Undercover Soldier

by Linda O. Johnston

  She felt a little better in her room with the door closed firmly behind her. She wished it had a lock, but the best she could do was to move its only chair against the door, one with an ornate but scuffed wooden back that must have been lovely when it was new.

  She crossed the room to where her small suitcase lay on the floor. She stooped and looked around—as if Roy could see her through the closed door. Not likely. Nor was there any indication of security cameras or any other way Brody or anyone else could keep an eye on her movements inside this house. She was being foolish.

  Not surprising, with everything that had happened to her in the past few days. Well, she was going to take back control, starting in this small way.

  Only then did she remove the smart phone from the wad of underwear where she had hidden it, inside her suitcase.

  She smiled as she cradled it in her hand but didn’t turn it on yet. Instead, she also pulled out the cord to charge it and plugged it in, just in case.

  When she’d started working at CMHealthfoods a couple of years ago, they supplied her with a business phone with its own number that she could use for personal matters, too. That was the one she always carried with her—until Brody had usurped it.

  But she hadn’t given up the personal phone number she’d had before. Although she hadn’t upgraded the smart phone that now lay on the bedside table, the fact that it wasn’t the latest technology didn’t make it unusable.

  Unsurprisingly, Brody had taken her laptop and business phone. This house had a landline—Brody had confirmed that, and she had seen a couple of phones on tables—so she wasn’t completely cut off from communicating with the outside world. Nor would she have to rely on good old Roy to make calls on her behalf on his cell phone.

  But her ability to call anyone on the landline would be limited, since Roy would know about it. Nor would any calls be private—not with Roy listening in.

  Little did Brody know that she had other resources. She could make calls from her own smart phone.

  And use the internet.

  She needed to be careful, though. She wouldn’t research anything to put her on the radar of whoever had come after her before. But she didn’t need to do that again anyway. It had resulted from her trying to find out what had really happened to Brody McAndrews.

  Nor would she do anything that smacked of doing work for CMHealthfoods, in case someone monitored that, too, to try to find her.

  But her life revolved around computer research. She was determined to do end runs around what Brody himself was looking into—government contracts for work in Afghanistan, and particularly deals entered into with All For Defense.

  She wouldn’t see Brody again soon but knew how involved he was in finding answers. His way would undoubtedly be most effective. But she could do some peeking her way, too, in case there’d been anything in the news about AFD or otherwise that might help determine who was behind the bombing.

  It would give her an excuse to call him—on the house phone. She wouldn’t tell him she was disobeying and doing online research, but would just give him some “suggestions” that came to her while twiddling her thumbs here.

  Even if Brody wound up permanently out of her life sooner that way, she would potentially be able to resume that life sooner, too.

  She sat on the bed and held her phone, letting it continue to charge. She connected to the internet and looked up All For Defense on her favorite search engine.

  Interesting outfit, from what she’d seen before and confirmed now. It was mostly into constructing and dismantling buildings—anywhere in the world. Its largest client was the U.S. government.

  The company earned millions of dollars of taxpayer money every year. Supposedly, it bid against other contractors for most of its work. And usually won.

  Nothing in what she found suggested corruption of any kind—but what if those bids were rigged?

  She dug a little deeper… .

  And was startled by a knock on the door.

  “Yes?” She quickly unplugged the phone and hid the cord and handset in the top drawer of the nightstand. She’d stow it more carefully later, but Roy might push open the door at any second, notwithstanding the chair in the way.

  “Hey, Sally. Your hubby is on the house phone. He needs to talk to you right away.”

  Sherra stood, pulled the chair away and opened the door. Her heart pounded unevenly, and not just because she’d been startled by the knock. “Is he okay?”

  “Sounds like, but he wants to ask you a question.”

  “Okay.” Sherra maneuvered past Roy and hurried to the living room, where a phone lay on a shelf near the TV. She picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Sally,” said Brody’s deep, calm voice. He sounded fine, but he could be a good actor. “This is Jim Martin calling.”

  “Hi, Jim,” she said back. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes, but—” His voice grew lower and Sherra strained to hear him. “This line should be secure,” he’d said. “I need your help, Sally, using the skills I know you’re damned good at. I need advice about hacking into some websites, and most especially email.”

  * * *

  Brody hated to call Sherra for that kind of help but had no choice. He’d reached an impasse.

  At the moment, he sat at his desk at AFD, staring with disgust at the piles of paper that had grown while he was gone. Wasn’t this the electronic era? And it didn’t contain stuff he really needed to work on.

  He had returned to AFD, emitting a few coughs and sniffles to again validate the reason he’d been away for a few days—a supposed cold. As always, he had to remember his glasses, altered posture and everything else that constituted his disguise here, not that any AFD staffer he’d met in Afghanistan ever showed up.

  His supervisor in Human Resources, Crandall Forbes, had sniffed, too—mostly out of dislike at having someone around who might be contagious. At least he kept his distance after their initial greeting. That was fine with Brody, since he still reviled the strong scent of cigarettes.

  Using his pseudo identity here at AFD as Jim Martin, Brody made some calls after taking a quick swing through the inevitable emailed resumes. They didn’t contain the information he was really after.

  But after trying once more to check a whole other kind of email—something he had attempted frequently, from different angles, since starting in his undercover position here—he was totally frustrated. The latest step-by-step instructions he had received from an authorized Defense Information Systems Agency computer nerd with the highest security clearances hadn’t worked any better than other suggested methods he’d used before.

  Maybe he should have run this question by Sherra previously, but it was something he would rather not have gotten her involved with.

  But that was before, when he’d had hope this new way would work. This was now. He had reached a whole new level of frustration. Maybe, considering the passage of time and the increase of tension thanks to Sherra’s involvement, it was becoming desperation.

  “I can’t go into a lot of detail,” he said softly to Sherra over his own smart phone. He had once again made certain there were no bugs planted in his office or any other way of his personal conversations being hijacked. Even so, he continued to use their aliases. But what he was about to discuss with her had better not be heard by anyone else. “The email system here is very secure, and I need access to some accounts that aren’t my own. I tried things that others in my own organization suggested but nothing has worked. I suspect, though, that you’ll—”

  “Have ideas about how to hack into a highly secure email system?” He enjoyed the amazed laughter in the tone of her voice.

  He pictured her, lovely and casual and altogether sexy, stretched out on the living room couch as they talked. He smiled back at the phone until he realized what he
was doing and grew serious again. “Exactly.”

  He remained determined to get this job completed as quickly as possible. He hadn’t succeeded before, and now, with Sherra in the picture, he had even more incentive to succeed fast.

  He couldn’t keep her at the safe house in Maryland, under guard, forever.

  Besides…if he completed this mission and regained his true identity, maybe, after a cooling-off period, he could get to know her again. Really know her. Not just physically.

  But for now—

  “It would be easier for me to make suggestions if you sent me an email from that system,” she told him, no further humor in her voice. “Like, if you hadn’t stolen my computer.”

  “I understand,” he said. “But I’ll tell you all I know about it, then you can tell me anything you think of that might let me access others’ accounts.”

  So far, he had collected what information he could about the company’s executives who put proposals together for government contracts, and who ultimately pushed for their acceptance and negotiated their contents. He now had a whole list of AFD people whose email accounts he wanted to see so he could review their communications with each other and, even more importantly, their communications with government employees—especially within the Corps of Engineers—while the contracts were under negotiation.

  Somewhere, in all those emails, might be the information he sought: who had authorized shoddy work for prime monetary consideration—the issues he had started researching and revealing to his superiors while in Afghanistan…that damned information that had ultimately led to his “death.”

  The suggestions of his official techie contacts hadn’t been much help yet.

  “I don’t suppose you’d just give me back my computer so I could handle this for you, would you, Jim?” Her voice now was low and seductive, as if she asked instead for him to return there for another night of hot sex.

  Too bad that wasn’t so. Or that he couldn’t have agreed anyway. Too much was at stake.

  “Sorry.” He knew his tone didn’t sound sorry at all. “I need to do this. But you’re savvy enough to give me detailed instructions. So what are they?”

  She laughed again. “I had to try. Anyway, here’s what I’d suggest.”

  A lot of what she said made logical sense. Some he had her rephrase since his techie knowledge was limited. He made notes while keeping his ears open for anyone passing by.

  When she was done, she said, “I’m not sure it’ll work, Jim. But you can always call me with questions. I’ll be here.” She sounded wistful, and he wished he were close enough to kiss her lovely, hot lips in gratitude…and, with luck, seduction.

  Instead, all he said was, “Thanks, Sally. I’ll check in again later with Roy to make sure everything’s all right. Meantime, you continue to listen to him. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she responded. The words she added, though, made him want even more to be with her. “Just take care of yourself, Jim. Stay safe. I’d really feel…well, I just don’t want what the world thinks about you know who…never mind.”

  He knew what she’d wanted to say, though.

  She didn’t want the world thought about Brody McAndrews to actually come true.

  Chapter 13

  What Sherra did want, though, was to shake some sense into Brody.

  She slammed the landline’s receiver back into its cradle and stared at it, as if it still created a direct line to Brody through which she could attempt to reason with him.

  She hadn’t tried to make her instructions harder or more detailed than necessary, but they were still complicated to someone who didn’t deal with complex computer research all the time.

  Didn’t he realize how much easier it would be for him to access the email if she jumped in and did the work? She had no idea whether what she’d said had gotten through to him.

  What if he did hack into the company’s email but created red flags within its security system? She’d tried to make that part clear to him, too, but what if she hadn’t been specific enough?

  She stood. No way could she just sit around doing nothing, or even merely using her own smart phone to do surreptitious research on Brody’s behalf.

  All she would do is worry about him and what waves he was creating—potentially dangerous ones.

  She had already considered ways to get the hell out of this remote, if scenic, Dodge. Now she absolutely had to put the best plan into effect.

  She glanced toward the living room doorway. No sign of Roy. Had he been watching her? Listening from nearby?

  She needed to get his attention now.

  She rocked forward from the waist, hugging herself around the belly. She moaned slightly—feigned, but she had to make it look good.

  Then she hurried back toward her bedroom. Still no sign of Roy. She shut the door anyway, then ran into the bathroom, also slamming its door shut behind her.

  She waited for five minutes, then emerged and again left her room. She walked slowly, as if in pain.

  Roy was in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a glass of water in front of him. He was reading a magazine on hot rods.

  Sherra doubled over, squeezing her midsection while taking deep breaths. When she straightened, she said, “I’ve got a problem, cousin. I need to go to a drugstore right away.”

  “No way,” Roy said. “We’re staying here till I hear otherwise from Brody or one of my commanding officers.”

  “Then I’ll be in trouble and so will you. I won’t go into detail, but I need some feminine products a lot earlier than anticipated this month, so I’m not prepared. I need them fast.”

  He stood and pushed the chair back so quickly that he appeared ready to run away. The guy didn’t like to hear about female problems? Too bad.

  “You don’t have—I mean, can’t you use something else?”

  “Not considering…well, the extent of my problem. And it’s likely to get worse. This has happened before, especially when I’m under stress. And you of all people should recognize that I am definitely under stress.”

  “All right,” he finally said, unease scrunching wrinkles along his broad forehead. His face was florid, from his wide, flabby chin to the top of his bald head. “We’ll make it quick as possible. And I’ll need to be with you all the time.”

  She grinned almost wickedly. “In the aisle with feminine products? Sure.” Then, for effect, she doubled over once more, clutched her stomach and groaned.

  * * *

  They drove to a large chain pharmacy in the closest retail area to the house.

  It went better than Sherra had hoped. Cousin Roy was even more uncomfortable being around feminine products than he was being around a woman with female problems. He stayed an aisle or so away as she pretended to consider available choices.

  Fortunately, Brody hadn’t taken any belongings from her except those that might provide internet access—the ones he knew about. Her purse still contained her wallet, and it held a little cash and a credit card.

  She bent down to ostensibly look at the items on the lower shelf…then quickly duckwalked away, staying low enough that her bodyguard couldn’t see her.

  Once outside, she hurried into a large grocery store. There, she pulled out her smart phone and used it to find a taxi service. To catch the cab without being seen, she chose a nearby busy strip mall. Could she get there in time and without Roy seeing her?

  He would be searching for her. Was probably already looking, furious with her.

  She managed it, though. It didn’t hurt that she’d layered her clothes and now stripped down to a whole different outfit—tank top and shorts instead of sweatshirt and jeans. Plus, she pinned up her shoulder-length black hair beneath a cap she had found at the house. Not a great disguise, but it was better than nothing.

  Sh
e walked into the parking lot with shoulders hunched, legs slightly bent, trying to use an entirely different gait from her norm. Fortunately, she didn’t see Roy. That didn’t mean he hadn’t seen her, but he didn’t jump from behind any cars.

  She didn’t run but wove between cars, then ducked into a clothing store, followed by a liquor store, all the time watching for a pursuer.

  She soon reached the strip mall. The cab was already there. She hurried inside and slammed the door.

  Instead of giving her own address, many miles from here, she gave Brody’s—which was just as far. She’d thought this through. Her condo wasn’t safe. Plus, it would be easier to help Brody at his home.

  And wouldn’t it be fun to surprise him there similarly to the way he had burst into her place?

  As the taxi drove off, Sherra spotted Roy for the first time. He was stomping furiously outside the pharmacy where they had last been together.

  Fortunately, he didn’t look in the taxi’s direction.

  She was free.

  * * *

  “What do you mean she disappeared?” Brody, fortunately alone in a hallway at AFD, was livid. He’d known from the moment he saw Roy’s name and number on the caller ID that things couldn’t be good—but this? He tightened his fist that wasn’t holding the phone, half wishing it was around Roy’s neck.

  “She played me. I was stupid. I admit it.”

  As if Roy’s admission would remedy the situation. “What do you mean?”

  Hesitantly, the man told Brody what Sherra had said and done. “When I looked around in the drugstore, she was gone. I spent an hour looking for her everywhere, in that store and others nearby, but I couldn’t find her.”

  If the situation wasn’t so critical, Brody might have smiled about Sherra’s creativity. But it was critical. He had taken her to the safe house to keep her…well, safe. Now, she could be in danger once more, and he didn’t know how to find and protect her.

  Assuming Roy was telling the truth.

  Since Brody had her cell phone with him, he couldn’t even call her.