He was the antidote to everything she didn’t like about her life. A safe harbor. A place to go home. That two week beach vacation where you were supposed to forget about the stresses of life waiting for you back home, but you never really did. The dream of early retirement. The yearning for a life where she didn’t have to glance over her shoulder all the time.
But that was all it was. A dream.
Her cell buzzed as she climbed into the driver’s seat of her car. She swiped and read the text.
It’s ready for you.
Victoria replied a quick, “Thanks,” and drove to the Navy base at Bremerton, where Niall’s desk was. The NCIS agent had been part of her task force. Now it was under a different umbrella because everyone said they needed “oversight.” Like that had helped the FBI. Niall had elected to return to his traditional posting.
Niall met her in the lobby. As they walked up to the floor where his team worked, along with the assistant director of NCIS on the west coast, Niall shot her sideways glances.
Finally she said, “What?”
He worked his mouth side to side, then finally spat it out. “They told me what happened. Talia found video footage, so I know you were stabbed with plastic ware in an airport bathroom.”
Victoria nearly laughed, because it was kind of funny…until she moved and it hurt.
“I can’t even tell that you’re injured.” He tipped his head to the side. “Which makes me wonder how many other times you were hurt and I never even knew.”
Victoria shrugged one shoulder. “It isn’t that big of a deal.”
“Don’t do that.” He stepped off the elevator first. “You’re not a liar.”
Victoria said nothing. She followed him around the outside of the office, aware of the glances shot her way. She’d long ago stopped worrying what people thought of her. But when they were good people, and hardworking, she had to put it somewhere. And that was getting more and more difficult.
“You have ten minutes.” He looked at his watch. “That starts in two.”
She glanced at the door to the MTAC room, a secure communication room and one of the few ways she could have a secure conference call with the committee without having to fly to Washington to meet with them in person.
“Thank you.”
He shrugged. “The AD wants to talk to you before you leave.”
“Copy that.”
He shot her a slight smile. She didn’t know any more than he did, what his boss might want with her. Maybe the assistant director just wanted to say hi to the State Department Director who was occupying his resources. Even if it was only for ten minutes.
Victoria had no authority though. Without the title, she had nothing. It gave her a lot of pull with the right people, but it was nothing more than a cover she used to fight against FBI corruption. To follow a hunch.
Sure, she’d turned out to be right. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t hurt her friends in the process.
“This’ll be over soon.”
The skin around his eyes narrowed. “That’s what you want?”
She shrugged. She’d be out of their hair, then. The team could move on with their lives, and their relationships. Like Sal was doing.
The buzzer on the door sounded.
Niall pulled it open, and she stepped inside. “See you in a minute.”
The door clicked shut in her face, and she turned to the Navy seaman who handed her a headset. “They’re ready for you.”
She muttered, “Thanks” and donned the headset. Victoria cleared her mind so she could focus on the call and stepped forward. On the screen were two images of men. One blank square, where Pacer’s face should be. The fourth quarter of the screen read, STAND BY where a woman’s face should have been.
There was no way she was late. “We’re two down?”
The Secretary of Defense, Andrew Jakeman, nodded. “I have agents from NCIS in Arlington headed down to her house now. They should be checking in soon.”
“Hurst?”
He looked scared. His bronze hair and the age lines on his face were stark against the rest of his pale skin. “The situation is dire.” The older man wiped at his brow. “Steps must be taken to maintain security.”
“General Hurst—”
Jakeman cut her off. “You gotta man up Hurst. We all knew this was going to happen. If that Army base of grunts can’t keep you safe, what hope is there for the rest of us?”
Jakeman wasn’t exactly swinging in the breeze either. He had security on him at all times. It had been part of their agreement when she’d presented him with the idea of forming a committee. Gathering evidence. Taking it to the US Attorney.
Finally finishing what was started five years ago.
Victoria wasn’t going to allow Langdon to get away. Not this time.
Pacer was dead. Their fifth committee member was Supreme Court Justice Isabella Cellini. Victoria wanted to text Mark. Tell him to pray she was all right, that they’d find her safe and well and that she would be protected. But she’d left her phone outside the room, for security reasons. And besides, it wasn’t like she really believed prayer worked. But...it felt better than doing nothing.
Hurst made a face. He first muttered something neither she nor Jakeman could hear, then, “Pacer is dead.”
“I know,” Victoria said. “I was there. I saw that SUV hit him.”
The thud. The image of his body flying through the air before it landed on the pavement. She shut her eyes for a moment while Jakeman chastised Hurst.
That ever present cold in her soul was there. The dam that held her resolve where it should be, the place her feelings went to get absorbed by the numbness of it. It was like cryostasis, sitting there inside her. A good thing for a spy to have—or so they’d told her.
She used those same tools now, though it had occurred to her that maybe she didn’t need them. No. That wave stood ready to crash down on her the moment she let her guard down.
Jakeman and Hurst were quiet for a few seconds. She figured what had blown through was gone now. “Pacer had Assistant Director Welvern mention Langdon in an interview.”
Jakeman nodded. “And the next day, he’s dead. Do you think Welvern is in danger?”
“The pains we took to keep Mark under suspicion have been working. He’s a gray area to everyone in and around the investigation, so much so that Langdon is unlikely to target him. Even local police are taking the concept on board.” She’d seen that with her own eyes.
Jakeman’s expression changed. She’d never liked that face on him, the one where, in any other scenario, she’d have been his daughter doing something he disapproved of.
“It’s for his own good.”
“Mmm.”
She shot him a look. “Hurst, do you have anything to add?”
“Just get the FBI there to work faster.”
“They’re already aware this needs to be done as quickly as possible. But if it’s not done correctly, they’ll find themselves under so much scrutiny they’ll be paralyzed and unable to do their jobs.”
Hurst made a face of his own. “Well, perhaps they can at least manage to find Langdon before we’re all killed like Pacer.”
He shifted in his seat right before his image on the screen switched to black.
Jakeman sighed. “His fear is not without justification.”
Victoria didn’t have an argument for that.
“Care to tell me what measures you’ve put in place for your own security?”
She shifted her stance and pain rippled through her middle. She winced. “Mr. Secretary—”
“Don’t give me that…” He used an Italian word she was pretty sure meant poop, but it might have meant trash. “You and I both know what I’d have to deal with at home if you were killed. Especially when I knew you were in danger and didn’t convince you to exercise a little good sense.”
Victoria smiled. “They’d get over it.”
“You know that’s not true.”
; Her amusement faded. “I know.” He started to argue more so she lifted her hands. “I know. Sorry. I do know that.”
“Be safe. For goodness’ sakes.”
She said, “Langdon took my grandfather.”
“Call Sal. He knows how to find people, right? You’re the one who told me that.”
“He won’t help me.” Ugh. Her voice made her sound like a teenager who couldn’t get their best friend to forgive them. “You call him.”
“Coward.”
“It would work. He’d do it for you.”
“He’d be doing it for you. Even responding to an order from the secretary of defense.”
Not many people would turn that down, even someone who’d never worked for him. Victoria had known Andrew Jakeman for years—five years—since he was the US ambassador to Austria. She’d worked a mission in France a year before the job that led her to betrayal. His daughter had been kidnapped. Victoria had tracked her down in Czechoslovakia on a train, about to be shipped east to yet another country where she would be sold to the highest bidder.
That had given her the insight she’d needed only a few months ago when Talia had been sold into that same world.
Skills she’d never wanted but had utilized to save people. To protect those who worked to keep America safe. To keep her secrets.
“What I want to know is why you’re not the one down there finding him?”
Victoria bit her lips, then swallowed. “I can do more good here, finding Langdon. Rooting out the problem from the source.”
“You don’t think Langdon is in Florida?” Jakeman frowned. “Do you think your grandfather is dead already?”
“They haven’t called with a ransom. They took him, then one doubled back to wait for me.” She hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself, but Jakeman deserved her honesty. That was the relationship they’d established. She’d saved his daughter’s life, and he’d promised her anything she wanted.
After the other Austria job went so wrong and she’d woken up in a South African prison, Victoria had recuperated and then gone right back to his house. Together, they’d figured it out.
And made a plan to get Langdon for good.
To expose the corruption in the FBI.
That was all she’d worked for these past five years. All she’d done. All she’d thought about. Every move, every decision. Every case. It had been all about this.
The fallout would probably cost her everything, but she would be able to walk away with a clear conscience that she’d done the right thing.
She said, “Langdon wants me on edge. He doesn’t care about making a trade or getting something from me.” She took a breath. “And he knows I’m not going to stop. That’s why he’s continued his attempts to kill me, even with my grandfather in his grasp.”
Jakeman was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “There’s only one person who might know what he’s got planned.”
A deafening noise like thunder sounded throughout the room. The whole place shook.
Victoria stumbled and nearly went down.
“What’s happenin—” Jakeman’s image went black. Dust rained from the ceiling.
She turned to the uniformed seaman at the computer. “Are we under attack?”
Chapter 8
Seattle WA. Wednesday, 12.02p.m.
“A research facility in Bremerton just blew up.”
Mark looked up from the conference table of papers at the female agent who’d walked in. She had a tablet in her hands.
“There’s more.”
He motioned to her to go ahead.
“St. Petersburg Police Department got back to us about that case you asked about…” She paused, reaching for an explanation. He didn’t give her one. “They’ve gone through surveillance footage from the neighborhood. Found a man driving a black van leaving the scene, he’s their main suspect.”
“And the man they took into custody?”
“That’s why I came here. Florida police cut that guy loose before we could find out who he is.” She frowned down at the tablet, then strode over and flipped it so he could see the screen. “Take a look for yourself.”
“That’s one of our AWOL agents.” Mark pulled over a still photo from the file, the one he’d spread out on the conference table. “Tell me I’m not crazy.”
She tipped her head to the side. “Maybe.”
“So reassuring.”
She chuckled. Then he realized how close she was standing and took a step back. This was his place of work, and Mark was the boss. The female agent pressed her lips together. “It could be Vance Davies. That certainly would be handy, a man we’re looking for here. One of our dirty agents shows up as a suspect in a crime you asked about in Florida.”
“Yes, it would.” He blew out a breath. “I’d like to know about any and all developments at once.”
She winced. “I’m not sure they’re gonna agree, considering they only told us this much out of courtesy.”
“Then tell them that guy—” He motioned to the tablet screen. “—is one of our dirty agents, and we’d appreciate their help bringing him in.”
“That might work.” She spun around and walked away.
“Tines.”
She glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Sir?”
“The explosion.”
She looked down at the tablet. “It was a research facility, close to the Navy base. They’re responding to the scene. Initial reports say it was some kind of incident, but they’re holding off on what actually happened. Word is, ATF is headed over as well.”
The time was past when he’d have sent a handful of agents over in order to assist. Thanks to the dirty ones, the whole FBI had been tarred with the same brush. The Navy would close ranks even tighter than they normally did, not wanting any help from feds they didn’t know they could trust.
Mark didn’t blame them. But they had to carry on regardless, because they couldn’t just all pack up and go home. Call it quits. The good agents had to stay on the job. Do the right thing.
They’d all been vetted. But that didn’t matter now that they had a reputation. Other agencies, the police and the military, only concentrated on the fact they’d operated with bad seeds among the good.
Mark went back to his files.
Had the man in Florida, the one Victoria questioned about her grandfather’s kidnapping, really been the man he was looking for now? The FBI agent had worked in Portland for the past three years. Before that he’d been in Quantico on extended training. Prior to that he had been in Berlin, Germany.
Close enough to Austria. It also fit the time frame.
This agent was the one who’d never showed up to his vacation. His wife and two children were at his house. The man had rented an apartment two years ago, leaving his wife for a string of broken relationships. She’d eventually moved to Seattle, where her parents lived.
Mark had already interviewed her once.
Maybe he needed to do it again. Drop the name Oscar Langdon, and see how she reacts. She might know more about her husband’s history than what she told him—particularly the time they’d lived in Europe.
“Sir?”
He didn’t look up. “Yeah, Tines.”
“You have a visitor.”
He glanced over to where she pointed to the far end of the office. Victoria strode through the open plan area to where he stood beyond a wall of glass windows. Wide eyes. Brittle smile.
He met her in the doorway and walked her straight to his office where he shut the door and closed the blinds.
“What—”
She bent double and sucked in breaths, dropping her purse on the floor.
“Oh, honey.”
“Don’t.” She shook her head, her long blonde hair hanging down by her knees. “Don’t be sweet. You’ll make it worse.”
“You want me to be a jerk.”
She lifted up, immediately turning so he couldn’t see her face. “It would make things easier.”
Now
why would he ever want to make things easier for her? Mark said, “Did he try to hurt you again?” Or was it her grandfather? Had she already heard news that he hadn’t?
“The explosion.”
“The one in Bremerton? That was you?”
“I was on the phone in Niall’s office. MTAC?” When he nodded, she continued, “I thought we were under attack.” Her whole body shuddered. “I thought there were going to be hundreds of deaths. Because of me. Because he was destroying a building, just to get to me.”
His whole body relaxed, releasing the tension. He moved to her and held his arms out. She walked into the hug, holding his waist while the tremors worked through her.
He rubbed his hand up and down her back, thanking God in silence that she’d sought him out. She hadn’t gone anywhere else but had come to see him when she needed someone. A friend, but still. It meant something.
He didn’t bother asking her if she was all right. It was obvious she wasn’t, but she’d never appreciated her weaknesses being pointed out.
The door opened and someone cleared their throat. He turned to find the Director of the FBI, his boss from Washington D.C. Victoria turned the other direction. Probably to compose herself.
The director had no hair, just a shiny, bald head. His face was lined—stress from work, laughter shared with his grandchildren and every experience between. His tie was red, and his suit pure black. Well cut. Nicer than what Mark could afford, by far. Then again, that was what the D.C. federal culture stood for—good impressions. Politicking. Something he’d never appreciated, which was why he was clear across the country doing investigative work and not sitting behind his desk like so many assistant directors.
“I should be going.” Her voice was soft. Unsure. He’d heard that tone before, and he’d never liked it.
The last thing he wanted was for Victoria to disappear again. Especially with the current threat. But holding onto her was like trying to catch a cloud.
“Victoria Bramlyn, yes? That is who you are?” The FBI Director held out his hand.
Mark tensed. It was automatic, given how much scrutiny he and all the other agents on the West Coast were under right now.
Final Stand Page 5
