Covert Evidence

by Rachel Grant

  He was a lucky man.

  He toyed with the idea of kissing her awake. He wouldn’t mind getting lucky again. But she needed to sleep. They were only a few hours out, and all hell could break loose at the other side.

  All the more reason to make love with her again. And again.

  She made a soft sound and rolled over, and he gave up on the idea. She hadn’t been able to sleep deeply when they were on the run, and she lacked his training.

  He pulled Cressida tightly against his side, forced himself to close his eyes and let his guard down. It was time for him to sleep too.

  Pounding woke Ian. Sharp, urgent jabs on the door. He bolted up and reached for his gun, as he always did when yanked from sleep. But he didn’t have a gun.

  Sean had insisted Ian surrender his weapon before he boarded the plane. It had probably been a test of some sort, and Ian had no qualms with passing. It wasn’t like he feared a midflight coup. He trusted the Raptor operatives because their mission was the same as his: get Cressida to safety. As long as they had the same mission, they were on the same team.

  Cressida was slower to wake but no less alarmed at the pounding when the urgency registered.

  “Give us a minute!” he called out as he pulled on his jeans.

  Cressida did the same, but without a bra, her nipples were readily apparent through her T-shirt.

  He shook his head. “If I catch any of the guys ogling you, I might have to strangle them. So for their safety, put on a bra.”

  She tossed him a sleepy smile even as she reached for the bra. “None of them would ogle me. To them, I’m just a mission.”

  “You were my mission, and it didn’t stop me.” She was clearly clueless as to the ways of men. The operatives would have to be made of stone not to be aroused if she stepped out with pert nipples while looking sex-tousled.

  He might be biased, but he didn’t think so.

  Once she was presentable, Ian opened the door and faced Sean. “What’s up?”

  “We’ve got a problem waiting for us at Joint Base Andrews.”

  “How can Zack be in DC? Why hasn’t he been arrested?” Cressida asked again. They were all seated around the conference table, and Sean had just finished explaining the situation. Her brain was still foggy from the deepest sleep she’d had in more than a week.

  “Zack wasn’t burned. He can claim everything he did was following the mission,” Ian said.

  “Including smoking us out in Kurubaş? Killing the checkpoint guard?”

  Ian raked his hands through his hair. “Everyone thinks we—or at least I—killed the guard.”

  “Where is Todd?” Cressida asked.

  Sean shrugged. “I don’t have info on Ganem.” He leaned forward. “Here’s the deal. Dominick can help, but he’s going to need time. If the CIA takes you into custody on the tarmac, it’s already too late. They don’t know you are on this jet, but they suspect. They’ll search this bird top to bottom and there is nothing we can do about it.”

  “Can Ian put on a Raptor uniform? You guys must have some sort of disguise kit here. Give him a beard, colored contacts. Something?” She could hear the desperation building in her voice. There was no way she would let Ian get railroaded. Not without a fight.

  Sean glanced at Ian. “You good with a jump?”

  “You’ve got a ’chute?”

  Fear jolted through Cressida’s body, making her bolt upright. Ian would…jump?

  “Enough for all of us if need be,” Sean said.

  Ian met Cressida’s gaze. “No. Only me. Your job is to get Cressida to safety.”

  “You can’t jump,” she said in a low croak.

  “Don’t worry, honey. I got this.”

  “When was the last time you jumped from a plane?”

  He shrugged. “It’s like riding a bike.”

  From the snickers of the other operatives, she had a feeling he was lying.

  “This isn’t funny! What if…something goes wrong? We can take our chances at Andrews.”

  “Honey, I can do this. The tricky part is when and where.”

  “You’re good with a water extraction?” Sean asked.

  “Sure.”

  Sean drummed his fingers on the table. “We need a boat. Let me talk to Keith and see what we can arrange.”

  Erica and Lee had returned to Raptor headquarters in the heart of DC after they managed to convince Suzanne and Patrick to return to Patrick’s estate in Annapolis with promises to call if they heard anything.

  The flight wasn’t expected to arrive until just before dawn, so sometime after midnight, Erica settled on a couch in one of the quiet offices for a middle-of-the-night nap. She jolted awake around three a.m., unsure why, but there seemed to be a heightened buzz to the conversation going on in the main room.

  She sat up, rubbing her eyes. Well, these short bursts of sleep were good practice for a baby, right? She grabbed a clip from the end table and gathered her hair as she walked into the main room.

  Lee stood by a computer station to the right of the conference table, where the others had gathered. She stepped to his side, and he slid an arm around her as she whispered, “What’s going on?”

  “The CIA agent who we believe outed Boyd returned to the US. His loyalty isn’t being questioned—yet. They don’t know he was behind Cressida’s mugging or the other things Cressida told Sean about.”

  Sean had debriefed Cressida on the drive from the border to Erbil and then relayed that information to Keith. Ian had not provided a statement, because as a covert CIA operative, even though he’d been burned, he was bound to secrecy. So they only had Cressida’s version of events. Which had been chilling, to say the least.

  “What will that mean for Ian?”

  “He’s going to have an uphill battle getting anyone in the CIA to believe him. Zack’s story is Ian went rogue. He either kidnapped Cressida or she’s his accomplice. Either way, everything that happened backs up his statements, and the agent killed near Gercüş is viewed as further proof Ian is a traitor. The man, Sabal, was supposedly assisting Zack in bringing Ian in.”

  “And if Ian is taken into custody?”

  “He will be taken. No question of that. Once he’s in custody, Curt will have a hell of a time intervening. If Ian is tried and convicted, Cressida could go down with him.”

  Erica shuddered to think of what it could mean if Cressida were arrested—again.

  “So what’s the plan?” Please, let there be a plan.

  “Ian’s going to jump from the plane.”

  “What? Can he do that? I mean, does he know how?”

  Lee smiled. “Yes. And the plane is equipped. That’s not the problem. The problem is, we need a drop location and a boat to pick him up. And we need it in place in less than an hour. I called JT—his boat is moored at the Menanichoch marina—but he said there’s an engine problem.”

  “Ian’s going to jump into the Chesapeake?”

  “If we can have a boat ready for pickup, yes. Sean estimates he’d need to jump at about five thirty a.m.”

  Erica smiled. “I hate to say it, but I know the perfect person. He has a giant yacht. On the Chesapeake. He’s home right now, and he’s sympathetic to our cause.”

  Lee’s eyes lit up. “Shortcake, you’re brilliant.” To the others he said, “Guys, Erica has a solution: Dr. Patrick Hill.”

  The time for the jump came all too soon for Cressida. It seemed like one moment they were discussing it, and the next, Ian was strapping on the parachute. As soon as they had word there would be a boat in position, the jump was given the thumbs-up, and the pilots adjusted speed and altitude to hit the jump window just right.

  These men knew how to do this. The pilots knew what they were doing. And Ian assured her he’d done this many times. It was the only solution, but damn, it scared the hell out of her. She gripped the evil eye pendant through her shirt. A habit that had formed at some point in the last week, but she’d never know if this particular pendant was good o
r bad luck.

  The pendant was also the one thing she hadn’t told Sean about. Not that she didn’t trust him, but because he was in contact with Keith on the ground, and even though she knew Lee was the best in the business, she couldn’t count on the airwaves being secure.

  She looked at Ian questioningly, gripping the pendant.

  He understood and said, “Keep it. But don’t tell the CIA about it. With Zack in the fold, we can’t trust anyone there. It’s a wild card. Play it last and only in desperation.”

  She nodded.

  They raced ever closer to the jump zone. Every loose item in the cabin was tucked away, and Cressida and the others were all rigged with harnesses and tethers before the jump door was opened.

  Sean slid the door to the side. The wind roared as air pressure in and outside the jet equalized. Cressida’s hair whipped across her face as she held on to her seat with a white-knuckled grip.

  Ian stepped into the opening, his tether hooked to the bar above the door.

  Her heart lurched to see him outlined by the dark void of the night sky. She’d had no intention of going near that gaping hole but couldn’t stop herself and surged to her feet. She joined him in the opening and felt all the blood drain from her body when she looked down at the dark water far below.

  She grabbed the straps of his chute, pulling his chest to hers. “You’d better come back to me. You promised.”

  “I didn’t just promise. I gave you my solemn vow.” His kiss was hard and fast. Too fast. Gripping the bar with one hand, he unhooked his tether. “I love you, Cressida.”

  He released the bar and pitched backward into the night sky.

  Chapter Forty

  Sean grabbed Cressida’s harness and pulled her back from the opening. To the others, he said, “Seal her up. We need to circle for our landing ASAP.”

  Cressida just stood, dumbfounded as the men around her secured the cabin. She didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. So she did a bit of both, suspecting the tears were happy and the laugh a little bitter.

  Not bitter at Ian. Hell, no. He’d pretty much secured her heart forever with that stunt. Good Lord, but the man did know when to play a card. She was angry at fate or whatever had brought them together, only to literally watch him plunge into a ten-thousand-foot abyss.

  “He’ll be fine, Cress,” Sean said. “I’ve read his service record—the non-redacted parts, anyway—he’s jumped plenty of times in far worse conditions.”

  She nodded and offered a weak smile. “Thanks, Sean.”

  “One of the things Keith wanted me to gauge was whether or not Boyd could be trusted. To make sure you weren’t Stockholming.”

  She stiffened even while admitting it was a reasonable concern. After all, she’d wondered the same thing on several occasions. “What did you tell him?”

  “He’s competent, a solid operative, and he refused to break his oath to the Company even after they burned him. But more important was the way he looked at you when you weren’t paying attention. That alone told me everything I needed to know.”

  She cleared her throat. “How long until we land?”

  “Twenty minutes or so. Better buckle up.”

  She dropped into a window seat and leaned her head against the pane, looking down, knowing she’d never see his dark chute against the dark water. She gripped the pendant again and wondered how long until he splashed down.

  Trina stood next to Keith on the tarmac at Andrews, feeling both impatient for the jet to land and dreading it at the same time. She didn’t like the look of the men in suits who were lined up beside them.

  Boyd should have splashed down by now, but she wouldn’t find out if Hill had successfully picked him up, not while these men stood by, waiting for someone to slip and reveal their hand.

  Keith was here as CEO of the company that had financed and conducted the extraction, Trina as friend of the extracted. Curt waited with the suits, ready to intervene officially on Cressida’s behalf. They’d agreed Mara couldn’t accompany him, as that would just underscore his personal connection to Cressida.

  Erica was with Lee at Raptor headquarters, waiting to hear from Dr. Hill. Alec waited in the wings—AKA his estate in Maryland—with Isabel, ready to jump in if need be, but given the role Raptor had played, it might be best if he sat this one out. The owner of Raptor could face political repercussions if this went badly for Cressida, and his colleagues in the senate suspected he was involved.

  The low rumble of a jet engine became a very loud rumble, and Trina’s heart picked up speed. Finally.

  Tires touched pavement with a bump and a squeal, and wind whipped up as the jet shot past them. Flaps dropped on the wings, and the plane slowed, then finally, nearly the length of the runway away, the jet came to a halt.

  It circled around, rolling with aching slowness until the jet returned to their end of the tarmac. Moments after coming to a complete stop, the door slid open and steps unfurled. Sean exited first, followed by Cressida.

  Trina shot forward, ignoring Keith and the others, who told her to wait. Screw that. She enfolded Cressida in a fierce hug. The younger woman squeezed back and promptly burst into tears.

  This was the homecoming Cressida should have. Friends and hugs and tears. Not detainment and interrogation. Not hard questions and fear for the man who’d saved her. Not wondering if Ian would be captured, quietly tried, and executed as a traitor.

  Sean had told Keith that Cressida and Ian were involved. All Trina could hope was that this time Cressida had chosen wisely.

  Given how volatile and tenuous the situation was, Trina figured it wouldn’t hurt to play dumb for the suits. “Let’s take Cress back to our place, Keith. She needs a break before being questioned.”

  “I’m afraid you can’t do that, ma’am.”

  She looked up and realized a new suit had arrived while she’d watched the landing. The CIA director himself had shown up to meet Cressida’s flight.

  “Ms. Porter, where is Case Officer Boyd?” the director asked.

  “Somewhere in the Tigris.” She said the words so coldly, so emotionless after the tearful hug, that even though Trina knew it wasn’t true, she believed her. “There was a firefight when we crossed the river. He was shot and went overboard. The current took him.” She jerked her head toward Sean, as though angry. “He wouldn’t go after him, even though I begged. He said his mission was to get me out, not Ian.”

  “Excuse me, but how is it that I’m just hearing about this so-called firefight now?”

  Sean spoke next. “We went radio silent because the firefight was between the YPG rebels who were helping Boyd and Porter and either some of Assad’s forces or an al-Qaeda faction. Or possibly ISIS. If we’d radioed in the details and any of the other parties picked up the transmission, they’d know that Raptor had worked in conjunction with YPG—and could assume the CIA was involved as well. Any future alliance would be compromised.”

  The director’s jaw clenched. He clearly didn’t buy the story, but it was just plausible enough to make his job more difficult.

  Cressida pulled a T-shirt from her bag and thrust it in the man’s hands. “I got some of Ian’s blood on me when he was shot.”

  Later, Trina planned to howl with laughter over the look on the director’s face as he gazed down at the filthy T-shirt in his hand, but for now she had to keep a straight face. “If Boyd is gone, then the interrogation can wait. Cressida’s been through an ordeal and needs a break.”

  The man met Trina’s gaze. “Who the hell are you?”

  Beside her, Keith stiffened.

  “I’m her friend.” She lifted her chin and refused to back down. Better to make this about her rather than about Cressida. Everything that stalled until they were certain Boyd had been picked up was a good thing.

  To the suits at his side, the director said, “Search the plane.”

  “I’m afraid, Leroy, that’s my team’s job,” Curt said softly. He nodded to the FBI agents, who moved forward t
o carry out his order.

  “We really don’t want a pissing contest here, Curt.” The CIA director’s emphasis showed he didn’t like Curt’s casual use of his first name. But then, he probably didn’t like it that he wasn’t the highest ranking government official present.

  “I know you don’t, because I will win.”

  “Boyd is a covert CIA operative who sold out his country—”

  “Are we in Turkey right now?”

  The director only glared at Curt, refusing to answer.

  “Exactly,” Curt said. “You have no jurisdiction on US soil. In fact, you are forbidden from conducting operations on US soil. So play nice and stand down.”

  “This isn’t an op. This is bringing in one of our own who turned.”

  “He did not!” The anger in Cressida’s voice shocked everyone into silence. “He was betrayed by one of you. I was betrayed by one of you.” She then linked her arm through Trina’s and said, “Sweetie, I’d love to go back to your place and rest.”

  “You can’t do that, Ms. Porter. You’re coming with me to Langley.”

  “Let’s compromise. I’ll let you question her at the DOJ,” Curt said.

  “You’ll let me question her? At your office? No,” the CIA director said.

  “Sorry, Leroy, but I’m detaining Ms. Porter for questioning,” Curt said. “And I’ll allow you to question her as a courtesy, because I’m generous that way.”

  “What’s your legal standing for detaining her?” the director asked.

  Curt smiled like a player about to achieve checkmate and plucked some papers from his breast pocket. He thrust them toward the director, but the man already held Cressida’s rancid T-shirt, and didn’t take them. “She’s a material witness in the case against Todros Ganem, who fled trial and who may have sold classified information to Jordan and possibly Syria.”

  “Classified information is my field.”

  “And prosecuting violations is mine.” Curt turned to Cressida. “I’m sorry, Ms. Porter, I realize this is a difficult time, but we have important questions about your association with Todros Ganem, and I have the right to detain you if you don’t come willingly. Are you willing?”