by Justine Davis, Amy J. Fetzer, Katherine Garbera, Meredith Fletcher, Catherine Mann
All the times she’d been sent to her room or a corner in foster homes, not to be seen or heard, had haunted her. She had felt powerless and helpless in a way she hadn’t felt since she was a child. No one should have to go through what she’d gone through, then and in the past two months.
Riley looked at her. Pain echoed in his eyes. “Sam, I can’t do anything about that. I’ve fixed what I could.”
Her voice broke, and she didn’t speak until she was under control again. “I missed Rainy’s funeral. I wasn’t there with my friends when they needed me. No matter what you do, you can’t fix that.”
“I know.”
“I want out,” Sam declared. “You can’t come in here after two months and tell me everything has been taken care of, but now we have a mission. My apartment has been taken by this time, and my personal property has either been thrown out on the street, locked in storage or auctioned off.”
“Your apartment is still there,” Riley said. “I made the last two payments for you. I took care of your utilities, as well. You don’t have any credit cards. Your car is out in the parking lot here at the Agency.” He looked at her. “Your life is intact, Sam. So is your job.”
“I’m free?” She stated that as if she couldn’t believe it.
Riley nodded. “Free.”
“And what the hell makes you think I want my job back?”
He looked at her. “Maybe you don’t, Sam. I don’t know how I would feel if I were you. I don’t know how you feel right now. However you feel, I’m trying like hell to understand and I’ll help you any way I can. But I need you.” He pushed his breath out. “This woman that looks like you, she’s tied up in the arms shipments in Berzhaan somehow. I’ve convinced Mitchell that I’m the right guy for this job. That we’re the right people for this job.” He paused. “I need you to make this work. The same likeness that exists that landed you in trouble can be used against her.”
His words echoed in the room. The honesty in them was so real they cut like a knife. She discovered that she liked having heard him say that. I need you. Simple and direct, and she was surprised at how good it made her feel. Yet, at the same time, his words and his need—so apparent in him now—scared the hell out of her. I need you was also a trap, a commitment that she didn’t want to have to make.
“Where were you when I needed you?” Sam asked in a ragged whisper. If he saw that what he was asking was more than he had given, surely he would just go away.
He eyed her steadily. “I was here, Sam. Then, when I couldn’t be here anymore, I was in Berzhaan. Maybe if I hadn’t been the one to bring you in I wouldn’t have stuck around. But I was. And I did.” He paused. “I’m also the one who found the woman in Berzhaan.”
Sam crossed her arms and shook her head. “I can’t go. I want to see my friends. I need to see my friends.” I want to be around people who don’t want to lock me up, she thought. Not around someone who might change his mind at any moment. Not around someone I embarrassed myself with.
“I understand that. Let me show you something.” Riley reached into his pocket and pulled out a portable DVD player. “You and Howie were working on the Cipher killing.”
Sam stood her ground. She wasn’t going to be lured into Riley’s trap. What she wanted to do, all she wanted to do, was get back to Arizona and check in with Kayla, Alex, Darcy and the others.
“Howie told me you guys got close to discovering the Cipher’s identity,” Riley said.
“Maybe.”
“Howie told me about the boat,” Riley went on. “About how you picked that ‘accident’ as a contract hit.” He opened the DVD player. “You narrowed it down to what? Fifteen guys?”
“Eleven,” Sam said, still not moving. “There were eleven men on that yacht. Provided the Cipher isn’t a woman with large hands.”
“He isn’t. He was onboard the yacht when it slammed into the docks.”
“Probably not then, but shortly before,” Sam agreed. “He must have dived out of the boat just seconds before the impact. That’s the only way he could have gotten close enough to grab his victim’s foot and hold him under till he drowned.” She studied his features. “We can’t prove that the Cipher was there.”
“Take a look at this.” Riley pushed the DVD player in her direction.
Reluctantly Sam looked. Image after image scrolled through the DVD viewer screen.
“After you nailed down those eleven faces,” Riley said, “the Intel databanks went to work crunching known assassinations carried out by the Cipher. And deaths that potentially related to him. Nearly everyone the Cipher killed was someone high profile. Cameras, media as well as security, cover a lot of those incidents. Computer programs searched thousands of hours of video. We kept coming back to one face. One of those eleven potential faces you identified.”
Then a man stepped into front and center of the view screen. He stood at the edge of a crowd inside a large metropolitan building. At least six feet tall, he was broad and powerful looking. He looked to be in his midfifties, fit and muscular. His head was shaved, gleaming occasionally as the smooth skin reflected light. He passed by the sequence like a man on a mission. He wore a lab coat and carried a small PDA. He could have been a doctor or an intern. The security footage was good, but the man never quite looked at a camera.
“He knew where all the cameras were,” Riley said. “See how he moves? Maybe he mapped them out ahead of time, hacked into the security system and familiarized himself with the layout.”
“Do you know who he is?” Sam asked.
“No.”
“Why did you look into this?”
Riley was silent for a moment. “Because I thought you were right about your friend being murdered. I wanted to believe in you.”
“That was a big change. You didn’t want to believe in me at first.”
“No,” Riley admitted. “But that was when I was remembering what I’d seen in that file MI-6 had sent Mitchell. A week ago I saw you lay everything on the line in an effort to help your friends.”
Sam felt herself go cold inside with anger and humiliation. She knew what had happened between them a week ago. Not a night had passed that it hadn’t haunted her.
“What?” she asked in a flat voice. “You’re talking about my offer of sex?”
Riley’s eyes slitted and his mouth turned down. “Don’t,” he whispered.
“That’s all it was, right? An offer to have sex? That’s what you called it.” Sam couldn’t stop the anger she felt. Two months of being locked down, having her attempt at seduction thrown back in her face; it was more than she could take. And Riley McLane had the nerve to walk into her prison cell and expect her to act as if none of it had mattered, that she was just supposed to forget that any of it had happened.
Riley’s face turned neutral. “Yeah. That’s what I called it. That’s what I thought it was. My mistake.” He turned and walked to the door.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“What about me? Am I still free to go?”
Riley stopped at the doorway. “You’re out, St. John. Free to go. Free to stay. Free to do whatever the hell you want to do.” He stepped outside and the door closed behind him.
Sam listened to the hollow click of the door closing. This time, the sound of the lock activating didn’t follow. Emotions swelled within her, almost overcoming her. She tried to push the pain and uncertainty away, but every time she did it seemed to roll back over her and attack her from another position. She couldn’t get away.
He didn’t deserve that, she told herself as she stared at the closed door. He’d only been doing his job.
She drew a shaky breath and looked at the clothes on the bed. Doing his job didn’t excuse him completely. He’d doubted her, and he’d hurt her. She’d shown him her vulnerable side, and he’d cast it away as though it was nothing.
You should have expected that, she chided herself. You can’t leave yourself open to anyone. They’re stra
ngers, not family. They will hurt you if they get the chance, and sometimes even when they don’t mean to. They’re not family—Riley isn’t family. He doesn’t know the first thing about you.
Hesitantly, afraid of what she would find and preparing herself for the worst, Sam approached the door and tried the knob. It really was unlocked. She pulled the door open and felt the slightly cooler air in the hallway push in against her. No one was in the hallway.
She drew a breath of fresh air, then pulled her head back inside the room. She stripped off her workout clothes and showered, turning the spray up so hot she felt certain she was going to be scalded, then switching to cold needle spray.
She toweled off and dressed quickly. She left her prison garb behind in the room. As she strode down the hall, she considered her options. She wanted to return to the academy, to talk to Kayla, Alex, Darcy, Josie and Tory.
Rainy’s possibly mined eggs figured into the mix somewhere, but that also put the Cipher into events, as well.
He killed Rainy. The thought slammed into Sam. He killed her and he’s getting away with it. Before she knew it, tears ran down her face. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. She was mad and hurt and confused.
Going back to the academy sounded good, but it meant relying on the friendships there instead of standing on her own. She’d been locked down for two months, unable to do anything to avenge her friend.
Are you going back to them like this? she asked herself. All busted up and broken? Is that how you want to go back? Let them see that you never really made it out of all those foster homes? Is that what you want, St. John? The sympathy vote? Damn you. You were never a quitter. Not then. Not now. You’re going to finish this.
She shut off the tears and wiped her face by the time she reached the security checkpoint. The young agent manning the security desk looked up at her.
“I need to borrow the phone,” Sam said.
He hesitated for a moment, then set the phone unit on the top of the counter. “Punch nine to get out.”
Sam took the handset and dialed Mitchell’s office.
“Mitchell,” he answered in a calm voice.
“It’s Sam St. John.”
“Hello, Agent St. John. What can I do for you?”
“Does McLane have a cell phone?”
Mitchell hesitated. “Yes.”
“I need the number.”
“Why?”
“Because I changed my mind.”
“You turned him down?” Mitchell didn’t sound surprised.
“You bet your ass.”
“I told him you would. I also told him that wouldn’t be your final answer.” Mitchell read off the cell-phone number. “You’re not someone to leave something unfinished, and the Cipher is unfinished business. So is the woman you were mistaken for.”
Sam tried to respond to that, but nothing came to her.
“Good luck, St. John.” Mitchell broke the connection.
Pushing through the surreal feeling of the moment, Sam punched in the numbers for Riley’s cell phone.
“McLane,” he answered. His voice sounded gruff and rushed.
“Me,” Sam said. Silence filled the line for a moment. “I want the Cipher. He killed my friend. I’m not going to let him get away with that. Where can I meet you?”
Chapter 13
Less than an hour later, Sam was aboard an air force jet transport winging out of Langley Air Force Base. The rest of Commander Novak’s SEAL team was waiting when they arrived. The SEALs were working security and covert ops on the mission.
All of the Navy Special Forces men were young, lean and hard. They exuded confidence and efficiency, but they could have passed as college students or young business executives. They were a mix of white, black, Asian and Middle-Eastern.
Seated at the conference table bolted to the floor, Sam felt the vibration of the jet’s powerful engines.
While en route on the helicopter, the SEAL commander and Riley had stayed busy on cell phones making arrangements. Howie had worked on the notebook computer. Absolved of any duties and not able to hear what Riley was saying because he’d cut her out of his communications loop, Sam had forced herself to sleep for the half hour the trip to Langley Air Force Base took. Sleep was her oldest retreat from events that were out of her control, and from unhappiness that had been too much to bear. She’d woken as soon as the helicopter had begun its descent.
The air force jet was large and set up for handling meetings in-flight. The interior was almost set up like a conference room, complete with coffeemakers, a well-stocked refrigeration unit and a kitchen area.
Novak’s SEAL team members were quiet and efficient, much like their commander. They all ate and sat attentively around the table as Riley provided the briefing.
“Gentlemen,” Riley said, “for almost two years, the United States, particularly the Central Intelligence Agency, has been under intensive scrutiny by Prime Minister Razidae and his cabinet. We are providing arms and acting in an advisory capacity to Berzhaan’s military, but several of that nation’s citizens as well as our own people have gotten suspicious of our efforts there.”
“We will continue in that capacity,” Novak said, “while we follow through on this mission. Our primary mission is to keep Agent McLane’s team alive and in good health while they follow through on their assignment.”
“That assignment is going to be risky,” Riley went on. “We’ve got limited resources, a definite risk of exposure, and know for a fact that our intelligence sources have a leak.”
One of the SEALs raised a hand. He was young and lean and earnest. “How exposed is the operation going to be, Agent McLane?”
“For the most part, we’ll maintain a stationary post,” Riley answered. “However, going into the situation, we’re going to attempt to take down a Russian agent who is probably guilty of arms dealing with the Kemenis and, possible, the Q’Rajn. We expect a lot of resistance to that part of the plan. If we’re caught.”
“Take down?” one of the SEALs asked. “Do you mean, terminate?”
“No. I mean we’ll take the woman into custody.” Riley nodded at Howie, who tapped buttons on his keyboard.
The monitor at the front of the conference area juiced and filled with an image of the mystery Russian woman. Unfortunately, the SEALs thought Sam was the one on the screen. They turned to look at her.
“Wrong woman,” Riley said. “Everybody makes that mistake.” He looked at her, then changed his focus back to the SEALs. He pointed at the image on the screen. “We haven’t identified this woman yet, but we know she’s working with a Russian SVR officer named Sergei Ivanovitch.”
The images on the screen changed again, showing Ivanovitch in a montage of scenes around the Eastern European countries.
“Ivanovitch is currently stationed in Berzhaan with orders to prove that the CIA is delivering weapons to the Kemenis,” Riley went on. “We’ve confirmed that through Intel networks. Until a few days ago, no one knew Ivanovitch was in the area.” He frowned. “Be advised that Ivanovitch is not above doing whatever it takes to prove that the CIA has dirty hands in the arms deals taking place in Berzhaan. If Ivanovitch finds you, he will compromise you and this mission.”
“Is that why the Russians had plastic surgery performed on the woman you showed us earlier?” another SEAL asked. “To compromise the CIA’s presence there?”
“We don’t know,” Riley answered. “Our first stage of this mission is to take this woman and allow Agent St. John to pass herself off as this woman for a few hours. When she’s successful, we can plant a computer virus in their machines that will give us a second look at some of their incoming and outgoing communications. Hopefully by then we’ll know more about the Russian activities in Suwan.”
“Sir,” another SEAL spoke up, “you’re talking about putting your agent into a guaranteed hostile situation. We can’t protect her there.”
“No,” Riley said. “We can’t. But if things go wrong, we
will go get her.”
“Second thoughts, St. John?”
Sam glanced up from the sandwich she was making in the jet’s small kitchen area. Riley stood in the doorway to the kitchen area. Concern touched his face, but Sam guessed that he was probably worried about the success of the mission, not her. He’d come back to Langley to get her because she was a better means to finish his mission in Berzhaan. She made herself face that fact, and she embraced it. Getting used for something had been a way of life for her for a long time.
“I’m fine,” she said. She finished assembling the sandwich, then took out a knife and cut it into triangles. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but eating and sleeping were important factors in living through a bad situation.
“You look tired.”
“Look,” Sam said, unsheathing steel in her voice, “you don’t have to worry about me. I didn’t crack for two months while Mitchell kept me sequestered away.”
“You didn’t crack because you didn’t have anything to tell. You weren’t guilty.”
Then why don’t you cut me some slack? Sam wanted to know. But she didn’t ask the question. Instead, she said, “I’ll come through with what I’m supposed to do.”
“What you’re supposed to do,” Riley growled, “is infiltrate a top-notch SVR unit that is trying to undermine CIA ops in a foreign country with an undeveloped oil field. That’s a lot of responsibility.”
“Is that what this is about, McLane?” Sam seethed. “That I might screw up your mission?”
“Damn, but it’s hard to talk to you.” Riley crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t have to take on the world by yourself.”
“I’m the only person I trust,” Sam said. “While I was locked up, I looked around every day. I didn’t see anyone else locked up with me.”
“One of your problems is that you don’t open up. You like being the loner.”
Being the loner is safest, Sam thought. Memory of how Riley had turned her away filled her stomach with shards of glass. The thing that hurt her most was how much she’d gotten into the role of seductress. Everything had felt so right, so natural, like some of the chemistry Darcy and the others had talked about from time to time. Sam got as angry with herself as she was with him. She’d been the bigger fool. She should just get over it and be done with it.