Next Exit, Use Caution

by CW Browning

  Michael knew what she did for a living but nevertheless, that left him speechless. She smiled a twisted smile at his dumbfounded look.

  “Don’t look so horrified, Michael. It was self-defense.”

  “But...Italy is an ally!” he sputtered. “You can’t just go around...” his voice trailed off at the patently amused look on her face.

  “I think you’re getting distracted from the primary point,” she said gently. “People who shouldn’t know I exist knew what I look like.”

  Michael sucked in his breath as understanding hit.

  “You think it’s someone here,” he stated rather than asked.

  “You didn’t know it at the time, but your hunch that someone in Washington was planning another terrorist attack was closer to the truth than you realized,” Alina told him grimly.

  “Is it someone in your organization?”

  “We’re trying to figure that out now,” she replied. “Personally, I think it’s higher up, but they could have someone in my agency. Either way, my boss is working on it.”

  “Apparently not hard enough. They knew where you were. And where were you, anyway?” Michael asked, lifting his beer to his lips.

  Alina glanced at him.

  “The other side of the world,” she said evasively. “Whoever it is, they’ve got eyes and ears in very select places. No one knew we were there.”

  “Well someone did,” Michael pointed out gently. She was silent and he sighed, running a hand over his short hair. “Ok. So someone’s gunning for you, and we’re pretty sure it’s someone here in DC. Is that why you have me doing that background? You think it’s him?”

  “No, but I think he can lead me to them,” she said. “It’s complicated.”

  “Clearly.” Michael finished his beer and set the empty bottle on the workbench behind him. “Answer me this. Why are you still here? And by here, I mean stateside. Why haven’t you disappeared?”

  “Run away?” she stopped pacing and stared at him. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Lina, you’re trained to be invisible,” he said, leaning forward. “Hell, you’re a ghost. Use it! Get the hell out of here and let your agency handle it. This isn’t a game. They’ll kill you.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” She swung around to face him and Michael found himself staring at Viper. Any remnant of the Alina he knew was gone, and the intimidating weapon his country had produced was in her place. “If I run now, I’ll never stop. I don’t trust anyone right now, especially my own people, so I sure as hell won’t trust someone else to find the bastard. You’re right. I’m trained to be a ghost and I’ll be one right here, until I find the son of a bitch.”

  Michael blinked at the sudden fury flaring in those dark eyes and, in that instant, saw the raw emotion driving her.

  “What can I do to help?”

  He gave up trying to get her to leave. She wasn’t going anywhere. The only thing he could do now was try to help her get out of this alive. There was no point wasting time bemoaning the situation. There would be time enough for that later, when it was all over.

  “You’re already doing it. Find the money trail to Trasker, and get me all the information you can with the background search.”

  “And you? What are you going to do?”

  Alina sighed and went back to perch on her stool, picking up her water. She took a long drink, then capped the bottle.

  “I have to go back to Jersey,” she said quietly. “I have John’s funeral to deal with, and I need to recoup my armory while I can.”

  Michael studied her thoughtfully for a long moment.

  “What about the terrorists?” he asked. “One of them floated up in the Potomac yesterday.”

  “Yes, I know. You ID’d him.”

  Michael stared at her, taken aback.

  “How the hell do you know that?!” he demanded.

  “Did you really think a terrorist could float up in Washington, DC and we wouldn’t hear about it?” she asked, amused.

  “But how do you know I was the one who identified him?”

  “Who else could have? I’m the only other person who knows what they look like, and I know it wasn’t me.”

  Michael blinked and grinned sheepishly.

  “Oh. Good point. I ID’d him as one of the terrorists, but we don’t have a name. Care to share whose body we have?”

  “His name was Nasser Hussein. As for the other two, I’ll take care of them.” Alina stood up. “In the meantime, you just keep on Trasker and Mr. X.”

  “Mr. X?” Michael raised an eyebrow. “That’s what you’re calling him?”

  “That’s what he is right now,” she said with a shrug. “He’s the X factor in all of this. He may turn out to be nothing, or everything.”

  Alina turned toward the door to the house, then paused and turned back, pulling something out of her jacket pocket.

  “Oh! Here.” She handed him a slim box. “It’s a clean phone and charger. Use that to contact me.”

  Michael took the box and nodded.

  “I haven’t addressed the phone situation, yet,” he told her. “I’ll deal with it later, when this is all over. For now, I’m just letting whoever tapped them think we’re not onto them.”

  “That’s the best thing you can do,” she agreed. “It will give them a false sense of security and superiority.”

  “Exactly.”

  “That’s why I got the clean phone. I need to be able to contact you and know it’s secure. Don’t use that phone for anyone else, not even Blake. The more the number is used, the less secure it becomes.”

  “Don’t worry,” Michael said, following her to the door. “I’ll make sure it stays secure. You just make sure you stay alive or this will all be for nothing.”

  Chapter Nine

  The man stepped out of the abandoned factory and into the sunlight. He put on large sunglasses, shielding his eyes from the glare, and turned toward the beige sedan parked a few feet away. Walking toward the car, he pulled out his phone and hit speed dial. The call was picked up after one ring.

  “He’s dead,” he said flatly.

  There was a pause on the line, then a sigh.

  “May Allah welcome him home at last,” a voice said. “Did you find the body?”

  “No. It’s been removed.” The man opened the door and got behind the wheel, gazing at the large, deteriorating building in front of him. “The house is cleaned out and the truck is gone. Nothing remains.”

  “Nothing at all?”

  “No. They were very thorough.”

  “How do you know he’s dead? Perhaps they took him.”

  “I found where he was killed,” the man said heavily. “The wire he was tied with is still on the floor and the cement is stained with blood.”

  There was silence on the line for a long moment.

  “You’re sure it was his?”

  “Who else? This place is less than a mile from the house and the blood stain appears new. Asad’s last contact was five days ago, on Sunday. The stain is still dark, not faded. The wire on the ground is tied in professional knots. What else could it be?”

  There was another silence on the line, then another sigh.

  “What do we do now? Nasser hasn’t checked in since Saturday. Asad believed he was caught or killed. Now Asad is dead. If they cleaned out the house, they have everything.”

  The man was quiet for a long moment, staring at the building. Anger was building inside him, slow and steady.

  “Not everything,” he said quietly. “We can still make a statement.”

  “Not enough of one. We have failed.”

  “Not yet.” The man closed the door and started the engine. “We haven’t failed until we fail to avenge Asad’s death.”

  “How?”

  “We find the one who killed him.”

  “We don’t even know where to start!” the voice protested. “It’s impossible. We don’t even have a name. Perhaps we should go back to Damascus. We can
form a new plan. Try again.”

  “We can’t go back,” the man said sharply. “We stay and find his killer. We plan. We’ve come too far to stop now.”

  “Yes, but we don’t even know who we’re looking for!”

  The man tightened his lips grimly. He shifted the car into drive with one hand, while the remaining three fingers of his left hand gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

  “Yes, we do. We are looking for the Viper.”

  Angela unlocked the door to her townhouse and stepped inside, flipping on the light. She lifted a hand to wave to Stephanie, closing the door as the Mustang pulled away from the curb. A small bell jingled as an orange tabby cat jumped from her spot in the chair. She started toward Angela, pausing midway to stretch languidly before continuing toward her mistress.

  Angela bent to pet her cat fondly before straightening and walking across the living room to the stairs. She dropped her purse and keys on the side console along the wall, her cat strolling after her.

  “What a day, Bella,” she murmured. “I hope yours was better than mine.”

  She started up the stairs, intent on getting out of her work clothes and into yoga pants. She was halfway up when her cell phone began ringing and she sighed loudly, turning to go back down and grab it out of her purse. Anabelle sat on the step, watching her. After a moment she began cleaning one paw while she waited. Angela grabbed her phone and hit accept, turning back to the stairs.

  “Hello?”

  “You called?”

  Angela sighed in relief.

  “Lina!” she exclaimed. “Where are you?”

  There was a short silence.

  “You called to ask where I am?” Alina sounded amused. “Are you really that bored?”

  “Well, no. I called to see how you are,” Angela said, starting back up the stairs again. Anabelle dropped her paw as she passed and followed behind her again. “Stephanie said you’re not home yet.”

  “I’ll be home tomorrow.”

  “Good! How are you?”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine?”

  There was another short silence.

  “What’s on your mind, Angie?” Alina asked, sounding resigned.

  “I know you can’t be fine,” Angela told her roundly. She reached the second floor and turned toward her bedroom. “John just died. Even though you like to pretend you have no emotion these days, I know that’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it?” Alina asked softly.

  Angela scowled.

  “No.” Her voice came out sharper than she intended. “Why did you go on a trip now, of all times? Don’t you know Stephanie needs you?”

  There was a longer silence and Angela inwardly winced, wondering if she had gone too far. It was perfectly true, but maybe she could have been more tactful.

  “I had to,” Alina finally spoke. “How is Steph holding up?”

  “She seems to be handling it ok,” Angela said, opening a drawer in her dresser and pulling out a long-sleeved tee-shirt. “Her friend Blake is coming to stay for a few days. I think that will help.”

  “Blake? When?”

  “Tonight.” Angela opened another drawer and pulled out a pair of yoga pants. “We went to dinner and she got a call from him while we were eating. He was an hour away.”

  “Is he bringing his dog?”

  “Yes wait...how did you know he has a dog?”

  “It’s been mentioned once or twice.” Amusement laced her voice and Angela raised an eyebrow. “Any word on a funeral yet?”

  “They’ve released John for burial. They were waiting on some test, apparently, but it finally came back. His folks flew in today and Steph heard back from the attorney. He’s talking with John’s parents, but the arrangements will get underway now.”

  “What attorney?”

  “John had a will,” Angela told her.

  “What?!”

  Angela blinked at the sharpness in her old friend’s voice.

  “What?” she asked. “Why is everyone so surprised he made a will? I have a will. It’s just a smart thing to do. He told me about it a couple of years ago and gave me the name of the attorney. Stephanie is the executor.”

  “Steph?”

  “Yes. I guess he figured it was the most practical thing to do after his parents retired out to California. She’s going to try to get the funeral arranged as quickly as possible. I told her I could help tomorrow if she needs it. I have to get my tire fixed anyway, so I’ll be sitting around waiting. I might as well make myself useful. I’m not sure how much we can get done on a Saturday, though.”

  “What happened to your tire?”

  “I came out of work to a flat,” Angela said. “It’s weird because this morning it was fine and the car didn’t indicate a low tire.”

  “Did you pick up a nail?”

  “I don’t know. Steph gave me the name of a place to call in the morning. They’ll tow it and fix the tire for me, but there goes half my day.” Angela pulled her shirt off and reached for the tee-shirt. “So I might as well make myself useful to Stephanie. What time are you getting in tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know,” Alina replied.

  “I would think your job would be a little more understanding,” said Angela. “You’ve had a death. You should be home, not off on a business trip.”

  “I’ll be sure to mention it,” the amusement was back in Alina’s voice. “I have to go. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  Angela frowned as she disconnected and tossed her phone on the bed.

  “Good-bye,” she muttered.

  She finished getting changed and turned to leave the bedroom, switching off the light as she went.

  Across the street, a tall figure moved in the shadows as the bedroom window went dark. A few minutes later, it stirred again as Angela’s shadow moved across the living room. The room grew brighter, light flickering through the lightweight curtains. The figure settled down again. She was watching TV.

  It was going to be a long night.

  Alina slid her phone into the inside pocket of her jacket and slipped into the dark stairwell. She ran up the steps silently until she reached the fifth floor. There, she paused outside the door, listening. Glancing at her watch, she cracked the door to peer through the opening. The nurses should have completed their rounds by now, leaving the coast clear for another hour. After watching for a minute, Alina stepped into the quiet hallway and moved along the worn tiles toward the room halfway down. She glanced up at the sound of laughter coming from the nurses’ station around the corner at the far end of the corridor. A moment later, she slipped into the room, closing the door behind her silently.

  “It’s about time you came to see me.”

  Hawk’s voice was husky and she looked across the room.

  “Not all of us have the luxury of lying around in bed all day,” she retorted, crossing the room.

  A single light was on next to the bed and a tablet lay next to him on top of the sterile white blanket. He was propped up against a mound of pillows, the hospital gown looking pale and worn as it stretched across his broad chest. His dark hair fell over his forehead in a thick wave and his eyes were a startling blue. A glint of laughter lit them now and Alina met his gaze with a smile.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “Like hell.”

  “You look better than you did.” She glanced at the monitors, noting his heart rate and blood pressure. “What’s the prognosis?”

  “No sign of infection, internal bleeding has stopped, and I’m all stitched up. I have a cracked rib, but nothing more.” He reached out and took her hand, his fingers entwining with hers. “The doc wants my blood pressure to come back up and to monitor my white cell count before he releases me.”

  “How long before we can move you?”

  Damon’s eyes met hers and he grinned.

  “As soon as I decide to move,” he replied. “Charlie knows I won’t stay long. I’ve cracked ribs before and i
t’s no good reason to keep me out of action.”

  Alina nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. She had a sudden vision of another face in a hospital bed, one with pale blue eyes and contusions covering his face and neck. Her throat suddenly tightened and she pressed her lips together, pushing the fresh memory aside.

  “I didn’t want to bring you here,” she told him. “When we landed in Dulles, I wanted to take you to a private surgeon. Charlie insisted.”

  “How did you get me back so quickly?” Damon asked. “The doctor said I was patched up pretty good, but a few more hours and it could have been much worse.”

  Alina smiled faintly.

  “Charlie sent Hermes,” she said. “We didn’t know how bad it was. You lost an obscene amount of blood.”

  “I assume I have you to thank for the field patch job?”

  “Yes and no. I cauterized the wound, but it was a local doctor who got you stable for travel.”

  Damon watched her for a moment, noting the tightness about her mouth and shadows around her eyes.

  “Who was the shooter?” he finally asked.

  “A local, probably hired. I tagged him before he left the room. A maid found him the next day.”

  “And the local police?”

  “Found his rifle. Their running theory is rival gang members.”

  “You took care of clean up?”

  “Somewhat. I was a little...preoccupied with you, so I wasn’t as thorough as I would have liked. I made sure they couldn’t get a match on DNA and took care of the cameras. We should be clear.”

  His lips quivered.

  “Preoccupied?”

  She glared at him.

  “Don’t even think about cracking a smile,” she warned. “It’s not funny.”

  His lips were sternly repressed.

  “Any idea who was behind it?” he asked instead.

  “I’m working on it.” She glanced down at their joined hands. “I can tell you I won’t stop until I find them.”

  “I know you won’t,” Hawk murmured, watching her. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Alina looked up, surprised, and his lips twisted faintly.

  “I’m getting to know you pretty well, Alina,” he said in a low voice. “What else happened in Singapore?”