Counter Ops: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (Federal Agents of Magic Book 3)

by TR Cameron

  Cyphret smiled, and Diana immediately imagined her as a venomous snake that coiled and swayed, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. She returned her attention to Taggart and noted how expertly he wore his neutral expression. Cara was equally blank-faced. The senator opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by the man on her right.

  “Janet, quit badgering the agents. You know as well as I do that they did the best they could.” Sam Somers was one of the longest-serving members of the Senate and represented Nebraska ably enough that he had never faced a serious primary challenge. He trounced the representatives of the other parties who tried for his seat regularly. The man was a noted centrist, and if there was a pragmatist party, he’d probably be the leading candidate to run it. “Agent Sheen, tell us, what could have been done better?”

  Finally, some sense. I’m glad at least one of these three has some.

  She smiled at the man. His snowy hair and carefully trimmed white mustache gave him an old-world charm that was only enhanced by the bolo tie he wore in place of the more common version.

  “Senator Somers, I believe that we could have acted differently in three areas. First, we could have deployed armed drones to deal with the Kilomea before they arrived. Stun weapons would have been fine. We could have given them a warning and then eliminated them if they failed to heed it.” That had been Cara’s idea. Kayleigh was still dead-set against weaponized drones where public gatherings were involved.

  Somers frowned. “Noted. We’ll discuss that further amongst ourselves, as it clearly has far-reaching policy implications. Next?”

  “The obvious lack of a demolitions expert. We are meeting with one whom we hope to add to the team tomorrow. That should go a long way toward—if you’ll forgive the pun—defusing situations like we faced at the Cube.”

  The senator frowned again, and his fingers twitched in the meticulous habit of a regular note-taker. He scowled when he found no notepad with which to work and gestured for her to continue.

  “Finally, it's time to take the fight to them, rather than being reactive to their movements. And in order to do that, we need to bring in better intelligence and require more latitude in our rules of engagement.”

  The sandy-haired man beside Cyphret broke his silence. Junior Senator Winston hailed from Louisiana, but his voice could have been from anywhere in the country.

  I wonder if he puts on a Creole accent when he’s at home.

  The man leaned forward in a clearly aggressive stance as he glowered at her. “Perhaps new leadership is needed, given all these problems.”

  Taggart shrugged casually and continued in his neutral tone. “I serve at the council’s pleasure, of course. But I believe that this is a bump in the road, not a true obstacle. Such action seems extreme given the course of events and the leadership demonstrated.”

  The thin man shrugged the shoulders of his perfectly tailored suit. If Diana had been obliged to describe him, she would have started with little rich boy. He wore a chunky watch, his haircut and clean shave were perfect, and an aristocratic air hung about him. If his face weren’t so long, he would have been quite handsome, but as it was, he bordered on comical.

  He was probably made fun of all the time in school. Beaten up too, maybe. A girl can hope.

  “How did you address your supply shortages?” He changed subjects without warning. “I noticed that Sheen didn’t mention them, so the issue must be resolved.”

  Taggart frowned and shook his head in disbelief at the question. “We have a technological line into their interception operations. I can’t say more than that. It’s a matter of operational security.”

  “Perhaps we should replace you with someone more willing to share information with their superiors.” Tomassi’s glare was pure condescension.

  “Do whatever you feel you must, Senator. I won’t put my people in danger to provide you a level of detail that you don’t actually need.”

  The man bristled and was about to reply when Somers interrupted. “Let’s all stop being petty, please. Winston, any other questions for the agents?”

  Tomassi nodded as he wrestled with the sneer that tried to manifest itself on his face. He finally mastered it, although it took a few seconds to do so. “Agent Sheen, how do you plan to address the apparent threat in your city?”

  “I will find it and eradicate it, Senator.”

  “And do you have plans on how to do so?”

  “Yes, sir. We have feelers out for any potential opportunities for them. Plus, we have surveillance on people we think are connected to the group. They appear to be low-level, but they might lead to someone bigger.”

  “How low?”

  Her eyes widened at his continued demands for operational information.

  Maybe he simply wants to feel like a spy or something.

  “Street soldiers, mainly. We’ll see where they go and who they talk to and work our way up the ladder.”

  Cyphret’s smile as was oily as her hair. “We can’t afford any more failures from your organization. Get your shit together, or changes in leadership will be made. At all levels.” She stood and signaled the end of the meeting with a frosty farewell of, “Agents,” before she turned and stalked from the room. Somers and Tomassi followed. The door hadn’t even closed when their arguments began, faintly muffled until they faded completely.

  Finley shook his head once the others had departed. “They’re something, aren’t they? You should see when the full Council gets together. It’s like a nightmare of subtle and not so subtle back and front-stabbing.”

  Taggart’s voice held several notes of concern. “What’s the deal, Aaron?”

  The senator spread his hands. “Other than the usual politics and power-mongering? Not positive. But both Cyphret and Tomassi are pushing on almost everything ARES-related lately—criticizing, seeking information, whispering to each other during meetings. I’m not fundamentally a paranoid person, but if I were you, I’d keep one eye fixed over my shoulder at all times.”

  Cara broke her silence. “The rest of the council can't rein them in?”

  Finley swiveled his chair to face her directly. “No. This group tends to attract people canny enough to allow their enemies way out on a limb before they deal with them. Once they’re there, though, it’s a sharp chop and a long drop.”

  Diana sighed. “So they won’t intervene until it's time to get rid of them.”

  “Exactly. It would ruin the drama of the moment, which can't be allowed.”

  “Let me guess, you’re not a fan.”

  Both Finley and Taggart laughed before her boss spoke. “None of us are, but this is the hand we’re dealt. Generally, they stay out of our way and are content to cause trouble for one another. That’s probably the best outcome we can hope for.”

  Cara sighed. “You know, I’m more convinced than ever that we need armed drones. I've very recently met some people who would benefit from a good stun on a daily basis.”

  They all laughed, but Diana couldn’t shake the feeling that something weird was going on with the council.

  Next time, I should bring Sloan with me. Maybe he’ll have a sense of what they’re up to.

  Chapter Nine

  Diana had never been to a Washington Nationals game before, despite being a fan of watching baseball at the ballpark. Her Dad had taken her to Rockies games when she was younger, and she and Bryant had already agreed to see the Pirates play sometime over the summer. He’d said the team wasn’t awesome but the stadium was.

  The three women wandered the upper deck, looking for the right concession stand. Lisa wore blue denim shorts and a white team jersey unbuttoned into a notably plunging V-neck.

  I guess there are worse places to find dates.

  Cara wore a jersey, too. This one was dark blue with a white tank underneath, and her jean shorts were a full inch longer than Lisa’s. Both wore flip-flops like it was the middle of summer.

  Diana had chosen her mostly normal look of black jeans, bo
ots, and tank top. She’d hoped it would be warmer once they got out into the April sun. They reached the place they had searched for—a craft beer stand—and then found hot dogs with a variety of toppings to share and a couple of soft pretzels.

  They carried the provisions down to their seats directly beside first base. Diana and Cara had argued about whether the baseline or behind home plate was superior, and Lisa had finally decided for them. Diana was glad to see her long-time friend thought the same way she did on the matter.

  The other woman had groused about it in the car and finished with a, “Better watch that you don’t take a baseball to the face, Lisa. It would wreck your beautiful looks. Diana…well, it would hurt.”

  Diana flipped her off from the passenger seat and changed the subject. It was true, she was the third-best looking in the group, but that was fine. Beautiful was not a prerequisite for awesome.

  Lisa sat between them to keep the peace. Her black hair and flat eyes conjured the image of a female Confucius. “So, tell me about life up north.”

  Diana shrugged and finished chewing the too-large bite of soft pretzel she’d taken before she chased it with a solid drink of the cold beer.

  Delicious.

  “There is so much cool stuff going on, really. I learn about magic with a sadistic dark elf, get shot at regularly, and face constant insubordination from those I work with, especially the snarkiest lab tech ever known to humanity. Good times.”

  They laughed, and Cara added, “Plus, the always-present chance of an extra leg workout from being summoned to the kemana. And you forgot to mention the bounty hunts.”

  Diana groaned. “I’m trying to forget the bounty hunts. I’m not a stun-gun kind of girl.”

  Lisa looked from one to the other. “You're aware that you’ve only talked about work, right? Do you have a life at all?”

  The ex-Marshall beat her to the answer. “Nope. All work, all the time.”

  “Work and Rath.” Diana grinned. “Because, you know…” They all finished together. “Must train.” The three broke into familiar peals of laughter and peace was restored.

  “Well, I guess I’ll start with the job, then,” Lisa said. “It’s not as awesome as it could be. The workload is increasing and they’re not adding associates, so there's a ton of temps. That’s brutal for morale. I think something is up and the partners aren’t telling us what it is. So, in my spare time, I polish my resume.”

  “Just don’t fall behind on your rent,” Diana said wickedly.

  Her friend laughed. “Witch.”

  “Wench.”

  They paused as the game began and the loudspeaker drowned out their conversation.

  When play was underway, Lisa continued “The MMA stuff is going really well. I did briefly go out with one of the guys, though.”

  Diana wagged a chiding finger at her. “First rule. Don’t date in the dojo. I warned you.”

  She sighed. “Screw your rules, Sheen. It was only a couple of dates, anyhow. We discovered we weren’t compatible.”

  “Why not?” Cara asked.

  “It turns out that despite my presence in class with him, he believes women belong in the home, barefoot and cleaning.”

  “Oh, hell no.”

  “Right?” Lisa laughed. “Anyway, I promised not to share that information as long as he left me alone. No issues so far.”

  Diana spread her arms wide and put one in Lisa’s face. “And so the great wisdom of your best friend is confirmed, making her entirely superior to you in every—ow!” She clutched at the spot where Lisa had backhanded her in the solar plexus.

  The blonde smiled beatifically as she asked, “No dates for you all?”

  She shrugged. “I have no time. It’s difficult being the boss, but someone has to do it.”

  Cara agreed. “Yep. Relationships take more effort than I have to spare. There’ll be plenty of opportunity for that later. For now, there’s always a date available a click or a swipe away.”

  Diana leaned over to look at her subordinate. “Well, aren’t you the free spirit, romantically—and I use that term loosely—speaking?”

  “Gotta live while you can, right? On any day, a job could go wrong and bang! Game over.”

  Lisa looked at her with a mock frown. “Quit being a downer. And when will ‘later’ come?”

  She shrugged. “When taking care of trouble gets boring. So far, it’s not. And besides, I’m not ready to be a single mom like Diana over there.”

  They all laughed. The stadium celebrated a home run by the home team, and they rose to join the crowd as they cheered. Once they returned to their seats, Diana retorted. “Rath is easy. Real single moms have it way harder than I do. I’d never be strong enough for that gig. I’ll stick with dealing with magical threats any day of the week, thank you very much.”

  Lisa grinned. “How is the little monster?”

  “He’s good, although it seems like he lacks focus. For a while, it was all about training with Max, but they’re a really great team now so there’s not a lot of that left to do. He also has a sense of the neighborhood already, so he doesn't have a purpose to keep him motivated.”

  Cara leaned forward to be seen across Lisa. “Maybe you should give him one. At either of his smaller sizes, he’d make a good spy. He’d be able to get into unexpected places, that sort of thing.”

  Diana frowned. “A troll is obvious, though. Still, it might work. I worry about him out in the field, but the truth is that he seems rather self-sufficient.”

  The ex-Marshall scoffed. “He’s totally carrying you, boss. We all know it. You can quit pretending.”

  “We’ll figure something out. Also, you’re an insubordinate jerk, and the next time we have a training run, I’ll shoot you in the back.”

  Cara laughed, and Lisa said, “I have the solution. If I do lose my job, we can all move in together and it’ll be like Charlie’s Angels. We’ll be the Angels, and Rath can be Charlie.”

  The celebration of another home run drowned Diana’s reply, but the solar plexus slap she delivered to reward Lisa for her earlier blow conveyed the message effectively.

  Rath would be way too into that.

  Chapter Ten

  The rental sedan was off-the-rack, unlike those they used at ARES. Its engine struggled and made the agent long for her Stingray. Next time we drive to DC, to hell with this nonsense. She took the turn onto the entry drive of Fort AP Hill and pulled into the lot outside HQ.

  Cara was the first one out of the car and was clearly excited to be back on familiar territory. “You gotta love the military. Some things never change. I was here for specialized arms training at the same time as a Marine unit. We had some good competitions.”

  Diana nodded absently in response and looked at the building, a well-maintained structure set on large flat land with a row of hopeful trees on each side of the walk that led to the main entrance. Cara had described it as the largest construction on the base, which made it somewhat underwhelming when viewed in person. They stepped into the lobby and stopped before an Army corporal at a security desk. He verified their IDs and appointment and summoned a private to lead them along the left of the two wings that stretched toward the rear of the building.

  Diana had expected an office or a conference room and was surprised when they entered a large classroom. Giant whiteboards hung on three walls, with student desks set in the middle.

  Cara yelled, “Scully!” and a red-headed woman in camouflage fatigues turned with a grin.

  Her voice was higher than Diana would have guessed but had a cheerful lilt. “Chicory, how the hell are you?” They bumped chests, then switched to a solid hug.

  Cara waved her boss over. “Diana Sheen, this is Captain Dana Smithton, US Army Third Infantry. Dana, Diana is with me at the FBI.” They had agreed to hide ARES under the auspices of the FBI with anyone not already read into the organization.

  She nodded a greeting. “I get Scully. But why Chicory?” Cara looked at the floor and sho
ok her head. The other woman laughed. She had a few freckles that went perfectly with her crimson mane, tamed into a professional bun, and was muscular and solid, taller than her—of course—and bigger overall than either of them. She’d be a formidable opponent on the mat.

  Smithton grinned. “It’s because of her last name. Binot is a lot like beignet, and we had a clerk who was from New Orleans, where they usually put chicory in their coffee. It was as good a nickname as any. Although some people had the wrong impression of 'chic' and had to be set straight.”

  Cara nodded at the other officer. “It has too many syllables for a callsign, though.” She gestured at the whiteboard the woman had been writing on. “What are you teaching?”

  Smithton shrugged. “The basics. Ballistics in general, characteristics of different rounds.”

  Diana examined the boards. The one at the front of the room held a drawing of a human figure. She pointed at it. “Do they learn something other than center mass these days?”

  The captain shook her head. “No. That’s for quick and dirty first aid for wounds received, assuming a medic isn’t instantly at hand.”

  The third board was covered with the data they had come to see. Intricate diagrams of various explosives had been painstakingly drawn for the class to take notes. The dark hair and thick eyebrows of the man in front of the work provided a vague clue that he might be their man. That, his civilian outfit, and the fact he held a dry erase marker in his hand. An array of small scars that peppered one side of his face confirmed it. Diana excused herself and crossed to him. “Anik Khan?”

  He grinned. “In the flesh. You must be Agent Sheen. I was just finishing up some prep for later. In case you couldn’t tell, I teach these army youngsters how not to blow themselves up.”

  She extended a hand and he shook it with a confident grip.“Thanks for making the time to talk to us. My second-in-command will come when she’s done reliving the past over there.”

  Khan laughed deeply, throatily, and most importantly, warmly. Surprisingly enough, the man didn’t have an accent. “Once Army, always Army.”