by Black, Regan
"I know."
Mira emerged with a grin to match the delivery guy's. "What?"
"Nothing. Smells great."
He had a sister, knew when nothing meant something, but since she looked happy, he let it go. For now.
They didn't talk, just enjoyed the food. Grateful for the reprieve, he tried to decide how to broach the rather delicate subject of her father.
When they finished and she moved to clean up, he told her to take a seat, surprised she didn't argue. She just looked up at him with those amazing eyes and folded her hands in her lap. "When do you expect Callahan to get back to us?"
"He won't wait too long. He'll report up the line, assess, debate, and then send us on our way."
"So you expect him to keep us together?"
"Is that a problem?" He didn't like how long it took her to mull over the answer.
"Not really. Just haven't been part of a team for a couple years."
"What about the prison?" The look on her face told him he'd said the wrong thing – again. "Never mind."
"It's okay." She blew out a heavy sigh. "I don't mean to be so touchy. That incident was a solo effort for the most part."
He studied her, looking for a clue to what she wasn't saying. "You weren't part of the medical team at Leavenworth?"
"Might be easier to think of me as a special consultant to the medical team. Not unlike yourself, if I'm putting the pieces together correctly."
It was his turn to sigh. "Officially I was on the payroll."
She smiled again and the knot in his gut loosened. "Officially I wasn't. It was a temp agency thing. Who knew they had trouble keeping nurses on the job in there?"
He liked her sense of humor. "There's a pretty high turnover rate for guards too."
"High stress escape attempts will do that."
"Are you always a temp?"
"I have, well had, a good working relationship with a couple of agencies. Always got high ratings and it made it easy to move on if things got sticky, but I guess that's over."
He hated the lost look on her face. "Because your country needs you?"
She laughed, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Hardly. Callahan knows I'm not much of a team player."
He wanted to dig deeper into that, but the doorbell interrupted him.
"I'm going," she whispered, moving out of sight.
Jameson waited, peered through the peephole and smiled. Callahan had sent a friend. He opened the door and the woman on the other side sauntered into the apartment.
"Well, hello big boy," she said with a wink as she closed the door and leaned back against it.
"Isn't it early for a service call?" He'd seen her decked out like a high end call girl, seen her in uniform, but seeing Julia trashed up like a low end hooker was a bit of a shock. "Surprised they let you up."
"Service entry dude probably thinks there's no accounting for taste. But I figure a Soldier shouldn't be able to afford much more than this." She struck a pose that strained the seams of her skin tight shirt and had her skirt riding up.
"True. Whatcha got for me?"
"You'll see." She stepped in closer, nearly eye level in her spiked heels and kissed him full on the lips. "Where's the healer?"
"Right here."
Jameson leaped back from Julia at the sound of Mira's voice. He didn't want her to get the wrong idea, but based on the blank look on her face, she already had. "Mira, this is Julia. She's part of the team."
Julia ditched the heels and pulled off her platinum blonde wig. "An honor, Mira," she said, extending her hand. "Sorry about the getup. I'm undercover."
"No problem."
She tossed Jameson a look. "I will never complain about combat boots again. And I'll retire before I agree to another assignment that puts me in these god-awful heels."
"Coffee?" Mira offered.
"Is it the real stuff or regulation?"
"Regulation," Mira and Jameson said with matching disappointment. "Sorry," Mira added.
"I'll take it anyway." Julia turned to Jameson. "With these hours caffeine – any level of caffeine – is my only hope of staying on my toes. An unexpected benefit of this gig is access to some fabulous brew. One of the girls in the building has a friend who runs for Slick Micky."
Mira nearly bobbled the coffee pot.
"Now that would be a sweet undercover gig. Pun intended," Julia finished with a brilliant smile.
Mira poured coffee and told herself whatever Callahan's orders she'd weigh them against her own interests and decide accordingly whether or not she'd cooperate. It made her antsy to consider how much she wanted to lean on Jameson, to escape the trouble around them. She'd never been the dependent sort of person. It wasn't the sort of new leaf she wanted to turn over.
"Can I ask exactly what your role is here?"
Julia reached across and patted Mira's hand. "You just can't turn it off, can you? Don't worry, I'm not really turning tricks.
"You probably know Montalbano has dreams of being a crime boss worthy of his elders. It's a pipe dream, those of us close to his operation can see it, but it keeps him distracted from other things."
"Like his research and development," Jameson said.
"But he does it anyway. He's not a complete business buffoon. I think he has confidence issues." Julia laughed when Jameson stared. "You'll be happy to know he wasn't always an enemy of the state."
Jameson just shook his head. "Julia is a bit too proud of her psychology degree."
She stuck her tongue out at him, then smiled sweetly at Mira. "They added me to the team to up the IQ average."
Mira didn't want to like Julia, but her personality was infectious. First impressions aside, she wondered if she'd misread the personal connection between the Soldiers. Not that it mattered, she was here for a reason. "So what does Callahan propose?"
"He doesn't propose, he orders, but that's another issue." Julia fidgeted with her coffee cup as she eyed Mira. "How can you sit so still?"
"Practice. And maybe less caffeine?"
"Point taken." Julia laughed again. But I'm not giving up my stash of chocolate covered espresso beans anytime soon."
"Just get on with the update." Jameson's knee was bouncing.
Julia laid a hand on that bouncing knee and fluttered her lashes at Jameson. "I can't go too soon or the good reputation of our military men as heroes in bed will be ruined."
Jameson shifted away. "Tell 'em I was a juicer."
Mira cringed at the reminder of another health professional who'd violated the public's trust. Dr. Kristoff hadn't been from an order like hers, but he'd defrauded the government and abused Soldiers he'd sworn to assist. "Do you know of any connection between Montalbano and Kristoff?"
"None," Jameson replied. "Verified, double checked, and confirmed."
"Thank God," Julia added. "But Montalbano's been up to some weird stuff. He made a play on Dakota territory and put a hit on Slick Micky. Both jobs were about the money according to rumors. And he's got a new designer drug on the street. Seriously addictive. But what he's doing with your dad, well, the only thing I can confirm is that he's not in charge."
"That's bull. I saw him shoot Dr. Luther."
"What?" Mira jumped to her feet. "When? How bad is it? Why didn't Callahan let me treat him?"
"Settle down." Jameson caught her hand, held her in place when she wanted to bolt. "You can't go running into a lab that isn't supposed to exist anymore."
"Actually, that's just what Callahan wants."
Mira felt the change in him. Not just the way his grip changed from comforting to crushing, but his entire body switched to a deadly stillness.
"Then Callahan will be disappointed."
"He has a plan, Jameson."
"Don't care."
Mira tugged against his hold, but if he noticed, Jameson showed no sign of releasing her any time soon. "If I can help, I want to go," she told him.
Jameson looked up and she felt a piece of the wall around her heart giv
e way at the intensity in his eyes. "You've been bait once. That was more than enough."
"This is obviously different."
Jameson shook his head. "What can be different in less than twenty-four hours?" He glared at Julia. "We were right there last night. Why didn't Callahan lead us in last night?"
She shrugged. "Like I have any idea how his mind works. I'm just the hooker on this op. You know things can change in the blink of an eye in the field."
Apparently, the truth of that relaxed Jameson enough so Mira could reclaim her hand. She returned to her seat and asked Julia for the details.
"I'm only getting intel from the lower end of the food chain, but it's remarkably accurate as to movements and vices. Montalbano's been cruising the Financial District consistently of late."
"We know. I tagged the car."
"That was you?" Julia reached over and gave him a high five. "Good job. But he's not completely in charge of whatever's happening over at the lab. He's having to answer to someone else. I know this because I'm rooming with the girl who usually services Montalbano's driver," she explained.
"But you said you're not turning tricks." Mira tried to smother her reaction, but she just couldn't. "Are you being safe?"
"We don't actually entertain in our apartments. Trust me, no one is safer out on a call than me. I'm a patriot all the way but even I draw the line there."
Jameson rolled his eyes. "She means she can't tell you how she's avoiding the deed itself, but she's not actually doing the deed."
"And yet I make a killing in tips." Julia winked.
Jameson shot her a dark look. "Just get on with it."
"Well I sent the intel up the line that the driver's worried about Montalbano's mental health. He's not seeing things again, but he's super stressed out about a deadline and he thows fits and grumbles about a set up even though he says he's got everything under control."
"Everything except the business at the lab," Mira finished for her. At Jameson's groan she added, "What does Montalbano know about health and science? He's a businessman. In any venture he'll be looking for a profit, not advancement for the greater public good. Whatever that is. The enforcers may have already been trailing me, but if my father is in the area too, it makes sense that things are connected. It's like Callahan said, someone wanted me to have that key, to use that key."
"Why?"
She hesitated, afraid to alienate two people who already felt like friends. Allies. Leading such a nomadic life she hadn't really racked up too many friends. Which meant that losing them or losing their respect would hurt, but she'd get over it.
"A few days ago, I was facing an inquiry. A trial of sorts. When the Five went in to deliberate, my mother helped me escape. She mentioned my dad needing me, which is weird because we're not all that close and I thought they weren't that close. Apparently, my mom has all kinds of connections, because I woke up in Slick Micky's place."
"You were smuggled?"
Mira sent Julia a smile. "Exactly my reaction."
"Why were you on trial?"
Leave it to Jameson to ask the one question she didn't want to answer, at least not in front of him. "I'd been accused of exposing what I am. They were concerned that I'd put the order at risk." She met his gaze with as much stoic dignity as she'd used with the Five, refusing to reveal any weakness, but this time she was sure he could hear her heart pounding. She turned back to Julia. "What does Callahan have in mind?"
Chapter 6
Twelve hours later, in the dark tunnels under the University of Chicago, Jameson had to admit the plan was an improvement over sending Mira out as bait. He still didn't like putting her in the middle of the danger, but at least Callahan let him tag along. Sort of.
Geared up for a stealth intrusion, they parted ways at Dr. Luther's old office. Mira went on toward the lab, while Jameson returned to the office armed with a scavenger list of sorts. He had a comm linked directly to Mira, so he could monitor her progress. Once he had what Callahan needed, he'd catch up to Mira before she got into any trouble.
He knew it would be dicey. Mira's role was to determine what her father was working on, without getting caught herself. She'd promised she could refrain if she found him injured, but Jameson wasn't so sure.
Remembering what she'd done to that trace implant, he figured her dad probably handled the bullet the same way.
It didn't bother him in the slightest that the best advocate for Soldier safety and bio-protection managed to do it because he was fundamentally different. It bothered him that Montalbano was using him against American troops.
His recon gear came online as he approached the old office. He wasn't sure what Callahan hoped to gain, but Jameson would get the intel he'd been assigned to retrieve.
The recon gear showed three people, not on his team, ransacking the office and he smiled. Well, Merry Christmas. This mission was looking up. Jameson decided he'd have a little fun, maybe even a little payback in the process.
His side arm was loaded non-lethal, but there were more painful non-lethal options than the standard rubber bullets. If these guys were tied to whoever was pulling Montalbano's strings, he wanted them alive. And if they were enforcers, he wanted them to suffer. Loading a clip of stingers, he chambered a round and prepared to party.
At the last moment, he popped out the stealth disc. He wanted to meet these guys head on.
Only able to get a read on positioning, he watched the 'red dots' as Mira would say, move about on the other side of the wall. He was close enough he should've heard voices, but they were absolutely silent.
Jameson eased open the access door, watching for any change, listening for any clue. Nothing.
He paused long enough to envision his preferred outcome, then he entered as if he walked through walls all the time.
The stinger left his pistol with a pop and hit the closest target in the hip joint. Healer or not, the combination impact and deep nerve shock debilitated him instantly.
Jameson lost the surprise advantage when the first target crashed to the floor. He fired two more stingers at the next target and then the third. Room clear, he cuffed each of the men with zip ties at wrists and ankles. Let 'em try and roll out of here, he thought, going in search of any other problem-children looking to wreck what he'd considered the easy part of Callahan's plan.
When the rest of the office was clear and every access secure, he returned to question his prisoners.
They didn't look like they were in nearly enough pain, which would've been plenty of confirmation they were enforcers, even if he didn't recognize two of the three from their fight in the snow.
Maybe they weren't as strong mentally as they were physically. Time for a little psych out tactic.
"How about you give me your names so I can call your parents to pick you up?"
They stared up at him with identically blank expressions.
"Who's in charge?"
It was subtle and quick, but Jameson caught the glances between the three. Rigid, stoic, it was a look of agreed resignation. A look he'd seen on the faces of terrorists prepared to take a secret to the grave. But these guys were most likely from an order of supernatural healers. What the hell was going on?
"Fine. We'll do it the hard way." He made a show of changing out the stinger clip for the clip of rubber bullets, certain these three wouldn't know one type of ammo from another.
"You fought off that stinger effect pretty well. Let's try something different."
He aimed his pistol at the gut of the target he'd pegged as the leader. "Name?"
Jameson counted to five, noticed a trickle of sweat at the leader's temple and gave him two more seconds. Nothing.
Jameson fired.
The guy fell to his side and curled into the fetal position. Rubber bullets hurt like hell at close range and particularly when aimed at the diaphragm. Jameson hoped the bastard got a bad case of the hiccups to magnify the pain.
Raising the gun, he turned to the next man in line. "N
ame?"
Again with that implacable expression. Jameson realized he could do anything to them physically and get nothing helpful to their mission. Whoever trained this crew had put some significant fear into them.
Annoyed, he raised his gun and pumped two rubber bullets at the guy's thigh. Letting them know it was non-lethal didn't matter. Neither psychology nor intimidation would crack this team. Jameson holstered his weapon, prepared to tell them they'd be hauled away, when he caught an odd look passing between them.
Before he could say anything or separate them, the two wounded men fell over.
"What the hell?" Jameson turned to the third man who only shook his head. He checked pulse points and came up empty.
"What's the trick? When will they revive?"
Still the third man said nothing.
It had to be a trick. Jameson tugged the limp bodies to opposite corners where he could watch them and hope the distance made it tougher for them to keep up the act.
He checked his watch. A minute thirty. They'd have to wake up soon. How long could a brain go without oxygen?
He waited, trying to ignore the tick of every second, the compromising of the mission's fragile timing. Mira could get in trouble fast if she made choices in the lab on the assumption that he'd be right behind her.
He crouched in front of the conscious enforcer. "What were you looking for?"
The guy only shook his head.
Two minutes came and went and still no movement from either corner. More than a little unnerved, Jameson proceeded with his own search, refusing to let Callahan down.
"For an abandoned office, this place is suddenly getting plenty of visitors. You should just tell me what you're looking for."
"The right opportunity."
Jameson jumped, immediately ashamed by the reaction. "So you're not mute."
"Nope."
"Are they planning to stay dead?"
"They are dead."
"Not a trick?"
"Depends on your definition. It's not easy to die on command."
"Is that why you're still breathing?"
"One reason."
"Don't have time for riddles," Jameson muttered, going back to the search. Callahan wanted hard copies of everything Dr. Luther had worked on just before the office shut down. For Jameson it was a sign of serious paranoia, or extreme caution, to look for hard copies when a tech team could come in and skim the hard drives.
