“You are now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh.”
She exhaled once, but it kept coming. Drawn from her against her will. The plume of her warm breath turned from cloud-white to glittery silver. Torn from inside her.
Given into this thing.
The pain in her lungs swelled to a ripping, tearing feeling. Like being destroyed from the inside, out. The scream filled her head but no sound came from her mouth. Just that silver.
Her soul.
Charlota fought against the creature. He would take everything that was inside her. Strength infused her then, as the prayers of her people surrounded her like a blanket.
Hope had come.
She closed her mouth.
Charlota lifted a finger. Traced the four Hebrew letters into the clay of its forehead. Before she ran out of strength entirely. Or before the next patrol came.
The creature stiffened. The letters were absorbed into its skin. Charlota dropped her hands and watched as the thing began to change.
Mud collapsed in on itself as it shrank inward.
Smaller.
Smaller.
Until it was the same size as her.
Features began to form. A long nose. The outline of two eyes, lashes and lids. Thick brows. The thin set of her lips. Her hair.
Within seconds her own eyes stared back at her from her own face. It wore her clothes, including the yellow armband over the sleeve of her coat that denoted her heritage. It even had the haircut her mother had given her two years ago.
When it smiled it seemed as though Charlota looked into a being much older than her eight-year-old face.
It lifted a hand as she had done, and touched her on the cheek. Charlota understood at once what was inside this being.
The thing she had called forth was at once both completely her, and something so unholy that it would be both their salvation and their destruction.
She screamed.
Chapter 1
Venezuela. Friday, 21:16hrs VET
The man who lay stretched out on the leather recliner didn’t take his eyes off the TV. “I honestly expected you’d get here sooner.”
Eric Tiller didn’t seem like a guy who had once been the darling of the entire CIA. He looked like a middle-aged vacuum salesman who should be using his down-time to visit the hotel gym. Even his hair had given up from lack of energy.
Ben stepped into the media room. “Turns out you’re a hard man to find.”
Not impossible, though. Four months of searching through a series of shell corporations and dummy accounts, stolen identities, and one cartel. Bingo: here they were.
The former CIA agent lifted his glass and downed the contents. He poured another glassful. “I try.”
Whatever birthed this disillusion in the American government, Ben didn’t get paid to care. Just to retrieve the information Tiller had stolen when he left. And to ensure the man had no means of escaping justice.
Tiller’s neck bore the scar of the US government’s last attempt to get him to tell them where he’d hidden it. “So this time they send a single man. An assassin?” He chuckled. “You don’t look like a SEAL. Army, maybe a Ranger. I’m not sure.”
Interesting guess. Something about Ben gave away a distant slice of his past. It had been nearly twenty years. There was no time to ask what it was, not if he wanted to meet his deadline. Even a minute too late and Ben’s team would be swallowed up by the force of the US military. The CIA was done. Ben was their last resort. Retrieve what had been stolen, and send this man to his final judgment.
Ben said, “Does it matter who I am?”
“If you’re here for the flash drive, you’re out of luck. Can’t give you what I don’t have.”
“Where is it?”
“If Uncle Sam wants it back so badly he’s going to have to make a deal with me instead of trying to steal it over and over again. I’m tired, Mr. Assassin.”
Ben shook his head. “No deals. That’s why they sent me.”
Maybe one day he’d get a simple assignment instead of sticky mess after sticky mess. Not to mention the inevitable double-cross. Usually involving a knife.
You’re getting cynical in your old age.
“You’re out of luck then.” Tiller’s lips twitched. “Off home with your tail between your legs.”
“Where is it?” There was no way he’d destroyed it. More likely the head of the cartel he’d bought this new life from was in possession of it. “Valentino?”
Tiller snorted. “You think I’d give it to that crook? He can’t even get me good whiskey. Why would I give him the only thing that’s keeping me alive?”
“And what a life.” It was about to end.
“I figured you’d be impressed.” Tiller sneered. “Got me a sweet gig, sitting here all day doing whatever the hell I want. Uncle Sam can’t touch me.”
No doubt the whiskey was to blame in the skewing of Eric Tiller’s perception. The scar, though, told a different tale. One Ben didn’t figure it would help him to mention. “Last chance, Tiller. I get the flash drive. It won’t stop what’s coming, but you’ll die knowing you did the right thing.”
“As much money as I want. That’s what Valentino told me.” Tiller sipped from his glass. “Living the high life in South America. All the whiskey I want, any woman I want. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised this is the end.”
“You knew the US government would never let you get away with stealing secrets.” Tiller had taken a list of all active CIA agents in Europe. If the information was leaked, every one of the agents would be in danger. Many would be executed within hours. For whiskey, and women?
Ben looked at his watch. The screen flashed on, a timer. 00:47
“How long do I have?”
“Couple minutes.”
**
Across the street Shadrach lay on his belly on a rooftop. He squeezed the trigger on the AR-30. Watched the man fall through the scope of his rifle. Reloaded. Two down, he scanned the compound for the third guard. Found him headed for the wing where Daire was searching.
The heat of the building was like laying on hot coals. Nothing like one of those light-step, work retreat self-actualization tests, over in seconds. High-fives, congratulations: You stepped across searing rocks. Ordinary folks with their ordinary lives.
No clue what lurked in the dark.
Sweat beaded down his face. He lifted his ball cap and resituated it on his head then looked through the rifle scope again. Going to hell anyway, why not right now?
The radio in his ear crackled. “Is he out yet?”
His only reaction was a slight exhale. “Mei, doesn’t matter how many times you ask me. When Ben comes out, I’ll tell you.”
“But they’ll be here any second.” Her voice was hard, no trace of worry as she searched the bedroom.
Shadrach knew what time it was. Telling Mei would be a waste of perfectly good words. She knew as well as he did that Ben could take care of himself.
“Thirty seconds,” Daire said over the radio. “Time to get out.”
**
00:26. Ben said, “So where is it?”
Tiller stared at the TV for a long moment. “Safety deposit box. Number 416. First National Bank of Wichita, Kansas.”
Ben pulled the multi-tool from his back pocket and flipped out the knife. Tiller stared at it. Sipped his whiskey. Swallowed. “What’s that for?”
“The CIA needs evidence. DNA. They’ll want to confirm it was really you.”
Ben checked his watch. 00:14. “Ready?”
Tiller didn’t move. Ben strode over, grasped Eric Tiller’s thumb. The spy swung his glass up toward Ben’s face. He dodged it, punched Tiller in the head with the knife handle, and severed the thumb.
Despite that last ditch effort to fight back, he figured the man didn’t overly care. Tiller would be dead, and Ben would be in Kansas searching for a flash drive that was probably long gone.
The glass hit the floor and splintered. Whiskey spla
shed across the rug.
00:06
Tiller grabbed Ben’s arm with his good hand. “I die, you die.”
“That’s not how this works. I get both the flash drive and visual confirmation you met your fiery end.”
“He’ll come for you,” Tiller said between gritted teeth. “He knows what you are.”
The ground shook as the first missile hit.
**
An explosion engulfed the concrete in flames and the building burst apart. Shadrach didn’t look away as the wave of heat blasted his face. Sweat rolled from his ball cap and dropped off his jaw.
“Clear,” Mei said.
“Me, too.” Daire, Ben’s second in command, wasn’t big on radio etiquette.
Shadrach stared at the building. Ben hadn’t come out yet. What was taking him so long? He muted his mic so neither of them would be able to hear him. “Where are you, boss?” He tapped his index finger on the side of the rifle. Watching. Waiting.
Boom. Another explosion.
Ben walked out of the opposite side of the house. His stride was pure confidence as he ranged around the building. Like it wasn’t in flames, collapsing around him. Unassuming, yet with a complete awareness of what he was capable of. It was hard not to respect a man like that.
Shadrach looked through the scope. Ben lifted two fingers in his direction. He keyed his radio. “He’s out.”
“Good.” Mei’s relief was audible. “Is he okay?”
Shadrach stared through his scope, watching the flames billow.
Good question.
**
Ben hit the sidewalk. No traffic buzzed the intersection. How long before someone showed up to investigate? He walked toward the van. Used the motion to shake off what had settled on him during that conversation with Tiller. Smoke laced the sky now, and palm trees swayed in the hot breeze. Ben enjoyed a good stroll. He could go anywhere. Wind up somewhere near by, or far away. Slip into any crowd, unnoticed. He liked the night.
The anonymity.
The solitude.
He’d been that way since…
He halted on the sidewalk. Scanned.
Mei stepped out of the shadows, right in his path. The young Chinese woman planted her hands on her hips. “Everything go okay?”
Ben wanted to smile. Didn’t. “Is this an interrogation?”
“Your collar is smoking.” She patted it harder than was probably necessary.
Ben brushed her hand away and motioned toward the van. “We should get going.”
“Sure thing, boss. Whatever you say.” She strode over and climbed in, but not before he saw her eye-roll.
Ben stared at her back, still fighting that urge to smile.
Would she ever call him Dad?
He shook off the thought and got in the passenger seat. Daire had the engine running, his face flushed from exertion. If not for the jeans and leather jacket he would look as though he’d just been working out.
Classical music played on the radio. Not so loud they had to speak up to be heard. Just loud enough he wouldn’t be able to hear the click-click of Mei texting on her phone.
Shadrach still wasn’t back yet.
Ben said, “Everything good?”
Daire tapped the steering wheel. “Put two down. The third had a maid cornered. He put up a fight, but I got her out.” Daire’s British accent sharpened his words. Despite his skills as a former spy, his origins bled through when he was upset. Or when he didn’t feel the need to measure his words.
Ben had heard him speak with a perfect southern drawl. Daire could also do a thick Boston brogue, but not the Irish kind. Daire’s coloring lent itself more toward a turban, which somewhat explained all those undercover missions he’d been on in the Middle East, sent there by Her Majesty’s government.
“Did you get it?”
Ben pulled the thumb from his pocket and held it up. He dropped it in the cup holder.
“That’s disgusting.”
“It’s why they pay me the big bucks.”
Daire’s lips curled up, but he didn’t laugh.
“Like you’ve never severed a limb before.”
“You have no idea, brother.” Daire exhaled. “So Tiller’s dead?”
“Yeah.” Ben twisted to look out the open back doors. Mei was still looking at him funny.
Shadrach climbed in and set his rifle case beside him. The former Marine sniper leaned against the wall of the van and closed his eyes under the bill of his ball cap.
Ben thought that was a mighty fine idea. He leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. Exhaled.
Daire pulled the van away from the curb. “You’re not even going to tell us what happened with Tiller, or why you have a thumb instead of the flash drive?”
Chapter 2
Somewhere over the Caribbean Sea. Friday 23:37hrs VET
“Kansas, seriously?”
Ben settled into the airplane seat beside Mei. The whole plane could hold no more than six people, one pilot and no flight attendant. If they flew far enough the pilot needed a break, Ben would take over for him.
“Some people like it there.”
Mei shook her head. “How do we even know Tiller was telling the truth? If there really is a flash drive with a list of active CIA agents on it, don’t you think the CIA would have found it in a bank safety deposit box in Kansas?”
“Tiller was one of the best the agency had. If he didn’t want them to know about it, they wouldn’t have.”
“Just like that?”
Ben lifted one shoulder. “He was good. Yes, they’d have looked everywhere, but they trained him to evade and escape. It worked. That’s why they called us.”
Mei pressed her lips together. She was barely twenty-two, slender and lean, but packed a punch. He’d seen her take down a man three times her size, though that skill wasn’t about bulk.
Shadrach sat down on the other side of the aisle. He opened a laptop and plugged a device into the USB port. Ben tossed him the plastic bag containing the thumb. Shadrach wrinkled his nose. Holding the bag, not the thumb, he pressed the pad of the digit on the tiny screen of the scanner. The laptop began its search.
Shadrach closed the bag and sat back, tossing it on the table. “Shouldn’t be too long before Remy can confirm his real identity.”
Remy was their tech guru and an expert hacker—among other things. Preferring to remain stateside for support, she was the one who had found the target’s location.
Mei lifted her hands. “I thought he was Eric Tiller, CIA agent?”
Ben said, “Doesn’t mean it’s his real name. Not with that facsimile of a personnel file the agency gave us.”
Daire sat beside Shadrach without a glance toward Mei. Ben shut his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat. It was the nature of a team that personal relationships would develop. There wasn’t much he could do about it. A contractual rule would only mean they kept things a secret when he would rather no one kept secrets from him.
His watch beeped. Not an incoming message, or email. Battery low. He unsnapped it and tossed it toward the magnetic prongs of the charger he’d plugged into the outlet under the tiny table below the window. It clicked in.
Shadrach said, “Not sure throwing it around is in the manual.”
“Remy didn’t give me one when she made it.”
“Still.”
Ben didn’t say anything else. Shadrach’s tendency was to be overprotective of their genius hacker. He’d stuck close to her since Remy had been hurt. She seemed to be doing better, but the sniper still hadn’t made his move.
Mei said, “So we take this dead guy’s word for it, that the flash drive is where he said it is, and fly all the way to Kansas. Get the drive, hand it off to the CIA. Job done?”
Daire glanced over at her. “Sorry the exciting part is over.”
Mei muttered in Chinese. Ben’s lips twitched at her words. She was getting the idea international security was not all excitement and intrigue.
It was just a lot of long plane flights, short—but mostly fun—operations. And paperwork.
Shadrach’s computer screen lit up and a ringing sound came from the speakers. He clicked to connect the call, “Hey, you.” The look he reserved for Remy was short-lived. “Everyone’s here.”
“Good.” Her voice was rough through the computer’s built-in speakers. “The scan you just initiated is complete. We got a profile on our guy.”
Ben said, “Remy.”
“Morning, boss.”
Ben grinned at her and turned the computer so everyone could see. She clicked on her end, and Shadrach’s laptop screen changed from the video feed of her in the office to the search results. “As you can see here, our guy was Eric Tiller. Surprise. CIA agent. Clean medical history. Politics and international relations degree from Cambridge University in the UK. Mom was an elementary school teacher, Dad a construction worker. It’s your classic rags-to-spy story.”
Ben said, “Anything that contradicts the CIA file?”
“No, but it was a pretty standard op. We already had Tiller on our radar before we went—” She paused again. “Huh.”
Shadrach said, “What is it?”
“Eric Tiller has a younger brother. Ted. They were close, like ‘BFF’ close.”
Mei saw Ben’s look and said, “Best friends forever.”
“Oh.” He’d had one of those.
Remy continued, “Ted dropped off Google Earth shortly before Eric made his move out of the CIA. His neighbor filed a missing person’s report with the local cops. The US goes after Tiller to get the flash drive back. Meanwhile, no one has seen Ted. So did Eric give him money, and he’s living the high life somewhere? Or is he part of Eric’s plan for the flash drive?”
“He could have already taken the flash drive,” Mei said. “An extra layer of insurance for whoever comes after it.”
Sanctuary Forever WITSEC Town Series Book 5 Page 34
