Lynn Ames - Beyond Instinct

by Lynn Ames

  “She’s a strong female in a male-dominated field. What enemies hasn’t she made?” Sage asked.

  “She’s got a point,” Justine said, as she booted up the laptop.

  “True, but we’re looking for someone who thinks her sins are egregious enough to warrant death. That ought to narrow the field significantly.”

  “One can hope,” Justine said. “How about if we search the New York Times database, for starters? We can see what positions she might’ve taken that would be especially controversial.”

  “You should check the Washington Post too,” Sage offered. “It’s the second paper we review here after the Times.”

  “Anything you can think of off the top of your head?” Vaughn asked Sage.

  “No. I’ve been following her since she got elected, because I just think she’s a smart politician and such a good leader. She’s taken some strong positions, and they’ve earned her plenty of heat from special interest groups and the Republicans but nothing that’s worth killing over.”

  “What about members of her own party?”

  “Someone who got passed over when she was named majority leader?” Justine asked.

  “If that’s true, I don’t know about it,” Sage answered.

  “Disagreements with the president?”

  “She’s certainly no rubber-stamp for his policies, but if they have major differences, they’re not public. Heck, rumor had it that she was his choice, and that he was twisting arms behind the scenes to get her the post. I can’t imagine that he’d want to do her harm.” Sage’s hand was trembling.

  “What is it?” Vaughn asked.

  “I can’t believe this is happening—that someone wants to kill her for being a great politician.”

  “We don’t know that that’s the reason,” Justine said. “I’m scrolling through all these articles, and I don’t see any major red flags. Just the usual posturing and public policy arguments.”

  “Why else would the administration want her dead?” Sage asked.

  “Maybe it isn’t the administration at all,” Vaughn answered. “So far, all we know for sure is that Fairhaven has issued the orders. Pordras is at least complicit, and so is the ambassador. Hence the reason they were able to put Torgensen in play. We don’t have anything solid to assume it goes higher than that.”

  “Rogues?” Justine asked. “I have a hard time believing that even a blowhard like Fairhaven could be so bold.”

  Vaughn raised her eyebrows. “It goes down in a remote area of a third-world country, at the hands of a tribe of nomads known to have warrior-like roots and a history of unrest in the not-too-distant past. It’s the perfect setup. Nobody need ever know.”

  “Except that Sage knew, or at least they thought she did,” Justine added.

  “Which upset the applecart, big time.”

  “Because if nobody knew, nobody could point a finger, and they could be as bold as they wanted.”

  “Exactly. You know they would’ve sent a cleanup crew,” Vaughn said.

  “Of course. You can’t leave any loose ends.”

  Sage held up a hand. “First, what is a rogue?”

  “Someone acting without higher authority,” Vaughn answered.

  “Okay. So you’re saying this Fairhaven might be acting on his own and taking the secretary of state and the ambassador along for the ride? That’s pretty far-fetched, isn’t it?”

  “That depends on what he has on either or both of them. We already know that Fairhaven and Pordras were boyhood friends, and that Fairhaven managed to bury Pordras’s drug issues so deeply that there’s virtually no remaining record of it.”

  “What drug issues and, if they were buried, how do you know about them?” Sage asked.

  “Pordras got arrested for drugs when he was in his twenties and Fairhaven made the whole thing disappear,” Justine said. “If you dig deeply enough, you can find almost anything that ever existed.”

  “That’s comforting—not. By cleanup crew, I assume you don’t mean housekeepers.”

  Vaughn laughed. “I guess in a sense you could call them that. A cleanup crew is a hit team that takes care of any potential problems. In other words, they would come and kill the Tuareg who carried out the plan so that they could never be tortured into telling.”

  Sage’s jaw hung open. “This stuff happens in real life?” She shook her head in disbelief.

  “Unfortunately, it does,” Justine said quietly.

  Sage jumped up from the sofa, outrage and disgust plainly evident in her expression. “And this is part of what you do? This is the kind of thing our government sanctions?” She was staring directly at Vaughn, disillusionment darkening her pupils.

  “Sage—” Justine started.

  “It’s all right,” Vaughn interrupted. “I tried to tell you several times that I was not someone worthy of a woman like you, Sage. You wouldn’t listen. Now you know the truth.”

  Without a word, Sage pivoted and ran from the room. Vaughn closed her eyes to shield her pain from Justine’s penetrating gaze.

  “Why did you let her think that?”

  “Is she so wrong?”

  “She is, and you know it. You’ve never killed anyone who wasn’t a direct threat. You’ve never been part of any cleanup crew that I’m aware of.”

  Vaughn shook her head. “But I could’ve been.”

  “You could, but you wouldn’t do that, and we both know it. Why let her believe an untruth?”

  “Heaven knows I’ve killed when it was required. Besides, you saw for yourself—she assumed the worst. I don’t want to live with someone constantly wondering whether I’m a good guy or a bad guy. Better to disabuse her of any illusions now.”

  “Those aren’t illusions, Vaughn. Those are outright falsehoods. Maybe you’re so afraid to let that woman in your life that it’s easier for you to let her think outrageous things about you.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “It’s cowardly, and you’re no coward.”

  Vaughn simply shrugged. “Sabastien will be here soon. I’m going to lie down.”

  Justine found Sage standing rigidly on the upstairs balcony. She had her good arm folded across her midsection, and her jaw muscles stood out in sharp relief.

  “Sage—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Maybe not,” Justine said. Her temper made her enunciate the t.

  “But you’re going to make me, right?” Sage turned to face her.

  “Yep, that’s right, and do you know why?”

  “No, why?”

  They were standing toe-to-toe.

  “Because you were way out of line, and Vaughn doesn’t deserve your haughty assumptions and sanctimonious judgments. Because Vaughn Elliott is a hero with more commendations for valor and bravery than could fit on her chest.”

  “But—”

  Justine held her hand up when Sage tried to interrupt her. “What did I just say? You listen to me, Sage McNally. That woman has saved more lives than any other agent I know. When she’s taken a life, it has always been with cause, and always with remorse. She is a fine, upstanding human being, and I am proud to serve our country alongside her. Save your recriminations for someone who deserves them. Vaughn Elliott isn’t that person.”

  The doorbell rang and Justine retreated inside. “I have to go. That should be Sabastien. We have to focus on the real bad guys.” She didn’t bother to look over her shoulder to see if Sage was following her. She was too angry to care.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Fairhaven and Pordras sipped their drinks in Fairhaven’s townhouse overlooking the Potomac. Pordras was poring over a map of West Africa.

  “The congressional delegation is traveling to Ghana, Cameroon, and Senegal before they get to Mali. None of those is as ideal as Mali for our plan, but we can figure something out.”

  “No,” Fairhaven said, his voice a steely calm.

  “ No, what?”

  “No, we’re not going to do i
t in any of those places.”

  “Well, we sure as hell aren’t going to do it in downtown Paris.”

  “Of course not.”

  “And we agree that the Mali plan is too risky now.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Pordras took Fairhaven by the shoulders. “Ed, you’re the one who said we have to do this. You convinced me—”

  “Get hold of yourself, Bri. You’re turning into a simpering fool.”

  Pordras lit a cigarette with shaky fingers. “Everything rides on this. Everything. You said so yourself.”

  “No kidding. Which is why we can no longer consider any of the scheduled stops.”

  “Why?”

  “Elliott knows everything about the existing route—it was part of her DS assignment. Assuming she’s debriefed McNally by now, she’s figured out what the end game is. She’s also smart enough to realize that we would alter the plan. That means she would take steps to secure all the other stops. We need to add a stop to the itinerary.”

  “How do you propose to do that?” Pordras asked, his voice teetering on hysteria.

  “You’re the secretary of state, Bri. Surely you can think of a reason why an important representative of the United States government would need to add an additional stop to her trip.”

  “You’re insane. Why would Stowe agree to it?”

  “Because the suggestion is going to come from the president, and because it will be a good opportunity for her to beef up her international credentials.”

  “You want me to go to the president and recommend that Senate Majority Leader Stowe be sent as his emissary to…where?”

  Fairhaven picked up a red Sharpie off the table. He used it to make a big “X” through the capital of Mauritania. “There.”

  “Have you lost your mind? I thought you said Elliott was just there.”

  “She was. Which is exactly why that’s the perfect spot. She’d never expect it. Besides, I’ve got a score to settle with Mauritania’s chief of police. I couldn’t do it before because it would’ve raised too many questions, but if he just happened to be caught in the crossfire…”

  “Why do we care about him?” Pordras asked.

  “Either he was a complete incompetent, or he intentionally obstructed our search for Elliott and her friends. He needs to pay. That’s why.”

  “Ed, I’m not sure you’re thinking all that clearly. We don’t care about some peon in a third-world pit. That’s just your ego—”

  Fairhaven’s face turned beet red. He got to within inches of Pordras and poked him in the chest. “If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have to be doing this at all. Now you have the nerve to stand here and question my professional judgment and years of experience in wet ops?”

  “I-It’s not that. It’s just… I’m not comfortable—”

  “You’re not comfortable? You’re not comfortable? I don’t give a rat’s ass about your comfort.” Fairhaven’s voice was loud enough to echo off the walls. “It’s going down in Mauritania. You figure out what story to sell to the president. I would suggest you start with the fact that Mauritania recently held its first free and fair parliamentary and presidential elections. We should celebrate the country’s return to democracy.”

  Pordras opened and closed his mouth several times, emitting no sound.

  “Spit it out, Bri, or is this another ridiculous fear of yours?” Fairhaven stepped back and took another sip of his drink.

  “What’s to stop Elliott from going directly to Stowe?”

  Fairhaven barked out a laugh. “Me.”

  “You?”

  “Yes, me. For one thing, I’ve got Stowe’s phones bugged. For another, Elliott can’t get within two miles of Stowe without me knowing it.”

  “You’re running surveillance on the majority leader?”

  “Naturally. Do you really think I’d leave anything to chance? She’s been under twenty-four hour watch since Elliott left Mauritania. Madeline Stowe is on a plane between stops even as we speak, with the press corps in tow.”

  “One of those reporters is a plant?”

  “Convenient that the L.A. Times was in search of someone new to cover the congressional beat.” Fairhaven smiled smugly.

  “He’s not going to actually do it, is he? I mean, that’s too close. The Tuareg were good because no one could link them to us.”

  “You’d be surprised how easy it is to get caught up in the unrest between the White and Black Moor and the Afro-Mauritanians. If Ms. Stowe’s visit were to stir up protests, you never know what might happen in a crowd.”

  “Yeah, you never know,” Pordras parroted. “You are still hunting Elliott, though, right?”

  “Yes, Bri. My man is tracking her even as we speak.”

  “Anything?” Vaughn asked Sabastien.

  “I’m working on it. It won’t happen any faster for you standing over my shoulder, you know.”

  “Hi,” Sage said, coming down the stairs.

  “O, la, la, Elliott. Who do we have here?”

  Vaughn punched Sabastien in the shoulder. “Sabastien, Sage. Sage, Sabastien.” Vaughn made a point of avoiding eye contact with Sage.

  “Nice to meet you,” Sage said.

  “The pleasure is mine, I assure you,” Sabastien responded.

  “Down, boy,” Vaughn said. “Eyes on the screen.”

  “Vaughn, can I see you outside for a minute?” Sage asked sheepishly.

  “We’re in the middle of something right now.”

  “I can spare you,” Sabastien said. “In fact, you’d be doing me a favor,” he said to Sage. “She’s hovering.”

  Vaughn gestured to Sage to precede her onto the deck. “What?” she asked, after shutting the door behind them.

  “I…” Sage bit her lower lip. “I owe you an apology.” She stood stiffly, her hair blowing in the breeze. “I—”

  Vaughn dove at her and pulled her to the ground as a bullet whizzed in the air overhead. “Inside. Now. Stay on the ground and crawl on your belly. Let’s go.”

  When Sage hesitated, Vaughn whispered harshly in her ear and pulled her by the shirt. “Now, Sage! Keep your head down. Move!”

  Vaughn pried the sliding glass doors open with her fingers and shoved Sage through. She followed as another bullet embedded itself in the wood decking near her hand.

  “Time’s up,” Vaughn said to Justine, who was just coming into the room from the mini-kitchen. “Let’s go.”

  “Go where?” Sage asked, scrabbling to her feet.

  “Get away from the windows. I want you and Sabastien in an interior upstairs bathroom, right now.”

  Justine already was in motion, grabbing several weapons and two Kevlar vests from the closet where she’d stored them. She shoved one pistol into Sabastien’s hand. “Do you know how to use this?”

  “I’ll figure it out,” he said. His voice was shaking.

  “Take your laptop with you,” Justine said. “Stay away from any windows or exits. Don’t get curious, either one of you. Give us three hours. If neither one of us comes to get you by then, stay down and get to the car. There’s a farm down the road. The owner is a friend of mine named George. Tell him you’re with me. He’ll take it from there.”

  “Vaughn—”

  “Sage, this is no time to talk. Just get up those stairs. Now.” Vaughn kept Sage in her peripheral vision long enough to be sure that she did, indeed, go upstairs with Sabastien.

  Vaughn and Justine finished affixing the long-range sights.

  “How did you know?”

  “Laser sight. Her forehead was painted.”

  “Jesus,” Justine said.

  “Good thing he was going for her first, although I can’t for the life of me figure out why he would’ve. That stupidity is going to cost him his life.”

  “Single shooter?”

  “Yes. Otherwise I’d be dead by now.”

  “How far?”

  “At least two hundred yards. Although now that we know he’s out there, there�
�s no telling where he is.”

  “Unlikely that he would run.”

  “That’s for sure,” Vaughn agreed. “And I seriously doubt he’d try a direct assault on the house. He knows there are at least two trained agents in here. I don’t see him risking a shootout at close range.”

  “True.”

  “Okay,” Vaughn said. By silent agreement they’d made their way to the garage. “You want clockwise and I’ll take counterclockwise?”

  Justine nodded. “You sure you’re up to this?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “You could protect them while I hunt.”

  “In a pig’s eye.”

  “I figured you’d say that. Okay, on three.” Justine opened the door and they both crouched behind the car. “Nothing,” she whispered, moving around the car to the left.

  “Nothing,” Vaughn agreed, finishing a circle to the right. “Okay. What do you say we get him to give away his position?”

  “I was thinking the same thing.”

  They looked around the garage until Vaughn spotted an old tractor tire. “How’s your aim?”

  “Pretty good,” Justine said.

  “Excellent. I don’t think I can put enough on it.” She rolled the tire toward Justine. “Last known position was thirty degrees to your left.”

  “In that case, I think I should assume that he’s moved and roll it in the direction of his last position. Ready?” She opened the side door to the garage a crack.

  Vaughn checked the magazine of the Sig, which she stuck in her waistband. Then she made sure that there was a round in the chamber of her rifle. “High-low?”

  “You take low. I get high so I can roll the tire clear.”

  “On three.”

  At the count of three, Justine shoved the door wide and rolled the tire to her left. The rubber blew into pieces. Vaughn fired five shots in rapid succession from a position below and just to the side of Justine. Based on the trajectory and speed of the bullet that had shredded the tire, she aimed at a spot fifty yards away to the right. “Go, go, go!”

  Justine sprinted to the left. Vaughn covered her with a series of shots. Then she ran back through the house and out the kitchen door at the other side of the house. They would converge on the shooter from both sides.