by Dawn Kunda
“I have to make some calls and I’ll get back to you on that.”
“I guess that’s fair.” He wouldn’t quit looking at her. She looked away and studied the walls of her home, noting a few cobwebs waving in the ceiling corner of the kitchen. “I suppose if you had an immediate plan I should be worried about how well you knew me before we met.”
“I didn’t know you at all. By the way”—he reached into his jacket pocket—“you might want this back.” He held her papers, easily recognizable as the lost papers.
“I should’ve known!” Alina jumped from her chair and grabbed for the document. He hugged it to his chest. “How can I trust you if you look through my things and steal them? That’s how you knew who I was.” Her temper ignited. Forgetting about his gun, she lunged for her property.
He warded off her flailing arms. “Rule number one. Get rid of this.” He tore it in half.
“I can’t believe I fell for anything you’ve told me.” She grabbed at the ripped papers as they fell from his hands.
“Again, rule number one. This kind of information is a sure bomb in your purse.” She looked up at him, stopping her frantic gathering of the ruined papers. “Anyone, professional or amateur, can find out who you are, where you are, and a lot else about you if you keep this with you.”
He didn’t realize how much those fragments of paper meant to her. She knew he was right. She had been told to get rid of it. It was an emotional connection to Jon. She had to put those feelings to sleep, but she’d wanted to do it on her own terms. It would help if she knew what the regime had done with Jon’s body, if he had been given any respect in any form after the massacre.
“Do you have a lighter?” he asked in a matter-of-fact tone.
“For what?” She frowned, realizing his intentions.
“Your first task to prove you can follow orders is to burn the evidence.” He was serious.
“Follow orders? From you?”
“Yes, if we’re going to work together, I need to know that I can trust you to listen to me. It’s for our safety. I won’t tell you what to do except when we’re taking care of your business otherwise one or both of us will end up dead. Maybe you don’t understand how dangerous of a mission you want to take on.”
Her buildup of anger simmered. She couldn’t deny the danger she wanted him to help her with. “You’re right. I do understand.”
“I don’t blame you for not entirely trusting me at this early stage. I’d be disappointed if you did. I don’t want you to trust everyone you run into with a smile and a kind word to go on. That’s rule number two.”
She bit her lip and cast her eyes to the side.
“You don’t believe me?” She looked at his intense stare, and then quickly returned her gaze to the kitchen ceiling. “What you want to do is extremely serious and dangerous. If I can help you at all, you have to trust me and do what I say or it won’t work.”
“I’m aware of that.” She rubbed her hands together and forced her stare to return to his face. She’d have to keep this a purely business transaction. She hated the fact that he could be so easily trusted by her. Even worse, he oozed the qualities she was attracted to.
He sighed, relaxing his shoulders. “This isn’t going to be easy, and I can’t promise anything. It’ll take me a couple days to put together a plan. The only thing I’ll need from you is to honestly answer the questions I come up with and to tell me anything you haven’t mentioned already.”
“Right.”
“Obviously, I’ll want you to put together a list of places and names involved that you’re aware of. The sooner the better, and then I can get going with my part.”
“I’ll do that today.”
“What else?” He could read her mind. He must be good at what he does. “I know there’s something urgent that you haven’t told me, or else after three months in semi-hiding, you wouldn’t be so quick to accept my help.”
She closed her mouth and shook her head.
“Well, I have a few things I can do before I get your information, but nothing will happen until you fully open up to me.” He cocked his brow, tapped his hand on the table, and stood up.
Alina followed suit, standing on the opposite side of the table. She’d adore the idea of hugging him in thanks, but knew it wasn’t possible to be emotional and work this delicate situation properly. She held out her hand.
Vic looked at her hand, tightening his lips together. “We don’t have a deal until I get all the information.”
“I…I’ll give you everything. Do you have a number I can call you at?” She needed more time to decide how or even if she’d mention the note that had been left on her porch.
He walked to the door. She followed a couple steps behind. Holding the doorknob, he turned to her. “I’ll contact you.” His eyes shifted to stare at her mouth.
She automatically ran her tongue over her lips to abate the dryness. Regretting the suggestive move, she wondered if he’d kiss her. Their night together hadn’t left a guarantee of a relationship, and she shouldn’t expect it especially after this “business” visit.
The click of the door latch brought her back to reality. He walked out the door and shut it behind him.
A chill of fear ran through her. Vic figured out too much information about her. How long till the person who wrote the note comes for her in person?
Chapter 8
Back in Washington, DC, CIA Director Kreis stamped the slush off his shoes before entering his office overlooking the Potomac. His main objective for the morning was to find out where Agent Vic Grant had landed. His men wasted too much time on the search already.
“Where is he?” Kreis barged into Agent Dean Borland’s desk space and slapped his hand on a pile of folders.
Borland looked up from his computer. His lips twitched before curving into a devious smile. “Arlanda Airport. He landed in Stockholm, Sweden.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. The hard part was tapping into the camera at Chicago O’Hare and then in Arlanda. He didn’t hide his trail very well. You’d think an agent of the CIA would do better.”
“He couldn’t have done too badly, if it took you and your cohort, Duchaine, this long to track him down.” Kreis glared at him, and then his facial muscles relaxed. “Did he really think we wouldn’t find him? That’s why I’m his boss, not the other way around.”
Borland fumbled around his desk, coming up with a notepad. He tore the top three pages from the binding. Only the top sheet had any writing. The other two were a safety net for any impressions left behind. “It does appear that Grant bought another ticket, though.”
Kreis glanced around the office as other agents appeared for their morning rituals online and at the coffee machine. He bent low and spoke softly. “So you’re telling me he’s not in Sweden. I thought you intended to tell me you found the end of the line?”
“Sort of. It looks like he bought another ticket, but we haven’t located any indication that he’s used it.” Kreis rolled his eyes. “We think he’s still in Sweden and probably went south of Stockholm.”
“What makes you think he went south?”
“The highway he traveled away from the airport.”
“That’s nothing definite.”
“No, sir, it’s not.”
The sounds of the office filled in the spaces of conversation as Kreis took a minute to enact his next idea. Borland sat quietly, waiting instructions. Kreis said, “We’ve wasted too much time as I’ve said. We need to get going on this.
“First, I want any missions previously headed by Grant to be organized by location and agents involved. Keep them at a standstill, and send, uh, orders to hold their positions for further communications. Yeah, that’s what we’ll do. Keep them stagnating at their posts. That’ll give them a secure feeling of inactivity with their missions.
“It’ll also hold the agents for when we’re ready to unload them.”
“Sir, wouldn’t it be faste
r and easier to get rid of them now, rather than hold off? The bomb at the US Embassy in Cairo did its job.”
Kreis glanced around to make sure no one took notice of the detailed conversation. “Not exactly. A few pawns were taken care of, but Agents Guevin and Reiss haven’t been found either.
“I’m not concerned with the scattered agents right now. I want Grant. I want their boss, Agent Victor Grant, to be taken out, and then one by one we can take care of the rest.”
“We’ll start with Grant then. I’ll get Duchaine to make the folders on the other agents.”
“Right, and I want you and…you, Agent Eikem, and a couple others from my ranks to surround Stockholm north, south, east, and west. I don’t trust he traveled continually to the south.”
“Will three days before flying work?”
“Two days, and make it work.”
* * * *
The next day, Alina stood lost in thought as she combed through Gerty’s matted wool. She figured grooming a llama could be compared to grooming a dog, which is said to be relaxing. She needed to calm her nerves before her appointment with the doc. She’d gotten away with a few phone calls versus visits to the worn couch. Every time she sat on the couch, the cushion sucked her to the sag in the middle. She wondered how many before her had spilled their guts and told the truth or edited the conversation for acceptability.
Alina had tried the latter, yet Dr. Korbic hadn’t given any indication on Alina’s chances of getting back to work soon. Giving the doctor a dose of the rest of her story would assure Alina private counseling in her private room inside an asylum. No one could be considered safe, either mentally or physically, from themselves after what Alina had experienced in the last hours of her tour of the Iraqi government’s chemical compound, the caverns and narrow corridors hundreds of feet underground.
She shook her head to dispel the oncoming memory. It wasn’t safe for her to go there. All she needed to do was remember Christa and return to the torture chamber to rescue her cousin. Her plan had been sketchy, but her confidence raised a notch with the possibility of Vic’s help.
He said he’d contact her, probably not for at least a couple days, and already her impatience needed to be tamped down. Not really impatience, but her nerves began to twitch with the constant rise and set of the sun wasting her time and the days Christa had for survival.
How a person could swallow the dryness from her throat, she never understood. An hour later, she made an attempt to dampen the parched roof of her mouth as she sat on the dreaded couch with the sag of confinement in the center. If this couch had never been replaced in the hopes of sucking information from anyone who sat on it, Alina decided she had to be strong once again and keep her secrets secret.
“Did you find your passport?” Dr. Korbic looked straight at Alina.
Not the document again. She shouldn’t have made such a deal about it in the first place. Alina had thought it would be a safe avenue to tell the doctor about her attachment to the passport. She had to give up some truth in order to hide the rest. “All is good now. I’ve found it.” Dr. Korbic waited for more. “It makes me feel safe.” Alina squirmed as her butt slid into the depths of the hole. “I’m definitely more secure now.”
“Why is that, Alina?”
She knew she’d said it before, but she’d say it again. “It’s a connection to my fiancé and my cousin.”
“Have you made any plans on how to get along without them?”
That was a new question. “Plans don’t matter.” Dr. Korbic briefly tightened her eyelids into slants. “I think of the good times with Jon and know he’s in a better place. Christa, our government will find her.”
“I’m pleased with how you’re handling Jon’s death. You do realize Christa may not be alive? I sense denial about your cousin’s fate.”
“Yeah, well, no one has proved she’s not alive anymore, so I’d rather hope for her return.” Alina couldn’t help but let a shadow of dislike for the doctor surface. Dr. Korbic, Jane, had too much perfectness, niceness, and all those useless qualities which downgraded her authority. Alina cautioned herself to be thankful she could easily lie or leave out a lot of the facts and Jane remained oblivious to the core of Alina’s problem.
“If you still think Christa is alive, are you going to try to find her?”
Another extremely odd question tossed around by Dr. Jane. Wasn’t the doc in charge supposed to let the patient decide their path to recovery? Why would Korbic give suggestions, let alone a suggestion that would be prohibited? “I…I would never go back to the facilities in Iraq.” That should satisfy her. “I’m sure our government is on top of things.” She threw in a little zest to amplify her conviction.
Dr. Korbic let out a long, slow breath. Alina swore her shoulders sagged with the exhale. “Alina, I’m glad to hear you seem to be coming along fine. I’m satisfied with your attempt to deal with the loss of your fiancé and probable loss of your cousin.”
Alina stiffened. She wanted to yell back. She wasn’t okay with her husband-to-be’s death. Christa was and would be fine. I’ll be the one to save her. “Yes, living in the country, versus in Stockholm, has helped calm my nerves.” She had to play the game. It killed her that she couldn’t shout out her plans to vindicate Jon’s death and save her cousin. Alina gave up the option for help with her emotions by keeping so many secrets from her therapist. She had to. She knew it could take years for her government to politically release Christa. It was unlikely Christa had that long.
* * * *
Jane rubbed her brow, convinced her nerves had leaked out in visible streaks after her patient left. Her hand shook as she carefully arranged her notes, taking as much time as possible to file them away. Her desk needed blotting of the dust embedded in the grooves of design along the edges. She wished for a phone. What an insane allowance to not have a phone in the conference rooms. She’d have to address that later. The ringer could be silenced when with a patient.
She looked toward the window. A sheer shade covered the glass for constant privacy. Never noticing the stifling quality of the room before, Jane pulled at the collar of her sweater. The ten-by-twelve was well heated. Two doors closed her from the exit hallway and the reception lobby. If she picked the wrong one, she didn’t know her fate.
Who was she kidding? She would never have the guts to chance an escape.
A knock on door number two caused Jane to swing around, nearly losing her balance. Those few seconds of freedom disintegrated like sugar under a water tap. The door opened.
Her whole body trembled with an unnatural rush of adrenaline. Fear produced an exorbitant amount of energy. Jane had no idea how to coordinate the power into a useful product.
The olive-skinned man strode to her desk. Her eyes followed as if a string attached her retinas to his every move. He reached under her desk and tugged a tiny microphone from its secure hiding place. He ditched it in his pants pocket. “You did not get her to tell me anything.” He narrowed his eyes and lifted his lips in a sneer. “Dr. Korbic.” Her name came out in exaggerated pronunciation.
Her hand clutched her collar, kneading the soft yarn. “I tried. I tried.”
“Not good enough.”
“Why…” She cleared her strangled throat. “Why don’t you ask her what you need? Why me? Why do you need to go through…?” Jane lost her momentum as the stranger pulled his gun out, caressing the butt of the weapon. She closed her eyes, wishing him gone, wishing he’d get it over with.
He did.
Traumatic incidences happen in slow motion. She heard a click. A muffled bang followed.
* * * *
“Shoot.”
“I have to stay underground for a while. Things are progressing.” Undercover CIA Agent Alec Ranier began his explanation. Vic listened with all ears to Alec’s infrequent update from the Hidden House in Cairo, Egypt. “We’re still in a descent position to get the arms dealer’s main contact.”
“That’s good, but I wanted to
talk to you about another problem. Besides, I’m not the head of your operation since I left the US. Be careful who you listen to from now until we can safely end your assignment.”
“We’re all on high alert for any given direction from who? Probably Kreis?”
“That’d be my guess.” Vic shifted as he sat at his table, staring out the window at the wall of the next-door apartment building. “I need a name from you.”
“What kind of name?”
“I need the name of the Egyptian leader’s cabinet member whose daughter was killed in Iraq earlier this year.”
“That’s an easy one. Abasi Shehata. He’s still furious, her dad, from what I’ve heard. What do you want his name for, or shouldn’t I ask?”
“Let’s just say that I want to do him a favor, which will do a favor for us in return without him being aware of it.”
“Who are you getting out of commission this time?”
Vic would like to lay the plan out for his agent, but as safe as the call might be, he couldn’t take a chance the wrong ears had a pipeline into the conversation. At this time, the only ones possibly in danger of the call would be himself and Alec. Vic didn’t want to jeopardize the rest that will be involved if he can put together the mission. “I’m going to have to leave that answer unsaid for now.”
“Understood.”
“We’ll get to you at the right time.” Vic hung up the phone with his last promise. He would get Alec and the other men in Cairo out of their operation at the right time. Right now, he knew which fellow CIA agent needed a release from an impossible assignment. Vic mentally picked Agent Bret Ferrier, a lone target of Kreis sent to the underground of Iraq.
It was a bad place to be even with a backup agent, but alone, impossible to come out alive. Vic had a hard time admitting that another reason he targeted Bret for the next mission of saving his men had to do with Alina.
That crazy, beautiful woman had been in Iraq and he knew damn well she was going back, probably alone. He couldn’t let her tempt such a dangerous situation, but he knew she’d do it whether he lectured her on safety or not.