“How old were you when this happened? You couldn’t have been more than four,” John asked.
“I was six, actually, and Andy was ten.”
“You know,” he said, glancing at Kevin’s still form on the bed. “Sometimes, when I hear stories like that, I wish I hadn’t missed out on having siblings.”
She smirked. “And I bet when you see brothers and sisters fighting, you’re glad a hundred times over that you don’t have any.”
John grinned and shrugged wordlessly. Then his phone beeped, signaling that he’d received a text message. Billie couldn’t help but sit straighter, wondering if it was from Rex or Rebecca.
“General out to lunch—going now before I lose my nerve,” he read from the screen, then slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Which reminds me, it is about that time—are you ready to refuel?”
“John!” she admonished, rising from her seat. She then leaned down and kissed Kevin’s forehead, told him she’d be back again later, and pointedly walked out of the room. John followed, catching up out in the corridor.
“Man, how can you think of eating at a time like this?” she bemoaned. “I’m too sick with worry for Rebecca to even care about eating.”
“The tough former Marine and spy is too scared to eat?” he teased her.
Billie punched him in the arm playfully. “I told you, I’m concerned for Eddie’s sister. She’s not a spy, John, and we’ve asked her to play at being one. There’s no telling what the general would do if he caught her.”
John put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Billie, she may not be a spy,” he said, “but Rebecca is a Marine.”
“That girl has never seen battle and you know it,” she pointed out sourly.
He nodded. “Maybe so, but she’s still a Marine, honey. She’s had the same basic training that you did.”
Billie sighed as they came to an elevator and stopped. She punched the down button as she said, “I know. Logically I know she’s got some spine—she’s going to be snooping around in the office of a brigadier general, after all, so she’s got to have some steel in there somewhere. But I feel incredibly responsible for her now. I feel like it should be me in there instead of her, and I hate that I’m not the one taking the risks.”
The elevator pinged its arrival and the doors opened. They had stepped inside and she had pushed the button for the first floor before John responded. “I understand how you feel, believe me. It’s never easy to be sitting on the sidelines waiting for news.”
“’Never easy’? I hate that shit,” she said as the car started its descent. “I’m a woman of action—at least I used to be. And I’ll be honest with you, Johnny B. Goode, despite all the bad shit that’s gone down, everything that’s happened the last few days has actually served to remind me how much I miss being a woman of action. I actually miss the tension, the intrigue, even the danger—okay, so I probably miss the adrenaline rush more than the danger. But I’ve come to realize that I have been missing out on life by hiding away from it, and the more I think about it, the more I realize how much I want to be doing something useful again.”
John looked down at her with a look of amazement on his face, and a smile spread from ear to ear. Billie felt almost embarrassed under the scrutiny and looked away from him, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks. At that moment the elevator settled and the door opened, and as they were stepping out, John threw an arm casually around her shoulders and planted a kiss on her temple.
“Welcome back, Billie,” he told her.
As the afternoon wore on, Billie fought her restlessness. There had been no further communications from Rebecca, and it was hard not to worry. To assume the worst. To her it was not a matter of trust, as she had complete confidence in the younger woman. It was just that her mind kept returning to the fact that Rebecca was not a field operative or battle-hardened soldier—she was a file clerk, and thus was not as well-equipped mentally to think on the fly. Billie was beginning to wish she had never thought to involve her.
At one point during the day, the family was seated together in the ICU waiting room. Michelle asked John a question that sufficiently derailed her train of worry: “If you’re in the CIA, why aren’t you out doing, you know, spy stuff?” Billie turned to him even as he laughed, curious as to the answer herself.
“Only operations officers are quote-unquote spies, Michelle,” he began.
“But you carry a gun. And I read something online once about how not all CIA agents carry guns,” she pressed.
The others were watching John attentively, probably wondering how much he would—or even could—reveal. “That is correct,” he said. “Much of what the agency does is to gather and process information vital to the security of the United States, and then decides precisely how to act on that information. Operations officers, or OOs, are the ones who gather the information—again, they’re the so-called spies. Their stock and trade is establishing relationships with people who have access to intel on foreign governments, agencies, and individuals, as well as terrorist organizations, and yes, sometimes they are required to carry a gun. Most do not. Everyone else processes the information they gather and decides what to do with it or about it. I am licensed to carry a sidearm no matter where I go due to my ranking within the company, and frankly because my life has been threatened more than once.”
“That is, I believe, a fancy way of saying he’s a spy,” Andy said with a grin.
Michelle slapped Andy’s knee. “He still hasn’t answered my question. Why’s he here and not out on assignment or something?” She then glanced at Billie. “Not that your support is unappreciated, of course.”
John, too, glanced at her, then back at Michelle. “Most operations officers spend years—the bulk of their careers, in fact—gathering intelligence overseas. The same is true with me, as most of my work has been in Europe and Asia, with a few jaunts to Africa and South America. I’ve done paramilitary jobs as well as standard intelligence gathering and I speak several languages. The reason I am here instead of elsewhere is really quite simple: I’m in transition. I was recalled after my last assignment and came home to decompress. My superior at the agency took advantage of the opportunity to send a trained field agent on what was supposed to be a minor assignment, but…it turns out it’s not so minor. Things have gotten complicated and I’m remaining Stateside to see things through.”
It was a lot more than he needed to say, Billie mused, and Michelle looked as though she hadn’t quite understood it all. But Andy, Teddy, her father, and surprisingly Stella, all seemed to have grasped the explanation fairly well—John had not only described why he was still around, but the root of what the CIA was all about. Perhaps he’d simply intended to erase from their minds the common misconception (thanks to movies and popular thriller novels) that all spies did was shoot people and blow shit up.
A thought occurred to her then and she turned to him. “I’ve been wondering, come to think of it, how it is that you have the latitude to keep with this. I would’ve imagined an agent of your caliber getting pulled and debriefed and then reassigned the moment you informed the agency you’d returned with me.”
John looked to her for a moment, then his brow furrowed in thought. “It’s a good question—one I haven’t got the answer to.”
“Maybe they’re hoping by your helping Billie out she’ll agree to return to working for the CIA?” Teddy suggested.
“That’s certainly a possibility,” John replied. “By all accounts she was an exceptional field agent, and I’m fairly certain the agency would welcome her return.”
“No doubt the Marines would as well,” said Thomas. “She’s still eligible to re-up for a few more years.”
“Looks like you got some thinking to do, Billie Jo,” Andy told her.
Billie looked around at the group, and she saw in the eyes of her family members that no matter what she decided, they were just hoping she’d choose to let them remain a part of her life. Though sh
e knew she was not prepared to make a decision about her future career plans at this point, she did know for sure that she was not going to shut the people who loved her out of her life again.
“I can’t say what I’m going to do right now,” she began, “because I honestly don’t know. But as soon as I figure it out, I promise that you’ll be the first to hear of it.”
Her father and brothers smiled, as did John. The ringing of his cell phone broke the ensuing silence and he pulled it from his pocket. “This is John,” he answered, then raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, she’s right here.”
He then held out the cell phone to her. “They want to talk to you,” he said.
Billie frowned, and as she was putting the phone to her ear, she rose from the chair next to John’s and moved toward the door of the waiting room, stepping out of it for the relative privacy of the hallway. “This is Billie.”
“Billie,” came Rex’s voice. “I’ve someone on the line who has requested to speak with you. However, as the call originates from a secured location, you have only three minutes before the connection is terminated. Is that understood?”
“Of course,” she replied quickly. ‘Secured location’ could mean only one place—the safe house. She knew there wouldn’t be a landline on the premises, so one of the team had somehow convinced Presley or Green to let them use a cell phone. It was a risk she honestly couldn’t believe the agents had been willing to take.
A moment later she was hearing Wayne’s voice. “Hey, She-Devil,” he said.
In just three words, he seemed so much clearer than he had since their first encounter in the woods. Whatever Dr. Stone had given him to treat the apparent withdrawal symptoms must’ve done its job. “It’s good to hear your voice, Professor. What can I do for you?”
“What’s this shit I hear that you added a new recruit to the team?”
She knew he was talking about Rebecca, but not using her name because they could not be assured of the security of the line—despite the CIA tech involved. Billie stifled a groan. Damn you, Gabe, she thought, and said simply, “There was no one else to do the job.”
“A job that may give us nothing,” Wayne pointed out.
“Maybe it won’t, but I’m sure Spin Doctor and Thunderhead have explained that we have nothing else to go on. Would you rather I simply did as asked?”
Wayne would know she was referring to the reason John had fetched her from the Virgin Islands in the first place—to find the team and return them to Bolling.
“I don’t like it,” he said after a moment.
“And you think I do?” she countered. “I’ve been concerned since being informed the task was undertaken.”
“There’s been no contact since?” Wayne asked.
Billie sighed. “No. I am hoping it simply means that our operative in the field has not had an opportunity to do so.”
“Try to let us know when you get word.”
“I’ll do my best,” she replied.
The line was abruptly cut off, and a second later a dial tone sounded in her ear. Just in time, she mused morosely as she pressed the end button and slipped the phone into her pocket, then turned and re-entered the waiting room.
“Is everything all right?” John asked.
She nodded. “Some friends are just concerned about the field.”
The others frowned or exchanged curious looks, but John’s eyes told her he knew what she was talking about. Billie almost laughed at how easily the agency double-speak came back to her and rolled off her tongue.
“No doubt, but as I said, the field can take care of itself,” he reminded her.
She sat next to him again. “I know.”
Thomas and Stella decided a few minutes later that they were going to actually leave the hospital for dinner. Andy and Michelle said they’d be glad to join them and Teddy said that he’d get something later as he was about to head back in to see Kevin.
When they were alone, John asked Billie if she wanted something to eat. “You want to join your dad and the others, or do you just want me to grab something from the cafeteria?”
She wasn’t really in the mood to face a crowded restaurant, so she elected to get something from the hospital cafeteria—she knew they sold pizza down there that was fairly decent. “And bring something back for Teddy, would you please? I know he said he’d eat later, but there’s no sense in waiting if you’re going to get food now. Then we can all have dinner with Kevin.”
“Sure,” John replied with a smile, and assured her he’d be back soon.
Billie leaned her head back against the wall when he’d gone, wondering for the umpteenth time why they hadn’t heard from Rebecca. It was getting near the end of shift—certainly she should have messaged them by now. She hoped it would be soon.
She was startled by the sound of a ringing telephone. Billie frowned, wondering where the ringing was coming from, and then realized it was resonating from her own pocket—she’d forgotten to give John back his cell phone. As she pulled it out she wondered if she should answer for him or let it go to voicemail, but that dilemma was solved for her when she recognized Rebecca’s number.
“Hey, how are you?” she said immediately when she put the phone to her ear.
“A little freaked out, actually,” Rebecca replied.
Billie sat straight. “Freaked out how?” she demanded.
“Well, I did the job, but I damn near got caught,” Rebecca replied. “I admit I’ve been a bit paranoid all day because of it, but I don’t think I’m being paranoid about this.”
“Rebecca, tell me what’s wrong,” Billie prompted.
She heard the younger woman draw a breath and release it. “There’s this MP that has been eyeing me every time I leave the office. I’ve seen him around a few times, but his being everywhere I turn after my side trip can’t be a coincidence. Or is it? I’d hate to be freaking out over nothing.”
Billie didn’t believe in coincidences. The fact that she’d nearly been caught and was now being followed told her that Rebecca had drawn undo attention to herself. This was not good news.
“Where are you now?” she asked.
“Still in my office—I’m kind of afraid to leave. The other clerk has already gone for the day or I’d ask him to walk with me to the bus stop,” Rebecca replied.
“Is there anyone else you’re friendly with—and at risk of offending your feminine independence, preferably a male someone—that you’d feel comfortable asking to escort you?” Billie queried.
“Yeah, actually… A guy in IT has asked me out a few times, and I think he’s still here.”
“Good. Make sure he is, then tell him you’re not feeling well and would appreciate his walking with you or giving you a lift to the bus stop. Or better yet, a ride home.”
“But what if the MP really is watching me and follows us?”
Billie thought for a moment, then suddenly surged to her feet and out of the waiting room. “Good point—we don’t want him finding out where you live. Listen, get a hold of your friend. Get him to escort you to the bus stop, and then get on the bus as normal. But get off early at a public place—someplace with a lot of people. Text me with your location and I will meet you there. If indeed you’re being followed, the presence of witnesses should deter him from making a scene.”
“Okay, I will. Thanks, Billie.”
Saying she’d see her soon, Billie pressed the End button and shoved the phone back in her pocket. Moments later she pushed into Kevin’s room in time to hear Teddy telling him about his latest conquest.
“Oh, good grief, Ted, do you really think he wants to hear that shit?” she chided, but before he could reply she added, “I need to borrow your truck. Hand over the keys.”
Teddy frowned. “Why not just ask John to take you wherever you’re going?”
“I’m just going to pick up a friend, Teddy. I think I can manage that on my own,” she returned sourly.
“Whatever, sis, he’s your boyfriend,” Teddy s
aid, but nevertheless rose enough to pull his keys from his pocket and toss them to her over the bed.
Billie caught the keys in mid-air, saying, “He’s not my boyfriend,” before turning around and reaching for the door.
She moved so fast that she almost didn’t hear Teddy’s muttered “Coulda fooled me,” as the door shut behind her.
Billie hurried to the elevator. She was certain that wherever Rebecca got off the bus, it would be fairly close to the Pentagon. It would be a popular place with the locals, which meant there’d be a crowd. While Rebecca would stand out a little in her uniform, she felt sure that the after-work, early-dinner rush would provide sufficient cover until she could get to her—with the traffic in DC, it would take at least 20 minutes.
As soon as she was in Teddy’s GMC Sierra, she put it in gear, pealing out of the hospital parking lot as fast as the speed limit allowed. Not normally a worrier, Billie’s concern for Rebecca was strong; it was disconcerting to be so on edge, but she reminded herself that the last few days hadn’t exactly been filled with “normal” events. It was, she ascertained, clear evidence that she needed to get back to work. Her ability to keep a clear head had obviously been detrimentally effected by taking the last year off.
She had been on the road just a minute or two when John’s cell phone rang. Assuming it was Rebecca, she pulled the phone out—but it wasn’t Rebecca’s number. It was Teddy’s. Instinct told her that it wasn’t her brother on the other end, and that who it actually was wasn’t happy. For a brief moment she considered not picking up, but John would just keep calling. So with a reluctant groan, she swiped her thumb across the screen. “Hello?”
“Billie, what the fuck are you doing?” John all but bellowed into the phone.
Two Evils Page 29
