by Dee Davis
“And so you stayed in San Mateo.”
“Yeah.” He laughed, the sound lacking any humor. “I stayed. And if it hadn’t been for my brother, I’d probably still be there. He found out I was still alive—”
“He thought you were dead?” Her hands were clenched so tightly now her knuckles had gone white.
“When the operation went bad, the CIA had to cover it up. Pretend we were never there. Political protocol. So they informed our loved ones that we’d all been killed in a training accident—in Nevada.”
“Oh my God. But Drake found you anyway.”
“Yes. A friend—his wife, actually—had been incarcerated with me. And she recognized me in one of Drake’s photos. Anyway, long story short, they went off grid to rescue me and here I am.”
“And Hector?”
“He’s dead.” As usual, saying the words brought no relief.
“I’m glad,” she said, sounding as if she’d like to have done it herself. Then she sighed, her voice turning hesitant. “You loved her very much, didn’t you?” It was a loaded question, but he answered honestly.
“Yes. I did.”
“I see,” she said, chewing the side of her lip as she considered his words. “I’m sorry. It must be hard….”
“It is what it is.” He shrugged, hating how callous he sounded. “Just one more thing I have to live with.”
“But it wasn’t anything you did.” She frowned, reaching over to cover his hand with hers. “I mean, you did everything you could to protect her.”
“And it wasn’t enough,” he said, the words coming of their own accord.
“You told me once that I couldn’t blame myself for George’s death—or my father’s—that if I’d been there, I’d have been killed too. And while I know that makes sense, it doesn’t stop me from wishing it could have been different. That I could have done something to save their lives. But the truth is, you’re right. I couldn’t have changed the outcomes. And neither could you.”
“You don’t know that.” He pulled away from her.
“No, I don’t,” she said, leaning forward to take his hand again, her gaze locking with his. “But I know you. And I know that if it had been in your power to save her, you would have found a way. But sometimes, Tucker, there’s simply nothing we can do.”
“I want to believe that, but it isn’t easy to let go.”
“Well, maybe I can help with that,” she said, letting the sheet fall to her waist. “At least for tonight. And tomorrow”—she sighed as he pulled her into his arms—“well, tomorrow is another day.”
CHAPTER 21
Sunderland College, New York
If there were a picture next to the definition of American colleges in the dictionary, the photo would be of Sunderland. Founded in 1823, it was a liberal arts college of the highest regard. The ivy-covered brick buildings were surrounded by curving sidewalks and enormous trees. All around Alexis, students scurried to classes. Others sprawled out on the green lawn that fronted the Aaron Thomas Academic Center.
The center served as the heart of both the campus and Tucker’s brother’s undercover CIA unit. She’d had a briefing on the plane. Hannah, the unit’s intel expert, had brought her up to speed on A-Tac’s existence and cover. Leading a double life as both professors and operatives, the CIA’s best and brightest made the unit their home.
The whole thing had a surreal feeling, as though she’d landed in the middle of a Robert Ludlum or Ian Fleming novel. Which she supposed, in reality, she’d been living for the past week. She just hadn’t been made aware of the spy component.
Still, the people she’d met—Drake, Hannah, Tyler, Nash, and Harrison—seemed to really care about each other and their missions—which at the moment included her. And even though there was still a great deal of distrust on her part, the idea of working with them wasn’t as repugnant as she’d have thought it would be. Maybe because they’d saved her life. Or maybe because they were affiliated with Tucker.
He was walking beside her now, his mind clearly on the meeting ahead. The decision had been made this morning to bring her here to keep her apprised of their investigation and to make sure she was kept safe, the latter being a double-edged sword. But so far, at least, she hadn’t been made to feel like a prisoner.
She and Tucker hadn’t had much of a chance to discuss the night before. And in truth, she wasn’t certain what she felt about the situation. She’d come to care deeply for the man—there was no denying the fact—but she was far less comfortable with his chosen profession. By definition, they were on opposite sides of the game. While she hadn’t committed any overt crimes, a lifetime spent off the grid made her part of the shadow world that housed many of the people he’d spent his adult life trying to eliminate.
People like George.
She’d lived long enough to know that there was no such thing as simply black and white, but it wasn’t always easy to sort through the gray, and long ago, with her father’s persecution, she’d chosen her path.
And the funny thing was, that even in light of everything that had happened, she still preferred her world to Tucker’s. Although if she were honestly given a choice, she’d have chosen neither. There had to be a middle ground—where normal people lived. Like the students they were passing. And, push come to shove, that was the life she wanted. No shadows—on either side of the fence.
“It’s beautiful here,” she said, glancing over at Tucker. “I can see why your brother and his wife love it.”
He’d told her last night not only about Lena, but about Drake and his wife, Madeline, and the hell they’d been through when they’d been forced on the run. Madeline came from her world. And she’d clearly made the transition to Drake’s, but Alexis was certain their happiness was the exception, not the rule.
“It’s a good place,” Tucker said. “Although I’m more partial to California. Redlands, in particular. But this will do in a pinch. And it certainly beats some of the places I’ve been stationed.”
“Like Colombia.” She nodded, as they started up the steps to the center. Aaron Thomas had been a revolutionary war hero. A spy—for the American side—as well as a political philosopher. So it was fitting that the center was named for him. He’d have no doubt been pleased with both the intellects and the secrets it harbored.
They walked into the lobby to find Drake talking with a couple of students, the two girls hanging on every word with adoring eyes.
“Looks like Drake is a popular professor.” Alexis smiled as he raised a hand in welcome.
“It’s the Indiana Jones thing.” Tucker laughed, waiting while his brother broke away from the conversation and strode over to join them. “Who knew archaeology was a turn-on?”
“He’s making fun of me again, isn’t he?” Drake said. “The Indiana Jones thing?”
“Sounds like a compliment to me,” Alexis said. “I’ve always had a thing for Harrison Ford.”
“Well, it’s not as exciting as the movie makes it seem,” he assured her. “Just a lot of careful digging in hot and dusty places.”
“When you’re not off chasing the bad guys,” she said, still smiling.
“There is that.” His eyes were twinkling and, for a moment, he looked so much like his brother it was uncanny.
Tucker cleared his throat, and Alexis had the distinct feeling that he was irked at the attention she was paying his brother, his jealousy more satisfying than she’d have cared to admit.
They stopped in front of an elevator bank, and Drake inserted a key into an elevator marked PROFESSORS ONLY. The doors slid silently open, and they stepped inside.
“This feels very clandestine,” Alexis said, feeling even more like she’d stepped into a spy novel.
“Just wait.” Tucker smiled as Drake inserted another key and pressed a button hidden behind an Otis elevator sign. “It gets better.”
The elevator started downward and they rode in silence, watching the numbers as they decreased to just below the sub-b
asement level. “Definitely a secret lair,” Alexis said as the doors slid open and they stepped into an austerely appointed reception area. “Like Get Smart or something. Do the students ever try to come down here?”
“If they make it past the first key,” Drake said, walking across the room to a bust of an elderly man, “they’re sent to a professors’ lounge on the top floor of the building. If they were to make it past that, they wind up here—still none the wiser, but ultimately having to deal with Avery.”
Avery Solomon was A-Tac’s commander. Alexis hadn’t met him yet, but she’d heard enough to know he wasn’t someone you wanted to anger. “I’m assuming at that point they’re on the way to expulsion?”
“They would be, if they ever managed to get this far,” Drake agreed. “But, fortunately, that hasn’t happened. We’re pretty careful to keep it under wraps. And so far so good.”
“This is the best part,” Tucker told her as his brother slapped his hand against the back of the bust, a panel in the far wall sliding open.
“Wow,” Alexis said, suitably impressed. “And that would be?” She tilted her head toward the statue.
“Aaron Thomas, of course.” Drake motioned them forward into the inner sanctum, the panel sliding silently shut behind them. Drake led them down the hall into a large room filled with the other A-Tac members.
“This is the war room,” Tucker explained, “the real heart of A-Tac.” With computer banks flanking the walls and LCD screens above and behind the oblong conference table, the oversized space served as the hub of all activity.
Hannah and Harrison sat at the far end of the table, computer consoles popped up, both of them typing as they compared notes on something. Nash and Tyler sat on the right side of the table, the two of them also huddled in conversation. And at the far end of the room stood two men, the younger waving his hands to emphasize his words, the other man so big he dwarfed even Tucker and Drake.
Drake cleared his throat and conversation stopped, attention turning to the three of them standing in the doorway. For the first time since all of this had begun, Alexis found herself feeling like an outsider.
“Alexis,” Tucker said, “I think you’ve met most everyone here.” Harrison shot her a comforting smile, and she felt herself begin to relax. “But you haven’t met Avery.”
Drake pulled her forward as the big man crossed the room, hand extended. “Avery Solomon,” he said, his voice deep and commanding. “Welcome to A-Tac. I’m sorry it’s had to come to this.” She took his hand, his fingers engulfing hers, but even with his overwhelming strength there was a gentleness there, and his eyes were full of understanding.
“I’m just glad to finally meet you. Your team has told me a lot about you.”
“All of it horrible, I’m certain.” He smiled, his dark eyes full of genuine humor.
According to Hannah, Avery was an ex-marine with service in both the CIA and the Pentagon, who’d worked with three different administrations and made a lot of powerful friends along the way. It was because of him that A-Tac had maintained its autonomy in the face of a political elite critical of all things espionage and the stigma of having found a traitor in their midst. Just looking at him, Alexis could see why the team admired him so, and that the respect ran both ways.
“No,” she said, smiling back at him, feeling the rest of her tension melt away. “It was all quite flattering. And now that I’ve met you, I can see they were telling the truth.”
Avery was charming, as were the rest of Tucker’s friends. There probably weren’t too many people who didn’t quickly fall under A-Tac’s spell. Which made them a dangerous adversary. Or, conversely, a valuable ally. The billion-dollar question being which of the two they were when it came to her. Which meant she’d do well to remember to keep her guard up.
“Tucker, I don’t think you’ve met our newest recruit,” Avery was saying. “This is Simon Kincaid. He’s going to be running communications and logistics.”
Simon extended a hand. “I heard about your ordeal in Colombia. Sounds like a hell of a firefight getting out of that valley after escaping San Mateo.”
Simon wasn’t as tall as Tucker, but he was well built, with the hardened muscles of someone who’d had experience with battle. Maybe military. He certainly had the stance for it, but there was also a reckless glint in his eye that spoke of something more rough and tumble. Street smarts. Covered up now with a little spit and polish, but she suspected that Simon Kincaid had walked on the wild side more than not.
“It wasn’t a picnic,” Tucker responded, “but we made it out in one piece, and that’s what counts.”
“Well, I can’t say I’d have turned down the chance at a little action like that. I’ve been stuck here for the last few weeks, learning the ropes, as it were.”
“You’ll be in the line of fire before you know it,” Avery said, moving back to the front of the conference table as the rest of them took their seats. “If I were you, I’d enjoy the downtime.”
There was a quiet rebuke there, but Simon didn’t seem to notice. And Alexis wondered if Tucker and Drake had started their careers with the CIA feeling as gung ho. Probably so, she thought, smiling to herself. They were admitted adrenaline junkies, after all.
“Okay, people, let’s get to work,” Avery ordered, clicking a remote to pull down a screen on the wall behind him. “We’ve got at least two groups of people out there actively hunting Alexis. We need to identify them and figure out what they’re looking for.”
“I think the last bit is pretty obvious,” Hannah said, pushing her glasses, which were green today, higher onto her nose. “They’re looking for the formula.”
“But there isn’t a formula,” Alexis objected, fighting to stay calm. “My father never had the damn thing. So there’s no chance I’d have it.”
“Alexis,” Tucker said, his tone apologetic, “you don’t know that for certain. You were a kid. And your father wouldn’t have admitted to having the formula. It would only have made it more dangerous for you.”
“But he was the one being persecuted, not the other way around,” she insisted, knowing he was right but not able to let it go.
“Having the formula doesn’t change the facts as he laid them out. If he did threaten to go public with the truth about Omega,” Tucker said, “and if his partner was killed as a result, stealing the formula would have been insurance. A way to make sure that they wouldn’t risk taking him out too.”
“But they did kill him,” she said, her frustration rising. “So why would they do that if they believed he had the formula? It’s self-defeating.”
“Maybe they didn’t know,” Nash inserted. “At least then. Maybe that’s what started all of this. If the intel circulating is right and the formula has surfaced after all this time, that would send all kinds of players into action. People wanting to buy it. People wanting to make sure it never saw the light of day. Even us, trying to find out if the damn thing really exists and keep it from falling into the wrong hands.”
“And all of that,” Drake said, leaning back in his chair until it was balanced on two legs, “would center the focus on people who could have the formula. Which would have led them to George and then to you.”
“Except that George is dead. Just like my father. So if he had the formula, that’s it.”
“Unless he left it with you,” Tucker said.
“But I don’t have it,” Alexis repeated, raising her voice as anger surged through her. After all this time, she’d have thought he’d at least believe her.
“He’s just saying that maybe you have something you don’t know you have,” Tyler said, her gaze sympathetic. “Maybe your father gave the formula to Atterley. And then maybe he hid it with you. Thinking it would be safe.”
“He was trying to tell you something”—Tucker frowned—“just before he was killed. Right?”
Alexis nodded. “I left before I found out what it was.”
“And avoided being blown to bits,” Simon sa
id, no doubt trying to make her feel better. But it didn’t. Not by a long shot.
“Look,” Tucker said, “the point here is that George must have known someone was after the formula. And if you were going to become a target, George would have wanted to warn you. And he’d have wanted to keep you as far away from him and suspicion as possible.”
“And if the guy after the formula figured all of that out,” Nash continued, “then George was no longer a valuable part of the equation.”
“Hence the bomb,” Drake said.
“Hence?” Tyler asked, barely containing a laugh.
“It’s a word,” he shot back.
“Yeah, like in some other century,” she said, fighting her smile.
“So”—Avery’s voice held a note of authority that brought everyone’s attention back to the matter at hand—“where does that leave us?”
“Back at square one?” Simon offered, Tucker and Drake both glaring at him. “Hey, I’m just calling it as I see it.”
“Maybe we’re trying to come at this the wrong way,” Hannah said, steepling her fingers and resting her chin on them. “Maybe we need to focus on the Omega Project and who is left to want to prevent the formula from surfacing and shining new light on a project that wasn’t supposed to have existed in the first place.”
“I’m assuming you already have some suggestions?” Avery asked.
Hannah smiled. “I do. After Alexis disappeared, we realized that her friend Milo had to have had help obtaining the information he had concerning Tucker’s identity.”
“And the only way that could have happened,” Harrison said, picking up Hannah’s train of thought, the two of them, as usual, working in tandem, “was if someone with incredibly high security clearance helped him get in. Or maybe even handed over the information.”
“Anyway, to come to the point,” Hannah said with an apologetic smile, “we did a search for people working at DOD at the time Omega was supposedly in existence. And then narrowed the list to people who currently have the kind of security clearance that would allow them access to Tucker’s division files.”