked deep into Raz’s eyes. His lips curled in a soft smile. His eyes stroked her face in return for her intimate look.
“I’ve never been in one of these before,” Alex said in a sultry voice.
Raz looked around the luxury airport lounge. They had a few hours to kill before their flight. By his estimation, there were nearly fifty people in the lounge. There were at least twenty old-white-men in-bad-suits and an equal number of young women assisting them. In the corner, there was a group of women executives in painful shoes and tight skirts. In the opposite corner, true V-I-Ps sat reading books, electronic readers, or newspapers. There were one or two Afr
ican-American men and a Hispanic woman sitting near each other. He and Alex were sitting in the only defendable position in the room — a pair of comfortable armchairs with a stylish steel table in front of the chairs, situated in the right corner of the room.
Raz gave Alex a sideways glance. She seemed all right, happy even. He couldn’t shake the clutching panic that she was sliding toward depression. Certainly, she had every reason in the world to be depressed. Most men he knew would not have survived the last two days. Most of the men he knew would either be drunk, commiserating with their friends, or planning revenge just a few hours after that kind of humiliation by their new boss. Yet here she was — laughing, joking, funny Alex.
What would he do if she got depressed again?
Watching the light fade from her eyes was one of the most painful things he’d ever endured. It was like perpetual night. It was almost unbearable to think that she might get depressed because Admiral Ingram was insane. Murderous rage flushed through him. As fast as it came, the rage faded, leaving aching worry in its place. He looked up toward the ceiling as if to beg an unseen God to keep his beloved Alex from the demons that lived inside her own mind.
She touched his arm, and he let out a worried breath. She gave him a questioning look. To avoid answering, he gestured to the lovely woman in a flight attendant’s uniform who was moving toward them. The waitress gave Raz an interested smile.
“I haven’t been in one of these, either,” Raz said under his breath finally. “How did we get in?”
“General gave John a membership,” Alex said. “According to my beloved Raz, there’s secure, free Wi-Fi here.”
Seeing the waitress out of the corner of his eye, he smiled as if Alex had said something provocative.
“Can I bring you anything?” the waitress asked.
He raised his eyebrows as if he wouldn’t mind having the waitress. She flushed and cleared her throat.
“I’d love a beer,” Alex said. “Bottle. Anything American.”
Raz cleared his throat.
“I apologize: Mrs. Drayson would prefer a glass of champagne,” Raz said in such a way as to imply that he was her assistant. He kept his eyes on the waitress. “The best you have. Cost isn’t an issue.”
“And the beer?” the waitress asked.
“She’s joking,” Raz said. “Mrs. Drayson wouldn’t be caught dead drinking American beer from the bottle.”
Alex played along by giving the woman a flip of her perfectly coiffed wig of long brown hair and a “You caught me” smile. When she looked down, Raz shook his head in disgust at her. He leaned toward this waitress.
“She gets this way whenever we’re in Washington,” Raz said.
He shook his head and shrugged like there was no understanding the rich. Alex looked away from Raz and the waitress to keep from laughing.
“I’ll have the same,” Raz said.
“Shall I bring you a bottle, sir?” the waitress asked. Her lips parted as if to pant.
Raz’s eyes stroked the waitress before he made a show of looking at the overpriced vintage watch he’d borrowed from Gerry Lamberton.
“We have time,” Raz said with a nod.
“Sir,” the waitress said.
She was just out of earshot when Alex leaned into Raz.
“Crappy champagne? Seriously?” Alex asked in a low voice. “Gross.”
Raz grinned at her.
“Can I beat little-Billy with the bottle?” Alex asked.
Raz raised his eyebrows at “little-Billy.”
“Trying it out for my new boss,” Alex said. “What do you think?”
“Not quite there yet,” Raz said.
Alex’s shrug made Raz laugh. Grinning, Alex tugged at the hem of the lace gloves she was wearing.
“Are you going to hump in the corner like bunnies?” Alex asked in such a tone that Raz burst out laughing. In case he missed her point, she nodded toward the woman. He blushed.
“Just the job, my love,” Raz said. “Jealous?”
“Absolutely.” Alex tugged on the hem of the gloves again. She raised an eyebrow in his direction.
“You need to wear them,” Raz said. “Any sane person would take one look at your hands and know you were a soldier.”
“You say the nicest things,” Alex said. “Rebecca used to make me wear these horrible white tights and white gloves to church. It was like a billion degrees in the church.”
“We suffer for fashion,” Raz said with a slight tug on the ridiculously expensive tie he’d also borrowed from Gerry Lamberton.
Grinning, Alex shook her head.
“What would you like to do?” Raz asked in a suggestive way.
“Did you try to secure the Wi-Fi?” Alex asked.
“Spy work,” Raz said.
“We do have an Admiral to dissect,” Alex said with a grin.
“Yes, we do,” he said.
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. He pulled out a tablet computer and gave it to Alex. She crossed her eyes in complaint of the computer, and he smiled. They had agreed that Mrs. Drayson probably didn’t own a military-grade, electromagnetic-pulse-proof computer. Raz took out a laptop they recently acquired. They were able to put all of the insides of his military computer in the body of a swanky civilian computer. Raz worked to build a secure channel on the Wi-Fi, while Alex read a mystery novel on the tablet.
The waitress dropped the champagne along with a provocative suggestion just after Raz had secured the Wi-Fi. Raz poured Alex a glass of champagne before taking back her tablet. He connected her to the Wi-Fi and gave her the tablet. She pretended to drink her champagne before taking the tablet back from him. He grinned at her pretense.
They settled in to work. They were looking up every piece of information they might be able to find on Admiral William Moses Ingram. They had worked together for so long that they knew each other’s strengths. Alex reviewed everything she could find, from NSA audio recordings of his phone calls to detailed lists of what was on his home computer. Since there was no Mrs. William Ingram, they could be sure that all of that porn was watched by him. Raz reviewed his financial information. They had already dispatched Chief Petty Officer Royce Tubman and his lovely wife, Quanshay, to Faunsville, Alabama, to speak with Nathan’s mother. Colin was on his way to speak with Nathan’s son, Zaine.
Somewhere in all of this information lay the reason Admiral Ingram had gone after Alex and the Fey Team. They just had to find it.
Time passed quickly. The next time Alex looked up, their flight was boarding in forty-five minutes. She tapped Raz on the arm, and he looked at her. His focus still on the material he’d been looking at, he didn’t see her for a moment. She nodded toward the clock and he looked.
“Shit,” he said.
“Don’t panic,” Alex said. “We’re already checked in. They’ll let us know when the plane is boarding.”
Raz raised his eyebrows in question.
“We’re in the luxury lounge,” Alex said, reminding him where he was.
Nodding, he settled back in his chair.
“You must have found something,” Alex said, turning to look at him. He had stiffened again and was looking around the room. “What is it?”
“There’s no one here,” Raz said.
“What do you mean?” Alex asked.
She took in the entire lounge in one glance. All of the other travelers had left the lounge. The wait staff had abandoned their work stations. A manager came out of the back to shoo their waitress into the kitchen. Just before she left the room, their waitress shot Alex a worried look.
“Shit,” Alex said under her breath. “Can I take these fucking things off now?”
Smiling at her, Raz tugged off the necktie. He stuffed it into his pocket before flipping the table in front of them onto its side. Alex pulled off the ridiculous gloves and shoes. She poured the champagne into a nearby plant and tossed the bottle to Raz. Settling back in her chair, she took out the Glock 9mm she always carried and set i
t between the chair and her thigh. Raz slipped his spare weapon next to his left hand and the chair. He took his handgun from his side holster and set it on his thigh.
Alex grabbed his hand. Their eyes locked. She gave him a sad, soft smile before letting go. He touched the back of her hand. There was a sound at the door, and the moment passed.
They shifted to ready.
Alex was stretching her neck when the first man stepped over the threshold and into the room. Alex slipped her hand nearer to her weapon. Wearing a dark green beret, the soldier marched through the door carrying an M-4. The soldier was thin and strong in a way only seen in active-duty military. Moving along the walls, he made military turns at each corner until he ended up standing next to where Alex and Raz were sitting. He’d just stopped marching when the next man came through the door. Surprised, Raz jumped to his feet. Standing at attention, the first man looked right through Raz. The second man marched around the room to come to stand next to the first. A third man worked his way around the walls until he was standing next to the others.
And so it continued.
One man at a time, U.S. Army Special Forces members marched into the room. Within minutes, the men wearing Green Berets and carrying M-4 machine guns lined the walls of the luxury airport lounge.
In a break in form, a young private ran toward Alex. Raz blocked the young man from reaching Alex. After a second, Raz turned to the side to let the private through. Raz wiped his eyes and shook his head with disbelief.
“Sir,” the private said to Alex.
He held out a green beret with her ranking on it. Alex hopped to her feet. Pulling off the ridiculous wig, Alex tugged on the beret. The private saluted her. She returned his salute. The private ran back to the doorway where her friend U.S. Army Colonel Jason Smith, or, as she knew him, “JS,” was standing in the doorway.
“Who do you work for?” JS asked the question their Special Forces training Colonel had been obsessed with.
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