by CW Browning
“Yeah, and let you roll away with whatever you want?” he demanded. “I don't think so.”
“We're Federal Agents,” the first one spoke again, his voice testy. “We don't just take whatever we want.”
“Is that so?” Al snorted. “That's the practice of the Federal government, and you work for it, don't you?”
Alina's lips twitched and were sternly repressed.
“Don't believe everything you see on TV,” the agent replied. “We're not as bad as you think.”
“Hmmpf.” Al vouchsafed no answer to that one, but instead glanced behind them to where Alina was standing with her hands tucked into the back pockets of her jeans. “Can I help you, miss?”
“I called a few minutes ago about the clutch for a Mazda,” Viper said, her voice taking on a husky and decidedly Spanish accent.
Al's eyebrows soared into his forehead.
“You're going to take it out?” he asked in surprise.
“Don't let the body fool you,” Viper informed him roundly. “I've been rebuilding engines since before I could drive.”
The FBI agents turned to look at her curiously and she stared at them coldly.
“What?” she snapped.
“Nothing,” they mumbled, turning back to the counter hastily.
“You'll have to wait a few minutes,” Al told her, nodding to the agents. “I have to take them back to a car, then I can show you the Mazda.”
“Busy morning, huh?” Viper asked, strolling up to the counter and leaning on it. “You wanna just tell me where the Mazda is and I can get started? I brought my tools.”
“Sure,” Al said, “just give me a sec.”
“Wait a minute! How come she gets to go back alone?” the second agent demanded.
“'Cuz she don't work for Big Brother,” Al retorted.
“Who do you work for?” Viper asked the agents. They were silent and she tilted her head forward slightly, looking at them over the top of her large sunglasses. “What's the matter? Is it a secret?”
“FBI, ma'am.”
“Ah.” She continued to study them over her sunglasses. “What happened? You get a budget cut?”
“Do you always question people like this?” the first agent asked her, pinning her with a stern look. She grinned and shrugged.
“You're the ones holding me up from my clutch, so I figure you can at least make it worth it,” Viper answered. “Am I right?”
“No.”
Viper rolled her eyes and pressed her sunglasses back up on her nose with a long finger.
“Nice talkin' to ya,” she muttered. “Guess you don't need a personality to work in the FBI.”
“Look, ma'am...”
“Do I look like a ma'am to you?”
“Here,” Al said hastily, handing her a map. “The Mazda is down the left aisle. I marked it on there. It's white with a smashed-in rear end. I'll be over when I'm done with these two.”
“Thanks,” Viper said, taking the paper. She glanced at the two agents next to her. “Have fun with these two. Oh hey, you don't have dogs, do you? I hate dogs.”
“They're in the back right now,” Al assured her. “I only let them out at night.”
“Cool.”
Viper turned and sauntered out of the office, glancing at the tow truck as she headed back to her Jeep. The two back tires on the right were almost flat. By the time Al finished with the paperwork, the tow-truck would be useless.
She climbed into the Jeep and started the engine, pulling around the truck and rolling through the open gate behind the office into the junk yard. Viper tossed the map onto the seat beside her and picked up her cell phone from the console. She swiped it while she rolled down the left aisle and glanced at the tracking dot flashing on the screen. Following the signal, she looped around the large salvage yard until she spotted John's Firebird at the end of a line of crash victims. Her lips tightened imperceptibly and her stomach gave an odd jerk at the sight of the battered car. It was leaning drunkenly to the right, the shattered front tire bent at an awkward angle.
Viper rolled to a stop in front of the Firebird and got out, her eyes going straight to the missing windshield. Bloodstains were smeared on the dash and the hood where they pulled John out, and her stomach did another roll. Hastily turning her attention from the bloody interior to the front, right wheel well, she pulled a long, thin Maglite from her jacket pocket and dropped to her knees next to the battered wheel. Switching on the powerful light, she lowered herself to her elbow and shone the light into the wheel well, playing it along the inside panel. Burn marks confirmed that a small explosion caused the blowout. Viper laid on the ground, ignoring the hard packed dirt beneath her, and angled her head under the car. Following the burn pattern, she traced the path back to where the explosive must have been placed. There was no trace of any device remaining.
She reached into the inside pocket of her jacket and pulled out a glass tube with a swabbing stick inside. Holding the light with her mouth, she quickly unscrewed the top and pulled out the stick, reaching up to scrape burn residue off the inside of the wheel well. She slid the stick back into the tube and replaced it in her pocket before taking the light again and shining it along what was left of the tire. With a frown, she scooted out from under the car. Once she was clear from the vehicle, Viper ran her hand gently over the torn rubber, her fingers gently probing the treads. About halfway around the tire, she found what she was looking for. Her fingers paused on a metal splinter and she directed her light to the spot on the tire. Protruding from the tread was what looked like part of a nail. Pursing her lips, Viper continued to examine the tire. A few inches from the nail was the remnant of a piece of glass, and next to that was another piece of metal.
Glancing at her watch, Viper switched off the light and left it on the ground next to the Firebird. Jumping to her feet, she returned to the Jeep and reached behind the driver seat to pull out a small toolbox. She carried it back to the Firebird and pulled out a long pair of needle-nosed pliers. She dropped down next to the tire again and, working quickly, began to extract the debris from what was left of the tire. Each piece she pulled out, she dropped into a compartment in the tool box lid. When she finished, the compartment was full. Viper stared at the contents for a moment, then snapped the cover over the compartment and dropped the pliers back into the tool box. After another quick glance at her watch, she circled John’s car until she was near the back left tire. Bending down, she swiftly ran her hand along the metal under the trunk. When her fingers touched the small tracking device, she plucked it off and tucked it into her jacket pocket as she circled back to grab the tool box.
Three minutes later, she was pulling up in front of a white Mazda with a smashed-in back end to remove a clutch that she neither wanted nor needed, her mission accomplished.
One dark eyebrow soared into his forehead as Damon stepped out of the trees and into the backyard. His long stride checked and he paused, his eyes riveted on the sight of Alina, dressed in black yoga pants and a black tank top. What she was wearing wasn't enough to make him stop in his tracks, as much as he fully appreciated the form-fitting clothes. What she was doing also was unexceptional, given her attire. She was balanced on one foot with her back leg fully extended behind her while her left hand was planted firmly on the ground in some kind of modified Warrior Three pose. What had Hawk frozen in the center of the yard, heart pounding, was where his love was practicing her yoga.
Viper was on the apex of her house, at the highest possible point, balanced on the V that formed the top of the roof.
Damon stood very still, staring at the sight far above, willing her plant leg to hold firm. While he knew the possibility of her leg buckling was very slim, Damon found himself holding his breath just the same. The woman was three stories up! What the hell was she thinking?!
As he watched, she lowered her right hand to the other side of the roof. Using her extended leg to keep her balance, she seemed to be busy with her right hand. Shading his eyes against the lat
e afternoon sun, Hawk tried to figure out what she was doing. He frowned as her plant leg faltered briefly when her right shoulder jerked as if she was pulling on something, but her extended leg caught the movement and compensated; her plant leg became firm once again. A moment later, her right arm came up and she raised herself into full Warrior Three before slowly lowering her back leg to rest her right foot on the roof. Swiveling on her left foot, Viper went into a crouch and began to back her way down the side of the roof, using both hands and feet to scale the tiles until she was within reach of the edge.
Hawk began to breathe again as she skillfully swung herself over the edge of the roof and found a foothold on her bedroom windowsill. She disappeared into the open window and Damon shook his head, moving toward the deck, his stride once again steady and even. He would give Viper one thing: she was never dull.
Hawk stepped up onto the deck and approached the sliding door, reaching for it just as Alina emerged from the hallway to the front of the house. She saw him on the deck and waved him in as she went to the bar. Damon slid open the door and stepped inside, pulling it closed behind him.
“Come look at this,” Viper said by way of greeting, glancing over. “Tell me what you think.”
Damon crossed to the bar and stood opposite her, his eyes going to the long object in her fingers.
“It's a roofing nail,” he said.
“Correct.”
“That's what you were doing just now?” he demanded. “Risking your neck for a nail? You could have just gone down to the hardware store.”
Alina looked at him in amusement, her dark eyes dancing.
“Where's the fun in that?” she retorted. “Besides, I need a used roofing nail, not a new one.”
“Ok. I'll bite.” Hawk slid onto a bar stool and looked at her expectantly. “Why do you need a used roofing nail?”
Viper flashed a small smile and turned to cross the kitchen to the island. She picked up a round, flat metal pan and carried it over to the bar.
“To see if it was similar to this,” she said, pulling a small piece of metal out of the pan.
Damon frowned and leaned closer to look at her outstretched hand. In her palm was the nail she had pulled from her roof, and beside it was a sharp pointed fragment of something long and thin.
“It could be,” he said slowly. “The width and shape is the same. Without the rest of it, though, it's almost impossible to tell. Where did you get this?”
“The same place I got these,” Alina answered, dropping the fragment back into the pan and sliding it toward Damon. She watched as he looked at the assorted collection in the pan. When his lips tightened imperceptibly, she knew he realized what he was looking at.
Hawk looked up sharply, his blue eyes piercing.
“Shrapnel bomb?”
“Mmm.” Viper nodded. “A very small one. See the residue on the glass shards? I haven't analyzed it yet, but it's from the explosive. I'm hoping I'll be able to track the bomb maker.”
Hawk lowered his eyes back to the pan and studied the shrapnel for a long, silent moment.
“This is what caused John's blowout?” he finally asked.
“Yes.”
“The glass could be anything, but it looks like a tempered glass,” he said thoughtfully, picking up the nail from Alina's roof and using it to flip over one of the glass shards in the pan. “It has a strange color.”
“It's tinted,” Alina answered. “You can see it better on the larger fragment there.”
Damon tilted his head and studied the larger piece in the pan.
“So it is,” he agreed after a moment. He sat back and looked at her. “You pulled all of these out of the tire?”
“Yes.” Alina turned and went to the fridge in the kitchen, opening it. “Although, I don't think I'll mention that fact to Stephanie,” she added thoughtfully. “In fact, I don't think I'll mention any of this to Stephanie.”
“Her forensic people are going to figure it out,” Damon said, nodding his head when she held up a bottle of water questioningly. She tossed the unopened bottle across the kitchen and he caught it swiftly with one hand. “At least, they should figure it out.”
“I'm sure they will, but without the shrapnel they'll have a hell of a time proving it,” Alina answered, closing the fridge and opening her own bottle of water as she walked back toward the bar. “Unless there's more stuck in the undercarriage, of course,” she added thoughtfully, pursing her lips.
“You didn't check?”
“It's not exactly like I had the car on a lift, Hawk,” Viper muttered. “I was lying in the dirt of a junkyard with a very limited window of time.”
Damon's lips twitched and he drank some water, watching her over the bottle.
“How limited a window?” he asked, lowering the bottle.
“The Feds were out front with two flat tires on their tow truck,” she told him, her eyes dancing.
Hawk let out a short bark of laughter.
“You're kidding me,” he exclaimed. “You all got there at the same time?”
“Just about.” Alina came around the bar and slid onto the stool next to him, sipping her water. “I had to improvise. By the way, you don't happen to be in need of a clutch for a Mazda RX, are you?”
“A rice burner?” Hawk asked, crooking his eyebrow. “Hardly.”
“Yeah, me either.” Alina sipped her water, dismissing the clutch from her mind. “Have you heard any chatter out of your contacts in Interpol?” she asked, glancing at him.
Hawk's lips twitched faintly at her abrupt switch in conversation, but he went along readily.
“Define chatter. They chatter all the time.”
“Anything about plots inside the US?”
Hawk shook his head.
“Nothing more than the usual,” he said. “Why would a terrorist cell blow out John's tire? That's not big enough for them.”
“I don't think a cell did,” Viper said slowly, her eyes resting on the shrapnel fragments thoughtfully. “If there's an active cell around here, they'd be working on something bigger than a couple of street racers.”
Damon shot her a look.
“Something involving high-speed transportation up and down the coast?” he asked softly.
They were both silent. There was no need to address the question because they both already knew the answer.
“This opens up a whole new perspective on what Dutch had in the trunk of the Shelby,” Alina said thoughtfully. “I was initially thinking drugs for the cartel, but this is a whole new ballgame. It could have been bomb parts, schematics, an external hard-drive...the possibilities are endless if we're looking at terrorism.”
“And that would be big enough to get the Casa Reinos involved,” Hawk said grimly. “I have someone down in Belize who works with the Cartels. I'll see what I can find out.”
Viper glanced at him.
“For God's sake, be careful,” she muttered. “The last thing we need is a repeat of last fall. If another Cartel comes after you, I'll take them out myself.”
“Which one?”
“All of them.”
Damon chuckled.
“I don't doubt that you would,” he murmured, lifting his water bottle to his lips.
“Someone trained the person who planted the bomb,” Viper said after a moment. “If it was Tito, he could have been taught in prison. I'll find out who he associated with inside, and who he corresponded with on the outside.”
“He could have learned it online,” Damon pointed out. “Hell, you can get videos for everything now. He didn't necessarily need an insider to teach him.”
“You didn't see the residue on the inside of the wheel well,” Viper replied. “It's the kind of residue I see in the Middle East. You've seen it too. The explosion was controlled and precise, with just the right amount of explosive used. This wasn't a bomb created by a novice watching a video online.”
“We'll have to alert Charlie,” Hawk told her.
Viper glanced at
him, her lips twisting humorlessly.
“If I know Charlie, he already knows,” she replied. “Harry probably already has a plan in place.”
“True enough,” Damon admitted with a grin. “How long did you say Charlie wants you to stay here?”
“Oh trust me, that thought already crossed my mind,” Alina said. “I'm starting to think the two of them got us both here just to have us in place for an operation.”
“You know they don't like us working on US soil,” Damon replied. His eyes were dancing when they met hers and she snorted.
“So they say, yet they sure have us do it a lot.”
They looked at each other for a long moment in silence.
“Stephanie will start to believe we really do bring trouble with us,” Damon finally said, his lips curving.
“In this instance, I don't think she'll mind too much,” Alina answered slowly, her eyes darkening slightly. “They went after John. She wants blood as much as I do.”
Hawk glanced at her sharply, but remained silent. He turned his attention back to the pan of shrapnel sitting in front of them, staring at it thoughtfully for a moment.
“How are you going to analyze the residue on those glass fragments?” he asked suddenly. “You need a full lab.” Viper glanced at him and brown eyes met blue. She smiled slowly and Hawk grinned. “You're not thinking...of course you are,” he murmured. “Are you sure about that?”
“Hawk, never ask a lady if she's sure,” Viper advised him, standing. “We never are, but we'd rather die before admitting it.”
“Are you going to tell Stephanie?”
“Now, where would the fun be in that?”
Chapter Seventeen
“This has to be one of the crazier ideas you've had,” Hawk murmured, his tone indicating that he was thoroughly enjoying it.
Viper's lips twitched and she thought for a moment.
“I don't know,” she murmured doubtfully. “I've had some doozies.”
“Like taking on a Taliban camp alone?”
“I was actually thinking along the lines of taking on the Vice President,” she retorted.
“If Harry finds out about this, he'll have some decidedly harsh words for us.”