by Lynn Ames
Beyond Instinct
By
Lynn Ames
BEYOND INSTINCT
© 2011 BY LYNN AMES
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
ISBN: 978-1-936429-03-5
OTHER AVAILABLE FORMATS
PAPERBACK EDITION
ISBN: 978-1-936429-02-8
PUBLISHED BY
PHOENIX RISING PRESS
PHOENIX, ARIZONA
www.phoenixrisingpress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
CREDITS
EXECUTIVE EDITOR: LINDA LORENZO
COVER PHOTOS: PAM LAMBROS
AUTHOR PHOTO: JUDY FRANCESCONI
COVER DESIGN BY: PAM LAMBROS
WWW.HANDSONGRAPHICDESIGN.COM
Dedication
To Mom, who taught me that all things are possible.
Even after all these years, I still miss you every day.
Acknowledgments
No author is an island, to mangle a phrase. Beyond Instinct is a product of my fertile imagination, but the underpinnings for the story were born twenty-five years ago. In 1983, I made an extraordinary journey to Burkina Faso, West Africa (then Upper Volta), to visit my college roommate, who had become a Peace Corps volunteer.
I spent three weeks traveling around the country, meeting the people and observing their culture; it was a life-changing experience. Lo these many years later, I still carry the lessons of humility and happiness that I learned from the Burkinabe.
My deepest thanks to Dana J. Francis for thirty years of friendship and for introducing me to such incredibly rich cultural experiences. Your expertise in all matters West African was invaluable in the creation of this story.
As with any thriller, there are so many details that must be factually correct or at least plausible. To Dr. Hellen Carter, who always ensures that my bullets fly straight; to Clair Bee, who taught me everything I know about pyrotechnics; to Dr. Stephen Colodny, who kept my characters alive—barely; to Ann Marie Clinkscales, whose knowledge of Andrews Air Force Base was crucial; to Jac Hills for timely information regarding the Tuareg; and to my source at the FBI, for verifying facts and protocols—you all give my books the credibility that makes possible the suspension of disbelief.
I am blessed to have what I think is the finest team in the history of novel-writing. To my beta readers who read through my manuscripts chapter by chapter during the creation-phase and give me critical feedback—you have my eternal gratitude.
To my primary editor, Linda Lorenzo, who looks forward with such relish to sinking her teeth into my manuscripts—may I never disappoint you.
To the readers who continue to clamor for the next book—you make it all worthwhile.
Happy reading!
Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
EPILOGUE
Other Books in Print by Lynn Ames
About the Author
PROLOGUE
The early morning mist rolled in over the Potomac, matching Vaughn Elliott’s mood. She’d been back in the States less than forty-eight hours and wasn’t looking forward to spending her first “free” afternoon briefing the section chief on the ins and outs of extricating a questionable asset from a jail in San Salvador.
The phone on her hip vibrated, eliciting a groan. “Elliott,” she barked.
“I heard a rumor you were back.”
“Hey.” Vaughn’s voice softened immediately. “Where are you?”
“I’m in town.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Sara McFarland’s voice held its usual mirth, bringing a smile to Vaughn’s lips as it had since the first time they’d met in college twenty-two years ago.
“Can we get together?” Vaughn asked.
“That was my plan. Meet you at the usual place?”
“Sure.” Vaughn checked her watch. “I’ve only got a couple of hours though.”
“They’ve already got you hopping? Good thing you never suffer from jet lag.”
“Tell me about it. See you in fifteen.”
“Bye, V.”
Vaughn closed the phone and tapped it thoughtfully against her chin. She tried to remember the last time she and Sara had seen each other. It had been too long.
Sara was her first lover. When the CIA recruited them both before graduation, they hadn’t realized their assignments would take them to different parts of the globe. Distance and time separated them over the years, but their deep affection for one another never waned.
Vaughn shoved off from the railing and headed toward the Metro. It would be great to catch up.
Sara stared appraisingly at the tall, handsome woman who shouldered her way past the crowd at the counter on the way to her table. Apart from a smattering of gray hair mixed in with the chestnut, Vaughn looked much the same as she had that first day in Art History 101 when Sara accidentally dropped a heavy text book on her foot.
“What are you looking at?” Vaughn’s eyes narrowed.
“Just ogling,” Sara said lightly. “After all these years, you still have that effect on me.” She watched with pleasure as a blush crept up Vaughn’s neck and spread to her cheeks.
“Stop it.”
Sara smirked. “Why would I? Making you blush is one of my favorite pastimes.”
“I’ve noticed.” Vaughn walked around the table and scooped Sara up into a hug. “How are you?” she whispered against Sara’s ear. “You look a little tired.”
Sara disengaged herself and sat back down. “Yeah, well, not all of us get the cushy assignments.”
“Uh-huh. What was it this time? Muscovites smuggling love notes in vodka bottles?”
“Hardly.” Sara swallowed hard and leaned forward. “I was in Kabul, and I’ve discovered some real nastiness.”
“It’s a war zone, hon, not a playground.”
Sara glanced up at the face of the only human being on earth she truly trusted with her life. She smiled grimly. “Do you remember what they said about ’Nam? About the drug-smuggling ops?”
Vaughn pursed her lips. “Yeah. There was talk of some of our guys hiding the stuff in the corpses of American soldiers and getting it back here that way, knowing no one would desecrate the bodies by searching them.”
“Exactly.”
“What are you getting at?”
Sara fidgeted with her napkin. “You know how much of the world’s heroin is produced in Afghanistan?”
“Far more than I want to think about.”
“Right.”
“You’re saying the same thing’s going on now?”
&nb
sp; “I always knew you were a sharp cookie.” Sara patted Vaughn’s cheek. “I’m finally going to be able to prove it too.”
“Wai—wait a second here. You’re talking about putting the screws to our people?”
“These are really bad apples, V. They’ve got to be stopped. Imagine what the mothers of those poor soldiers would think if they knew.”
“Sara.” Vaughn reached across the table and covered Sara’s hand. For all intents and purposes, the two looked like long-time lovers out for a Sunday coffee. “You know how much I love your strong notions of right and wrong. It’s one of the reasons I fell for you so hard, but—”
Sara broke in, “It’s also one of the things that appealed so much to the Company, remember?”
“Yes, I remember. They loved your zealous patriotism and heightened sense of justice. But this is different.”
“No, it’s not.” Sara lifted her chin and set her jaw defiantly.
“You’re talking about going against people who’ve been trained in the same deadly warfare and dirty tricks that you and I have.”
“I realize that,” Sara snapped. “I’m a big girl now. I’ve got as much blood on my hands as you do, Vaughn.”
The pained look on Vaughn’s face stopped Sara cold.
“I know you do, Sara. That’s my fault. I never should’ve let you say yes to them.”
“You couldn’t have stopped me. I wanted to go.”
“Only because I did.”
Sara nodded grudgingly. “I would’ve followed you to the end of the earth and back again. And I admit that I was an idealistic kid back then who thought I could save the world.”
“You still are.”
“Maybe a little.” Sara balled her hands into fists. “I’m so close, V. I’ve got them. There’s a delivery coming in late this afternoon. A flight from Kabul with fourteen bodies is due to arrive at Andrews. All I need is to get my hands on the proof.”
“Andrews? That’s not the usual protocol. Why isn’t it Dover?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. It’s going down at Andrews, and I’m going to be there when it does.”
“You’re not seriously thinking of going in by yourself,” Vaughn said, her voice rising an octave.
“I can’t trust anybody. I don’t know how deep this goes.”
“No.” Vaughn’s lips formed a thin line. “No, you’re not going.”
“They have to be stopped.”
“Find another way.”
Sara crossed her arms over her chest. “There is no other way. I have to catch them in the act, and this is my only shot.”
“If you don’t know how deep it goes, you’ll probably just end up with a flunky.”
“No. I’ve been watching them for months. I finally decoded the messages on the shipping end when I was in Kabul last week. The big fish is supposed to be here today.”
“So you say,” Vaughn said with a healthy dose of skepticism. She leaned forward. “How, exactly, do you plan to pull this off?”
“Don’t worry, V. I’m not some rookie. I’ve got a plan.” Sara knew her irritation was showing.
“This is crazy,” Vaughn said, running her hands through her hair. The gesture was one familiar to Sara. Vaughn did that whenever she was truly upset.
Sara softened her tone. “Please don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I tell you what, I’ll meet you for dinner tonight to prove it.”
“The hell you will.” Vaughn worried her lower lip with her teeth. “If you’re going, then I’m in too.”
“Over my dead body,” Sara said, her anger returning.
“Good one.”
“I’m serious.”
“If it’s too dangerous for me, then it’s too dangerous for you too, doll.”
“You’re not being fair.”
“All’s fair in love and war, remember? What time and where? What’s the plan?”
Sara frowned. She hated that Vaughn had always been able to talk her into a corner. Grudgingly, she offered, “The caskets of the John and Jane Does are on a plane that arrives at 1715. The protocol is that the plane is led into a hangar at the far end of the tarmac and the caskets are unloaded in the privacy of the hangar, while all eyes will be on another bird. That one is carrying the IDed corpses for the public ceremony. I’ve got a mechanic’s uniform and a badge that will get me close to my plane. I just need to get access to one of the caskets.”
“What do you plan to do then?”
“Get the evidence, bag it, and get a copy of the manifest to see who signed for delivery of the goods. Oh, and see who shows up to collect the bounty.”
“You know the big guys will keep their hands clean.”
“They’ve gotten greedy and sloppy in the past few months. The message I got was that they would all be here today. This is the biggest shipment yet, and they want to supervise personally.”
“Are you sure your source is good?”
“Positive.”
Vaughn was staring hard at her, and Sara stared back. It took great self-control for her not to squirm under the scrutiny. She knew Vaughn was testing her resolve.
“Okay, then we go together.”
“No.” Sara slapped her palms on table. She lamented, yet again, that Vaughn never seemed to have faith in her ability to do the job. “I can do this, V.”
“I know you can, hon, but there’s no way I’m going to let you go in without backup. And there’s only one person I trust to watch your shapely backside—that’s me.”
“I appreciate the compliment, I think, but I’ve got it under control.”
“It isn’t a matter of control, damn it! This isn’t an exercise, Sara. If this is as big an operation as you say, it’s got to be sophisticated. That means high-level involvement and high stakes. They’re not going to let you just waltz in and collar them.”
“I know that.”
“What are you going to do once you have the proof?”
“I’ve got someone inside the FBI who’s got a clear channel to the top.”
“This is nuts.”
“I’m going, Vaughn. You can’t stop me.”
“Maybe not. But you can’t stop me from joining you, either.”
“You’ll create too much suspicion. I’ve been planning this for months.”
“Find a way to get me in.”
Their faces were close together, nostrils flaring, eyes glittering.
Finally, Sara conceded. “There’s a locker inside the terminal, number 342. There’ll be a uniform in there for you. I’ll meet you there at 1600 hours.” Sara shoved her chair back and stalked away.
Vaughn’s meeting ran late. By the time she reached Andrews Air Force Base, it was past the appointed hour. She swore under her breath as she skidded to a halt in front of locker 342. There was no sign of Sara.
“Damn it, Sara. You’d better not be doing anything stupid,” Vaughn muttered as she quickly shrugged into a set of greasy coveralls, zipped them, and pulled on the battered sneakers Sara left for her. She secured the fake ID and sprinted toward the tarmac.
She was inside the hangar and had nearly reached her destination; in fact, she could just make out Sara’s silhouetted form approaching the open cargo bay and the line of caskets on a mechanized conveyor belt. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed movement. It was little more than a suggestion of a shadow, but it was enough.
Vaughn veered off behind a nearby pallet and cautiously inched her way around it, her Glock-40 held out of sight down by her side. She caught a glint of steel—the barrel of a gun, and it was pointed in Sara’s direction. She swung her arm up, tucked, rolled underneath the shadow, and kicked the legs out from under a compact man whose face resembled a pug.
The man’s head hit the concrete with a hard thud and his gun skittered across the floor. One look at him told Vaughn he was unconscious, and would be for a while. The same look told Vaughn he was Company through and through. She took the time to retrieve several items from his pockets and dragg
ed him behind the pallet.
“Shit. Shit.” Vaughn took off again at a dead sprint toward Sara. When she was about ten feet away, she yelled, “It’s a set-up. Get down!”
Even as she screamed, she watched helplessly as Sara bent over and lifted the lid of the nearest casket. The world narrowed down to just the two of them as a huge sonic boom knocked Vaughn off her feet. The last thing she saw was Sara’s head exploding and her lifeless, but completely intact, lower body crumple to the ground.
Vaughn scrambled to her feet, only to have her legs give way. She blinked her eyes furiously in an attempt to focus. Sara. Oh, God, not my Sara. Vaughn crawled forward. She was vaguely aware of people running everywhere, and the fact that her right arm felt like it was on fire. Something was sticking to her side. She looked down. Blood soaked through the left side of the coveralls. Breathing was agony, and the ringing in her ears would not abate.
None of it mattered.
Vaughn reached Sara and gathered her close with her right arm. She doubled over as a sharp stab of pain ripped through her. She sucked in a breath and hissed it out through clenched teeth. When she finally straightened and looked down, pieces of bone and tissue were stuck to her bloody coveralls.
The flesh from Sara’s face was gone, and only tiny fragments of bone remained where her jaw had been.
With her left hand, Vaughn felt around on the ground, mindlessly gathering small bits of skin and bone, and pushing them into the wide crevices where Sara’s face had been.
Vaughn rocked Sara. “It’s okay, beautiful girl. You’re okay. I’m here. I’ll never let you go again.” Tears streamed down her face.
Vaughn lashed out viciously when hands tried to pry her fingers from Sara, and a shockwave of pain shot through her. A shadow appeared and Vaughn became aware of someone in a military uniform standing over her. His mouth was moving, but she heard no distinct sound. She felt herself being lifted. Although she tried to hold on, Sara slipped from her grasp. Vaughn cried out.
