Covert Cover Cracked

by Missy Marciassa

  Reese was grinning at her as he pulled off his mask and regulator. “You’ve got a cool head under pressure and some impressive strokes to boot.” She saw the sparkle in his eyes.

  “You were impressive yourself: none of us remembered our backup regulators.” She meant it, too.

  He pulled her close again, and she hugged him, refusing to let herself worry about what she may have given away with her reaction. They were the only two divers who handled the emergency well. She figured it was best to focus on the swimming rather than the rescue. The truth of the matter was that she’d had many grueling hours of training in how to handle diving mishaps. It had been one of her least-favorite parts of field training, but the only way to learn how to keep calm under pressure was to simulate the experience.

  He hugged her close as the boat started moving across the water, taking them back to shore. “I don’t even know why anything about you surprises me anymore.”

  She felt her lips curving into a coy grin. “I’m a woman of mystery.”

  “Yes, you are,” he agreed before giving her a kiss. As she rested her head against his chest, she realized she was really going to miss him when he went on his deployment.

  Her cell phone started ringing as soon as she had her gear loaded up in her car. She recognized the number as she answered.

  “Meet me at Place by the Sea Hotel on Mills Road in one hour. Room 217.” He disconnected.

  “I’ll see you soon,” she said before hitting the disconnect button on her cell. She forced herself to face Reese, who was still putting his gear away.

  “I have to take a rain check on dinner,” she said as he glanced up at her. “I’ve just gotten called into work.”

  “What do you have to do on a Saturday afternoon?”

  That wasn’t the answer she’d been expecting. He sounded like Lyle. They had been spending a lot of time together, though, especially on the weekends. “Something’s come up with one of the search systems.” The lie rolled off her tongue with ease, which she hated, but it couldn’t be helped. “Cramming students can’t wait until Monday.”

  He looked pacified as he gave her a kiss. “Hope it’s not too long. I had some fun stuff planned for tonight.”

  Her body tightened and her toes curled despite herself. “I hope I’m not long, either.” Her response was honest, although she wasn’t hopeful.

  Chapter 21

  Since the whole city was by the sea, the name of the hotel, Place By The Sea, wasn’t technically a lie, but it certainly wasn’t an ocean front property, either. It was on a road that only had a couple of other small hotels across from a large wooded lot that was hidden behind a virtual wall of trees. The Atlantic wasn’t visible.

  Yet Elle could see why Mason would choose this place. Only people going to one of these little hotels would be out here. People wouldn’t just wander by and see something. She also noticed it had exterior corridors, so she didn’t have to walk through the lobby. There weren’t even any security cameras as far as she could see.

  She knocked on the door. After a pause, it opened to reveal Mason. He looked oddly out of place in his suit in this economy hotel, but it didn’t seem to bother him as he motioned her in.

  “We’re still waiting for Agent Raddick,” he said as she entered the room. There was a double bed and a large table by the window. The heavy curtains were drawn, blocking all light from outside.

  She sat down at the table. For once, she wasn’t the last one to arrive. “Any developments?” she asked. She couldn’t even imagine trying to make small talk with Mason. He just didn’t do small talk as far as she knew.

  “Unfortunately, we-”

  There was another knock at the door, which Mason went to answer. He’d said enough for her to realize she might not get to see Reese for a while.

  Preston sauntered in, looking relaxed as he nodded at Mason and Elle and took his seat. Mason joined them at the table. “So what’s up?” Preston asked.

  “We had an independent contractor working on a blended threat to counteract the attacks against our computer networks,” Mason said. “He was in Cambridge, where you retrieved the code.”

  Elle tried to make sense of this information. “If he was in Cambridge, why were we sent in to retrieve the code?”

  Mason didn’t look pleased by the interruption, but he did answer the question. “He’s an independent contractor, not an operative.”

  She glanced at Preston, who remained focused on Mason. Was he avoiding looking at her? She focused on Mason herself. “Is the independent contractor a student?”

  There was a slight pause. “Yes.” Mason’s tone remained neutral. Too neutral.

  “Terrorists are recruiting students and we’re using students?” It just seemed… wrong. Preston gave her the briefest of glances, but as soon as they made eye contact, he looked away.

  “It’s not unlike your original association with the agency,” Mason pointed out.

  “But I didn’t know I was working for-” Then she realized what was going on. “This student didn’t know, did he?” Henry and Jack, the CIA staff who worked with her while she was in school, kept telling her how unusual her situation was.

  After another pause, during which Preston did not look at Elle, Mason said, “He thinks he has a fellowship funded by a cybersecurity company.”

  “And it’s really a shell corporation for the CIA,” she finished.

  “NSA,” Mason corrected.

  She rolled her eyes. That made it so much better. The government was still involving students in dangerous stuff.

  “You said ‘had,’” Preston observed. “We ‘had’ an independent contractor working up there?”

  Did Mason now look openly uncomfortable? He pulled some papers out of a folder and shuffled them around in his hands, not looking at either one of them, for a minute. Finally he set the papers down.

  “The independent contractor has disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?” Elle echoed.

  “Voluntarily or involuntarily?” Preston asked.

  Mason looked at Preston. What was up with no one looking at her? “We suspect involuntarily. In his last communique he indicated he was going to transmit an updated version of his blended threat within four hours, but his handler didn’t hear from him again.” Mason glanced at Elle before looking back at Preston. “The two of you need to go to Cambridge now, do a sweep of his apartment. Get anything that could be helpful to us.”

  “When do we leave?” Elle asked.

  “The plane is waiting for you at Langley.” He wasn’t talking about the DC headquarters: they were flying out of Langley Air Force Base, which was just outside of Hampton, less than half an hour from Norfolk. She definitely wouldn’t be seeing Reese tonight.

  ***

  Reese was disappointed when Elle had to go to work after their diving expedition, but he ended up getting called in to work himself as he was driving home. His platoon, along with Gabe’s platoon, was needed to do some training exercise on a mock compound the Navy SEALs had set up. Since he and Gabe lived in the same apartment complex, he arranged to meet up with his friend so the two could ride to the compound together. It was Gabe’s turn to drive.

  “You should’ve seen her in the water, man.” Reese couldn’t help bragging on Elle as Gabe turned onto Mills Road. The mock compound was located on a lot, hidden behind the trees that lined the road. “She could keep up with us if she had to.”

  Gabe rolled his eyes as he parked the car. “You’ve got it bad, man.”

  Reese snorted. “You’re just jealous I’ve upgraded from the frog hogs.”

  They got out of the car. The only buildings nearby were a couple of old hotels. Most people had no idea this plot of land was actually a military training area; the SEALs used it frequently. The mock compounds were similar in design to real ones they were planning to infiltrate and raid, and rehearsed different exercises until they could do it- or any variation that may be required- in their sleep.

  �
�Is that your girl?” Gabe nodded over to a leggy brunette hitting the external stairs of one of the hotels across the street.

  Reese looked over and recognized the gait immediately. Elle moved with the grace of someone who studied martial arts, and it showed as she practically skipped down the stairs. She wore a baseball cap pulled low, her long hair up in a ponytail, and her eyes hidden behind sunglasses, but he knew it was her.

  She wasn’t alone, either. That guy he’d seen at the coffee shop was with her, moving with the sleek step he knew well, knew that all special operators had. Perhaps the guy had gone into Information Science after retiring from the military? Their careers ended early; most of them went on to do something else professionally unless they happened to be independently wealthy.

  It didn’t matter; even if that was the case with this guy, there was nothing they would have to do regarding a library in one of those rinky dink hotels.

  Gabe looked between him and Elle as she got into her car, which he recognized. The guy got into a different car. They both watched the cars drive away.

  “Thought you said she had to work,” Gabe said.

  Reese felt his gut tighten. “That’s what she told me.”

  There was an awkward pause. “Didn’t you say she works in a library or something like that?”

  Reese simply nodded, feeling his throat get thick.

  “I know this is none of my business, man-” Gabe began.

  “Then why the hell are you talking?” Reese didn’t want to bite his friend’s head off, but he knew what was coming. He’d have said the same thing if the roles were reversed, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear it.

  “Because you seem to be getting serious with this chick.” Gabe’s voice was level, deliberately calm. “Like, relationship serious, not your usual ‘fun times.’ And it looks like she-”

  “We’ve been hooking up frequently.” Reese forced his shoulders to raise in a shrug, trying to look nonchalant. He knew he wasn’t fooling his friend for a second. The silence between them was awkward as he turned and started for the trees that hid the training area from view.

  Gabe followed, falling in step with him.

  “We’re about to deploy in a couple of weeks, and you’re falling ass over heels for a chick who clearly enjoys hooking up.” His friend stood his ground.

  Reese’s hands tightened into fists, but he would never hit him, no matter how much he wanted to.

  “You’re spending all your free time with her-”

  “You would, too, if you were getting what I’m getting.” Even as he spoke, he knew he was lying. The sex was great- he wasn’t lying about that- but more than that, he enjoyed just hanging out with Elle. Their sparring sessions were the highlight of his days. Diving with her had been incredible. The only other divers he communicated with so effortlessly underwater were his SEAL teammates, and they had hours of practice, not to mention years of training.

  “If it’s just about getting some, then diversify a bit.” Reese just glared at Gabe, but that wasn’t going to stop his friend from talking. “She is. You’ve gotta keep your head on straight. We can’t afford distractions-”

  “Now you need to shut the fuck up.” This was where Reese drew the line. “When have I ever not been able to focus on an op?”

  “Okay, okay.” Gabe held his hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying.”

  They walked in silence for a few more moments until they joined the rest of their platoons. Reese had to force himself to listen to what their commander was telling them about preparing for a possible raid. It sounded like the usual: breach a fortified compound, raid it, possible hostage extraction, take the bad guys into custody, blow shit up and get the hell out.

  By the time the briefing on the compound was complete, he was focused on the drills. He and Gabe had developed a series of drills with their seconds-in-commands. They practiced as separate platoons (in case they got separated or only one platoon was needed at the last minute) and working together. Given the size of the potential compound, it seemed likely that both platoons would be needed to infiltrate it. They rehearsed the original drill, then drills with contingencies. The excessive practice SEALs did was a key part of their success as special operators: they could execute their plans in their sleep or half-dead if necessary and in pretty much any circumstance.

  After several hours, they called it a night.

  “Want to grab a beer at Shore Leave?” Gabe asked.

  Reese nodded. He knew a peace offering when he heard it, and a beer would help him unwind.

  “Lindsay’s going to be thrilled to see your ugly mug.”

  Reese rolled his eyes at Gabe’s smirk as he pulled out his cell. Despite himself, he sent Elle a text to see if she was up for some late night fun. The thought of her having some late night fun with another guy made him want to punch something, despite being exhausted from the drills.

  “You did not just text that chick.” The disbelief in Gabe’s voice was like salt in the wound.

  “What are you, my mother?” Reese knew that he knew but that didn’t mean he had to admit it.

  “Ass over heels,” Gabe muttered, shaking his head, as they both got into the car.

  Chapter 22

  Elle was deplaning when she heard the text notification for her cell go off. She checked her phone as she reached the bottom of the stairs and headed for the car with Preston.

  It was Reese, asking if she wanted to meet up for some late night fun.

  He had no idea how much she wanted to, but there was no telling how long she’d be in Cambridge. She sent him a text back telling him she’d have to take a raincheck. Then she powered off her phone. At least he wasn’t like Lyle, who would sulk for the evening after receiving her text. Reese could roll with the punches.

  “No hot and heavy hook up for you tonight,” Preston said as he hit the remote for the car to unlock the doors.

  There was no way in hell Elle was admitting to that one. “It may be hard to imagine for you, but who says that was about hooking up?” She got in the passenger seat.

  “It’s after nine o’clock on a Sunday night.” He got behind the wheel. “What else could it be?”

  “A colleague asking a question about work tomorrow.” She was proud of her quick save.

  “I don’t have any questions about work tomorrow.” He smirked as he started the car. “And why wouldn’t anyone else just wait until tomorrow morning?”

  She decided not to respond, entering their address into the car’s GPS system instead. “Don’t you want to know where we’re going?” she asked as he pulled out.

  “Memorized the route on the way here.” Preston gave her a grin. “I’m a seasoned operative, you know.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  The drive was mercifully short to the apartment complex. It looked like a typical student apartment complex: no frills, just the basics. It struck Elle that this could have been her only a little over a year ago. Although she hadn’t known it, she had been an independent contractor for the agency, too, as a student, since the CIA was funding her master’s thesis. This student probably had no idea who the code was really for. Well, he probably hadn’t at the time. Who knew what he thought now, wherever he was.

  She felt the tingling again. She could have “disappeared” just like this independent contractor. She’d nearly been captured by terrorists tracking her program when she was still a student.

  Preston unlocked the exterior door of the apartment building, which opened to a dim and dingy hallway and a stairwell. They didn’t encounter anyone as they made their way to the fourth floor. Of course there was no elevator.

  They reached apartment 431, the place they had to sweep. She pulled on her leather gloves and noticed he already had his on.

  Of course he did.

  Once they were inside the apartment they switched on their flashlights. Turning on the lights was too risky; it could attract attention if someone was watching the place.

  The apartm
ent could have been any male student’s apartment. There wasn’t much furniture: a futon and an old recliner with a card table for the “dining room” table. The large screen TV, gaming console, and powerful computer revealed exactly what this guy thought was important. Papers were everywhere, and there were some pictures of sports teams on the walls.

  Except it was a wreck, even for a bachelor pad. The futon was overturned. Every door in the kitchenette was open. A couple of chairs were lying on their sides, too.

  “Looks like someone beat us here,” Preston murmured as he looked around.

  She sniffed. Was that rotting food? Then she spotted the pizza box on the floor, upside down. There was a table with books and papers piled up, but one spot, right in front of the chair, was clear.

  “That’s probably where his computer was,” she said as she walked closer. She glanced at the carpet: the area underneath the chair was extremely worn, suggesting whoever lived here had sat at this spot at the table often. There was also an imprint in the carpet next to the table: it was probably where his computer dome had been. Computer scientists needed desktop computers to run the more heavy-duty programs that a laptop couldn’t handle.

  Preston glanced around. “I’ll search the bedroom; you take the kitchen.”

  Elle made her way to the tiny kitchen; it was really a kitchenette. Nothing of interest there besides a dirty countertop, a half empty cereal box, and some dirty dishes in the sink.

  Except the blood. Blood was splattered in the sink and on the floor.

  Had the independent contractor put up a fight? Her stomach twisted, and she feared she was going to throw up. She breathed deep, closing her eyes. It would be completely unprofessional to get sick during an op.

  Once her stomach settled, she opened her eyes and looked more closely, shining the flashlight on the sink and floor. Yep, it was blood, but not a lot of blood, certainly not a fatal amount. She took some samples. Perhaps the blood didn’t belong to the independent contractor; it might belong to the kidnapper.