by S. D. Skye
J.J. scanned the area for anything that would help her.
Where to go? What to do? Then she spotted it.
The people mover!
She sprinted up the grated moving walkway. Left nothing behind but the scent of Tony’s favorite cologne. She concealed herself behind travelers as she hurdled baggage, apologizing profusely along the way. She was close. She could make it. She’d catch Lana before they reached the train exit.
Then it happened, she closed the distance. Lana was back within her reach, only a few steps ahead on the down escalator. J.J. shrouded herself behind the tall gentlemen in front of her, two linebacker-sized hulks. She watched below as Jake and Lana slowed their pace. Tony was nowhere to be found. He was well hidden. J.J. had no idea where.
She saw Jake looking behind him, the saddlebag strap running diagonally across his chest. He was near the Aerotrain exit. As another flight was called and a crowd headed toward baggage check area, a space opened up and Lana appeared. She had reversed her jacket from navy to red, her head concealed beneath the hood; J.J. knew the trick.
Lana appeared jittery and scanned the travelers desperately seeking Jake.
Jake slowed to allow her to spot him. They closed the distance between them as J.J. looked on, concealing herself everywhere she could, checking around to spot Tony. She wanted to nab them together, at the same time.
Finally, she’d made it. A few steps behind Lana.
With their arms outstretched, Jake held out his hand for Lana to grab. As she neared Jake, increasing the speed of her paces, she didn’t see the man, the one in the power wheelchair rolling from her blind spot. They collided in an instant and Lana lost her grip and fell to her knees.
“Jake!” she yelled her voice heavy with desperation.
The slip and Jake’s hard stare distracted Lana just long enough to put J.J. in reaching distance. As Lana returned to her feet, J.J. lurched forward, caught Lana by her natural blond tresses, and dragged her screaming to the floor, the weight of her body throwing J.J. off balance. Jake was stunned, easing toward the door, seemingly trying to decide whether to jump in or make a run for it on the Aerotrain she heard approaching.
“Run Jake, run!” Lana yelled.
His face reddened, and he froze, just froze.
J.J. and Lana tussled before Lana jerked away, breaking free of J.J.’s weakened grip. She stood firm to her feet, both eye to eye. Neither noticed the curious crowd that had begun to form or the security personnel charging toward the area. They wanted to kill each other. Both exchanged bone shaking slaps to the face. Lana lunged for J.J.’s weapon, determined to end the life of the witch who stood between freedom and death. In one swift motion, J.J. grabbed Lana’s arm and twisted behind her back until she submitted and fell to the floor on her knees. Then a loud thud sounded as J.J. drove her knee into Lana’s back, a force powerful enough to dent a steel enforced door. Lana’s chest slammed against the tile, her body limp, her mind barely conscious. She gasped for air—breathless and disoriented.
“That’s for making me run,” J.J. snarled, baring her teeth. Her nostrils flared as she pressed her knee deep into Lana’s spine.
Lana made a feeble attempt to squirm her weakened body free. “Get off of me...bitch!” she yelled.
Incensed, J.J. raised her balled hand to the heavens. Then she dropped a blow to the visible side of Lana’s face, the force of which emptied Lana’s tear ducts, knocking Lana out for the count. “The only bitch you need to worry about is your cellmate at Supermax.” J.J. said. She quickly put handcuffs on Lana and exhaled. It’s over! J.J. said to herself. She hardly had a moment to catch her breath. Everything happened so fast. Only minutes had passed since they’d arrived at Dulles, but Lana was in custody.
J.J. stood up, hovering over Lana’s limp body. She scanned the area to find Tony. As security personnel approached with guns drawn, she reached to pull her creds from her pocket and open them. Then she spotted Jake. His face was reddened, his expression screamed revenge. He reached his hand in the small of his back, inside his jacket, and pulled out an object. The silver caught a ray of sun and glimmered. J.J. realized what he was holding—a .22 caliber gun small enough to conceal in his palm, big enough to kill at short range.
Of course, he’s armed. He had credentials which differed little from those of an FBI agent. He could get through the security checkpoint with a quick flash.
With his arm outstretched, he aimed it at Tony’s head, waiting to get a clear shot.
After ensuring Lana was still out, J.J. opened her credentials and removed the gun from her holster. “FBI! FBI! Everybody down! Everybody down!” she yelled at the stunned crowd. Security stopped their pursuit toward her and began to secure the innocent bystanders when they noticed Jake. “Tony! Behind you!”
Jake stood statue still until Tony spun around to see him.
Within a moment too short to blink, the crowd cleared. Some hit the floor, protecting their heads; a few rubberneckers stood in the background, watching, waiting for the events to unfold. Only she, Tony and Jake were left standing—and Tony’s gun was still in its holster.
She dropped her credentials on the floor and grasped her weapon, this time with both hands.
Jake didn’t shift his eyes from Tony for a moment. Seemed he’d never intended to shoot J.J., maybe out of their friendship, or perhaps because he knew shooting Tony would hurt her far worse than any wound he could inflict on her. At that moment, J.J. knew. Tony was the love of her life and she’d move heaven, earth, and a hollow point to protect him.
J.J.’s gaze volleyed back and forth between them as she willed her hand steady and outstretched her arms. Her mind swam; her heart raced. She didn’t want hurt Jake, but she’d die before watching him kill Tony.
And she had no plans to die.
A wicked smirk edged the corners of Jake’s lips upward. He had the drop on Tony. J.J. had the drop on Jake. She dreaded her choice. Did she have enough heart to pull the trigger? Could she kill him if she needed to? She prayed he would just give up.
“Drop the gun, Jake! Drop it!” she pleaded. She eased around to get a clean shot at his torso. “Give this up, Jake. You don’t want to do this! Tony’s your friend.”
He didn’t respond. His arms shook as tears rolled down his eyes.
“I don’t give a shit who he is. You know me, J.J. And you know my philosophy,” he said, his voice trembling. He lifted the gun to his face and pressed it into his temple. Then seconds later turned it back to Tony. “When all hell breaks loose…”
At once, Jake’s finger flinched.
J.J. pumped the trigger twice, delivering two bullets, sending Jake reeling backward. She mumbled, “Only the devil takes one in the neck and one in the chest.”
Her trusted colleague for nearly a decade died before he collided against the floor. It was her first kill shot—she’d never taken another man’s life. And she never dreamed she’d have to kill a man she once called friend.
Lana regained consciousness, saw Jake lying in a pool of his own blood, and cried out. “Jaaaaake! Nooooooooooooo!”
• • •
Adrenaline pumped through J.J.’s veins, erasing the ill effects of the previous night’s binge. The day’s events blurred together. Moments passed before she spotted the herd of TSA agents approaching them at a rapid pace. Jake lie in a pool of blood, and Lana lie in a pool of tears. J.J. glimpsed the flashes of light from camera phones, the crowd of onlookers filming the entire incident like a gang of paparazzi. Suddenly she felt ill. She had no doubt the incident would wind up on the evening news. Director Freeman wouldn’t be happy about this unexpected development. More inquiries, more explanations. At least now she and Tony could answer the most important questions, and her feelings for Tony were as resolute as they’d ever been.
After a brief discussion with TSA personnel, the threesome was escorted through the automatic main entrance doors. Lana was greeted by a slew of FBI agents wearing raid jackets.
A
n ambulance arrived for Jake’s corpse.
“What the hell took you guys so long?” Tony said. “It’s all over but the shoutin’.”
“Traffic on 66 is a bitch!” one of the arresting agents replied.
J.J. and Tony handed over custody of their battered, bruised, and disheveled detainee and the saddlebag full of intel. “Lana would second that emotion, wouldn’t you?”
Lana glared at J.J., blood dripping from the corner of her mouth, the side of her face a rainbow of red, black, and blue. “Laugh now but this isn’t over. It’s only just begun,” she snarled with a sinister laugh.
J.J. rolled her eyes. “Got that right. I’ll see your ass at sentencing!”
“I’ll see you in hell!” Lana growled.
“Ha! Joke’s on you, baby! I’m already there!” J.J. turned to her Washington Field colleagues. “Now, please get this wench out of my face before I bash her face in...again.”
Tony and J.J. stood stoically as they watched the cavalcade of squad cars leave the terminal loading area. She exhaled long and deep, running her fingers through her hair.
“You, okay?” Tony said, carefully watching J.J.’s expression for what her mouth wouldn’t say.
“Is that a trick question?” She forced a smile.
“You put up a good front but I know that must’ve been rough on you, with Jake and all. I know how much he meant to you.”
“You mean more,” she said. “Besides, I made the tough choice, right? Pulled the trigger. I proved...something, to someone.”
An uncomfortable silence settled between them. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You saved my life.”
“I swore I wouldn’t let you down again, and I meant it. Every minute of every day I mean it.” She leaned toward him and playfully bumped him with her elbow. “But you so owe me.”
A seductive grin sliced through his lips. “Anything you want. Just name it.”
“Well, I could use a drink!” J.J. said as she turned to Tony and held his gaze. “Except...you know what? I don’t want one. Give me a little time though, I’m sure I’ll think of something else.”
His cheeks blushed red. “Anyway, we probably should get out of here and brief Director Freeman before he sees us on the five o’clock news. This scene has lead story written all over it.”
Back at headquarters in the Director’s office, Mrs. Whitehouse appeared flustered. She was engrossed in an intense phone conversation when J.J. and Tony entered the reception area.
“Ahhhh, here they are. I’ll speak with you later,” she said, hanging up the phone, no doubt spinning up the rumor mill. “Director Freeman’s been waiting. Please go straight inside, he’s quite eager to speak with you.”
They hesitated for a moment, then plodded inside. Director Freeman faced the television screen, his eyes peeled on the image of J.J. yanking Lana to the ground by her golden locks, captured via bystander cam and now the third story on the six o’clock news.
“Sir, we were told you wanted to see us,” Tony said to Director Freeman, uneasy about his reaction. Neither J.J. nor he had accounted for nosy onlookers sending a video of the incident to Channel 4. Everything happened so quickly.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Bonnie and Clyde of the FBI. Have a seat.” He turned back toward the screen. “See that? Every channel.”
Tony and J.J. sat statue still waiting to be admonished.
“You okay, Agent McCall? That must’ve been a tough shot to take. You’ve worked with Jake for a number of years, I understand.”
“Well, I did what I had to do,” J.J. said. “He was on the wrong side of the law and my Glock.”
Freeman eyed her closely, searching her expression for vulnerability. He found none. “Obviously, when an FBI agent gets arrested, a G gets killed at Dulles for attempting to defect to Moscow, and the arrest makes the six o’clock news, the FBI director is going to have a few questions to answer.”
“We understand, sir,” Tony said.
“Not to mention a second agent’s arrest and an assistant director’s death. The damage assessment on this one will take years if it takes a minute. I’ve been responding to calls from the Hill and the DNI for the last hour.”
As Tony sat paralyzed, J.J. surveyed the room, searching for escape routes. Unfortunately, apart from the office door, her only other option was to leap from the Director’s seventh-floor window into the headquarters stone-floored courtyard. Suddenly, the temperature in the room stifled her attempts to catch a breath.
“You’re not here to get your hands slapped if that’s what you’re concerned about,” Freeman said.
They both exhaled, the tension releasing from their shoulders.
“But I need the elevator version of what happened,” he said, wielding his pen over a notebook. “You can save the minutia for the report you’re turning in tomorrow.” He glanced up and waited for their nods of acknowledgment; they obliged.
J.J. glared at Tony before he bowed his head toward her, conceding control of the floor.
“Long story short. Lana Michaels is a really Svetlana Aleksandrovna Mikhaylova, a Russian illegal who used sex and blackmail to recruit two agents and one G . . . that we’re aware of so far anyway. We also believe she’s the daughter of Aleksandr Mikhaylov, the illegals support officer posted at the embassy.”
“What about Jim Cartwright’s involvement, if any?”
“Mr. Cartwright hired Lana and we also believe he knew her true identity. He had major financial issues and had engaged in some apparent homosexual activity. His family was unaware of his leanings, and he tried to conceal it. She probably blackmailed him and paid him big money to keep him on the hook.”
“Okay . . . Okay . . .” he continued to jot down notes. “In your professional opinion, what was Jack’s involvement?”
Once again, an opportunity presented itself to J.J, a new chance to put the screws to the bane of her professional existence, and to the most senior executive in the FBI no less. Despite his apparent remorse, she knew the asshole still dwelled just beneath the surface. But she suppressed her unquenched longing for revenge and cleared his name.
“Well, sir, in my professional opinion…,” she said before pausing to glance at Tony. His expression begged her to ignore everything that was good and holy, slather on the Vaseline, and screw that racist bastard to the wall for everything he was worth and then some. “…Lana and Chris framed Jack. I don’t believe he knowingly or directly provided classified information to the Russians.”
Tony coughed, the break no doubt intended to allow J.J. to reverse course. She reluctantly parked on the high road.
“However! I do believe he knowingly and willingly committed countless security violations. I believe the investigation will reveal that he gave a professional advantage to the woman he was sleeping with. There is more than sufficient evidence to support that.”
Tony’s smile said, “Good girl!”
“I see. Interesting,” the director said. “So if I recommended that the U.S. Attorney drop the espionage charges and release him from jail immediately, you would support this decision?”
She paused in a lengthy pregnant silence. With a shaky voice, she answered, “Legally, there is no reason to hold him. Personally? That’s another story.”
The corners of his mouth rolled up into a smile. He almost appeared to take some warped enjoyment in J.J.’s reluctant honor. “Is there anything else I should be aware of?”
“I think there’s one more thing we should tell you.” Tony glanced at J.J. “We can’t discount the possibility of a larger network of illegals operating throughout the community.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Unfortunately, I share the same concern. It’s one of the issues I’m scheduled to discuss with the DNI at the briefing in the morning.”
“We can’t link all the compromises to Lana, particularly some of the CIA and NSA information,” Tony continued.
“I agree,” he said. “I’ll be sure to convey your opinions.�
�
He stood up from his seat and stacked his notes in a pile.
“I think I have everything I need. I’ve listened to Chris Johnson’s interview with the polygraphist, and let’s just say it’s entirely too gripping for my comfort. I should survive the first round of meetings.” He stood and gestured for them to do the same, then led them to the door. “I’ll expect full reports on my desk by noon. Sharp.”
“Sir, what about our polygraphs in the morning?” Tony asked.
“They’ve been canceled. Obviously you have more important work to do. Your vault access has already been fully restored as well. Keep up the good work.”
Tony and J.J. smiled as they left the office. Once safely out of sight, they bumped fists to celebrate.
“Well, looks like my work is done. You’re going to be on your own after we turn in our reports tomorrow.”
“Quit talkin’ crazy. No way in hell am I gonna let you quit.” Tony turned to J.J. and smiled. “Besides, Ms. McCall, you and I have some very important unfinished business to discuss, remember?”
“How could I forget?” Her eyes were tired and her body ached. “But it’s been a long day. Let’s table this discussion until tomorrow evening, okay? Scouts honor.”
Chapter 47
Late Thursday Night…
All night long, J.J. tossed and turned between her new 800-count sheets thinking about Tony and his proposition. Thinking about the problems she’d tried to deny about her future with the FBI, she snatched back the duvet and made her way into the family room, straight to the shelf which housed “his” picture. That’s the first thing she needed to get rid of.
She lifted Six’s photo and traced his profile with her index finger. Oh, the passion she’d shared with this man. He had the eyes of an angel, the soul of Satan himself. Her time to move one was well overdue, and she knew it. She could choose to dwell on what was, what could’ve been. Or focus her heart and mind on the future, a future with the man who never made her itch, as her mother had done more than 40 years before. She’d never find another like Tony, and a rejection would send his frail ego in the arms of another, the thought of which made her sick to her stomach. No, she refused to lose him. Besides, Six had never been one to take refuge on the sidelines, not for long. By now, he was probably preparing to depart for Zimbabwe, where he’d shop for goats to woo some chief’s daughter, no more thinking about J.J. than the man on the moon.
