He left without another word. "Sure thing, Harvey," Aria acknowledged, locking the door behind him.
¯¯¯¯
NICK had seldom worked with a partner. One of the few times he had, her arm got blown off by an improvised homemade explosive. Still, every once in a while, he needed one. Right now would have been a good time.
He sat in his car and watched. Security at NWT Incorporated was good, nearly perfect in fact. But every chain had a weak link. It just took a little looking to find it.
There were cameras at all the right angles, and there were no trees anywhere near the perimeter of the fence. He put on his monocle night vision goggles and switched from starlight to infrared. They had infrared sensors crisscrossing the lawn between the fence and the building, which would make crossing the lawn an impossible task. He switched back to starlight and sat back to watch. On the outside it all looked very hopeless and intimidating. Still, every chain had at least one weak link.
¯¯¯¯
ARIA looked at the clock on the mantle for the third time in ten minutes. It was two o'clock. Where was Nick? The longer she sat there, the angrier she got. How dare he not tell her where he was going? Her job, and possibly her entire career, stood on the line right now, and he was off gallivanting around, doing who knows what, and leaving her sitting here without knowing what was going through his mind or where he was going. She looked at the clock again. Two oh three.
She got up off the couch and went to the kitchen, deciding to make a cup of tea. If nothing else, it would probably take ten minutes to make, and she would have something to do for that length of time.
She filled the kettle with water, then dragged her stool around the kitchen, using it to reach the tea bags and her cups. She'd quit waiting to grow about five years ago, and finally resigned herself to stand five feet two inches tall for the rest of her life.
When the kettle whistled, she poured the boiling water into a cup and added the tea bag, letting her mind wander while she waited for the tea to steep. She thought back to the last year of high school and the rifle team winning the state championship. It had been one of the rare times she'd seen Nick give a genuine smile.
She picked up her cup and turned to take it to the living room. She gave a startled gasp and dropped the cup when she saw Nick standing in the doorway, watching her. To her absolute amazement, in the next second, he held the cup out to her. Nick had crossed the space between them and caught her cup in midair before it had hit the ground. Tea had sloshed out onto the floor and certainly had burned his hand, but he didn't flinch. Instead, he calmly extended the cup out to her as if offering a baseball to a pitcher. What kind of reflexes must he have to pull that off?
"I've got to get you a bell," she muttered as she accepted the cup then turned to grab a dishtowel to wipe up the spilled tea. She realized that her heart was racing and her anger with this man had vanished.
"I need you to draw me a map," Nick stated very matter-of-factly as he accepted the towel and dried his hand.
"To where?" she asked. She took the towel back and carried it to the sink where she turned on the cold water to rinse it.
"Peter Harrington's office, and the entire floor of his building, if you can."
"What good would it do? You wouldn't be able to get in, anyway," she said, walking past him and through the door.
Nick sighed. "I need a map to Harrington's office, and I need to know as much as you can remember about where the security cameras are located in his building. Can you do that or not?" He followed her to the other room.
"You aren't seriously going to try to go in there, are you?" she asked, realizing he really was serious.
"Even the best armor always has at least one chink in it, Aria. I found one in your precious security." He sat down on the chair. "Look, I could go to his house tonight, but if he catches me, it will put you at risk. He's already seen me with you. I'd rather go ahead and get his office out of the way, then I'll go to his house later."
Aria was shocked. "You're going back tonight? A few hours ago, you fell asleep in the middle of a conversation with me."
"Right. And I slept."
"For half an hour! No way, Nick. I'll draw you a map and you can go tomorrow. You have to be too tired to be efficient tonight." She stood and headed for her bedroom.
"My mother left when I was five years old. I don't need another one, now. You can draw me a map, Aria, or I can go in without one," Nick said quietly from the chair.
Aria stopped and turned. "It's a nuclear weapons facility, Nick. What's the chink in the armor?"
Nick rubbed his face. "They don't patrol at random intervals; only at shift change. Between times, they rely on their technology."
"And you can get past the technology?" Nick just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Aria threw her hands up in the air and stomped to her desk. "All right. Go get yourself arrested or killed. I've already buried you once. I can do it again."
She ripped open her desk drawer and began to rummage through it, finding a pad of paper and a pencil. She carried it over to the couch and leaned back and closed her eyes, trying to picture the building in her head.
Nick came behind her and reached out, taking the pad from her trembling fingers. He ripped the top page off the pad and laid it on the coffee table. If Aria drew on the pad, it would leave an impression on the pages beneath and Nick couldn't let her do that. Then he nodded to her to proceed. He rested his arms on the back of the couch leaning over to watch her draw. He leaned even closer to see the details, and began to question distances and cameras.
When Aria finished detailing everything she knew, Nick looked at his watch. "It's already too close to the start of the work day. I'm going to need at least four hours to do what I need to do," he said. "Let's sleep now, and I'll plan to go at midnight tonight."
Aria felt relief flow through her body. She wouldn't gloat, though. "You're the one who knows best," she said sweetly.
He obviously chose to ignore her sarcasm. Instead, he half-smiled, half-glared at her, kicked off his shoes, then lay down on the couch and appeared to instantly fall asleep.
Aria watched him for a few minutes, intrigued by this man for whom she'd once had such strong feelings. The feelings hadn't gone away, she knew, but she wondered if they were still those of an adolescent, or those of a woman.
She got a blanket from her room and carefully draped it over him, not wanting to wake him up. Then with a yawn that nearly broke her jaw, she fell face down on her own bed and fell asleep in seconds.
¯¯¯¯
SPECIAL Agent Katherine "Kate" Royce, code named Hecate, inspected NISA Director Charlie Zimmerman from where she sat in front of his desk schooling her features into absolute blankness. Zimmerman looked positively exhausted. Deep dark circles ringed his eyes. His hair had a very unkempt appearance. He didn't look like a razor had touched his face in a couple of days. He did have on a fresh shirt, and a clean tie dangled loose around his neck. Kate could only assume that he must have a high level meeting later this morning.
She'd gotten the phone call at four that morning. Such calls weren't uncommon and she never minded them much. She met Balder in the parking garage fifty minutes later and the two of them were seated in Zimmerman's office by five.
Despite Zimmerman's exhausted appearance, he sounded sharp and his voice came out clear.
"Nighthawk is compromised," he said. Kate raised an eyebrow. Nick Williams? Compromised? Zimmerman continued. "He missed his last two check-ins. We must assume the worst and hope for the best." He tossed a folded file toward Balder. "Subject's name is Doctor Aria Suarez. She's a high level nuclear physicist at NWT in Portland, suspected of nuclear espionage. She is an imminent threat. I'd like her brought in alive, but it isn't an absolute requirement."
Balder opened the file and Kate looked over to see the photograph of the petite blonde standing next to a lecture podium at MIT. Aria Suarez didn't look the least bit dangerous, but then again, neither did Kate R
oyce.
"This is high priority," Zimmerman said. He looked at his watch. "You both have seats on the seven ten nonstop out of Dulles."
"Consider it taken care of," Balder said as he and Kate stood. She straightened her suit jacket and held her hand out for the file. She read the details and she and Balder walked out of the offices below the Treasury Department to their waiting car.
¯¯¯¯
Chapter 13
NICK left the HILUX with the empty gas tank sixty-two klicks from the steep ridge line they gratefully hadn't had to cross on foot. Zimmerman lay on a canvas tarp Nick had found in the back of the HILUX, and he pulled it behind him like a pack mule having secured it to the bottom of his vest with parachute cord. The prisoner marched in front of him, weak from lack of water and lack of rest.
He knew an outpost lay just over the next rise. He prayed it was manned. The first time he had stumbled, he dropped any nonessential gear and left it for the desert to claim. He kept only his ammunition, his knife, his water, and his Soldier's Bible. The sun was starting to rise the second time he stumbled. On his knees, he prayed, "Please, God. Half a klick. I just need that much more strength."
Renewed, he rose back to his feet, picked up the parachute cord that connected him to Zimmerman's makeshift pallet, and started walking again. The prisoner went down next. Nick stopped and looked down at him, then removed the hood. He appeared to be unconscious, but he didn't trust that. He tied the man's hands at the wrist, then held onto the parachute cord and dragged him with his left hand and Zimmerman with his right hand, inch by inch up over the rise. The nylon parachute cord, or five-fifty cord, painfully cut into his chapped, dry palms and fingers so that his hands bled, making it hard to keep his grip.
From where he stood, what he saw definitely looked like American equipment, and was that an American flag? He raised his weapon in the air and fired three rapid shots, then three slow shots, then three rapid shots again. Nine shots in all signifying three short letters.
S. O. S.
Save Our Souls.
Then he fell, rolling down the hill, the parachute cords slipping from his bloody grip, cutting deep grooves into his baked skin. He felt the sun baking his face, but had no energy left to even shield his eyes. He lost the battle to get back up and, as he lost consciousness, he wondered if they'd find him, if they'd find Zimmerman, and if the prisoner had escaped or was really lying unconscious and bound at the top of the rise.
NICK opened his eyes and raised his wrist to look at his watch, barely noticing the jagged scars across his palm and the back of his hand. It was seven-thirty. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to sleep for so long at one stretch. The place was quiet around him, and he knew that Aria was still asleep. He felt a brief tug of sympathy for what she was going through, then frowned at his emotions. The smart thing to do would be to get another agent in here to take care of this for him. He was too close to the source, and knew his feelings could get in the way, cloud his judgment, but he couldn't conjure up enough trust to hand her over to someone else.
He'd been in love with Aria Suarez since he first saw her, and knew even then that the feelings he had were far more than some childish crush. He'd stopped being a child at age five, and by the time he'd turned fifteen, he'd gone through enough and seen enough to have no innocence left.
When she'd walked into that American History class two days before her fifteenth birthday, he knew he was looking at the only woman on the face of the earth he would ever love. He'd never have her, of course. She was a career soldier's kid; delicate, smart, and clean. That had been the first thing he thought about her. Very few things in his life had ever been clean. She not only looked clean, she even smelled clean. He was white trash from a family that had been white trash for generations.
In the last ten years, anytime he had thought of Aria Suarez, he had pushed that thought deep, deep down into the prison of memory. Perhaps a snatch of a piano tune or a woman in the grocery who smelled like soap and vanilla or a flash of blonde hair as church dismissed; whatever thing it was that reminded him of her, he had always forcefully suppressed the memories that threatened to flood his mind and he had repressed the inevitable feelings that threatened to stop his heart. Seeing her again, smelling her, hearing her voice — all of it put Nick in a very dangerous and distracting place because instead of doing his job all he wanted to do, if he could admit it to himself, was pull her into his arms and start kissing her and never, ever stop.
Being this close to her for the next few days was going to put him through a test he wasn't sure he would pass, but he would do his best to keep from touching her. Every time she touched him he felt his heart stop beating. Her touch, her gentle, light, burning hot touch was the one thing that could break him.
He rose from the couch and opened his bag, retrieving a pair of shorts and his running shoes. It was still okay to leave her alone right now, and it had been a few days since he'd given himself a good workout. He closed the door quietly, and stepped out into the morning.
¯¯¯¯
ARIA opened her eyes, rolled over, and offered the clock a look of pure hatred. She sat upright when she saw that it was noon, then collapsed back on the bed when she remembered what was happening. She lay there for a few minutes, trying to find the energy to get out of bed, then slowly sat up. She'd slept in her clothes, she realized, rubbing her hands over her face. What time had she gone to bed? Four?
With a groan she pushed herself off the bed and stumbled to the bathroom through the door in her room. There was only one bathroom in the house, but it could be accessed from either the hall or her bedroom. Once inside, she realized she should have knocked first. At least he wasn't in there.
She locked both doors, stripped, and stepped into the shower; sticking her face under the spray, trying to erase the cobwebs. Getting up was the absolute worst no matter if it was six in the morning or noon, she decided. As she stepped out of the shower, she realized that only coffee would get her going this morning. She didn't want to go running this late.
She pulled a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt out of her closet and dressed slowly, still feeling clumsy and fatigued. A cool hush had settled over the house like a blanket of snow. She thought maybe he wasn't even here but when she stepped into the kitchen, she saw Nick sitting at her table, looking over the map she'd drawn early that morning. He looked far too alert for her taste.
"You slept a long time," he observed. "I made you coffee."
Aria chose to ignore him as she poured a cup of coffee from the full carafe. He offered, "I don't drink that stuff, so it may not be any good."
Aria glared at him while she rummaged through the cupboards, knowing she had a box of cereal somewhere. She found it in with the bowls, and thought that was a convenient place for it. "You should really spend some time organizing this room. Nothing's where you would look for it. I found the coffee filters in with the silverware."
Aria grabbed the carton of milk out of the refrigerator and stumbled to the table, her arms full. "Look, Williams, you want to stay here, you need to realize that mornings stink around here. You've done a good job up to this point of keeping our conversations to a minimum, so follow your normal pattern and save the small talk for someone else."
Nick smiled as he lifted his glass of water to his lips. "It's not morning. It's afternoon."
Aria ignored him and rested her head in her hands. When she lifted her head, he was gone. She was going to have to have a talk with him about making noise when he moved around, she thought. Then she put her head back down.
¯¯¯¯
NICK went to his car, opened the trunk, and grabbed up his other duffel bag. He carried it back inside and sat down in the middle of the floor, opening the bag. He was glad headquarters had provisioned his rental car with standard field gear in addition to the surveillance equipment. He hadn't thought he was going to need any of it, but he rarely went on assignment without it.
He pulled out a bundle of cab
le, some rope, a winch, and a converted grappling gun, then began to check his equipment. He re-bundled the cable, not knowing who had bundled it last and not trusting whomever that might have been. He would only get one shot at this. He pulled more gear out of the bag and spread it all around him on the floor in parade ground uniform lines.
Aria walked in about half an hour later, feeling more human, and wanting to apologize for her outburst. She should have warned him, she thought. She stopped short when she saw her living room floor. "What are you doing?"
"Checking my equipment." Nick never looked up. He just kept opening and closing a snap link attached to a pulley.
"You're really going to try this tonight, aren't you?"
Nick didn't respond. "Tell me about the security on the computers. I need to get into Harrington's e-mail."
Aria sat down on the couch and pulled her legs under her. "You don't need to break into his computer there. I'm pretty sure I can do that from here."
He stopped what he was doing and looked at her. "I thought you had a hard time getting the stuff off your computer there."
"I did. I'm on a different system because of the classified projects I work on. He's in administration on a different domain. He doesn't have half of the security I do."
"So how will you be able to get in?"
Aria gestured with her hand toward her head. "Prodigy brain. Music, math, computers — it's all very similar. It's all patterns of code. Once I figure out how to assign a musical value to it, I'm able to do almost anything."
An Aria for Nick (Christian Romantic Suspense) (Song of Suspense) Page 11
