by Lara Adrian
Nick opened the last backup file, the one made after Sheppard’s death, but no folder with the name My Boys was among it. This meant that somebody had erased it within a month after the Phoenix program’s leader had been murdered.
Remembering Sheppard’s date of death all too well, Nick clicked on the file with a date only two days prior.
“Shit, Fox!” Stingray’s voice came through his earpiece. “Somebody’s coming. You’ve gotta hightail it outta there.”
“I only need a minute,” he said, already perusing the contents of the backup file. “There! Got it!” The folder named My Boys was right there. Nick clicked on it, and a long list of individual files appeared, all carrying only initials.
Nick pulled a flash drive from his pocket, jammed it in the computer’s USB port. Immediately, an alert flashed on the screen: Copying disabled. He’d expected this, but thanks to his years in the CIA’s Data Security department, he knew a way around it. He typed in the appropriate command and seconds later, copied the entire folder. A window popped up, indicating the number of megabytes it was copying and the time left.
“Damn it, Fox! Get your ass out of there now!”
“Almost there, just twenty more seconds!”
Drumming his fingers on the desk, he watched the time on the window decrease. “Ten seconds.”
“Now, Fox, now!”
The window closed, indicating that the copying process was complete. Nick pulled the flash drive from the USB port and shut the computer down.
He headed for the door.
“Fuck!” he cursed and whirled back around. “The login credentials.”
“Leave ’em!” Stingray ordered.
“Can’t!” He rushed back to the computer, snatched the piece of paper from the desk and ran back to the door. He eased it open.
“Turn right! Into the office next to you.”
Nick followed Stingray’s command without hesitation and dove into the room next to the one he’d just exited. Just in time, as it turned out. Footsteps passed by his door. Then the door to the other room was opened and closed.
“Now, out!” Stingray ordered.
Breathing heavily, Nick exited the room and walked back the same way he’d come. At the door, he stopped for a brief moment, then he pushed it open and left the restricted area.
As he walked through the maze of corridors, back toward the main entrance, he glanced at one of the clocks on the wall. It was high time that he left. His hour was almost up. Shortly, a vigilant system administrator would realize that the ID Nick was using belonged to a dead man. But before that happened, Nick had to get back to the computer Stingray and Ranger were using to keep tabs on him, and replace his photo on Sheppard’s ID with Sheppard’s original one.
He increased his speed, but didn’t run. It would only draw suspicion onto him. At the next turn, he reached the entrance hall. Ahead of him was the oversized seal of the CIA, and beyond it were the turnstiles. Nick let his eyes roam. The security guard who’d assisted him earlier was gone, probably on a break. Somebody else had taken his place. Good. It meant the guy wouldn’t get suspicious seeing him leave again so quickly.
Trying to appear as relaxed and calm as he could under the circumstances, Nick walked past the turnstiles and through the glass doors into the open air. He didn’t look back, and continued in the same tempo until he reached the Toyota.
“I’m outside.”
“Good. We’ll be right there.”
Nick unlocked the car and got inside. When the engine started, he felt a little better already, but only once he’d passed through the gate, leaving the CIA campus, did his heart beat normally again.
The Buick with Ranger, Stingray, and Lisa was waiting for him in a side street about two miles from the CIA’s security gate.
Nick pulled over, killed the engine, and took out a special antiseptic wipe, ripped open the package and proceeded to wipe down the steering wheel, gear stick, and anything else he’d touched. Not only would it make sure he didn’t leave any fingerprints behind, it would also get rid of any DNA. He finished by wiping the outside door handle, before he stuffed the used wipe and packaging into his pocket then got into the waiting Buick.
Stingray was driving, pulling into the street the moment Nick was inside the car.
“You got it?” Ranger asked eagerly.
He sat in the back with Lisa, his girlfriend, a pretty woman with a kind smile.
Nick patted his jacket pocket. “I’ve got it.” Then he looked at his watch. “Step on the gas, Stingray. Michelle is waiting for us.”
Ranger handed him his computer, jetpack already attached, and Nick didn’t lose any time wiping out any trace of his picture on Sheppard’s old CIA access card.
It took them less than ten minutes on the George Washington Memorial Parkway to reach the Arlington Metro station.
Nick searched for the van. “Do you see her?”
“Nothing,” Ranger said.
“Shit!” Nick cursed and looked at his watch again. Then his nape began to prickle uncomfortably. “Something isn’t right. Shit, something happened to Michelle.”
23
Michelle cursed. She’d wanted to place only one more camera, but had remembered too late that the northbound lane on George Washington Memorial Parkway didn’t have an exit on Columbia Island. So she’d had to double-back after installing a camera right off the highway where the Pentagon Lagoon Yacht Basin was flowing back into the Potomac River. The bridge was a strategic point from which any boat leaving the lagoon could be watched.
Unfortunately the detour had cost her precious minutes. Minutes, it now turned out, she didn’t have. Because she wasn’t the only early bird.
“Well, look who couldn’t wait to meet,” the stranger said in a menacing voice, as he gripped her elbow.
She knew immediately that this wasn’t Smith. His voice sounded different, and he let her see his face. Smith had always made sure she never got a glimpse of him so she couldn’t identify him.
One thing was immediately crystal clear: this man had been sent by Smith to get rid of her.
“Let’s go somewhere more private,” he suggested, jamming something hard—and concealed beneath the jacket that he’d slung over his forearm—into her side.
She didn’t need to see the item to know it was a gun. She also knew immediately why he wanted to head away from the path that led back to where she’d parked the van. A group of three-to-five year olds was playing in the open meadow only a few yards away, supervised by three young kindergarten teachers. He couldn’t kill her here, or he would have several witnesses and a panicked group of kids on his hands.
Just as Michelle knew she couldn’t call out to the three teachers for help either. It would only endanger the children. For all she knew, the man currently holding a gun to her ribs had no scruples killing innocent children in order to save his own ass.
She was on her own.
“Move!” he ordered between clenched teeth.
She cast him a sideways glance. He looked so normal. Not like a villain, but more like a boring accountant on his way to work. That’s why she hadn’t even noticed him, though clearly he’d noticed her.
Michelle had no choice but to put one foot in front of the other. But she had to somehow buy herself time. “Smith sent you? What does he want?”
A little chuckle came from the man. “What do you think?” He pressed the barrel of the gun harder into her side to make his point.
“Why? I’ve done everything he wanted.”
The assassin nudged her in the direction of a public restroom, which was partially surrounded by bushes and trees.
“Apparently your employer wasn’t quite satisfied with your job performance.”
“I can improve,” she hastened to say, realizing that once they reached the restrooms there was nothing to prevent him from killing her out of sight of any witnesses.
“I believe your probationary period is over. And guess what?” He leaned in. �
�You didn’t make the cut.”
Her heart beat frantically, and her palms were sweaty. “Whatever he’s paying you, I can pay you more.”
A snort was his answer. He didn’t believe her. Well, she wouldn’t believe herself either.
Michelle eyed the one-story brick building that housed the restrooms and saw a man exit from one side. He walked toward them.
The assassin pasted a smile on his face and said for the benefit of the man passing them, “Honey, your stomach will feel better in a second, I promise you.”
The fake sweet tone of his voice made her want to puke and make his lie about her stomach trouble true.
The moment the other man was out of earshot, her assailant hurried her along. “Let’s move.”
She pretended to stumble over her own feet, letting out a gasp. He gripped her elbow even harder, his gun slipping for a moment, but then he pulled her along again. The distraction had worked, however: she’d managed to pull the cell phone Stingray had given her from her pocket, press what she hoped was the redial button, and drop it into the grass. Stingray had programmed in his number, and they’d tested it before she’d left with the van. She could only hope now that he would get the message that she was in trouble. It was a long shot, but what else could she do?
“Stop, please,” she begged loudly, praying that the call had already connected and would pick up her voice from this distance. “My ankle. I think I sprained it. Please don’t take me into those public restrooms. Please don’t kill me.”
“Shut up, you bitch!” he growled, looking around. He seemed satisfied that nobody was close enough to have heard her or seen her struggle.
Her gaze darted past the structure ahead of them, where sailboats and motorboats were docked at the small marina. But it was quiet there, too.
With every step they got closer to the public restrooms, hope that the cavalry would arrive in time faded a little bit more. A hand clamped around her heart and squeezed it tighter with every second. Soon, it would all be over. This wasn’t how she’d imagined her end: shot in a public restroom, her body lying on the urine-stained concrete floor. A cold shiver raced down her back, and her hands trembled.
Tears welled in her eyes, and she didn’t even try to blink them back. Nobody would see them, nobody but her killer.
“Please,” she murmured, but he’d already opened the door to the women’s restroom and shoved her inside.
A single neon light flickered on the ceiling. Except for the dripping faucet it was quiet. There were three stalls, their doors open. The smell of human waste hit her immediately, making her nose twitch uncomfortably. A morbid thought came: at least she wouldn’t have to bear the stench for long.
For the first time since the assassin had caught her, he released her elbow and pushed her from him, toward one of the stalls. She whirled around, needing to watch him. As if seeing the gun would somehow help her stop him.
With a serenity only a professional killer could exhibit, he pulled a silencer from his jacket pocket. He placed the jacket over the waste bin, then slowly screwed the silencer onto the barrel of his pistol.
“It won’t hurt,” he promised.
“Please, just let me go. I promise I’ll disappear today. Nobody has to find out that you didn’t kill me. I’ll leave the country.”
The assassin shook his head. “Sorry, lady, but I always fulfill my duty.”
Instinctively, she shrank back, stepping deeper into the stall until her legs backed up against the toilet bowl.
The cocking of the gun echoed off the walls. The sound thundered in her ears and made her heart stop. This was it then. The end.
Another sound, that of creaking door hinges, reached her ears a split second later.
Her head veered in the direction of the door as it opened. Oh, no, another innocent woman would have to die because she was about to witness a murder.
“No! Run!” Michelle screamed at the person she couldn’t even see, because the assassin was blocking her view of the door.
He spun around, his back to her now, his gun hand outstretched.
The shot echoed louder than she would have expected. She’d always thought a silencer would dampen the sound of the gunshot to a dull rumble. But this was different, louder, deafening.
Paralyzed, she stared at the assassin’s back, expecting him to turn around to her now and finish her. But instead, his knees buckled and he collapsed onto the dirty floor. Her gaze flew to the door. Nick stood there, a gun in his hand.
“Are you all right?” he asked, rushing toward her.
She nodded, but couldn’t get a single word over her lips.
Nick sidestepped the dead body and reached for her, pulling her out of the stall. “We have to leave. Now. Before anybody sees us.”
She nodded numbly and clung to his hand as he dragged her out of the bathroom and around to the other side, away from the entrance.
The van, its engine running, was waiting for them. For a moment she wondered how that was possible, since she still felt the key to it in her pocket. But Stingray probably had a second one on him.
“Hop in, quickly!” Nick demanded, helping her into the van and jumping in behind her, then slamming the door shut.
The van was already in motion, making her stumble before she was able to sit on the bench.
“Get us outta here, Stingray!” Nick sat on the bench beside her and pulled her into his arms.
His erratic breathing and heaving chest mirrored her own.
“I thought I’d be too late.”
Michelle buried her head in his chest, still not being able to comprehend how she’d escaped certain death. “You came. You killed him before he could kill me.”
“Shame the guy’s dead. Would have loved to question him about this Smith character. Guess we blew our chance there,” Stingray threw in.
“Yeah, well, I had no choice,” Nick answered.
He put his hand under her chin and tipped her face up. His mouth was on hers a moment later, kissing her with a desperation she’d never felt from him before. When he released her moments later, he stroked his hand over her hair.
“You scared the shit out of me, Michelle.”
“I didn’t know he was gonna send an assassin. And I couldn’t know he’d be an hour early.” Then she looked around the van for the first time and a twinge of panic raced through her. “Where are Ranger and Lisa? Are they okay?”
Stingray answered in Nick’s stead, catching her eye in the rearview mirror. “They’re in the Toyota, making sure nobody’s following us. They’ll meet us at the safe house once the coast is clear.”
Relieved, Michelle exhaled. Then she looked at Nick. “What happened at Langley? Did you get the file?”
Nick grinned and patted his jacket pocket. “We got it, baby.”
24
After arriving at the safe house, they’d analyzed the files Nick had copied, which turned out to be a veritable treasure trove of information. The files identified over thirty Phoenix agents. Mostly codenames, real names, and pictures were there, but the files didn’t contain any mention of relatives or where the agents were from. However, there were other useful tidbits: hobbies, special skills, as well as the professions the agents had previously held. It would help Nick and his two new friends in their search for the others.
Several hours after rescuing Michelle from the assassin and analyzing the files in the safe house, Nick kicked his apartment door shut with the heel of his boot and trained his eyes on Michelle who’d entered ahead of him.
She walked toward the sofa, sashaying her sweet ass for his benefit, making it hard for him to concentrate on what he had to get off his chest. When she turned and let herself sink into the cushions, resting her head against the backrest and blowing out a breath, Nick marched toward her.
His heart was still pounding out of control at the recollection of what had happened this morning. It had been close. Too damn close. And it had made him realize one thing: that he didn’t want t
o lose Michelle. Which was why it was so hard to do what he’d promised her. To help her get away. But a promise was a promise. She’d upheld her part of the bargain, and he had to uphold his.
She smiled at him, clearly oblivious to the turmoil raging inside him. And how should she know? He hadn’t told her even once what he’d started feeling.
“Something wrong?” she murmured, reaching for him.
Nick remained standing in front of her, searching for the right words. “I don’t think I’m able to uphold my end of the bargain about getting you out of the country.”
She shifted on the sofa. “But you promised to give me a new identity.”
“I did. But I can’t help you disappear.” He shook his head. “Not the way you were hoping to anyway. Smith has you in his crosshairs. And knowing what I know now, that one of our own turned bad and worked for our enemies, I have to assume that Talon wasn’t the only one. Smith might have other Phoenix on their side.”
“But what’s that got to do with you giving me a new identity?”
“Everything. Any of those Phoenix who’ve gone bad can have a premonition about you, where you are, what you’re doing. If I send you away to South America on your own, you’ll be without protection if one of them comes after you.”
“But the chances of that happening—”
“—are real,” he cut her off. And that made his blood curdle.
“But if I stay here as myself, he’ll get me, too.”
“If you stay here, I’ll be able to watch out for you. To protect you.”
To be close to you, he wanted to add, but didn’t.
He could see how the wheels in Michelle’s brain turned feverishly. Hesitantly, he said, “You’ll get a new identity, but you’d be staying close… close to me.”
Her eyelashes lifted, almost hitting her brows. Blue eyes stared at him with an intensity that almost knocked him off his feet.