by Fiona Quinn
“That’s okay, ma’am, we’re headed out. Lover boy over there,” Parker rolled his head toward Gage, “can’t be persuaded to leave the good doctor’s side. I’m afraid you’re going to have to put up with him.”
Grossman and Parker each reached into their wallets and produced business cards. “We’d appreciate a call when she wakes up. You can buzz either one of us.”
Gage accepted the cards, he needed them to help him keep track of all the players. One after the other, the scrimmage line was filling up in front of him. He watched as the agents walked out of the room. The CIA handled America’s foreign intelligence. Why were they operating on US soil? And why the hell would foreigners want to kidnap Zoe?
Chapter Eight
GAGE
As the nurse checked Zoe’s vitals. Gage paced. From their timekeeping and their concern about the aftereffects of Zoe’s medicine, it seemed to Gage that the CIA was working something urgently sensitive. Gage peered through the blinds at the dark parking lot, but saw nothing that drew his attention. He thought about Grossman saying “our girl”. Could Zoe be a CIA asset? Hell, could she be an operative for the CIA? Maybe she was playing on the spooks’ field. Gage’s cellphone vibrated in his pocket. He swiped his screen to read the incoming message.
Titus: What’s the sitrep?
Gage texted: FUBAR sir. 2 CIA were here.
The reply came immediately: CIA?
Gage: Asked a lot of questions. Advise.
Titus: I’d keep a tight watch.
Gage: Any progress on the IDs?
Titus: Nothing domestic, the parameters have been expanded to international. It’s going to take time for the computers to search. More as I have it. Out.
Gage glanced at the nurse who sent him a shy smile. “I’m not Doctor Kealoha’s nurse on duty, that’s Stacy.” She pointed to the board with the name written on it. “She got hung up with another patient, so I’m filling in. If you have any questions, I’ll tell Stacy, and she’ll come in and talk to you.”
“How do you think she’s doing?” Gage asked, tucking his hands in his pockets.
“From these readouts, Dr. Kealoha’s fine. She’ll be right as rain after her rest. Her vitals are looking good. This new IV bag is for hydration, not sedation. She should stay asleep for a while, though. We’ll let her wake naturally.” The nurse turned and cleansed her hands with hand sanitizer before she pushed her computer station into the hall, holding the door so it so it would close silently behind her.
Gage pulled his chair back over to Zoe’s bed and sat down with his elbows on the safety bar and his chin on his fists. He desperately wanted to smooth the hair out of her face, to run a hand down her back, to pull her into his arms. But she needed to be whole and healthy to deal with this situation, and he didn’t want to rouse her from her sleep.
The CIA asked if she’d been having nightmares and talking in her sleep. A sign of exhaustion. Why aren’t you sleeping, Zoe? Huh? What’s on your mind? You’re always so laid back…
He tried to think back to when this had started. The last time he’d tried to spend the night was the worst, but she had been flopping around for the last month. Before that, she had slept like a rock.
Spending the night with a woman wasn’t something Gage did as a rule. He’d found that women read too much into their relationship if he woke up beside them. The act of spending the night lead to too many future plans. It was easier to go home and keep the boundaries solid. Less confusion. Less upset when he had to leave on assignment and had no details to share about his comings and goings. There were no promises he could offer that he’d come home safe and sound. He didn’t have the kind of job that lent itself to reassurances.
It wasn’t like that with Zoe. She was uncomplicated. He stopped to laugh at how wrong that statement was. She presented as uncomplicated, he amended. Their relationship had been uncomplicated, at least.
Zoe seemed self-satisfied. She seemed to have complete faith in his ability to do his job and get home. There were no tears or angst. It was easy, really easy to be with Zoe. Their relationship was such a relief to him, and he’d never really reflected on his spending the night. Getting up in the morning and heading back to Quantico didn’t have emotional weight. He never felt like he was leading her on, because she didn’t seem to have an agenda for him. His mind flitted back to thoughts of the CIA and FBI, wouldn’t that be the attitude an operative would have? Seemed to him that might fit.
He scrubbed his hands over his face. He needed another cup of coffee bad, but hell if he was going to leave her alone to roam the halls and find a machine. He looked out the window as the tops of the trees started to show an outline against the blue-black sky. He slowed his breathing and let his mind wander. Sometimes when he was on the battlefield, taking a moment and listening to his thoughts instead of raging forward against the enemy gave him the perspective he needed to make good choices. Oddly, what he was thinking about were those trees.
When he was at UVA, taking the obligatory literature class to meet his requirements, he had been struck by a poet that… Gage leaned his weight onto one hip and pulled his phone from his back pocket. He pulled up a search engine, then stared at the ceiling. He couldn’t remember the poet’s name. The only thing that came to him was “marriage” and “oak tree.” He typed it in with little confidence. But the second link on the list was “On Marriage” by Kahlil Gibran. Gage read the short poem.
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.
“Let each one of you be alone,” Gage murmured. He liked that phrase. Back in Charlottesville, it had been an epiphany. It had led to him breaking up with the girl he’d been dating for almost two years. She was beautiful, smart, witty and athletic, but the more she scripted their future, the more heavily she leaned on him. Almost every decision she made, she filtered through him—from her choice of majors to what to wear when they went to grab some pizza. It seemed to him that the longer they were together, the more she was devoid of her own opinions; she deferred to him too much. It was her background and upraising, he knew. Her mother submitted to her father in all things, and that had worked for their marriage.
Gage didn’t want anything to do with that kind of a relationship. It felt burdensome. It was a responsibility he’d never looked for and didn’t feel comfortable shouldering. He wanted to be with someone who brought new perspectives, ideas, and interests to the relationship, expanding his paradigms rather than absorbing his thoughts and tastes until they weren’t two people but one.
His girlfriend had thought that was the goal—to make two into one. But this poem defined for Gage what he wanted in a relationship—someone who was strong. Independent. Someone who knew her own mind. Had her own friends and interests. And they could share, or they could just be amicably and happily together without needing to share it all. His world shouldn’t construct anyone else’s world. Being in Special Forces, he couldn’t guarantee the person who walked out the front door would be anything like the person who came home. If he came home at all.
Gage had searched a long time to find someone who was strong enough to stand on her own and not fold under the weight of a relationship with him. He thought he had found it a time or two. But as the relationship became more serious, the women he had dated seemed to morph and change, as if to make themselves his ideal—not realizing his ideal was that they simply be themselves. Sometimes he found himself falling into that trap too, shifting for a time to become something he wasn’t in order to preserve the peace or maintain the status quo. But inevitably, that strategy would backfire. Who had the tenacity to maintain a charade like that?
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.
That’s the line he remembered—trees not standing in e
ach other’s shadow. Standing strong by themselves. Zoe had that inner strength. She was happy within her own skin and didn’t seem to need outside validation. It was a very appealing trait.
He stared down at the words of the poem without really seeing them. Zoe seemed to be perfectly content on her own. She also seemed to be perfectly content when he was around, even if they were just two bodies in the same place. He closed his phone as Zoe gave a little moan and straightened her legs. He watched to see if she was coming to, but her lips parted in a sigh, and she continued to sleep.
Gage thought back to the last night they’d spent together, the one that ended with him stomping out of her condo at zero dark hundred to drive back to Quantico to hit the racks when she was tossing around and keeping him awake. He should have stayed and tried to find out what was going on with her. A missed opportunity, in retrospect. And he shouldn’t have missed it
She had been quiet that day. That wasn’t unusual. When they were at her place, he’d usually read or whatever, and Zoe would wander around in her own little world. He’d stay quiet and out of her way when she got that look in her eye, when she pulled her brows together and stared into the distance. He had a sister who was an introvert, and he knew that expression meant Zoe needed to spend time alone in her head. He got it. At least, he thought he did. Now? Shit, nothing was clear. What had she been thinking about all those times, staring at the wall, mumbling under her breath? Warfare?
He watched the slow rise and fall of Zoe’s chest and shook his head. He couldn’t believe that this woman, who never had a bad word for anyone, who wore a sweet Mona Lisa smile as her natural facial expression, could ever contemplate creating the level of destruction that Colonel Guthrie was encouraging. Could she?
Chapter Nine
GAGE
A knock sounded at the door. Gage was out of his chair in an instant. Speak of the devil. Colonel Guthrie stuck his head around the frame. Before he could speak and maybe wake Zoe, Gage was at the door, moving the colonel back into the hallway.
“Just checking in, how’s our girl?”
That was the second time that morning that Zoe had been referred to that way, and it was like nails on a chalkboard to him. Zoe was no one’s “girl.”
“She’s doing fine. Sleeping.”
Colonel Guthrie held out a cup of coffee and a bag with a bakery monogram on the front. “The coffee’s black. I didn’t know how you took it. There’s cream and sugar in the bag with a breakfast sandwich. I thought you’d probably need a pick-me-up by now.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The colonel rocked back on his heels and shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. “I haven’t called over to Hawaii, yet. It’s about midnight over there right now. I didn’t want to pull her parents from their bed and have them worried all night—not until I talked to Zoe myself or had something a little more definitive.”
“I’m told she’s fine.”
The colonel nodded. A close-lipped smile stretched across his face and worry clouded his eyes. “I’ve known Zoe since she was in diapers. And even though she’s nearly thirty, I can’t seem to make her age past her fourth birthday in my mind.” He looked past Gage into Zoe’s room. “Almost thirty. Huh. Doesn’t that feel like a kick in the nuts.” He scratched the line of his jaw. “You’ll keep me in the loop, with what all’s going on? If she needs anything at all, you’ll reach out?”
“Yes, sir. I have your card.”
“All right then. I’m heading to the office. Thank you, son, I appreciate all you’ve done. All you’re doing.” He slapped Gage on the shoulder and headed down the hall.
Gage moved back into the room and pulled the business cards he’d accumulated over the last eight hours out of his pocket. A police detective, a colonel, a senator, a special agent with the FBI, and not one, but two CIA operatives. He fanned them out. With all these experts worried about Zoe’s wellbeing, you’d think he held a winning hand. It felt more like a shitstorm to him.
Zoe moaned, and Gage moved to her side.
“No one will know.” She whispered it so softly that Gage wasn’t sure he’d heard her right.
He crouched by the bed so his ear was near her lips. “Know about what?”
“Sphecius…” She lifted her hand and rubbed the tip of her nose. Her eyes were still closed.
“Sfeeseeus? Is that what you said?”
When she didn’t reply, Gage tried to sound it out and come up with a spelling that seemed reasonable. Google was good at filling in the proper word if he could get his guess anywhere close to being right. He couldn’t remember seeing a word that began with “sf”, so he tried “sph” like sphere. Did she mean sphere? Maybe she meant “spacious.” “Sphecious,” he typed. Google sent him to a Wikipedia page for a wasp, genus Sphecius. He looked over the description—large, solitary, ground dwelling, predatory. This couldn’t be right. She worked with robots. Possibly worked with robots.
Very quietly, so as not to fully wake her, Gage whispered, “Hey, Zoe? Do you know what Sphecius is?”
“Wasp…wasps.” She sighed and seemed to fall deeper into sleep.
His phone buzzed, and Gage moved to the far corner of the room. “Titus, man, I was about to call you.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve got some good news and some bad news.”
“Shit.”
“That about sums it up. Is she still conked out?”
“The nurse stopped sedation a while back. She said Zoe’s just sleeping now.”
“Didn’t you tell me that the special agent on the case was setting her up in a safe house? This might be the time to give him a call and rock Zoe on over there.”
Gage was on immediate alert. “What did you dig up?”
“The two guys that you killed last night? They’re MIA, assumed dead.”
“Come again?”
“He’s listed as Israeli Special Forces, killed in a bomb attack in 2006. We’d need DNA to make it one hundred percent, but with the combination of the ear scan, face scan, and fingerprints you sent, we’re still hitting probabilities in the low-nineties on both of them.”
“What could they possibly want with Zoe?”
“Good question. Why don’t you get her moved, then call me back? I already talked to command and was given permission to lend Iniquus assistance, pro bono. They don’t like the idea of foreign mercenaries playing with our DARPA scientists.”
“Prescott told me this morning the safe house plans for Zoe have been nixed. I’m on my own to protect her for the moment. Surely if they knew who these guys were, it would change their minds?”
“I don’t think it’s wise to wait on FBI red tape to get sliced. I think you need to shake her awake, get her dressed, and move on out the door. The hospital leaves her too vulnerable with too many ways to make bad things go down. I’m headed your way, I’ll take you to an Iniquus location. That should buy us some time to figure out what’s going on.”
“Thanks, man, I owe you. She’s room 606 at Inova Alexandria. Hey, on the off chance, have you ever heard the word Sphecius?”
“Sphecius? No. You can tell me where you heard it when I pick you up. I’m heading for the garage now.”
As he hung up the phone, the door pushed open slowly. Gage shook his head. This hospital room was like a circus tent. Ring one—CIA. Ring two—DARPA and the colonel. In two strides, he was jerking the door open to see who was in ring number three. A small man with the pointed face of a weasel and small, wiry frame, stood outside the door. “I was told this was Dr. Kealoha’s room.”
“That’s correct. She’s asleep. May I help you?” Gage held the door, so the man couldn’t see in, and stared him down. The guy was dressed impeccably and had the polished feel of a man who enjoyed being pampered.
“Oh, ah, no. I came to check on how Dr. Kealoha is doing.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a card.
“Topher Bilik. I’m the director of one of Dr. Kealoha’s ongoing projects at Montrim.” He held out h
is card and adjusted his body into a posture of power. At least that’s what Gage thought the guy was doing. Gage took the card and slid it into his pocket without a glance. He didn’t offer up his own name in return.
“Zoe works at Montrim,” Bilik added, then tilted his head, trying again to peek around Gage’s muscular build into the hospital room.
Gage stared at the guy, wondering why the heck he’d showed up to see Zoe at this hour of the morning.
“How is she?”
“Fine.” Gage arched his brow. “How’d you know she was here?”
The man took a step back, as if thrown off balance. He quickly recovered himself and offered up a plastic smile. “Oh, Colonel Guthrie called me last night.”
“Last night?” Gage tilted his head. “What time last night?”
Bilik scratched his upper lip. “Early this morning, I guess.”
“He woke you up with this? There’s nothing wrong with her.”
Bilik seemed to realize how odd that would be. He tried to change the subject. “Is there anything Dr. Kealoha needs? She’s a shining star at our organization. We want to make sure she has everything she could possibly need.”
“Why would Colonel Guthrie wake you up in the middle of the night?” Gage wouldn’t let it go. “Why couldn’t it wait for morning? Why did he call you in the first place?”
The man gave him a bloodless smile. “If you’ll be so kind to pass my card to Dr. Kealoha and let her know I stopped by? I’ll call her on her cellphone later.” He turned, and with his arm up in a goodbye, he skulked toward the elevator.
Gage shut the door and moved back toward Zoe, wishing she’d come to. He held his phone between his palms and stared out the window. Too many players were worried about Zoe’s wellbeing, and Gage had lead in his belly. It was the feeling he got on a mission when there were bad things on the horizon. He furrowed his brow as he dialed his superior. “Sir? Major Gage Harrison here. I’m respectfully requesting leave to take care of a situation of exceptional circumstance.” His gaze fell on Zoe as she stretched out her legs and blinked her eyes open.