The flight wasn’t expected to arrive until just before dawn, so sometime after midnight, Erica settled on a couch in one of the quiet offices for a middle-of-the-night nap. She jolted awake around three a.m., unsure why, but there seemed to be a heightened buzz to the conversation going on in the main room.
She sat up, rubbing her eyes. Well, these short bursts of sleep were good practice for a baby, right? She grabbed a clip from the end table and gathered her hair as she walked into the main room.
Lee stood by a computer station to the right of the conference table, where the others had gathered. She stepped to his side, and he slid an arm around her as she whispered, “What’s going on?”
“The CIA agent who we believe outed Boyd returned to the US. His loyalty isn’t being questioned—yet. They don’t know he was behind Cressida’s mugging or the other things Cressida told Sean about.”
Sean had debriefed Cressida on the drive from the border to Erbil and then relayed that information to Keith. Ian had not provided a statement, because as a covert CIA operative, even though he’d been burned, he was bound to secrecy. So they only had Cressida’s version of events. Which had been chilling, to say the least.
“What will that mean for Ian?”
“He’s going to have an uphill battle getting anyone in the CIA to believe him. Zack’s story is Ian went rogue. He either kidnapped Cressida or she’s his accomplice. Either way, everything that happened backs up his statements, and the agent killed near Gercüş is viewed as further proof Ian is a traitor. The man, Sabal, was supposedly assisting Zack in bringing Ian in.”
“And if Ian is taken into custody?”
“He will be taken. No question of that. Once he’s in custody, Curt will have a hell of a time intervening. If Ian is tried and convicted, Cressida could go down with him.”
Erica shuddered to think of what it could mean if Cressida were arrested—again.
“So what’s the plan?” Please, let there be a plan.
“Ian’s going to jump from the plane.”
“What? Can he do that? I mean, does he know how?”
Lee smiled. “Yes. And the plane is equipped. That’s not the problem. The problem is, we need a drop location and a boat to pick him up. And we need it in place in less than an hour. I called JT—his boat is moored at the Menanichoch marina—but he said there’s an engine problem.”
“Ian’s going to jump into the Chesapeake?”
“If we can have a boat ready for pickup, yes. Sean estimates he’d need to jump at about five thirty a.m.”
Erica smiled. “I hate to say it, but I know the perfect person. He has a giant yacht. On the Chesapeake. He’s home right now, and he’s sympathetic to our cause.”
Lee’s eyes lit up. “Shortcake, you’re brilliant.” To the others he said, “Guys, Erica has a solution: Dr. Patrick Hill.”
* * *
The time for the jump came all too soon for Cressida. It seemed like one moment they were discussing it, and the next, Ian was strapping on the parachute. As soon as they had word there would be a boat in position, the jump was given the thumbs-up, and the pilots adjusted speed and altitude to hit the jump window just right.
These men knew how to do this. The pilots knew what they were doing. And Ian assured her he’d done this many times. It was the only solution, but damn, it scared the hell out of her. She gripped the evil eye pendant through her shirt. A habit that had formed at some point in the last week, but she’d never know if this particular pendant was good or bad luck.
The pendant was also the one thing she hadn’t told Sean about. Not that she didn’t trust him, but because he was in contact with Keith on the ground, and even though she knew Lee was the best in the business, she couldn’t count on the airwaves being secure.
She looked at Ian questioningly, gripping the pendant.
He understood and said, “Keep it. But don’t tell the CIA about it. With Zack in the fold, we can’t trust anyone there. It’s a wild card. Play it last and only in desperation.”
She nodded.
They raced ever closer to the jump zone. Every loose item in the cabin was tucked away, and Cressida and the others were all rigged with harnesses and tethers before the jump door was opened.
Sean slid the door to the side. The wind roared as air pressure in and outside the jet equalized. Cressida’s hair whipped across her face as she held on to her seat with a white-knuckled grip.
Ian stepped into the opening, his tether hooked to the bar above the door.
Her heart lurched to see him outlined by the dark void of the night sky. She’d had no intention of going near that gaping hole but couldn’t stop herself and surged to her feet. She joined him in the opening and felt all the blood drain from her body when she looked down at the dark water far below.
She grabbed the straps of his chute, pulling his chest to hers. “You’d better come back to me. You promised.”
“I didn’t just promise. I gave you my solemn vow.” His kiss was hard and fast. Too fast. Gripping the bar with one hand, he unhooked his tether. “I love you, Cressida.”
He released the bar and pitched backward into the night sky.
Chapter Forty
Sean grabbed Cressida’s harness and pulled her back from the opening. To the others, he said, “Seal her up. We need to circle for our landing ASAP.”
Cressida just stood, dumbfounded as the men around her secured the cabin. She didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. So she did a bit of both, suspecting the tears were happy and the laugh a little bitter.
Not bitter at Ian. Hell, no. He’d pretty much secured her heart forever with that stunt. Good Lord, but the man did know when to play a card. She was angry at fate or whatever had brought them together, only to literally watch him plunge into a ten-thousand-foot abyss.
“He’ll be fine, Cress,” Sean said. “I’ve read his service record—the non-redacted parts, anyway—he’s jumped plenty of times in far worse conditions.”
She nodded and offered a weak smile. “Thanks, Sean.”
“One of the things Keith wanted me to gauge was whether or not Boyd could be trusted. To make sure you weren’t Stockholming.”
She stiffened even while admitting it was a reasonable concern. After all, she’d wondered the same thing on several occasions. “What did you tell him?”
“He’s competent, a solid operative, and he refused to break his oath to the Company even after they burned him. But more important was the way he looked at you when you weren’t paying attention. That alone told me everything I needed to know.”
She cleared her throat. “How long until we land?”
“Twenty minutes or so. Better buckle up.”
She dropped into a window seat and leaned her head against the pane, looking down, knowing she’d never see his dark chute against the dark water. She gripped the pendant again and wondered how long until he splashed down.
* * *
Trina stood next to Keith on the tarmac at Andrews, feeling both impatient for the jet to land and dreading it at the same time. She didn’t like the look of the men in suits who were lined up beside them.
Boyd should have splashed down by now, but she wouldn’t find out if Hill had successfully picked him up, not while these men stood by, waiting for someone to slip and reveal their hand.
Keith was here as CEO of the company that had financed and conducted the extraction, Trina as friend of the extracted. Curt waited with the suits, ready to intervene officially on Cressida’s behalf. They’d agreed Mara couldn’t accompany him, as that would just underscore his personal connection to Cressida.
Erica was with Lee at Raptor headquarters, waiting to hear from Dr. Hill. Alec waited in the wings—AKA his estate in Maryland—with Isabel, ready to jump in if need be, but given the role Raptor had played, it might be best if he sat this one out. The owner of Raptor could face political repercussions if this went badly for Cressida, and his colleagues in the senate suspected he was involved.
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The low rumble of a jet engine became a very loud rumble, and Trina’s heart picked up speed. Finally.
Tires touched pavement with a bump and a squeal, and wind whipped up as the jet shot past them. Flaps dropped on the wings, and the plane slowed, then finally, nearly the length of the runway away, the jet came to a halt.
It circled around, rolling with aching slowness until the jet returned to their end of the tarmac. Moments after coming to a complete stop, the door slid open and steps unfurled. Sean exited first, followed by Cressida.
Trina shot forward, ignoring Keith and the others, who told her to wait. Screw that. She enfolded Cressida in a fierce hug. The younger woman squeezed back and promptly burst into tears.
This was the homecoming Cressida should have. Friends and hugs and tears. Not detainment and interrogation. Not hard questions and fear for the man who’d saved her. Not wondering if Ian would be captured, quietly tried, and executed as a traitor.
Sean had told Keith that Cressida and Ian were involved. All Trina could hope was that this time Cressida had chosen wisely.
Given how volatile and tenuous the situation was, Trina figured it wouldn’t hurt to play dumb for the suits. “Let’s take Cress back to our place, Keith. She needs a break before being questioned.”
“I’m afraid you can’t do that, ma’am.”
She looked up and realized a new suit had arrived while she’d watched the landing. The CIA director himself had shown up to meet Cressida’s flight.
“Ms. Porter, where is Case Officer Boyd?” the director asked.
“Somewhere in the Tigris.” She said the words so coldly, so emotionless after the tearful hug, that even though Trina knew it wasn’t true, she believed her. “There was a firefight when we crossed the river. He was shot and went overboard. The current took him.” She jerked her head toward Sean, as though angry. “He wouldn’t go after him, even though I begged. He said his mission was to get me out, not Ian.”
“Excuse me, but how is it that I’m just hearing about this so-called firefight now?”
Sean spoke next. “We went radio silent because the firefight was between the YPG rebels who were helping Boyd and Porter and either some of Assad’s forces or an al-Qaeda faction. Or possibly ISIS. If we’d radioed in the details and any of the other parties picked up the transmission, they’d know that Raptor had worked in conjunction with YPG—and could assume the CIA was involved as well. Any future alliance would be compromised.”
The director’s jaw clenched. He clearly didn’t buy the story, but it was just plausible enough to make his job more difficult.
Cressida pulled a T-shirt from her bag and thrust it in the man’s hands. “I got some of Ian’s blood on me when he was shot.”
Later, Trina planned to howl with laughter over the look on the director’s face as he gazed down at the filthy T-shirt in his hand, but for now she had to keep a straight face. “If Boyd is gone, then the interrogation can wait. Cressida’s been through an ordeal and needs a break.”
The man met Trina’s gaze. “Who the hell are you?”
Beside her, Keith stiffened.
“I’m her friend.” She lifted her chin and refused to back down. Better to make this about her rather than about Cressida. Everything that stalled until they were certain Boyd had been picked up was a good thing.
To the suits at his side, the director said, “Search the plane.”
“I’m afraid, Leroy, that’s my team’s job,” Curt said softly. He nodded to the FBI agents, who moved forward to carry out his order.
“We really don’t want a pissing contest here, Curt.” The CIA director’s emphasis showed he didn’t like Curt’s casual use of his first name. But then, he probably didn’t like it that he wasn’t the highest ranking government official present.
“I know you don’t, because I will win.”
“Boyd is a covert CIA operative who sold out his country—”
“Are we in Turkey right now?”
The director only glared at Curt, refusing to answer.
“Exactly,” Curt said. “You have no jurisdiction on US soil. In fact, you are forbidden from conducting operations on US soil. So play nice and stand down.”
“This isn’t an op. This is bringing in one of our own who turned.”
“He did not!” The anger in Cressida’s voice shocked everyone into silence. “He was betrayed by one of you. I was betrayed by one of you.” She then linked her arm through Trina’s and said, “Sweetie, I’d love to go back to your place and rest.”
“You can’t do that, Ms. Porter. You’re coming with me to Langley.”
“Let’s compromise. I’ll let you question her at the DOJ,” Curt said.
“You’ll let me question her? At your office? No,” the CIA director said.
“Sorry, Leroy, but I’m detaining Ms. Porter for questioning,” Curt said. “And I’ll allow you to question her as a courtesy, because I’m generous that way.”
“What’s your legal standing for detaining her?” the director asked.
Curt smiled like a player about to achieve checkmate and plucked some papers from his breast pocket. He thrust them toward the director, but the man already held Cressida’s rancid T-shirt, and didn’t take them. “She’s a material witness in the case against Todros Ganem, who fled trial and who may have sold classified information to Jordan and possibly Syria.”
“Classified information is my field.”
“And prosecuting violations is mine.” Curt turned to Cressida. “I’m sorry, Ms. Porter, I realize this is a difficult time, but we have important questions about your association with Todros Ganem, and I have the right to detain you if you don’t come willingly. Are you willing?”
She nodded. “Certainly, Mr. Dominick. Anything I can do to help you nail Todd will be my pleasure.”
Trina met Cressida’s gaze and could see the turmoil she held back with iron will.
“Can Trina come with us?” Cressida asked. “I could use a friend.”
Curt smiled, and his voice softened. “Sure.”
* * *
As they drove to the DOJ, Cressida kept chanting Ian’s final words in her head. Holding on to them for strength. They’d made it through the first hurdle. She wasn’t going to Langley. But she was certain the CIA director’s interrogation would be difficult, even in Curt’s domain. And it wasn’t like Curt would go easy on her either. But at least she knew he was trustworthy.
She needed to decide if the director could be trusted with the chip or if corruption in the agency went all the way to the top. And even if the director was clean, it didn’t mean the people he’d turn the data over to were safe. Ian had said to save it as a last resort, and she intended to do just that.
Plus there were the lies she had to maintain until she knew who all the players were. She wasn’t a spy. She didn’t know how to play this game. But she’d do it, to save Ian. Who’d said he loved her. Which gave her strength…
They rode in the back of a town car with facing seats. Having a dedicated driver was a perk of being in Curt’s position, and Cressida appreciated the fact that she, Trina, and Curt were the only passengers. It gave them a chance to talk in private.
“Mara is sorry she couldn’t be there to greet you,” Curt said.
“I understand.” She paused. “I’m so grateful—for everything.”
Curt nodded to Trina. “It was all Keith and Trina. I had no part in your extraction.”
Trina, who’d been gripping Cressida’s hand like a lifeline, squeezed. “I’m guessing you have one whopper of a story.”
She nodded.
Trina’s cell phone buzzed, and she dropped Cressida’s hand. Tension in the car went up a notch as they all met each other’s gazes. Cressida held her breath as Trina glanced at the phone. “It’s Erica,” she said and answered.
Cressida’s mouth went dry. Please. Please. Please let Ian be okay.
With a smile, Trina flashed a thumbs-up, and Cressida could
breathe again. And then she was crying, because that seemed to be what she did these days.
Trina said nothing after she tucked away her phone, making Cressida wonder how much Curt knew and how much he wasn’t allowed to know. The attorney general was an honest man, and he’d taken oaths he wouldn’t violate. Best not to tell him anything he’d have to divulge.
At the Justice Department, the interrogation began with the director asking how they crossed into Syria, forcing Cressida to lie at the start. She didn’t feel guilty for lying to a man whose organization trained others to lie, but Curt was another matter. She hoped someday she could tell him about the tunnel and he’d understand why she couldn’t give that intel to a CIA that still employed Zack Barrow.
She explained how Zack had detained her and Ian at gunpoint several miles outside of Cizre. Without flinching, she described overpowering him. The director replied Zack had been assigned the task of bringing Ian in, and she could be charged with assault.
She asked how she could be charged in the US for defending herself on Turkish soil, but the director asserted it wasn’t self-defense. He viewed her as Ian’s accomplice in that she’d abetted his escape from Zack.
He’d already decided Ian’s guilt. There was no question in his tone, in his words.
Curt entered the fray, injecting Stockholm syndrome into the line of questioning, and she tensed, wondering if he really believed that. It was possible he’d said it just to muddy the waters. It certainly deflated the director, because he backed off, briefly.
With the allegations that she’d committed crimes in Turkey along with Ian—and she had killed a man—it was a potential defense. But if she were forced to claim Stockholm to avoid prison, it would mean Ian had already been convicted. And she couldn’t live with that.
Finally, hours later, when she was drained, exhausted, and miserable, Curt asked, “Cressida, have you told us everything?”
She looked the attorney general in the eye and lied. “Yes. Everything.” Ian must have rubbed off on her, because she felt less guilty this time.
Dangerous To Love Page 282
