Code Name: Baby

by Christina Skye

  “He might have picked something up. The last thing I want to do is scare him off. Better to let him think he’s in control.”

  They both turned at the sound of sudden barking.

  Kit came out of the house, followed by the dogs. After watching a few minutes of playful racing around the backyard, she gave a “down” order, and all three dogs immediately went flat.

  Izzy looked fascinated. “How does she get them to obey without raising her voice?”

  “They trust her,” Wolfe said quietly. “I saw her face down a cougar to protect those dogs, and she did it without a weapon.”

  “Fascinating.” Izzy finished zipping up his backpack and swung it over his shoulders. “Ryker’s counting on you to keep them safe.”

  “I plan to.” Wolfe looked down the hill, scanning the area around the house. “While you’re looking at that poison, get me a report on this.” He held up the map that had fallen out of Emmett’s pocket. “Pull any prints and locate the paper source. I doubt this has anything to do with Cruz, but I’m taking no chances.”

  Izzy looked down the hill as the door opened a second time. Miki appeared, holding a Frisbee. “What about Kit’s friend? Is she reliable?”

  “If you mean would she be involved with Cruz, I doubt it.”

  Izzy’s eyes were cold. “Are you certain?”

  Wolfe rubbed his neck. “Right now, Teague, I’m not certain about anything. It’s a hunch, but a strong one.”

  “So noted. Now I have one last question for you. What happened right before he called? You looked like you’d gotten another Taser hit.”

  “Cruz was probing me,” Wolfe said curtly. “If you want to know anything more, ask Ryker. All I can say is it’s classified.”

  KIT BENT DOWN in the shade of a big cottonwood tree and scratched Baby’s head, while Miki tossed a Frisbee to Butch and Sundance. Suddenly Baby shot across the shaded courtyard. Raising her head, she stared at the tall grass above the house.

  Miki shaded her eyes, watching. “What’s gotten into her?”

  “She smells something up on that hill. I saw something up there, too.” Kit felt an odd prickling at the back of her neck. “No, don’t turn around.” She picked up a sun hat from a chair, turning slowly until she had a better view. “I don’t see anything now.”

  “Funny, I thought I saw something up there earlier.” Miki strode toward the house. “You have a gun locked in your Jeep?”

  Kit nodded. You didn’t go anywhere in the backcountry unarmed. Not if you were a woman traveling alone.

  Baby was still at the far side of the yard, her head raised to the wind. She whined softly, then looked back at Kit.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Kit muttered.

  “You and me both.” Miki dropped the Frisbee at the back door. “But if someone’s up there watching us, they’re going to get a big surprise. Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CICADAS DRONED from a cottonwood tree.

  Kit felt the weight of her father’s handgun tug at her front pocket. She didn’t relish the thought of exploring the nearby slope, but Miki showed no sign of backing down, and Kit couldn’t desert her friend.

  They stopped at a curve in the wash. A family of quail flowed across the ground, a restless brown wave that disappeared beneath tall desert mule grass. At the top of the wash, Miki crouched behind a boulder. Kit sank down beside her. From there, someone could see the whole slope, along with all of Miki’s courtyard and back property.

  Kit looked around but saw no sign of footprints.

  Her watch alarm chimed softly, and she stabbed a button to halt the alert. Silently, she dug into her pocket for her pills and swallowed two dry, grimacing.

  “What was that?” Miki whispered.

  “Headache. I think I may be coming down with some kind of bug.” The truth was, her right hip was aching again.

  “You never get sick.”

  Kit ignored her friend’s questioning look. A shadow crossed the high ridge, cast by a red-tailed hawk drifting smoothly on the thermals. A second shadow followed a moment later.

  Hunting in pairs, Kit thought. What one missed, the other would catch. She wondered what it would be like to glide that way, with no resistance and no pain.

  Miki squeezed her shoulder. “We’re going to talk later,” she whispered. “Let’s get this finished.”

  Below them, the wash circled around a mesquite tree. A jackrabbit crossed the shadows, then stopped in the afternoon sun, showing no trace of wariness.

  “Doesn’t look like anyone’s here.” Miki stood uncertainly, hands on her hips.

  “We’d better be sure.”

  Kit led the way, climbing quietly. At the top of the wash, she crouched low and peered past the rocky bank. The only thing moving was a gray antelope squirrel, its tail hiked over its head and its cheeks filled with food.

  “See anything?” Miki whispered behind Kit.

  “Quiet as a tomb. Wild goose chase.”

  “But what about the movements we saw? What about Baby’s weird behavior?”

  “Could have been a coyote.” Kit rubbed her neck, working on a knot of tension. “Maybe it was the wind shaking some deer grass. If there was something else here, it’s gone now. I don’t see any prints.”

  “Nearly scared the bejeezus out of me, I don’t mind telling you.” Miki snorted, scraping the ground with the toe of her boot.

  “Stop.”

  “Stop what? I was just—”

  Kit knelt carefully and brushed aside a piece of gravel near Miki’s toe, then held up a stringy piece of brown fiber. They stared in uneasy silence at the dry piece of beef jerky, stirred up by Miki’s restless digging. Teeth marks were clearly visible at one corner.

  “Somebody was here. Looks like his snack got interrupted, too.”

  “Not many cougars or coyote carry jerky,” Kit said grimly. “On the other hand, this could have been here for weeks.”

  Clouds raced overhead. The wash felt cool. Here and there dry leaves danced on the wind.

  The skin at Kit’s neck prickled yet again.

  “Don’t you want to check the other side of the ridge?” Miki leaned closer. “What if—”

  “Forget it.” Kit was already on the move, her feet crunching over the sand and gravel. “I’m not going any farther, and neither are you. You can be brave, but that doesn’t mean being stupid.”

  “You win.” Miki sounded relieved.

  As they moved down the wash, Kit could have sworn she felt hidden eyes trained on her back.

  SAND SKITTERED DOWN the wash.

  “Are they gone?”

  “Finally.” Wolfe rose slowly from behind a lip of black granite near the top of the ridge. “Idiots, the pair of them. If someone had actually been up here…” The words trailed off.

  “Maybe you should consider using one of your Foxfire techniques.” Izzy’s voice was thoughtful as he emerged from a prone position a few feet away. “Keep them inside for now.”

  “I’ve considered it.” Wolfe didn’t mention that he’d already carried out one effort successfully. Secrecy was a habit, and Teague was still on a need-to-know basis.

  “What about those lab photos I left you?”

  “Next item on the agenda.”

  “Good. If anything comes to mind, call me. I don’t care how odd or insignificant it seems.”

  Wolfe laughed dryly. “The only wrong question is the one you don’t ask.”

  “Damned right. You knew Cruz better than anyone. Ryker’s hoping you’ll pick up a clue the rest of us have missed.”

  Wolfe flipped through the photos slowly. In the first one Cruz was staring at a caged gorilla, his smile very cold.

  The use of internal surveillance didn’t particularly bother Wolfe. He knew cameras were frequently—and secretly—mounted throughout Foxfire facilities. He had accepted that his life would become military property the day he signed on the dotted line to join Foxfire.

  Search
ing in his vest, he pulled out a small jeweler’s loupe, which came in handy for track and footprint identification. “Give me another hour to get back to you on these.”

  Izzy started up the wash. “I’ll be in the area.” He pulled out a cell phone and gave Wolfe a two-finger wave.

  The sound of Miki’s door opening brought Wolfe upright as he stowed the photos in his pocket. “There’s movement downstairs. Gotta go.”

  “Watch your back.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  KIT RACED OUT to her Jeep, checking her watch. Liz had just called to say that Diesel was waking up, and if she wanted to see him, she should come as soon as possible. Liz also suggested that she bring the other dogs.

  She threw open the back door to her Jeep. “Everyone in,” she called. One by one the dogs jumped up and settled inside the back compartment, their noses over the front seat.

  Miki shook her head as she watched the happy chaos. “You spoil them rotten, not that I wouldn’t do the same. Promise me you’ll call when you’re ready to leave. I’ll warm up the Bruce Lee boxed set. How long do you think you’ll stay at the clinic?”

  “Depends on how Diesel’s feeling.” Kit closed the back door of the Jeep and locked it. “Funny, it’s not half as hot as it was an hour ago.”

  “I noticed that, too. Go figure.” Miki reached through Kit’s window, petting Baby’s head. “Be sure to tell Diesel that Aunt Miki has his favorite food all ready for him.”

  “Steak rare?”

  “Are you kidding? Cheese spread and deviled ham. Junk food all the way.”

  “WHAT THE HELL DO you mean, there have been more developments?” With a secure cell phone braced against his ear, Wolfe watched Kit barrel past him in her Jeep.

  Izzy went on, undisturbed. “Colorado police found the body of a waitress outside an isolated diner near Durango. She’d just gone off shift and according to the short order cook, she’d been acting strange.”

  “Strange how?” Wolfe pulled into traffic four cars behind Kit.

  “She was wandering around the parking lot, completely disoriented.”

  “So what?” Wolfe slowed for an ice cream truck with children crowded around the side door. “Maybe she was sick. Maybe she’d had a few drinks.”

  “There’s a security camera at the front of the diner where she worked. We have clear shots of her speaking to someone at the counter before the camera stopped working.”

  “Was it Cruz?”

  “Can’t see. Whoever it was stayed just out of range. But we had one piece of luck. About five minutes before the camera stopped, there’s a decent shot of a man’s hands taking something out of a knapsack.” Izzy’s voice hardened. “It’s a government issue knapsack. According to Ryker, one just like it was stolen two days before Cruz left the lab.”

  Wolfe frowned at the line of traffic, keeping an eye on Kit’s Jeep. He was driving the dusty pickup, staying back where she wouldn’t see him. Up ahead her Jeep sailed through a yellow light, and he cursed softly.

  “Something wrong?”

  “She got past me at a red light. Hold on, I need to make a quick detour.”

  “I can punch up visuals and an alternate route via my GPS,” Izzy said. “Give me a second and—”

  “No need. I remember my way around Santa Fe.” Wolfe took a quick left, shot down one block, and made a sharp right. A few seconds later, Kit drove past. “Got her.” Leaving a safe distance, he pulled back into traffic. “What about the waitress?”

  “The woman’s body shows massive trauma from the impact of a truck that ran into her, but she had contusions on the face, neck and shoulders. There were also deep punctures consistent with talon strikes by a large predatory bird, along with feather traces at the wound sites.”

  “You believe Cruz caused this attack?”

  “That’s the assumption.”

  “Animal attacks?”

  “It’s no harder to believe than a man who can see infrared light signatures,” Izzy pointed out. “No more bizarre than a man who can distort and replace memories at will.”

  Wolfe’s fingers tapped on the steering wheel. The Foxfire team was trained to work with energy patterns. Some did simple assessment and others carried out disruption and disorientation. Beyond that, each team member had additional, specialized skills. For Wolfe, that meant image distortion and memory manipulation.

  But to Wolfe’s knowledge, only he had any ability to control animals. When—and how—had Cruz mastered the skill? “What did Ryker tell you?”

  “Not a lot. The man eats, breathes and sleeps secrecy. Sometimes he makes me wonder whether we’re on the same side. Which brings me to the next point.” Izzy cleared his throat. “There are parts of the facility surveillance tapes you weren’t shown. It was Ryker’s decision.”

  Typical, Wolfe thought. “Why bring it up now?”

  “In the uncut tapes the animals in the lab clearly go berserk. According to what we can piece together, Cruz managed to make two Rottweilers open their cages. After that, they brought him an electronic access card.”

  “Is that what Ryker was working on with Cruz? If so, why did Ryker keep it a secret from us?” Wolfe couldn’t keep the anger from his voice.

  “I can’t tell you that,” Izzy said.

  “What the hell can you tell me, Teague?”

  “That Cruz was put there for his own protection. He had begun to exhibit medical and psychological problems, and the deterioration was getting worse.”

  “Cruz set the benchmark for all of us. He was in perfect physical shape the last time I saw him.”

  Papers rustled at Izzy’s end. “There might have been a medication problem. Cruz’s immune system could also have been fighting some of his implants.”

  “So now you’ve got a renegade Foxfire operative whose system may or may not be degenerating along with his mental state.”

  “That’s an affirmative.”

  Wolfe considered his next words carefully, shocked by what Izzy had just told him. “That means my whole team may be facing similar problems.”

  “So far there’s nothing to suggest that. The problems appear to be limited to Cruz.”

  Wolfe slowed to let a mother with two children cross the street, bothered by everything he’d just heard. First the covert research, and now the possibility of unpredictable medical problems. What else could go wrong?

  “Ryker could pull Kit right now. He could hide her and the dogs someplace safe where Cruz couldn’t track her. But he’s not…” Wolfe’s fingers clenched around the steering wheel. “Ryker is counting on Cruz to go after the dogs. He’s using Kit as bait.”

  Izzy didn’t answer.

  “Cruz taught me most of what I know about image distortion. Now he’s got new skills. But Ryker wants to dangle a civilian in front of him?”

  “I don’t like it either, Houston. But the fact is, she’s caught in the middle of this, no matter what you do. Taking her to a safe house could prolong the wait, but Cruz will find the dogs and her with them. If it happens now, at least you’ll be there to protect her.”

  “What does Cruz gain?” Wolfe muttered.

  “Ryker didn’t authorize me to tell you about this, but screw protocol. One of the former Soviet states has offered a ten-million-dollar bounty on any of the dogs in the U.S. program. Two other dog trainers connected loosely to Foxfire were attacked yesterday. One is dead and the other is missing. They weren’t with their animals at the time, so the thieves didn’t get the dogs.”

  Worse and worse, Wolfe thought. “The bounty must include a trainer as part of the deal.”

  “That’s what I’d figure.”

  “If they kidnapped one trainer, Kit’s now expendable. They don’t need her—all they need is her dogs.”

  “Affirmative. There’s no reason for Cruz to keep her alive, especially if she comes between him and the Labs, which you and I both know is exactly what Kit would do.”

  “Then tell Ryker to get her off the board. Ship them all
to Alaska or anywhere else that’s secure.”

  “That’s no longer an option. Ryker is firm.”

  “I won’t go along with this.”

  “You’ve got your orders. I’ve got mine.” Izzy didn’t sound happy, but he wasn’t backing down either. “Kit is every inch the professional in her line of work, and her dogs are service animals, bred to face danger. This is exactly the sort of mission they’ll encounter once they leave Kit.”

  “When they’re trained,” Wolfe snapped. “Once they’re fully grown. Not now, and not against a man like Cruz.”

  He watched Kit nose through the downtown Santa Fe traffic and turn into the driveway of a rambling white Victorian house. Three cars and a van were parked in the side parking lot.

  “I’ve got to go, Teague,” he said flatly. “Tell Ryker I need one of my team here for backup.”

  “No can do. They’re all in Indonesia.”

  Wolfe pulled into a shaded spot and parked, watching Kit herd the dogs up to the clinic door. “We don’t have a clue what we’re dealing with here. Cruz isn’t playing by the rules anymore.”

  “Then you need to change, too. Going rogue may be the best way to keep Kit alive.”

  Wolfe had already come to the same conclusion. “Whatever you do, don’t let Trace know that Ryker has put his sister in harm’s way. Trace will kill him.”

  If I don’t do it first.

  DIESEL WAS AWAKE but listless when Liz Merrigold brought him into the examining room. His eyes looked glassy, but as soon as Kit scratched behind his ears, he rolled over on the examining table, one leg raised in the air.

  The vet shook her head. “He may be weak, but he’s never too sick to be scratched.”

  When Diesel raised his head and licked her hand, Kit tried to be optimistic. “Did you get the blood work back yet?”

  “Still too soon. Probably first thing tomorrow.” The vet took Diesel’s pulse, then slid her stethoscope back around her neck. “He looks better. His breathing isn’t as labored, and his pulse has settled down nicely. I’ll give him another shot in an hour.” She pulled a vial out of her medical case. “Let me keep an eye on him here and you can—”