by Rachel Grant
Mara had never seen the man by Ivy’s side before. The photo backdrop was nothing but blue sky. She opened the photo’s metadata file, and it had been taken just minutes before and included the UTM location where CAM showed up as a red dot on the digital map.
Why had Ivy sent the photo? To prove she was the person at the keyboard?
That there was no mention of the photo could mean Ivy was under duress.
It was just after nine in the morning in Palau, but it was after eight p.m. in DC. An hour ago, Mara had sent Cressida and Trina home. It could be a long night waiting for Ivy to report in, and Mara’s husband had insisted on being the person to keep her company in her anxious vigil.
After all, as the US attorney general, Curt could get answers from the Pentagon as to why the Navy hadn’t demanded that Ivy be brought home. Nothing added up, but if anyone could get answers, it was Curt.
Sometimes it was incredibly convenient being married to the head of the Justice Department. She’d miss that aspect of his job when he stepped down in a few months, but she was eager to have more of his attention, eager to start their family.
But right now, she was damn grateful he was a cabinet member and even the highest brass at the Pentagon had no choice but to take his calls.
Curt paced the length of her office, deep in phone conversation with a general who’d ignored Mara’s repeated calls. She caught his eye and pointed to the computer. “I need you to look at something.”
He nodded and wrapped up his conversation. A minute later, he stepped behind her at her desk. His hands fell to her shoulders, and his thumbs dug into her shoulders in a quick, casual massage. She leaned back. The top of her head brushed against his stomach, and she smiled up at him.
He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. “What’s up?”
She nodded toward the computer. “Ivy attached a picture but didn’t mention it in her email. I’m wondering why.”
“That’s Jack Keaton?” Curt asked.
“I presume.”
He pulled his computer glasses from his breast pocket and slipped them on, then leaned toward the screen. There was something about when he put on his glasses. Like he was Clark Kent. Sweet. Nerdy. And hot as hell. She never got tired of it.
He stared at the image. “Holy crap. That’s Parker Reeves.”
She sat upright, her infatuation with her husband brushed aside. “Parker Reeves? The Coast Guard lieutenant who turned out to be a Russian spy? You’re sure?”
“Not a hundred percent. I never met him in person, but I saw enough photos when we investigated him after the fact. We need to get Luke Sevick or Undine Gray on the phone. Luke can confirm if it’s Reeves.”
Dimitri had hoped it would take Ivy longer to figure out how the Pentagon was using her, but those were the breaks when working with a woman with a high-genius IQ. Then again, her brain had also created CAM, which just might find Sophia and Yulian’s salvation, so he couldn’t complain.
“I’m not a spy,” she insisted.
“No. Not intentionally, yet there’s no doubt you’re collecting data. The same kind of data spy technology would gather.”
“Data you intend to steal.” She frowned. “Have I mentioned it’s illegal to collect artifacts or debris from the Peleliu wreckage or from any archaeological or historic site? Artifact trafficking is closely tied to drug trafficking. If you’re looking for something to be used in the drug trade, you can bet your ass I’ll make sure you fry for it.”
He huffed out a sigh. “The object I’m looking for isn’t part of the Peleliu battle, and it isn’t an artifact.” His gaze flattened. “I’m also not a low-life drug smuggler.” Ridiculous that the accusation should rankle so much, considering she had no reason to believe he was even a remotely decent human being, but still it did.
“So it’s some sort of spy thing, and you’re going to take it and leave me holding the bag.” Her vocal cords sounded dry. “I’ll be sent to prison for aiding and abetting a spy.”
“Not if they never know you found it. Right now, no one has given you any orders regarding anything except mapping Peleliu. It’s not your fault the Pentagon is scouring your uploads to the database for the object. And not your fault they haven’t told you what to look for.”
“They’ll see it, and you’re going to take it. I am so fucked.”
There was nothing he could say to that. Would it have been better if he’d stayed Jack? He could have spent the next week screwing her brains out and she’d have trusted him completely. However, she still wouldn’t have given Jack access to the GIS mapping database, and it would have come down to this anyway. After a life of lying, it was refreshing to choose the truth. And at least going this route, he’d given her a modicum of power. If she was half the hacker he believed her to be, she’d follow the trail that would lead straight to Luke Sevick, and then maybe she’d find a reason to trust him.
Luke probably received his card today. He would vouch for Parker. At least, he hoped the former SEAL would. Sending Luke the card had been the ultimate gamble—and he’d wagered his life. Ivy’s too, if he couldn’t protect her from others who were after CAM.
No further messages arrived from her boss, and she logged out of the system, then fixed him with a hard gaze. “Take me to Peleliu. I need to pick up where I left off on the survey.”
“No. We’re going to the Rock Islands. Your boss will understand why you’ve switched to the more remote survey areas. It’s safer to hide there when boys from ISIS will be coming after you.”
She glared at him. “Patrick’s terrorist group wasn’t affiliated with ISIS.”
He laughed. She was quibbling over that? “Sweetheart, a terrorist is a terrorist—you can try to console yourself thinking at least your ex was in deep with better terrorists than ISIS, but really, it’s a bullshit argument. Better how? Al Qaeda better? Taliban better? Al Shabaab? Boko Haram? Does that ease the sting for you? They’re all killers who believe in raping little girls. They’re the kind of people who board school buses and shoot fifteen-year-old girls in the head. That’s who your ex aligned with. And you can bet your ass that once Dr. Patrick Hill was out of the equation, his followers turned to ISIS. They’ve got the money and recruiting, and now they could get CAM. Your CAM. Handed over to ISIS thanks to your husband’s promises. You picked an evil sonofabitch to marry.”
She flinched, and he suspected she wanted to lash out. But she couldn’t, because he was right. She scanned him from head to toe. “Apparently, my taste in men hasn’t improved since the divorce.”
“There’s one major difference: I’m protecting you and CAM from ISIS.”
“You haven’t given me a single reason to believe that.” She crossed the deck.
“Put together the drone,” he said before she disappeared down the hatch. “So you’re ready to work when we reach the Rock Islands.”
He turned back to the helm. He’d known she’d lump him in with the likes of her ex, but the words grated anyway. Dr. Patrick Hill chose his path. He actively sought to become a player in the Middle East and was nothing better than a slimy arms dealer, buying weapons from lowlifes who’d managed to stockpile them when the Soviet Union dissolved. Hill had sold arms to all sides of the conflict in Syria and Iraq, because conflict meant more access, more customers, more power.
Dimitri’s life had been proscribed from the moment he was plucked from the orphan home. He’d been part of a new wave of fully embedded spies, like the Soviet sleeper agents dispatched during the Cold War, but he was from the new Russia. A post-Yeltsin-era spy.
He’d done his duty for his country on one condition: his sister, Sophia, had to be removed from the training program. Of course, that was his fatal mistake. He’d let the spymasters in the GRU know he cared about his little sister.
When he found the man who’d hurt his sister this time, he’d break every bone in his body with a ball-peen hammer.
His breaking point as Parker Reeves had come when he received orders to t
ake out Luke Sevick if needed to maintain his cover.
He could have done it. There’d been a moment when they were pulled into the Osprey, when Luke was removing his harness. One little push, and Dimitri would still be in the US Coast Guard, stationed in Neah Bay, no one the wiser that he was a Russian agent. He’d have been the surviving hero of the night, and Luke would have been mourned for his tragic, heroic, accidental death.
But Dimitri had reached out and pulled Luke into the Osprey without regret.
Luke had calmly met his gaze, said thanks, and handed Dimitri a parachute. “Better get going,” he’d said. “Because it won’t go well for you if you stay.”
Dimitri jumped moments later, thus killing his alter ego, Parker Reeves.
In Ivy’s eyes, Dimitri was every bit the lowlife her ex was. She wouldn’t give a damn that he was protecting the only family he had.
He ran his hand over his face, trying to erase his thoughts so he could focus on the job at hand. It would take a few hours to reach the Rock Islands. He could get there faster thanks to the souped-up engines, but there was no point in tipping off the Navy as to what Liberty could do. Plus, Ivy needed time to hack.
He started the engines, setting a course for the islands where Russia’s prototype Air/Underwater Unmanned Vehicle went missing, hoping to hell he’d be able to find it before other hostile nations got their hands on it.
Chapter Ten
Not a day had gone by since that cold November night when Luke Sevick had taken flight in a boat with Parker Reeves that he didn’t think about the Russian spy and wonder if he’d survived the jump from the Osprey. Jump conditions had been less than ideal. The aircraft had been low, and Parker had been rushed. No time even to inspect or secure the chute.
It had bothered him that, in all likelihood, he’d never know if Parker survived, not unless the Russian’s body turned up on the Canadian coastline.
Every day that no body was found was another day he breathed a small sigh of relief, even though it didn’t mean anything, really. Parker’s body was just as likely to have been washed out to sea. But still. Luke couldn’t help but root for the guy.
Yesterday, at last, his question had been answered in the form of a card. Parker was alive, and he’d reached out to Luke.
He’d spent the night trying to figure out why, then early this afternoon, he’d heard the news from Palau. He’d bet everything he had that Parker Reeves and Jack Keaton were the same man.
Parker was wanted in the US for espionage. Luke had had no choice but to tell Curt Dominick and the other investigators the truth of what happened on the Interceptor, and the Justice Department had quietly issued a warrant they knew they were unlikely to ever serve.
Undine was the only person who knew Luke had let Parker go. Now, thanks to Parker’s note, he faced a difficult choice. Rat out the man who’d helped save everything Luke held dear? Or quietly catch a flight to Palau and track down the spy himself?
As appealing as a trip to Palau was—given that the scuba diving was among the best in the world, he and Undine had discussed it as a potential honeymoon destination—their wedding wasn’t until August, and the sudden trip could raise questions.
He and Undine had been living in a damn fishbowl for most of the winter. There’d been no hiding what had happened in November, and to his horror, he’d been made the face of the news story. It was only in the last two months that life had begun to settle down—after they’d moved yet again and this time managed to keep their home address secret. But had things settled enough for him to go after Parker anonymously?
News reports from Palau were scant on details. Palau was hardly on the international radar, and there hadn’t even been guns involved. So far, reports indicated the only people hurt were the terrorists—who’d suffered broken bones thanks to Jack Keaton. Only Palauan government officials had been identified as guests at the event.
It was unclear if any terrorists had escaped arrest or not.
Unable to concentrate, Luke left work early. At home, he could make discreet phone calls to find out more about the guest list. He frowned as he passed the gym on the drive home. He and Undine had made plans to meet there in an hour. Maybe they’d have time for a run later in the evening.
Undine yanked the door open before he had a chance to pull out his key. “Oh, thank God you’re home. I’ve been trying to reach you. I was just about to call the gym to ask if you were there.” She flung herself at him, and his arms closed around her. He would never get enough of this, the moment of holding her at the end of the day. Even when she was upset as she was today—or maybe especially when she was upset—it was a gift to have this woman in his arms, to be able to comfort her.
Last November, he’d been within ten minutes of not having this life.
He tilted her head up to meet his gaze. “What happened?”
“I just got a call from Mara. Ivy MacLeod was at the party in Palau that was attacked by terrorists.”
The name was vaguely familiar. “Ivy. The new hire at NHHC? The woman who replaced you?”
“She’s a new hire, yes, but she didn’t replace me. She’s not an underwater archaeologist. She’s the GIS person. The mapping and remote sensing expert. Patrick Hill’s ex-wife.”
Patrick Hill. The traitor who was about to go on trial for espionage and arms dealing. He frowned. “Is she okay?”
“I’m not sure. Mara and Curt want to talk to us both. Something strange is going on, and I’m worried about Ivy.”
“You’re sure Ivy doesn’t have ties to Hill’s terrorist group?” What did this mean for Parker? Could Luke have been wrong about him?
“I’m sure. Mara’s sure. Curt’s sure. She went through massive vetting considering who she’d been married to and the technical work she does. Ivy’s crazy smart. I hear her mapping drone dabbles in artificial intelligence.”
Well, that could explain Parker’s involvement. What spy organization wouldn’t want an AI drone in their arsenal?
Damn. He’d hoped the card meant Parker wasn’t in the trade anymore. Letting him go might have been a massive mistake.
He kicked off his shoes and peeled off his jacket, then crossed the living room to the couch. He wanted to call Curt, but first he needed to get up to speed on the situation. “How well do you know Ivy MacLeod?”
Undine canted her head to the side, thinking. Finally, she said, “I met her at least a half-dozen times when the Underwater Archaeology Branch was doing that joint project with MacLeod-Hill. She’s Alec Ravissant’s cousin, which is why Hill did so much campaigning for Alec. Apparently her marriage fell apart during the election, but she didn’t tell Alec at the time because it was messy and Alec had bigger issues on his plate. I was diving in the Great Lakes that summer, so I missed most of the drama.
“Trina told me a while ago that Cressida and Ivy have grown close. They both started working at NHHC around the same time and have a shared dislike of Ivy’s ex. According to everyone, Ivy fits right in at the office. She works hard and knows GIS better than anyone. She’s got a freaky awesome brain. She does trigonometry for fun.” Worry clouded Undine’s green-brown eyes. “She’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. Possibly even the smartest.”
Luke rubbed a hand over his jaw. Parker had mailed the card before the party. Had he known the attack was coming? Had he suspected Ivy was in danger?
“Time to call Curt,” he said and reached for a phone. He set the volume to speaker before he dialed. The attorney general answered right away and didn’t waste time with pleasantries before turning on the speaker on his end as well, including Mara in the conversation.
“Before we get started, I’ve emailed you a photo,” Curt said. “I need you to take a look.”
Luke pulled his laptop from his satchel and opened the top, positioning it so Undine could see the screen. It took a moment for his email to load. He knew in his gut what he would see when he clicked on the attachment from Curt, but still, his breath left him in a
rush. “Parker Reeves, you sonofabitch.”
“That’s him in the photo?” Curt asked.
“Yes. I take it the woman is Ivy.” She looked vaguely familiar, and he realized he’d seen her photo in various news stories about Hill. It was widely reported Ivy would testify against her ex in his upcoming trial. He frowned. “Could this be about the trial? Is Hill trying to keep her off the stand?”
“Unlikely,” Curt said. “The prosecution doesn’t need Ivy’s testimony to convict. She’ll be testifying on lesser charges, not treason or espionage.”
Relief rippled through him. The idea that Parker had sunk to kidnapping women to keep terrorists from conviction was…beyond distasteful. In his gut he believed Parker was one of the good guys, or he wouldn’t have handed him that parachute.
“What’s going on with Ivy MacLeod?” he asked.
“We aren’t certain yet,” Mara answered. “But there’s a chance Parker has her because he wants her mapping equipment, which is biometrically coded to her, not to mention that no one else would begin to know how to use it.”
“What would Parker want with it?” The technology was hardly useful as a spy tool if Ivy had to be part of the package.
Curt cleared his throat. “I finally received an honest briefing from the Defense Intelligence Agency and the Pentagon. You both were cleared to receive this level of information last fall, so I’m not violating the law in bringing you into the loop, and right now, Luke, you’re my best source for insight into Reeves—or Keaton—we honestly have no clue what his real name is.” He paused. “Is your phone secure?”
“Yes.” Luke had hired Lee Scott to secure all their phones when he found himself at the center of a media circus last fall. He had no idea if anyone had tried to hack his phone, but he wasn’t about to take that chance, especially given the number of calls like this one that had gone back and forth as the feds investigated everything that had led up to that cold November night.