She was no less aristocratic Europe, even with the overalls and the London accent. The woman was in desperate need of a salon visit, followed by a shopping trip. Victoria figure that would be the first thing Genevieve Moran would do when she left here. Before she went on a grifting spree across the Mediterranean, conning old rich guys and then probably poisoning them. Though, no one could prove that part.
Victoria stared her down. “Because shooting me would be poor gratitude in exchange for setting you free.” Even though she had no intention of setting the woman free.
“What do you want, cher?”
“Information.” She paused. “You’re a hard woman to track down.”
“That happens when one is the guest of a corrupt prison system.” Something flashed in her gaze, and her accent held a British upper-crust lilt to it for a second. A product of the fancy boarding school she’d gone to before she cut loose and headed for Monte Carlo with her boyfriend.
Multiple countries had bartered for the chance to question her about unsolved crimes. There were a lot of disgruntled heirs and heiresses out there, all wondering where their inheritance had gone. Rich people pulling strings—making deals with governments and police departments. Money talked.
“Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”
“You always were soft.”
Victoria shot her a look.
“Okay, softer than me.” She swung her arm around Victoria’s shoulders and kissed her cheek like she still considered them old friends. “We made a good team.”
“I’m in a…different place now.”
Genevieve laughed, high pitched like they were dressed in those hats at a horse race in the English countryside, and Victoria had just told her that they should ride the train home instead of having a car service pick them up.
“Can’t blame me,” Genevieve said, waving that gun around. “I’ve just been set free. I’m allowed to be happy about it.” She studied Victoria, then tipped her head to the side. “I’m not going to be happy when you tell me what you want, am I?” She blew out a breath. “Are you sure we can’t drive to Rome and talk about it over a glass of wine?”
Victoria set off, heading for her car.
Genevieve’s white sneakers made barely any sound on the asphalt. “Wow, I’m really not going to like this.”
She stopped close to the hood. “Give me the gun.” Genevieve started to argue. Victoria said, “Tell me what I need to know, and I’ll make sure you’re set up with a whole new identity. You can start a new life wherever you want.”
“You think I know something.”
Victoria didn’t comment on that. If she thought not, why would she have come here?
The first shot pinged off the hood of the car.
“Get in!” Victoria raced to the driver’s door, digging keys out as she moved.
Chapter 12
Bremerton, WA. Thursday, 9.41a.m.
Mark shut the car door and strode over to the door, file in hand, and signed in to the NCIS office on the Naval base where the research facility had exploded.
He rode the elevator up to the floor where the Director’s office, along with Niall’s desk, was located. He found them in the conference room, though. With another man Mark only knew from press clippings.
“Mr. Secretary.”
Andrew Jakeman turned. But it was the NCIS Director who said, “Assistant Director Welvern.” As though pointing out that he was only an assistant and not the FBI director was important to him. Putting other people in their place, as usual.
“Director.” Mark nodded. He stood in the doorway, with no intention of entering unless it was requested.
“Thank you for coming.” That was Jakeman, who strode over and held out his hand. “Welvern.”
“Mr. Secretary.”
“Please, call me Andrew.” He gave Mark a knowing look, which communicated much. This was a man who knew Victoria well. A man she had helped, who meant something to her.
He gripped Jakeman’s hand. “Mark.”
They turned together, back to the table where the director stood. The NCIS agent in charge was an older man with silver hair and a suit that looked more like it should be worn by a mob boss. In fact, his skin was a little too tan and he had a ring on his little finger. He would probably be great at one of those murder mystery birthday parties.
“What have you brought us?”
Mark waved the file in front of him and answered Jakeman’s question saying, “A statement of what was said between myself and Vance Davies.”
There was a tiny shift in the skin around Jakeman’s eyes. He knew what Mark wasn’t saying, that Victoria had been there.
Mark continued, “I believe it has something to do with the explosion at the research facility.”
“The explosion,” the NCIS director said, “and the theft.”
“What was stolen?”
The director’s eyebrows rose.
Mark figured now was the time to plead his case. “I’ve got two dead men and reason to believe that a third man was responsible for what happened here. I believe he’s up to something, and needed whatever he stole at that research facility to enact a plan he’s working on.” Mark flipped open the file and handed him a page about Oscar Langdon. “This man is clever, and very dangerous.”
Langdon was an FBI agent and a criminal. He would be one step ahead of them. He would likely know every move they were going to make. And he hadn’t gone this far without being exposed, or captured, because he took unnecessary risks. He was careful.
“This is not an FBI case.”
“You’re right.” Mark nodded. “That’s why I’m here, handing over everything I have on this man and letting you know I’ll lend any assistance I can.”
After all, there wasn’t much point going back to his own office when it was currently occupied by the FBI director. Probably for the foreseeable future. Mark might as well be here, actually working to find Langdon; the last FBI agent they needed to bring down as part of this whole corruption thing.
That was the only reason the director had signed off on him coming here.
Jakeman said, “Let’s step out and let Assistant Director Welvern get Special Agent O’Caran up to speed.”
Mark realized then that Niall was in the room. As soon as they moved toward the door, Niall grinned at him. Mark was about to make a comment when Jakeman added, “I’ll also put in a call to Homeland and rustle up some extra resources.”
The door clicked shut behind the two men.
“I guess that means Hurricane Dakota is going to make landfall before lunch.”
Mark held his hand out and Niall shook it. “Sorry I didn’t see you before.”
Niall shrugged. “Jakeman called me in here. I don’t think the director liked it overly much.”
“My director is currently occupying the chair at my desk.”
Niall winced. “Why don’t you fill me in on what you have?”
Mark spread out the file on the table and explained everything.
“And you think Langdon is behind this attack?”
Mark said, “What did the research facility have? What was stolen?”
Niall studied him. Not sure if he should share? Mark had to wait for the other man. He might be senior, but they worked for totally different branches of government. The secretary of defense had final call over this office, which probably chapped the NCIS director’s sensibilities, but Mark worked under the Department of Justice.
Still, at the core they were both cops. And Mark figured they both cared about Victoria.
“Chips.”
Mark waited.
“Guidance chips.”
“Like for weapons?”
“Very specific weapons. The ones in the megaton range.”
Fear prickled like cold at the edges of Mark’s senses. With all the technological advances in weaponry—computers and biological and chemical warfare—there was some seriously scary stuff in the world right now. T
hreats had many different faces. But the threat of a nuclear bomb was a mental picture everyone could muster up.
“Langdon has a nuke.”
Niall pressed his lips together. “Perhaps the pieces of one. It could take time to assemble.”
“Or he could be ready, and he could use it tomorrow.”
“Any idea where?”
Mark blew out a breath and sat on the edge of the table. “He’s been trying to kill Victoria, the way he had Pacer killed. So far it’s been through Vance Davies, but he’s dead now. Langdon has been hands off for a lot of it.” Mark glanced in the direction the secretary of defense had gone, but couldn’t see him or Niall’s boss. “Langdon could be planning to go after the committee as a whole, or make a big splash. Use a city to get his point across. Maximum destruction to keep us busy while he makes a break for it.”
Except that they had no idea where he was.
Oscar Langdon, or Colin Pinton as the FBI knew him, had outsmarted so many people.
Now that Mark was sure the last missing FBI agent was Langdon, he realized the man was so much more than his FBI personnel file. He’d worked both sides under the radar for years. Victoria was the only one who’d pointed a finger at the FBI, and even she seemed to have been unaware of the extent of what had been going on.
She’d never thought Langdon himself was an agent.
Though, honestly, he didn’t know what she’d known. And he still wasn’t clear on what made her suspect the FBI as having been involved in what had happened to her in Austria and her need of rescuing from a South African prison. She hadn’t explained much after he brought her home. In fact, she’d taken two whole days to say anything at all.
She had kissed him, though.
Gratitude and relief and their history all wrapped up in one lip touch he wasn’t ever going to forget.
“Where is Victoria now?”
“Honestly, I have no idea.” Not that he’d have lied if he did know. Maybe he just didn’t want to admit that she’d so readily given him the slip. “Davies stepped in front of that car. I turned, couldn’t see her. By the time I hung up from calling the local PD, she was gone.”
“You think she didn’t want to have to make a statement?”
Mark shrugged. “Some of us don’t have that luxury, we have to work within the boundaries of the law.”
“Good. Considering.”
Mark said, “I’m not bitter or anything. She’s always been a law unto herself, a force of nature. And yet…” Did he really want to get into this with a man he considered a friend but actually didn’t know all that well?
Victoria had a deep well of emotion in her. She was one of those sensitive personalities, though she’d learned how to bury that part of her deeply. From a really young age.
He knew she felt a lot, and often that ability to feel was a hindrance that had to be buried. Though not with Jakeman’s daughter. Victoria’s empathy had caused her to work twice as long and twice as hard as anyone else looking for her. She’d told Mark later that she hadn’t quit. In the end she had found the girl after most people had given up. It was the foundation of the bond between her and Jakeman now.
She might be in her forties, but Jakeman considered her like one of his own kids now. He knew the kind of person she was, and it had bonded them. She’d brought him back his child.
Now the secretary of defense had formed this committee, and they’d exposed so much corruption. How far would Jakeman go to give her what she needed in this? He’d want her to have what she wanted, which was Langdon in prison. Or dead. Between Mark and Jakeman, they could probably keep her from doing something that got her hurt in her quest to find Langdon. Mark knew she didn’t care what the fallout was for her personally. She just couldn’t bear for anyone else to be hurt.
He didn’t understand how someone could work so selflessly for other people, care so little about her own wellbeing, make so many choices that strained the boundaries of honor, and yet feel so deeply for those she cared about.
Then again, if he had an answer to that, it would be the end of his lifetime search for understanding Victoria Bramlyn.
And then what would he do?
The door flung open. Talia strode in, followed by Dakota and Josh. Haley, who was Niall’s fiancé and who worked at a bank, carried three white paper bags.
She gave the man she loved a quick kiss. “We brought lunch.”
“Ready to find Langdon?”
Mark spun and lifted his brows at Josh’s question. “I’m more concerned with where Victoria is right now.”
Dakota glanced at Talia. “GPS?”
Talia looked at her tablet. She tapped and swiped the screen. “Offline, which means she’s on a mission.”
“Doing what?” Did they know? Had she ditched him and then checked in with her old team? He’d thought she wasn’t doing that. More concerned with keeping them safe right now, when bodies were dropping. Most of them in front of Victoria.
They glanced at each other.
“Did she order you not to tell me?”
Talia was the first to object. “It’s just that—”
“Don’t bother making excuses for her. Langdon might have a nuke—” He heard someone gasp, but ignored it. “—but if Victoria wants to shut me out, then I guess I’ll go back to my office and find Langdon like an actual cop would do, instead of this renegade spy thing she has going on.”
He strode to the door, already regretting taking his frustration out on good people. They didn’t need his added to their own. He was doing the same job, though he had to prove himself in a way he hadn’t needed to before. They had a new office, a new boss, and the team had been—at least in part—broken up.
The only thing he could do that would actually help was exactly what he’d told them. Find Langdon and take him out. End this threat against Victoria and countless others.
He strode through the office. The director’s door was open. Mark figured telling them he was leaving would be the polite thing to do. Politics didn’t play much into the kind of FBI agent he was, but given the current situation, he figured observing the niceties would be a good idea.
Jakeman wasn’t in the office, however. He was standing outside of it, pacing.
“I understand, sergeant.” Jakeman’s expression was hard as he gripped the phone to his ear. Not upset, but seriously frustrated. “Keep me apprised. And you keep her alive.”
Chapter 13
North of Le Mans, France. Thursday 5.00p.m.
Victoria peeled out, the tires spewing dirt and gravel behind the car. Genevieve gripped the handle on the passenger side, the gun still in one hand.
Gunshots splintered the back windshield.
Genevieve ducked her head. She glanced out the back. “These guys trying to kill you, or me?”
Victoria gripped the wheel, concentrating on not spinning off the side of the road. Should she have Genevieve get her phone? If she did that, who would she call? It wasn’t like she had the sergeant’s number. Talia couldn’t help her, though she’d probably break some protocol trying to rouse local police here in France or the US military close by.
Victoria bit her lip. “Just one car?” She glanced in the side mirror but couldn’t see it as they’d just rounded a bend. When the road straightened, the van came into view. White. Side panels with no decals that she could see from this distance.
“Just one.” Genevieve turned to her. “What’s the plan?”
“Why am I the one who always has to come up with a plan?”
“How about because you’re the spy who pretended to be my friend just so she could sell me out to Interpol?”
Victoria wanted to deny it. “Just doing my job. And it wasn’t me who handed that information over. I was still compiling everything.”
“Which means I’d have been convicted publicly of everything instead of passed back and forth between European governments who all want answers to their own stack of unsolved cases where I’m the prime suspect.” Gen
evieve paused. When she continued, her voice had a hard tone to it. “Trying to do me a favor, in your own way?”
Victoria couldn’t get into all that right now. The van was gaining on them.
It got close enough to bump them, both vehicles going sixty-five on winding country roads. She needed to get on the highway back to Le Mans, or head toward Paris. A little visibility and some other cars meant they’d have the police there soon enough. She could hand Genevieve back over, and they’d be safe. She didn’t like the idea of putting regular folks in danger, but she’d do what she could to minimize the fallout.
Genevieve hissed. Victoria fought the swerve.
“If they want to kill us, they should just do it.” Victoria’s fingers were starting to cramp. “Otherwise they’re just playing with us.”
She had to think on that idea for a minute. Either she’d been betrayed by someone on the committee—the only people who knew she was here—or Langdon had people following her. She figured the latter option was the right one. Especially considering her grandfather’s disappearance and the two attacks.
“Maybe they’re here to kill you because they think you’re trying to kill me,” Genevieve suggested.
“Is that more likely than any of the other scenarios?” Victoria figured either way they still had to get out of this alive.
Another gunshot hit the back corner. She caught sight of a guy hanging out of the front passenger window, holding a shotgun.
“You wanna take care of that?”
Genevieve hit the button to roll down the window. She twisted and knelt on the seat, firing left handed out the window.
Victoria took the next corner. Genevieve had to pause firing. The van’s gunman hit the left side this time. She pressed her foot harder down on the gas pedal.
Behind the van, Victoria spotted a little gray car with multiple passengers closing in fast. They’d brought friends? Or were they friendlies?
Except right now she had to admit—if only to herself—she’d have appreciated Mark being here.
He’d been a figure in her life for years, though mostly from a distance.
Final Stand Page 8
