Cold Red

by Fiona Quinn

  “We think it was Omega. We don’t have any hard evidence. But yeah, whoever played that hand was able to kill a bunch of people.”

  “Shit. And Randy’s team?”

  “The operatives all survived it. Unfortunately, the teams couldn’t make it to the people they were supposed to rescue. Those are the people who died. From the perpetrator’s point of view, the mission was highly successful. We could never pin anything on them, though. What I told you just now about Omega’s involvement is conjecture. But I’d love to serve arrest warrants on them. I’m just wondering if you heard the name Omega bantered about in conjunction with the Zoric family? Did you hear about Omega working in Slovakia? The operation had some of the Zorics tradecraft associated with it.”

  “You know, I’ll have to give that some thought, later. Ask you some more questions. Off the top of my head, I don’t have anything to share.” Anna’s face felt pinched with cold and fatigue. She had to be careful here. She wanted the information, she just didn’t want to give up any classified information in return. “Unless you can share more details?”

  “That’s about all I have,” Finley replied. “My girlfriend at the time was how I even came to know about even that much. She was an FBI witness to an art theft.”

  “This was your asset, Lacey Stewart, in the art case?” Anna asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “That was a big hit the Zorics took. They are livid that America has their family members in prison.”

  “I’m sure they are. But this was a different art case. Lacey…” he took a few steps before he finished, “…she had a rough time of it. Her uncle used her innocence to play games. This first art case wasn’t on the FBI’s radar. But it was the way Lacey met Deep Del Toro, from Strike Force, her now husband. He’s the guy who scooped her up and saved her from the sniper’s bullets the day my face ended up on the news.”

  “When you tried to save the reporter,” Anna said. “A decision that took you out of the field and got you desk duty, which lead to chauffer duty, which flipped you through the air, and put you right back on this fun romp in the world of the Zorics. Weird how things work out.” She glanced back to watch his face. “Does that still sting, Lacey and Deep?” Her stomach knotted with apprehension as she waited for his reply.

  “It’s for the best,” he said. “Any feelings for Lacey I have now are sentimental. I’m truly glad for her. She’s in a good place in her life. Happy, probably for the first time ever.”

  Anna nodded. “The Zorics really seem to have their fingers in a bunch or strangely flavored pies. Hey, listen, when we’re back in DC, could you set up a meeting with whomever it was investigating the satellite hack? I’d like to take that information back to AWG, so they can work with it. Maybe even some signature code to look for.”

  “I’m confused. Are you suggesting that this has something to do with the Zorics?”

  Whoops. “I had two thoughts that conflated. No, I wasn’t making a connection for you. I know the AWG is worried about the communications situation. If they don’t already know about this, your information might be helpful.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Finley said. “You’re right, though. The Zorics do seem to have their fingers in a lot of pies. I’m curious how the military made a connection between you and the Zorics. You were in the Middle East at the time?”

  “A CIA operative came to visit me, and we had a little chat. I had revealed my background when I went through security clearance.”

  “Ah, I see. You were looking for a way out of the sandbox and into the swanky parties and yachting life of Eastern European oligarchy.”

  “Exactly. Not everyone saw the big picture of how my joining the army would get me the paid gig of galas and designer clothes, but that’s because they lacked imagination. I always knew if I ate enough MREs, that I’d soon replace them with caviar and champagne.”

  “Ha!” Finley snorted. “Do you think you’ll go back to Slovakia?”

  “I have to figure out how I ended up in my present situation. If my being a mole was uncovered, then going back isn’t feasible.”

  “West Virginia and SIC. I’m still trying to make the connection,” he pressed. “You were in Slovakia, enjoying the swanky life. And then there was Johnathan.”

  “Exactly. Then there was Johnathan the shit for brains. My commander thought Johnathan was the more pressing problem, for some reason. Coming to West Virginia was an order. It was hard leaving right when I thought I might be making progress. I conferred with the CIA field office, handed over everything I thought could possibly be helpful, and here I am. Johnathan brought me to the SIC militia. I’ve watched the money flow. Money is influence – I can document that, but my job wasn’t to follow that influence. My job was to follow Johnathan. He was up to something specific.”

  Anna stepped over a berm of snow onto the partially cleared road with a sense of astonishment. For Anna, this bit of human industry had seemed far away. And here they were. She blinked at the fine thread of horizon.

  Finley squeezed Anna’s shoulder, then lifted his arm to point. Headlights bounced down the road.

  Elation and trepidation bubbled in her chest.

  Finley’s grin fell off his face when he saw the muscles of Anna’s face harden – he’d probably seen his fellow soldiers get the same look when they heard the first blast of a gunfire blaze through the night.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Anna

  The SUV slowed to a smooth stop beside them. The driver powered down his window.

  Anna had Mulvaney’s gun gripped under the blanket, finger resting along the trigger guard, ready for action.

  “You folks doing okay? You’re a far piece out in the middle of nowhere.” It was an older man in a camo hunting jacket and a blaze orange beanie pulled down over his eyebrows. The bottom part of his face was a salt and pepper beard that hung halfway down to his paunch belly. Other than that, he was a pair of bloodshot blue eyes.

  Anna swallowed and licked her lips. With her best fake accent, she stumbled around with some English words. “Help, please? No gas in car.”

  He reached over and pushed the door open. “Climb on in, I’ll take you to the gas station. You’ll freeze out here.”

  Anna looked over to Finley. “You get in next to him,” she said in Slovak. “I’ll climb in back.” She reached for the door handle. “Thank you for help,” she stumbled in English.

  “You all aren’t from around here?” the guy asked.

  Anna gave him a flat smile and a couple blinks of her eyelashes as she looked at him blankly.

  He thumped his chest. “My name’s Harvey,” he yelled as if the volume would improve her comprehension.

  “My name Olga.” She pulled out her cell phone and lifted it up for him to see. “No work. May I charge?”

  She held her phone out to him, and he plugged it in. Anna watched as Harvey took his own cell phone and slid it into the door pocket. “No cell service out here, anyway.” He shook his head, tapping at her phone. “No good. No help,” he said, then pointed up the highway as Finley clicked on his safety belt. “They have a phone. A tel-e-phone,” he annunciated, “that’s a landline at the gas station. There’s a motel, too. Would you rather go to the motel to sleep or the gas station?”

  Anna consulted with Finley. “What are you thinking? Do we trust this guy?”

  “What else are we going to do?” he asked. “Draw your guns on him and kick him out of the car? He’d die out here.”

  Anna looked out the window weighing that very prospect. “Someone else could come along and pick him up.”

  “Let’s keep an eye and see how far up the road we can go.”

  Anna wasn’t happy with that decision. She was lit up like a Christmas tree. “Thank you. We go gas. Call friend. Friend come. Our suitcases in car,” she faltered.

  Harvey threw the car into gear, and they started forward. “Another storm’s coming in. Glad I saw you when I did.”

  A
nna’s toe tapped the floor.

  “Do you like music?” he asked reaching for the radio as they reached highway speed.

  Anna lifted the gun and stuck it against the man’s temple. “Grab the wheel,” she said in Slovak. “Foot off the gas,” she said in English.

  “What the? Criminy,” Harvey sputtered.

  “I’m happy to blow your brains out this window right here, right now. Do you doubt me?”

  “No,” Harvey whined.

  Finley had a good grip on the wheel and was steering them down the highway as their speed dropped.

  Harvey had lowered his hands to his thighs.

  “One move that makes me twitchy, and I pull the trigger. I have this gun at your temple and another at your back. You understand the fragility of your situation?”

  Harvey nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I do.”

  “Put your foot slowly and carefully on the brake,” Anna said. “If you stomp, and I fly forward, you’ll be shot in the back. Living life on a respirator won’t be much fun.”

  “Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.” The car came to a slow stop in the middle of the highway. “I was trying to help. I saw you were stranded. It was my Christian duty.”

  “I thank you and Jesus thanks you. Put the car in park, then get out,” Anna said.

  Harvey looked out the side window. “Here? I’m ten miles from town. I’ll freeze before I get anywhere safe.”

  “Sorry,” Anna said, then tapped the gun hard against his temple. “3… 2…”

  Before she could say one, Harvey had his door open and was surreptitiously reaching into the side pocket for his phone.

  Anna had popped her door at the same moment Harvey had. “Don’t even think about it,” Anna said in the tone she’d learned made the difference when she was working in countries where the men weren’t known for following a woman’s orders. “Lace your fingers and put them on your head.”

  As Harvey complied, Anna moved him up against the car and patted him down, taking Harvey’s own gun and kidney holster.

  Finley had grabbed the keys from the ignition. Smart thinking. He was out and around the side, triangulated with the guy. His face swollen from the bruising and bristly with two days of beard growth. He was rumpled and filthy, like someone who’d lived in the same clothes for months on end. His eyes were stretched wide as he tried to focus, making him look insane. Anna thought Finley’s rounding the hood of the car was as upsetting to Harvey as her gun was.

  “Turn around and with your hands on your head, start walking,” Anna commanded as she turned Harvey in the direction he’d come from.

  “But town is in the other direction.” Harvey lifted his finger from the lacing to point the direction the car was headed.

  “Walk,” Anna growled.

  They watched until Harvey was out of sight.

  “What the heck, Anna?” Finley asked as he handed her the keys.

  She scooted into the guys seat, snapped on a belt, and adjusted the mirrors. “He has a 14/88 tattoo on his wrist. I saw it when he reached for the radio,” she said as Finley climbed in beside her and shut the door.

  “88 is Heil Hitler and 14 is the phrase: ‘We must secure the existence of our people and a future for white children.’ I’m taking it that tattoo is associated with SIC?”

  “Bingo.” She revved the engine and turned the SUV around to aim in the opposite direction they’d been headed, passing Harvey who then turned around and started back toward town.

  Finley reached in Anna’s coat pocket and pulled out the topo map. Using the visor light to look it over, he said, “Best I can see, it’s twice as far to the next town. Hopefully the roads have all been plowed.”

  Anna pulled the binoculars from around her neck. “Two things, first scan forward and see if anyone’s coming our way.” She reached into the side pocket and pulled out Harvey’s phone. “Then check this thing. I’m thinking Harvey lied to us. We’re probably back in cell range,” she said. “We need to know if he told anyone he was picking us up.”

  “Clear, for now.” Finley lowered the binoculars and traded them for the cell phone Anna held out to him. “We’re in luck it’s an older phone, no password. And… we ran out of luck. ‘Sheriff, I’ve got’em,’ he texted. And the return text says, ‘We’ll meet you at the town limits. Good job.’”

  “The shithead. Hey, look around and see if he has any food in here. Will you? We need to figure out what we’re going to do next.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Finley

  Finley and Anna were agreed. They didn’t know what the heck was going on. Obviously, a little paranoia might put them in good stead.

  Anna was worried about staying on the highway, they were even more worried about turning off. The road conditions weren’t great. Any melting that had happened during the day from the sun and traffic was freezing over and their progress was at a crawl. That and the storm Harvey had mentioned had started tapping icy flakes on the windshield.

  They seemed to be the only ones on the road right now. But Finley kept lifting the binoculars so he could give Anna advanced warning if that changed. The plan was for her to stop and turn off the headlights. Granted, it wasn’t a very good plan. But it was all they had. With the snow fall and the white exterior, maybe the driver would blow on by.

  So far, they were the only ones on the road.

  They needed food and medical care.

  They needed someone they could trust.

  “I kind of preferred being out in the woods to this, if I were being honest,” Anna said. They only had the heat up a little. They’d decided the cold might help them stay functional. They at least had enough warm air blowing to defrost their fingers.

  “Six of one, six feet under of another.”

  “Don’t say that again.” Her voice a little too bark-y. “Ever.”

  He’d touched a nerve.

  They were both pushed to their limits. He reminded himself to keep calm and as level as possible. Stay frosty. Okay, that wasn’t the best phrase for this particular situation. “We need to talk strategy. Let’s start with cell phones.”

  “The sheriff was involved,” she said, shifting her hips in the seat, settling, then lifting up to shift again with an inhale between clenched teeth.

  “Right, so we can’t risk a call to 9-1-1.” He thought about the dark bruises on Anna’s legs and back. She needed relief. He imagined a clean hospital bed, an IV, and Anna in a deep sleep. He wanted that for her. “I’m not so sure about whom I’d call at the FBI. I don’t know where things went sideways.”

  “You think someone at the FBI was in on this?” Anna asked, incredulity in her voice.

  “Not knowingly. It’s possible someone said something like, ‘I’ve got a woman I’m mentoring. She needs to get her name attached to a significant case. Is there any way you can get her in on the West Virginia apprehension? Anything really, maybe she can do the prisoner transportation piece.’”

  “I could see that. And that mentor could be from anywhere. It just had to be someone with connections.”

  “Have any idea who it could be?” Finley asked.

  “I’ve met a lot of people with a lot of connections and a lot of power but not necessarily with the FBI.”

  There was something in her tone, like she was packing that piece of information on a certain shelf. Like it was part of a collection she was working on. He thought she’d probably share once she had something significant. “How about calling someone at the AWG?”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t. Someone specifically wanted me to be captured by the FBI and specifically set up an FBI special agent to kill me. And if Mulvaney failed? They specifically had a backup plan to kill me at the cabin.”

  Hearing the facts laid out set something off in Finley’s body. His heart beat harder, his muscles tightened, coiled. He was ready to spring forward in Anna’s defense, which, in his current state of inability, was all but laughable.

  He reminded himself of that video on socia
l media where the little kid with his fists posted on his hips and spaghetti-thick arms tried to look fierce as he stared down a soldier in full combat gear.

  That was exactly how Finley had felt as he teetered around the car to give Anna backup when they were ditching Harvey. His efforts had been ridiculous. Finley was much more in danger of hurting himself than hurting anyone else.

  Anna must have come to the same conclusion.

  She hadn’t given him his gun back. She had all three guns. One in Mulvaney’s holster, one in her jacket pocket, and Harvey’s kidney holster was nestled in the small of her back. Finley knew her choice to keep the weapons was for self-preservation. He couldn’t be trusted to get a shot off in the right direction. Finley would have made the same decisions if he were in her shoes.

  She knew he was ineffectual.

  Man, didn’t that just drop his testosterone levels into the basement.

  Anna looked over at him. “Did you hear me? I said that someone specifically wants me dead. That’s why I’m reticent to contact anyone who knows me, even AWG.”

  Finley said, “I heard. I was trying to think this through. I’ve been stuck on the loop that when you saved me, you broke your cover.”

  “I’m not sure about that. Being seen as disposable doesn’t mean anyone knows who I am to whom and under what circumstances.”

  Alright, he wasn’t even going to attempt to parse that.

  “And if my cover wasn’t already blown, then saving you could be read as self-preservation by the Zorics,” she said. “Smart, strategic planning to keep myself out of jail. You’d be one hell of a good character witness if I were hauled before a judge.” She deepened her voice and mimicked his tone. “Yes, sir, after realizing the danger I was in, Miss Fitzgerald helped to get me to medical attention and saved my sorry ass, risking her own life and limb for my benefit.”

  Anna was right on that count, Finley thought. One could easily read her actions as self-preservation. Though in reality, self-preservation didn’t include dunking head-first into an ice-covered pond to pull him out. If she truly was saving him for her own ends, then the story of trying to help him and the location of his body would have been enough.