“Understood,” I said, and I meant it. There was no reason for him to read me in last week. The investigation details were need-to-know only. It would’ve worked exactly the same way if the situation were MI6 led rather than CIA.
I got the signal from the ambassador’s detail that we were about to board the plane. In a matter of hours, one of two things would happen. Either I’d be on my way back to London with Saint and Dr. Benjamin, or one or more of us would be dead. That was how missions like this worked. I knew my brother, Rile, and Grinder were feeling the same way I was.
“I need to ring off, Cope.”
“Godspeed, Lynx. Bring ’em home.”
—:—
I spent the first part of the ten-hour flight from London to Beijing briefing my second in command for this mission, Damon “Typhon” Morgan. The code name given to the MI6 agent was after one of the deadliest creatures in Greek mythology.
While the official position of MI6 was that agents were not permitted to break any laws outside of the U.K. that would be illegal within, or in other words, agents and officers did not possess a “license to kill,” there wasn’t a single one of us who didn’t know that was as far from the truth as our jobs got.
It wasn’t something any of us were proud of, even Typhon. Taking a human life was always considered last resort, but if it came to that, no one I’d ever known was as deadly as the man sitting in front of me. I had access to Typhon’s kill record, and he’d exceeded mine in his first two years of duty.
His presence, along with two CIA operatives, was necessitated by the two people we were personally tasked with keeping alive throughout the course of the mission—both the U.S. and the U.K. Ambassadors to China.
Once Typhon and I were finished reviewing the plan, he went to brief the two CIA agents while I met with the U.K. Ambassador, briefing her on what would be required of her in the extraction’s aftermath.
There was no question in my mind that the Chinese would want to immediately retaliate, but with two such high profile diplomats, it would be impossible to do so.
One aspect of my job was to ensure the media, part of the entourage also on this flight, was in place at the same time the extraction was taking place. Buster, the more powerful of the two ambassadors in terms of influence as well as personality, knew to immediately ask for a press conference at the same time the Invincible crew brought Dr. Benjamin front and center.
Behind the scenes, the rest of the team would be transporting Saint and the two CIA-operative hostages out of the country.
The meeting had been scheduled to take place at the Great Hall of the People, a state building located at the western edge of Tienanmen Square in Beijing.
It was understood that the prisoners would be brought there in advance, per Ambassador Steven’s request. What the Chinese were told was that the seven dissidents who had been extradited in exchange for our men, were being held at the U.S. Embassy. The exchange would take place only after the ambassadors were able to confirm our people were all still alive.
Once the ambassadors and Chinese government officials had completed their introductions, I sent the signal to the Invincible team to proceed. I was escorting the press into the Great Halls’ meeting room when I heard gunfire erupt through my earpiece.
“Go, go, go!” I recognized Rile’s voice shouting.
“They’re in here!” another voice shouted that sounded like my brother’s. I made eye contact with Typhon to confirm he was hearing the same thing I was.
“Got ’em,” shouted Rile, followed a few seconds later by, “We’re out.”
That was my cue to meet whomever from the team was escorting Dr. Benjamin into the hall. I stepped out and made eye contact with first the doctor, and then Grinder. I knew immediately that whatever he was about to tell me, was news I didn’t want to receive.
30
Emerson
We left the city the next day and went down the Cape. My parents seemed to realize that I had too much on my mind to talk, and left me on my own for the most part.
I took walks on the beach at sunrise, slept on the back-porch daybed, and swam. I spent too much time in the pool cabana, lying on the bed where Lynx and I had last had sex, imagining he was beside me.
That’s where I was when I heard my mother shouting my name. I ran into the house, blood pumping through my veins so hard it was all I could hear.
“Look,” she said, pointing to the television and grasping my father’s hand. There on the screen stood the man I’d grown up calling Uncle Buster—now the U.S. Ambassador to China. On the other side of him stood the woman I recognized as his British counterpart. To her right, stood Dr. Adam Benjamin.
I listened as they thanked the Chinese government for their cooperation in freeing the doctor, mistakenly arrested for a crime he didn’t commit. There was no mention of the other men who had been arrested.
My mother reached out her hand to me, and I sat beside her on the sofa.
“Where do you suppose Lynx is,” she whispered.
Before I could speculate, my father’s cell phone rang. He stood and walked out to the back porch before answering the call.
When he came back inside, his face was ashen.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Keon, Lynx’s brother, was shot during the extraction. He’s alive, but his condition is unknown.”
31
Lynx
Three Months Later
I left Z’s office, no closer to making a decision than when I arrived. He’d asked when I planned to return to active duty; it was a question I was unable to answer.
I’d spent the last three months by my brother’s side, at first in a hospital in Seoul, and then in London.
While the bullet that hit him during Saint and Dr. Benjamin’s extraction hadn’t been life-threatening, it had been damaging. He’d undergone three surgeries and was just now getting full mobility back in his right arm.
It was his mental state that worried me the most. There were many days when my brother’s depression was so great that I refused to leave him alone, even to sleep.
I’d given up my residency suite at the hotel, since it was too small for both of us to stay there, and rented a flat near the hospital so when he was able to leave, he had a comfortable place to stay.
My brother’s spirits improved in direct correlation to the movement he regained in his arm. As much as I was against it, he was insisting on returning to Texas as soon as possible, and I planned to travel with him.
“Did you tell him?” asked Saint when I pulled up a seat next to him in the pub.
I shook my head. “I haven’t made my final decision yet.”
“Yes, you have, you liar.”
Saint was right. Keon had been visited by all of the Invincibles’ partners at least once during his hospital stay, but Decker had come more than the other two.
During his last visit, he’d approached me with an offer to join up with their firm. Initially, my answer had been a resounding no. However, after I realized my brother was in on it, I agreed to reconsider.
Keon asking wasn’t my only reason, as I’m sure they knew. If I were to partner with them, it would also allow me to spend a great deal more time in the States.
“You’ll never believe who I saw the other day,” Saint said, motioning to the barmaid to pour me a pint.
“Who?”
“Angel.”
“How is she?”
Saint shook his head. “Same as always. Smarter, funnier, prettier than me, and still able to drink me under the table.”
I laughed. “She is all those things. Deadlier too.”
“She and I got to talking about a certain helicopter ride the two of you shared.”
“Yeah?”
“She told me she still regretted telling you what I confessed to her on one of those nights I crashed beneath a pub table.”
I took a long, slow drink, silently warning my friend that this was not a conversation he wanted to
start.
“Look, you have to admit, the woman is beguiling.”
“Tread carefully, Saint. In fact, a change in subject would be your smartest tack.”
He shook his head and looked down at the bar. “I meant it. At the time anyway.”
I slammed my now-empty pint on the bar. “Do you have a bloody death wish?”
Saint motioned to the barmaid, who poured each of us another. “Bring us two shots of Irish too, would you?”
When she delivered the shots, Saint looked into my eyes. “Go see her, Lynx.”
I downed the whiskey and emptied my pint before I responded. “We both knew what it was, and that was temporary.”
“I have reason to believe you might be wrong, at least on Charlie’s—err, Emerson’s—part.”
I grabbed Saint by the neck and slammed him up against the wall. “This is not a game,” I seethed. “You dare to speak to me of the woman I…”
He held up both hands.
When I let go, he straightened his jacket and sat down as if nothing had happened, not even a single hair was out of place on the bastard’s head.
“What, Lynx? The woman you, what?”
I watched as he signaled the barmaid again, on the verge of slamming him up against the wall a second time.
“Start talking, Saint, while you’re still able.”
—:—
Snow? Truly? It was the beginning of December, and not just snow, a blizzard. It was a miracle Mario had been able to get to the airport at all. The ride from there to the apartment building had been harrowing, which reminded me of Emerson and how she’d said she wouldn’t ride in any car with the man we’d referred to as Mario Andretti. I smiled at the memory.
I reached over the seat, handed him some cash, and shook his hand. “Thank you for coming out in a snowstorm to get me here.”
“Let me know when you need me again, Mr. Edgemon. Always happy to drive you anywhere you need to go.”
“Call me Lynx, and I appreciate it.” I got out of the car and grabbed my bag. Instead of going straight inside, I stood at the building’s entrance, remembering the first day I set foot in it and found the woman I’d been looking for, dreaming about, yet never dreaming I’d actually find. What I’d give to see Emerson’s beautiful face walking out as I walked in again.
“Mr. Edgemon,” I heard a familiar voice say once I stepped inside the lobby. “Welcome back.”
“Mr. Bridges,” I answered, walking over to shake his hand. “It’s nice to see you.”
“Saint completed the paperwork you requested. Let me get it for you.”
While I waited for him to retrieve the lease transfer and extension, I thought again about whether my hanging onto the apartment was folly.
“Here it is,” he said, handing me the envelope. “And let me be the first to officially welcome you to the building.”
“Thanks,” I said, holding up the envelope, “for this too.”
He stood in the doorway of his office while I waited for the lift. “Was there anything else, Mr. Bridges?”
“Call me Baxter, and no, not really.” He shook his head, went into his office, and closed the door behind him.
I rode the lift to the eighth floor, toying with knocking on Emerson’s door before dropping my bag at Saint’s—my—apartment. Given it was after nine, it would probably be best to wait until tomorrow.
When the lift’s door opened, I heard a man’s voice coming from the direction of Emerson’s apartment. “I love you, too,” he said, closing her door behind him.
“Hi,” he said when he saw me staring. “Can I help you with something?”
“Who are you?”
“I’m David,” he said, chuckling. “Who are you?”
I heard Emerson’s door open and held my breath. Had she really found someone already? Someone who loved her too?
“You forgot your hat,” I heard a familiar voice say. “Oh, Lennox, hi,” said Rashid, handing the hat to the man I now guessed was his boyfriend. I held the door of the lift open as they kissed goodbye.
“Nice to meet you, Lennox,” said David, as he stepped inside.
“Um, Rashid,” I said as he walked back to the apartment.
“Yes?”
“Is Emerson at home?”
He cocked his head. “I’m confused.”
“Emerson,” I pointed at the door. “Her apartment?”
“Emme doesn’t live here anymore. David and I sublet the place from her.”
32
Emerson
“Professor Charles?”
I raised my head when one of my female students approached the dais at the end of my lecture. “Yes?”
“I just wanted to thank you for the insight you shared today, and also…”
“What is it?”
“I really admire you. Having you here, well, it gives me hope.”
The student walked out of the lecture hall before I found my voice to thank her. Little did she know what her words meant to me, today especially.
When I left MIT, I had no desire to work for another university. In fact, I had no desire to do much of anything. I was sitting in my apartment in Boston, feeling quite sorry for myself when the landline I often forgot I had, rang. I thought about letting it go to voicemail, but given I didn’t know how to retrieve messages, or even if I’d set up an incoming message, I decided to answer it.
“Emme?” a familiar voice said.
“Uncle Buster? Why are you calling this number?”
“You aren’t an easy woman to get a hold of, young lady. In fact, when I tried to leave you a message, I was told your inbox was full.”
“I’m sorry.”
“How about you meet your uncle for lunch this week?”
I’d agreed, never expecting what would come of it.
Two weeks later, I went to work for the NWC—the U.S. Naval War College, in Newport Rhode Island.
Yes, both my father and Uncle Buster pulled strings to secure my interview, but had assured me once my foot was in the door, the rest was up to me.
Much to my surprise, earlier this morning, after only being here two months, I was offered a National Security Affairs associate professorship in the Strategy and Policy Department.
I didn’t pay a lot of attention when I heard the door open and close at the top of the hall. It was probably a student looking for a quiet place to read or arriving early for their next class.
I gathered the papers and books scattered on the table next to the lectern and stuffed them into my bags. It was my last class of the week, and tomorrow night I had a real treat planned—a celebration dinner with my best friend.
It had been three weeks since I last saw Bridget, and I couldn’t wait to get caught up. Living in Newport made it easier for her and I to get together; Providence was only forty minutes away. The drive to Boston, where my parents were for the winter, or to Cape Cod were both twice as long. Not that I’d be going down the Cape. If I did, I’d be alone, and I could do that here.
I hadn’t exactly made friends since I’d moved to Newport and, in this case, it was for lack of trying. Several of the other professors often invited me to join them for drinks, but I always politely declined.
Since I’d never accepted, I couldn’t say for certain what they talked about, but there were a plethora of land-mine topics I knew I wanted to steer clear of.
First was China. It was still my area of expertise, and I didn’t mind teaching it, but talking about it outside of a class would lead me down a bunny trail of memories I’d just as soon avoid.
The other topic I could see exploding in my face was any talk of families. Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents, but when the other professors started talking about their husbands, wives, or significant others, like I assumed they would, there’d be no amount of alcohol that could numb the pain I knew I’d feel.
I shoved the last of my class materials into my bags and was getting ready to hoist them on my shoulders when I heard the foots
teps of someone headed my way. I raised my hand to block the glare of the lights shining on me, but still couldn’t see anyone.
“Why don’t you let me help you with those,” a deliciously English-accented voice called out to me. I left my bags on the table and ran up the steps.
“Tommy? Is that really you?”
“Yes, Charlie, it’s really me,” he said, picking me up and twirling me in a circle.
When he set me on my feet, I rested my hands on his arms and looked into his sapphire-blue eyes. They’d always mesmerized me, especially since people always commented on mine. Next to his, though, mine were dull and lackluster.
“You look good,” I said, letting my gaze drift from his perfectly coiffed blond hair down to the charcoal gray turtleneck sweater and jeans he wore, all the way to a pair of those driving loafers no one ever wore socks with. Didn’t their feet get cold? And what was the point in having particular shoes for driving if you wore them everywhere else?
“Did you hear me?” I heard him ask.
“What? Oh! No, I’m sorry. I was just thinking about your shoes. They aren’t really shoes, but that’s what I was thinking about.”
Tommy gave me one of his high-voltage, ultra-white, teeth-filled, melt-most-women’s-panties smiles, and I waited for a weak-kneed swoon. None came.
“So…what are you doing here?”
“As I said only a moment ago, I’ve come to spend some time with my favorite girl.”
I cocked my head and studied him. “How did you find me?”
He walked around me to get my bags. “I’ll tell you over a glass of Amarone.”
When we exited the main building, Tommy pointed toward the parking lot.
“Oh, I don’t usually drive. It’s only a mile to my apartment.”
“You walk a mile carrying these?” he asked, holding out my bags.
“They aren’t that heavy,” I said, trying to take one from him.
Undercover Agent Page 16
