Kane laughed. “You may be old, but I’ve seen you in action, and a man like you never lets his contacts go cold.”
Zorkin smiled. “This is true.” He sighed. “Men like us should never grow old. It’s too humiliating. You should retire while you can, young one, and settle down with that new girlfriend of yours.”
He could hear the surprise. “How do you know about that?”
“I keep track of everyone who I consider important.”
Kane chuckled. “I’m not sure how to take that.”
“You shouldn’t.” Zorkin laughed. “I will begin to make arrangements. Have your friends contact me in exactly one hour.”
24
Geroyev-Panfilovtsev Street, Moscow, Russian Federation
Acton stared at his watch, ten minutes rapidly approaching. Vitaly had tucked them away into a discrete corner of a parking garage and they had been waiting with bated breath since, no one saying anything.
It was nerve-racking.
“Thirty seconds.”
He turned his phone on, watching the interminably slow boot sequence, his foot tapping impatiently.
I should have started it with a minute to go.
It was ready.
It vibrated with a call and he quickly swiped his finger across the display. “Hello?”
“It’s me. Pen and paper?”
Acton breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of Kane’s voice, holding out his hand, Laura placing a pen in it, then a small notepad on his knee, holding it for him. “Go ahead.”
“Okay. He answers to Viktor. He’s an old friend. Literally. Old. Here’s his number.” Acton jotted it down. “You will call him precisely fifty-seven minutes from now. He will have instructions for you.”
Acton checked his watch, jotting down the time. “Are we supposed to just sit here?”
“No. As soon as you hang up, I want you to wipe then destroy your phones. You still have those apps installed I gave you?”
Acton nodded, Kane having insisted, once he gave them his secret contact number, they download an application on their devices that would wipe them clean should it become necessary. “Yes.”
“Good. Wipe them, destroy them, then go buy new ones. Burners. Do you have my number memorized?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Text me your new number when you get it and your first initial. Do the same with Laura’s. Understood?”
“Yes.” Acton paused. “Dylan, just how deep are we in?”
“I’m not going to sugarcoat it, doc, but deep. And we don’t have time to talk, they could trace your phone. Wipe and destroy them as soon as you hang up, abandon that vehicle because it can be traced, get new phones and hole up somewhere out of sight. Call Viktor in fifty-five minutes precisely. Got it?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, good luck, doc.”
Acton turned off the phone and took in a deep breath, closing his eyes.
Deep. Why is it always deep?
25
Abbotts Park Apartments, Fayetteville, North Carolina
“The worst part is the lying.”
Command Sergeant Major Burt “Big Dog” Dawson nodded at his friend, Sergeant Leon “Atlas” James as he took another sip of his bottle of North Carolina’s own The Guilty Party brew from Gibb’s Hundred, the bottom looking like another. Atlas spotted the problem and grabbed a fresh one from the cooler beside him, tossing it to Dawson.
He snatched it from the air, twisting the cap off and placing the bottle on the balcony floor. He snapped the cap at Atlas whose lightning fast reflexes caught it, immediately firing it back at him. Dawson snatched it and pretended to pop it in his mouth, chewing.
“Good one.”
He fake spat it over the railing. “I’ve been hanging around Niner too much.”
“Any amount of time with that man is too much.”
Dawson chuckled, knowing full-well Atlas didn’t mean a word of it. Atlas and Niner were best of friends, their sometimes none-too-gentle ribbing of each other proof, if any was ever needed. Dawson looked at his friend. “Maggie is the first relationship I’ve been in where I would have felt the need to tell her what I do, but I got lucky.”
“Damned lucky. Who dates the Colonel’s secretary?”
Dawson raised a finger. “Personal Assistant.”
“Huh, you finally figured it out, eh?”
“If you’re going to marry a girl, you should at least know what she does for a living.” He leaned over, picking up his fresh brew. “And speaking of marriage”—he sniffed the air, his nostrils dragging in some of the damned fine aroma coming through the open balcony door—“do you see that in your future?”
Atlas’ head bobbed, though a frown formed. “That’s the problem. I do. We’ve been dating for a while now, and she’s starting to ask a lot of questions. I hate lying to her, and I get the sense she knows I’m lying. I’m afraid it could derail the whole thing.”
Dawson nodded. They were Delta Force, special operators in America’s most elite of fighting units. Officially 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment—Delta, they didn’t exist, their missions classified, few privileged enough to know what they did.
To their casual acquaintances—and some not too casual—they worked in logistics, making sure the soldiers deployed to the hellholes of the world were well supplied.
Somebody shouted from below, a splash indicating a new addition to the pool. Both Dawson and Atlas leaned over in their chairs, checking out the scenery below.
You’re practically a married man.
He glanced at Atlas who shrugged.
“Look but don’t touch?”
Dawson raised his beer. “Hear! Hear!” He took a swig then glanced into the apartment, laughter from the love of his life and Atlas’ carrying outside as the two women worked in the kitchen. Vanessa was training to be a chef, her experimentation on them almost always a success. He felt for his friend. Maggie knew what he did because of her job, so went into the relationship fully aware of what she was getting into. He couldn’t tell her where he was going or what he was doing when deployed, but at least she knew why.
With Atlas and the other guys in the Unit that had other halves that hadn’t been read-in, they’d have to lie. And with the amount of times they were deployed at the last minute, it could grow frustrating very quickly for their loved ones.
“So marriage. When?”
Atlas shrugged. “She wants to finish her education first and get a job. She swore to her mother she wouldn’t get married until she had a skill and some experience in case something went wrong and she ended up on her own having to fend for herself.”
“Smart girl.”
“She gets it from her mother.”
“What’s she like?”
“A handful. Doesn’t like that I’m a soldier.”
Dawson took another swig. “Why?”
“Vanessa’s father was Army, killed in a training accident, and I guess they had a hard time of it afterward. She doesn’t want the same to happen to her daughter.”
Dawson nodded. “Understandable. Good thing she’ll never know what you really do for a living.”
“And what does he really do for a living?”
Dawson gave Atlas a “busted” look then turned toward Vanessa as she stepped out onto the balcony, Maggie behind her.
“He pushes useless paper around a desk. A man’s liable to go nuts if he does it long enough, and certainly won’t earn the respect of any future mother-in-law.”
Vanessa dropped into Atlas’ lap and gave him a gentle peck on the lips, patting his massive chest, his nickname earned when someone saw him exercising with a medicine ball, Atlas Shrugged coming to mind. “I think my man’s future lies outside the Army.”
Atlas’ eyebrows rose and Dawson exchanged a quick glance with Maggie as he sensed an uncomfortable moment about to start.
“Umm, baby, the Army is my life. I won’t be leaving it until it asks me to leave.”
She pa
tted him on the chest again. “Well, we can talk about that later.”
Atlas leaned away from her, staring into her eyes. “There’s nothing to talk about. You know what I do. You know I love my job.”
“But that’s just it! I don’t know what you do!”
Uh oh, here it comes.
“What do you mean? I’m in logistics, you know that.”
Vanessa leapt to her feet, her hands on her hips. “Bullshit. I looked it up on the Internet. There’s no way a logistics guy goes away as often as you do.”
“I go for training, go out on exercise. Sometimes I’m needed in the field. You know that.”
She wagged a finger at him. “I’m no fool, Leon James. I know what goes on at Fort Bragg. You’re Delta, aren’t you!”
Dawson rose, glancing around at the other balconies, some occupied, most not. “I think we should take this conversation inside.”
Maggie stepped inside first, Dawson following as Atlas gently urged his still protesting girlfriend off the balcony. He quickly slid the door shut.
“That’s it, isn’t it? You’re Delta!”
Atlas closed the sliding window then turned to Vanessa. “Delta? Those guys are awesome and I’d kill to be one of them, but all you’ve got is a hardworking clerk for a boyfriend. I’m sorry.”
Vanessa’s shoulders sagged, her head dropping as her shoulders heaved a few times. She stared up at him. “If you can’t tell me the truth then what kind of future do we have?”
Dawson stepped into the kitchen, Maggie following. She stirred a couple of different pots, using a spatula to shove around something in a frying pan before glancing at him.
“I didn’t realize how lucky I was until just now.”
Dawson nodded. “Yeah, me too.”
“Do you think it’s serious?”
“Atlas seems to think so. They’re talking marriage eventually.”
Maggie pursed her lips. “Maybe she should be read-in?”
“That’s for the Colonel to decide.”
“Don’t you think you should call him?”
Dawson frowned, checking his watch as the one-sided shouting match grew. “He’d be home by now.”
Maggie shook her head. “No, he was still there when I left, and besides, his sister-in-law is visiting, so, you know.”
Dawson grinned. If there was one woman who could keep Colonel Clancy away from his own home, it was his sister-in-law, the two apparently like oil and water. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed.
Clancy answered on the second ring.
“Hello, sir, it’s Sergeant Major Dawson. We’ve got a little situation with Atlas’ girlfriend. I think she might need to be read-in.”
Clancy grunted. “How long has it been going on?”
“Over a year.”
“And it’s serious?”
“Very. Talk of marriage. But if she doesn’t find out the truth, I think that’s dead. She knows he’s lying and she’s accusing him of being in the Unit.”
“Permission granted.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me yet. If she blabs, you get to shoot her.”
Dawson chuckled. “I’ll make it look like an accident.”
“Be sure you do.”
Clancy ended the call and Dawson smiled at Maggie, stepping back into the heat of the ongoing battle. Atlas looked at him and Dawson nodded, the big man closing his eyes for a moment as he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Okay, baby, it’s time you learned the truth.”
Dawson stepped back into the kitchen as his phone vibrated in his pocket.
Shit! Hope it’s not the Colonel changing his mind!
He answered. “Hello?”
“Hey, Jarhead, it’s Dylan.”
Dawson smiled as he recognized the voice of his former comrade-in-arms, Dylan Kane, part of his Bravo Team before leaving to join the CIA. “Jesus, I thought the toilet had backed up but it was just you wafting back into my life.”
A yelp of joy from Vanessa in the other room was apparently overheard. “What was that?”
“Just Atlas’ girlfriend discovering why he’s been lying to her since they first met.”
“Ahh, getting read-in. Never had to do that myself.”
“Me neither.” He winked at Maggie who was beaming at the sounds of relief in the next room. “I assume you’re not calling to swap recipes. What do you need?”
“What makes you think I need something?”
“Because you never call just to say ‘hi’.”
“This is true. I’m a horrible friend.”
“Admitting it is the first step.”
Kane chuckled. “Okay, here’s the scoop. The Russians have just issued arrest warrants for the professors.”
Dawson became all business, James Acton and Laura Palmer two of the few civilians he actually considered friends, their history together over the past few years starting with the shameful act of trying to kill them due to false-intel claiming they were terrorists, then a series of unfortunate events in which Bravo Team had helped them out, and on more than one occasion, the professors returning the favor.
His team owed them their lives on more than one occasion.
And not a man in the Unit would stop at nothing to help.
“What did they do this time?”
“Looks like they’re mixed up in that Japanese mess.”
Dawson’s eyes narrowed. “How the hell did they manage that?”
“Not sure yet, but the warrants are real. We might need your help.”
“I’m not sure what I can do if they’re in Mother Russia. There’s no way the Colonel will authorize anything—on the books or off.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll get them out of Russia. I need you to secure them once they’re out.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, buddy.”
Dawson ended the call as Atlas and Vanessa rounded the corner, tears wiped clean, smiles on their faces.
Vanessa nodded toward Dawson. “Are you?”
He smiled. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
Her jaw dropped and everyone laughed, she joining in after a few moments. She looked at Maggie administering to the food. “How’s it look?”
“Good to me, but you’re the expert.”
Vanessa gave Atlas a quick kiss and stepped over to the stove as Dawson and his muscled friend returned to the living room.
“Thanks for that.”
Dawson smiled. “Thank the Colonel.”
“Oh, I will.”
“Just make sure she understands she can’t tell anyone, not her mother, best friend, priest or cat.”
“I have, but I’ll explain why after you guys leave.”
“This is your first read-in, isn’t it?”
Atlas nodded. “And hopefully the last.”
“Amen to that.”
“Let’s eat!” called Vanessa from the kitchen.
“Give me a minute!” Dawson fished his phone out. “I’ve got a call to make.”
26
Bakuninskaya Street Parking Garage, Moscow, Russian Federation
Viktor Zorkin eyeballed the photographs one last time. An American professor, a British professor—rather attractive—and a fellow Russian with pimples. Nothing about them appeared to stick out, which would help in their escape, though according to their files, neither visitor spoke Russian.
And that could be a problem.
Any challenge would be met with an English response, and that would immediately flag them for further scrutiny, the entire country on the lookout for two English-speaking foreigners.
A head poked around the corner, Zorkin immediately recognizing the man as Professor Acton. Zorkin stepped out of the van he had borrowed from a contact as his three lost souls rounded the corner on foot.
“Professor Acton?”
The man nodded. “Yes. Are you Viktor?”
“Yes.”
&n
bsp; “Who sent you?”
Zorkin smiled, this Acton no fool. “Dylan Kane, a brash young CIA agent who I understand is a former student of yours who told you a secret once in your classroom.”
Acton smiled, a loudly exhaled breath signaling his acceptance. “Only someone who knew Dylan would know that.”
Zorkin slid open the rear door. “Quickly. Everyone inside, there’s no time to waste.”
Pimples climbed in first, holding out a hand for Laura Palmer. Acton helped her from behind and looked at Zorkin. “Is it bad?”
Zorkin nodded. “It’s bad, but I’ve seen worse.” He motioned to the door. “And the longer this takes, the tighter the noose around Moscow. Now get in.”
Acton climbed in and Zorkin yanked the door shut, jumping into the van and turning the key, the engine struggling to life. Acton leaned forward as Zorkin pulled out of the parking spot. “Can you get us out?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. If this were America, I would say no problem. But here, where your rights can be violated? Possibly problematic.”
“Who are you?”
“I am Viktor.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Zorkin chuckled as they pulled onto the road. “I know what you meant. Let us just say that my war was a cold war, back when there was mutual respect. Today, all honor has been lost in my old profession.”
“How do you know Dylan?”
“Best we don’t discuss that.”
“Okay. Where are we going?”
Zorkin made a left. “To a place I know. We will be there in fifteen minutes, then you will prepare for a most uncomfortable journey.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Now sit back, out of sight, before someone sees you.”
27
Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia
“Have you got them?”
CIA Analyst Supervisor Chris Leroux glanced toward the door of the operations center, his boss, National Clandestine Service Chief Leif Morrison, entering. Leroux motioned toward the wall-to-wall curved display at the front of the room. “Agent Kane gave us their new number and we’ve been able to track it.”
Raging Sun (A James Acton Thriller, #16) (James Acton Thrillers) Page 9