by PM Kavanaugh
“How’s the scar?” Tobar asked.
Anika heard the taunt in her voice.
“No te preocupes,” Vasquez said, shrugging. “A scratch compared to what I will do to your face when I carve on it.”
Tobar spat on the floor.
Good for you, Anika thought. With Vasquez’s attention still directed away from her, she rose to her feet in a swift, soundless movement.
Vasquez laughed. “Before I am through, you will beg.” Looking at Gianni, he continued, “Worth every dollar I’ve paid. Even the surcharge for being able to do the kill myself. Which reminds me, where is your lovely esposa?”
Anika leveled her laser at Vasquez. “Behind you.”
He looked back over his shoulder and saw the weapon. “What is this?” His brows pulled together, contorting the scar on his forehead.
“It’s called a double cross. Call off your men. Tell them to pull back from the house and the rooftop.”
Vasquez’s eyes darkened. “Whatever she offered to pay you, I’ll triple it.”
Anika aimed at a point over his shoulder and fired. Her aim was off a fracture and the blast singed the top of his shoulder before it burned a hole in the wall behind him.
Vasquez cursed in pain. “¡Puta!”
“Make the calls.”
Once Vasquez had given the commands, the staccato sound of gunfire from the roof receded, though it continued to echo in Anika’s ears.
“What now?” he asked. “Are you going to kill me, or did she offer you extra to do the job herself?” Vasquez rocked forward on the balls of his feet and flexed his knees.
Anika gave no indication she had noticed the subtle change in his stance. “Neither,” she said. “Unfortunately, you’re more valuable to us alive than dead.”
Something changed behind his eyes, as he realized what she meant. “Who is us?”
“You’ll find out later. After your nap.”
He leapt at her.
She sidestepped, fired, and stunned him into unconsciousness. “Sleep well, asshole.” Glancing at Gianni, she said, “Thanks for letting me take him out.”
“I wanted you to experience it for yourself.”
“What?”
“A takedown for a worthy cause. That the agency is a force for justice. How does it feel?”
Anika looked down at Vasquez. “Pretty damn good.”
Gianni tossed her his handheld. “Call Santos. Inform him of the new plan. Tell him to return to the hover plane, fly it here, mask up to disguise his resemblance to Vasquez and join us here. We’ll take the plane back. With Vasquez and...” Gianni turned to Tobar. “What is your daughter’s name?”
Tobar’s eyes glistened with tears. “Lily Daniela.” Her voice sounded like a prayer, like a plea.
Gianni nodded. “Contact your men on the roof. Tell them a plane will be arriving shortly. When it lands, they are to escort the pilot here. Get ready to meet your new partner.”
“If any harm comes to my daughter, I will hunt you both down.” Her eyes, dry now, raged at them.
Despite herself, fear prickled down Anika’s back. In that look, she glimpsed the woman who had commanded a small army of dangerous criminals for almost a decade. She forced herself to hold the woman’s gaze. “Understood.”
Chapter 18
“Hey, did you just get back?” Mari walked toward Anika, who had cleared the final checkpoint in the corridor that led to Transport.
She and Gianni had returned minutes ago. The medic who met them took Tobar’s infant daughter to Clinic while four guards escorted Vasquez, in restraints, to interrogation. Gianni told Anika to report to sub-level 1 for debriefing, then walked off in the same direction as the guards, leaving her to wonder when she would see him again.
Though she longed to spill out every twist and turn of the mission to her friend, Anika held back in deference to agency rules. “What happened to your hair?” She stared at her friend’s shorn head, the bouncy curls replaced by brown fuzz only a few millimeters in length. “Did they make you cut it?”
“Nope.” Mari ran her hand over her scalp, from front to back. “I asked someone in Makeup to do it. I wanted something different. Something that made me look badass. What do you think?”
To Anika, the absence of hair made her friend look younger, more vulnerable, her blue eyes even bigger in her round face. “You look fierce,” she said. “I’d be scared if I ran into you in a dark alley.”
“I can introduce you to the styling pro who did it. She can cut yours, too.”
“No thanks. She’d have to tranq me and put me in restraints before I’d let her near my hair with a sharp instrument.” The memory of forced haircuts at the orphanage still haunted Anika. Like the other girls in the orphanage, she had grown up with an ugly bowl-shaped cut that, along with a dirt-brown uniform, branded them kids of the government. Kids nobody wanted.
“Okay, okay, I get it. How’d the mission go?”
“Mari, you know I can’t tell you.”
“Just point. Thumb up or down?”
Anika pointed her thumb toward the ceiling.
Mari leaned in closer. “How was it to be with Gianni that whole time?”
Alarm pricked Anika. “How do you know he...we...he was on the team?”
“I saw you both heading to Transport three days ago. Figured you were on a two-person mission.”
“Three.” Anika thought about Diego Santos, the operative they had left behind. Would his mission be a success? Would Tobar cooperate and reunite with her daughter?
“So, how was it?” Mari prodded.
“It was fine.”
“Fine? That’s all I get? Come on. You gotta give me more than that.”
“Gianni was focused on the mission. We both were.”
“What about after the mission? On the ride back. You know,” Mari said, her eyebrows peaking with curiosity, “when all that adrenaline is still revving your system?”
“We were babysitting a bad guy.” And an actual baby, Anika thought, but didn’t say it. “That was a system neutralizer.”
Fortunately, Tobar’s daughter had slept during the return flight. And Vasquez had been subdued with both drugs and body restraints. So, yes, Anika had enjoyed some alone time with Gianni. But not the kind Mari was talking about. After setting the plane on autopilot, he had taken the seat next to her and instructed the audio system to play Italian opera music. It was his favorite form of relaxation, he explained. Anika didn’t especially like the music, but she did like sitting beside Gianni, their knees occasionally bumping, as they flew through the night sky.
His mood was lighter than it had been at the start of the mission. Lighter even since his return to the agency. She still wondered what had happened to him while he was gone. What had caused the dark shadows under his eyes and the grim lines around his mouth. She sensed an opening after the final strains of an aria had faded. But then his handheld buzzed and, after checking the caller ID, he walked to the front of the plane. When he returned, the shadows and lines were back. The call had shattered their renewed intimacy.
“You brought down a killer and not a scratch on you? You are a bad ass. Even with long hair.” Mari tugged on the ends of Anika’s hair, which hung past her shoulders.
“When’s your mission?” Anika asked.
“Now. I’ve been working on my rappelling technique nonstop. Even in my sleep.” Mari smiled, but Anika noted the flare of anxiety that darted through her friend’s eyes.
“When are you back?”
“Six, maybe seven hours.” A sigh escaped Mari. “I wish you were going, too.”
“I could request it.” Anika heard the reluctance in her own voice. All she wanted to do was spend some time in the relaxation tank and try to process the events and emotions of the past days.
“Nah,” Mari said. “No time. Besides, you’ve already saved my ass in here. Twice.”
“Yes, but the first time you were just a recruit.”
“So were you. Y
ou were such an awesome recruit. The rest of us were so jealous, especially when you aced that training sim and earned the chance to go off-premise.” Anika shrugged away the compliment. “It’s time I saved my own life,” Mari continued. “And the lives of some innocents. Wish me luck?”
Apprehension fluttered through Anika, dead leaves falling from a tree. She ran her hand across the top of Mari’s head. The hair felt as soft as a baby duckling. “You don’t need it. You’ve got training. You’re ready.”
Mari squared her shoulders. “Damn straight.”
“Be safe,” Anika whispered at her friend’s departing back.
As she descended the stairs to the debriefing level and approached a room in the southwest wing, Anika replayed Gianni’s words of advice. “Keep your statements simple,” he had said, after their vehicle had rolled to a stop in an empty Transport bay. “Start with the mission’s objectives. Then move on to actions. End on outcomes. Explain that some adjustments in the field were necessary and, ultimately, effective. Use your own words, but be sure to state that the mission was a success.”
The set up in the room was similar to Anika’s first debriefing. Four bare walls surrounded a metal chair that faced a small camera lens at eye level. No technician, no sensors. Just the camera’s eye. Anika sat and steadied her breath. Objectives, actions, outcomes. Objectives, actions, outcomes.
The eye powered on and a computerized voice requested her name, tracking ID, and rank. After confirming her profile details, the voice asked her about the mission.
“The objectives were to extract Vasquez and insert Agent Santos in his place,” Anika said.
“Incomplete,” the voice responded.
Anika tried again. “The objectives were to extract Vittorio Vasquez and return him to U.N.I.T. alive. And to insert Agent Diego Santos in his place to work with local authorities shut down the illegal operations.”
“Incomplete,” the voice repeated. “State the third objective.”
Anika knew what she had left out. To kill Tobar. Why was she reluctant to say that this objective had to be changed mid-mission? She still believed she was right to let Tobar live and Gianni had agreed with her; Santos had endorsed the change and they had Tobar’s daughter in their custody to guarantee her mother’s cooperation. So killing Tobar had no longer been required. But would U.N.I.T.’s leadership view it that way? Should she and Gianni have gotten prior approval before acting? He hadn’t thought so and he was a Level 3. But Anika suddenly had doubts. Something about this sterile surveillance room set her on edge, made her question herself. It didn’t help that she was still bothered by her failure in Belgrade. She had wanted this mission to be an indisputable win for the agency, and for her. Maybe she could ensure the agency viewed it just that way.
“The third objective,” she said, “was to kill Isobela Tobar in order to expedite her organization’s downfall. However, based on what Agent Brambilla and I encountered in the field, we needed to modify the kill order. We devised an alternative plan that would still produce the desired outcome.” While she waited for the computer to process the statement, she forced her body to remain still. And to blink at a normal pace.
“Proceed.”
The tightness in Anika’s chest eased. The rest of her answers were succinct. When asked to sum up the mission, she answered, “It was a success.”
The eye powered down. “Debriefing concluded.”
Relief and satisfaction sluiced through her. She pushed up from the chair. Saying the words out loud made them feel real. The mission had succeeded. She had succeeded. Proved she belonged. She turned to exit the room when the door slid open. She froze. Resisted grabbing onto the chair back for support.
Second strode in on knife-sharp heels and platform soles that added significant height to her petite frame. “Take a seat.”
Chapter 19
Anika wondered if the machine had detected something amiss in her debrief. Even though Gianni had told her to say the mission was a success, maybe it was too strong a statement given the improvised changes they had made. Maybe she should have made her summary more neutral. Stated that the mission objectives had been met. Left it at that.
Second positioned herself in front of Anika, her posture impeccable.
Anika forced herself to meet the second-in-command’s gaze. The description Evan had given at Amnesia about Second’s piercing blue eyes was exactly right. Anika felt those eyes could penetrate her skull and see her racing thoughts. Was it too late to change her final statement?
Second’s dark blue suit jacket hugged her torso, like body armor. Her red-stained lips shone in the brightly lit room. Anika concentrated on those lips as they began to move. “I know this was your first extended undercover mission,” Second said. “You performed well. Gianni, too. You made a good team. Congratulations.”
Anika swallowed. Anxiety continued to shimmer through her. “Thank you.” She sensed there was more.
Second extended her hand, palm up. In it lay a black handheld. “Do you recognize this?”
“It looks like a standard-issue handheld,” Anika replied.
“It’s your handheld.”
“Mine?” Anika’s brows creased. “I left mine in my apartment. Before leaving on the mission.”
“Yes. We found it in our sweep while you were gone.”
“You searched my apartment?”
“We conduct routine searches on all Level Ones’ living quarters, both on- and off-premise.”
In her mind, Anika scanned the interior of her apartment. Had she left anything out in the open that she shouldn’t have? “I followed procedure in storing the handheld before I left.”
“Yes, the team confirmed the handheld was secure. I wanted to ask you about a message in an encrypted file. Do you know the one I’m talking about?”
Of course she did. It was the message Gianni had left for her after their night together. The one he had told her to delete. Now, Second had seen it. Probably archived it in her profile. The knowledge made Anika’s cheeks flame.
Second glanced at the screen. “Last night—”
“Yes, I know,” Anika cut her off. Last night was beyond all imaginings.
“We know Brambilla visited your apartment the night before the mission went live. We presume the message is from him.”
Am I in trouble? Is Gianni? “I’m not aware any agency rules have been broken.”
“They haven’t. Yet. We understand the biological need for sex, as a release or a distraction.” Second’s tone was clinical. It reminded Anika of the sex ed vids at the orphanage. She had yawned through those mandatory sessions. Now, it took all of her self-control to keep from squirming in her seat. “But we will not tolerate an emotional entanglement that interferes with mission performance. You were taught this as a recruit and I’m here to remind you how seriously we take that instruction. Understood?”
Anika wondered if Second had given the same message—warning—to Gianni. A rancid stew of anxiety, resentment and sadness bubbled inside her. Did this mean she had to choose between belonging and love? It was an impossible choice. She wanted both, but she knew Second wouldn’t accept that answer, so she gave the only answer she could.
“I understand,” she said.
“Good.” Second gave her the handheld. “A piece of advice.” Anika met the senior officer’s gaze. “Don’t conflate effective mission prep on Brambilla’s part with...something else.”
Second’s parting words landed a body blow. Stunned, Anika sat in place until the clicking of high heels faded to silence.
Had Gianni’s actions the night before the mission—the dancing, the champagne drinking, the lovemaking—all just been preparation for their cover? He had told her he didn’t want their first time to be for a fake souvenir video. But maybe that, too, was part of his preparation. A planned seduction so she would do a better job. For the mission. But then why leave the message? More preparation for her alias as a beloved wife?
Anika powered on
the handheld and jabbed the buttons until she found what she wanted. She punched delete and watched the message vanish. The gesture was futile. The words were already seared into her brain.
She spent the next several hours moving throughout the complex, trying to keep her mind and body busy. She started with a session in an immersion tank, but gave up after ten minutes. The tank was too quiet for her restless thoughts, even with the soothing sound of a steady breath piped into the space. Next, she visited the computer lab where she tested her responses to various mission scenarios. Then she wandered into the language lab and practiced her Mandarin and Farsi. She repeated key phrases—on your knees, put down your weapons, I have the intel you want—over and over until the computer gave her perfect scores. She walked up and down the rows of offices reserved for senior level operatives. Around every corner and in every new room, she found herself looking for Gianni. If she could talk to him, maybe she could discover for herself if Second was right. If their night together at her apartment had only been in service of the mission.
Anika entered the training facility. The air refresh system did not fully mask the potent mix of sweat, exertion, and tension absorbed by the gel mats, walls, training equipment. She scanned the zones nearest the entrance. Still no sign of Gianni. Disappointment pressed down on her, like a body-armor vest.
She moved into the cardio zone and stepped onto the gyro-track for forty-five minutes of interval training. She followed that with a sprint through the obstacle course and, after a fifteen-minute cool down, practice in a target chamber. There, she keyed in a mix of sims, alternating her shooting practice between right and left hands. No residual pain, not even a twinge, from her right wrist. Time and physical therapy had brought about a full recovery. She wiped the sweat from her face and arms and draped the microfiber towel around her neck while waiting for the computer to calculate her performance results. Ninety-nine percent accuracy. Four percentage points higher than all other operatives who had logged practice sessions this month. That brought a satisfied smile to her face.
