by Lynn Ames
Vaughn spotted the glint of steel as the sun cleared a cloud. The shooter was concealed behind a large rock about fifty yards from the upstairs balcony and down a grassy incline. Through the rifle scope, she could see that he was aiming at Justine, who was circling around to flank him from the other direction.
The shot wasn’t as clean as Vaughn would’ve liked, but she couldn’t afford to wait for a better opportunity. She wiped the sweat from her eyes with her forearm and braced her elbows on the ground. The exertion of sprinting had left her wheezing and struggling for air. She ignored the searing pain that shot through her chest, sighted the target, and squeezed the trigger evenly.
The first shot hit him in the side of the neck. Through the scope Vaughn watched blood explode from his carotid artery. As he twisted, she fired a second time, hitting him directly between the eyes. His body twitched several times before becoming completely still. He was staring blindly up at the sky.
Vaughn released the rifle and collapsed, the coolness of the grass soothing her heated cheek. Her efforts to suck air into her lungs were only moderately successful.
Justine cautiously made her way from her position to where the shooter lay dead and confiscated his weapon. A quick check of the area satisfied her that the man had no backup. She looked around for Vaughn, who hadn’t showed herself yet.
“Vaughn?” When she got no answer, dread settled in the pit of her stomach. “Shit.” She hadn’t seen a flash from the shooter’s rifle. Had he fired a shot? Was Vaughn hit? “Vaughn?” she called, a sense of urgency making her voice louder. She thought she might’ve heard a weak reply, but she couldn’t be sure.
Her steps took her to a grassy knoll at the side of the house. Vaughn was lying face down, her rifle on the ground at her side. “Vaughn!”
Justine dropped the weapons and knelt next to her.
“Ppresent,” Vaughn whispered. Justine could see that she was struggling for air.
“Are you hit?”
“No. Just can’t seem to c-catch my breath.”
“It’s okay. C’mon, let’s get you sitting up.” Justine helped Vaughn roll over and sit up. She moved behind Vaughn to offer support. “Lean against me…That’s it. Relax. Easy breaths. Nothing too deep.” She felt Vaughn begin to relax and the wheezing ease.
“All clear?” Vaughn asked.
“Yep. You got him.”
“Sielig?”
“What’s left of him.”
“His plan sucked.”
“He wasn’t a field agent.”
“Now we know why.”
“Don’t you think that strengthens the case for Fairhaven being rogue? If he wasn’t, he would’ve sent a swarm of the best field agents available. Instead, he sent his deputy.”
“A guy with no field experience,” Vaughn paused for a breath, “but whom the boss could trust with the assignment.”
“Exactly.” Justine shifted so that she could see Vaughn’s face. Some of her color had returned. “Think you can stand?”
“Yeah. We can’t stay here. We need to check on Sage and Sabastien.”
“We also need to dispose of Sielig.”
“Can your friends take care of that?” Vaughn asked.
“Yes.”
“Good. It isn’t safe here. We’ve got to move.”
“Not until you rest for a while.”
“There’ll be time for that later. If Sielig made us, he probably relayed our location.”
“Maybe so, but if we’re right, Fairhaven can’t dispatch just anybody. It will take time for him to get a backup crew here,” Justine said.
“He’s lost Torgensen, now he’s lost Sielig. What if he’s getting desperate enough to designate us as rogues? Then he can make it a matter of national security to take us out.”
“We’re making a lot of assumptions here.”
“Did you pick up Sielig’s cell phone? Did he have one on him? That might prove interesting.”
“I’ll go check. Wait here.”
Justine found the phone in one of Sielig’s inside pockets. She grabbed it and returned to where Vaughn was slowly standing up. “Got it.”
“Another sign that he had no idea what he was doing. No hit man would ever carry anything that could identify him, and especially not a phone that could give us so much information.”
Justine noted that Vaughn’s chest still was heaving and she was laboring to breathe. “Nice and slow, okay? There’s no rush.”
Sabastien’s face was white as a ghost.
“Are you okay?” Sage whispered.
Sabastien blotted at the perspiration on his upper lip. “Oui. Don’t get me wrong, being locked in a bathroom with a beautiful woman is certainly on my top five list of fantasies, especially when there is a hot tub involved, but…”
“You should try being tethered to a camel while blindfolded.”
“Ah, yes. I am so sorry. I know you have been through a terrible ordeal. I should be…how do you Americans say…tougher.”
“That’s all right,” Sage said, touching him on the arm. “I’m scared out of my mind too.”
“I’m glad it is not only me.”
They both heard the shots and huddled together on the floor.
“Oh, my God,” Sage said. “Please let them be okay.”
Sabastien wrapped his arm around her. “I’m sure they’re fine. They are both trained for these types of situations, and they are very good at what they do.”
“Vaughn just saved my life—for the third time. What if I never get a chance to apologize…”
“Shh, it will be okay.” Sabastien patted her on the back. “Why would you need to apologize for her saving your life?”
“Oh. Um, I didn’t mean that I should apologize for that. It’s just…” Sage blushed. “I behaved really badly earlier today before you arrived. I’m afraid I was a complete jerk.”
“I cannot imagine that being the case, but even so, you will have plenty of time to apologize. I’m sure Elliott and Justine will be back in no time, having dispatched the bad guy with no problem.”
They both were quiet for several moments, and Sage strained to hear anything that might be going on outside. Since there were skylights but no windows in the bathroom, she couldn’t see anything, even if she had wanted to.
“What are you doing?” she asked, when she noticed Sabastien playing with his laptop.
“What? Oh.” He smiled shyly. “When I get nervous, it helps me to do something useful. I am tracking the action outside via satellite.”
“You can do that?”
“Bien sûr. I can do almost anything with a computer.”
“What do you see?” Sage moved so that she could see the screen.
“See these orange blobs?” Sabastien pointed to two areas on the screen.
“Yes.”
“Those are people. These two are together, at least I think it’s two, and the other one is a distance away.”
“Can you tell who’s who?”
“No, but…”
“What is it?”
“One of the two is moving back toward the third.”
“Why?”
“That I cannot tell. Merde!”
“What?” Sage asked, alarmed.
“I lost the feed.”
“Can you get it back?”
“I’m trying.”
“Hurry.”
“I can only go as fast as the machine will let me.”
For several minutes, the only sound was that of Sabastien wildly clicking keys on his keyboard.
A knock on the door made them both jump. “Sage, Sabastien? It’s Justine. Open the door. It’s okay.”
Sage jumped up and unlocked the door to find a somewhat disheveled Justine on the other side.
“Looks like you guys are having a party,” Justine said.
“Yes, a blast, as you would say,” Sabastien said, as he rose from the floor. “Where is Elliott?”
Sage held her breath. It was the first question
she’d wanted to ask, and yet she was too afraid of the answer.
“She’s downstairs. Come on. It’s all clear.” Justine motioned for them to follow her downstairs.
The first thing Sage noticed was Vaughn, hunched over in a chair. She looked very pale and lines of pain were evident on her face. She went directly to her.
“Are you okay?” Sage reached out her hand as if to touch Vaughn’s face, but she stopped short.
“We need to get going,” Vaughn said, without looking at Sage. “We don’t know if there are more men on the way.” She stood up and addressed the room in general. “Pack your things and be back here in ten minutes.”
“Vaughn—” Sage began.
Vaughn made a point of looking at her watch. “Nine minutes and forty-five seconds.” She walked toward the bedroom.
Sage turned on her heel and headed for the stairs. She supposed she deserved the cold shoulder Vaughn was giving her, but it stung nonetheless.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Brian Pordras fidgeted nervously with a paperclip. “I should’ve stayed in the private sector,” he muttered to himself. “None of this would’ve happened if I’d just kept my head down and stayed where I was.” The paperclip snapped in half.
“Sir? You have a call on your private line. Do you want me to pick it up?”
Pordras jumped at the sound of his executive assistant’s voice through the intercom. He’d been so preoccupied he hadn’t even heard the phone ring. He depressed the intercom button. “No, I’ve got it.” He cleared his throat and depressed the blinking button. “Pordras.”
“Picnic in the park. Half an hour.”
“Right.” Pordras swallowed hard. He hadn’t been scheduled to meet with Ed until that night. A middle-of-the-day rendezvous couldn’t mean anything good. Ed normally would never take a chance like that. Pordras grabbed his coat and headed out the door.
Rock Creek Park was quiet at this time of day. It was too early for most workers to be on lunch break and too late for early morning joggers.
When Pordras spotted him, Fairhaven was feeding the ducks in the pond.
“You’re late.”
“I had to take my own car. Somehow, I didn’t think this would be perceived as an appropriate use of my driver and official vehicle.”
“See, Bri,” Fairhaven patted him on the cheek, “you have learned something from me over the years.”
Fairhaven’s patronizing tone rankled, but Pordras knew better than to protest. The last thing he needed to hear was another lecture about how his inadequacies and recklessness had created this situation in the first place.
“What was so urgent?”
“I’ve procured the necessary personnel for the job. They’ll be in place within twenty-four hours.”
“Are they locals?”
“No, but they’ll blend in.”
“Do I want to know where you found them?”
“Probably not.” Fairhaven threw some bread crusts into the water. “Your conversation with the president went well?”
“Yes. I was present when he called the majority leader and requested her to make an additional stop.”
“I take it she accepted.”
“Of course. I was instructed to prepare a brief for her. My staff is working on it right now.”
“Good. See, Bri? Everything is going to be just fine.”
“Yeah? What about Elliott? Has your man checked in?”
“He relayed her presumed location and went hunting.”
“How long ago was that?”
“It’s not your concern.” Fairhaven thrust a plastic bag full of bread crusts into Pordras’s hand. “Try to fit in a little better, will you?”
“We’re two executives in suits standing in front of a duck pond at mid-morning. You think we don’t look odd just on the face of it?” Pordras threw some crusts. “I want to know if you’ve heard from you’re man or not. Is the job done?”
“He hasn’t checked in yet.”
“When was he supposed to do that?”
Fairhaven tossed more bread but didn’t answer.
“Ed?”
“Four hours ago,” Fairhaven mumbled.
“Fo… Did you try to call him?” Alarm pitched Pordras’s voice higher than normal.
“Of course I didn’t try to call him,” Fairhaven snapped. “If he hasn’t checked in within twelve hours of the appointed time, I have to assume he’s been compromised.”
“Great. How many men are we going to lose chasing this woman?”
“We? We?” A vein bulged in Fairhaven’s forehead. He inhaled deeply, visibly restraining his temper. “I’ve declared Elliott and Coulter to be rogue. Every agent in the Company has been instructed to shoot them dead on sight. There isn’t any place they can hide now.”
“You…” Pordras’s head was spinning. “Elliott is DS. How do you have the authority—”
“She deserted her position and, in so doing, endangered the lives of members of Congress. Coulter is AWOL and believed to be traveling with her. We believe they are a threat to the majority leader of the United States.”
Pordras took a moment to synthesize this information. “So, if either Elliott or Coulter is spotted anywhere near the majority leader, they’ll be killed by your agents.”
“Exactly.”
“Brilliant.”
“Don’t sound so surprised. I suggest that, when you go back to your office, you fire Elliott and send a bulletin to every embassy and DS declaring her to be a direct threat to the government of the United States and its elected and appointed representatives. You might mention that she’s considered to be armed and dangerous.”
“Okay. Anything else? I’d better get back.”
“No. That’s it for now.”
Pordras turned to go but looked back over his shoulder. “Do you think your man is dead?”
“I think he’s normally a very punctual kind of guy.” Fairhaven walked off in the opposite direction, but not before Pordras noted the expression of concern on his face.
Vaughn, Justine, Sage, and Sabastien sat in the converted barn of a farmhouse outside of Brussels, Belgium. The place was humming with computer equipment of all shapes and sizes. There were cords and wires everywhere.
“What do you think?” Sabastien asked.
“I think Bill Gates would be envious,” Vaughn said. “How long have you had this place?”
“A couple of years. My father left me the property via a dummy corporation, so it can’t be traced back to me.”
“Aren’t you just a chip off the old block,” Vaughn said.
“Hey, hey. There’s no call for sarcasm here. After all, I’m saving your ass at the moment.”
“So noted. This is where you went when I told you to get out?”
“Yes. I figured sooner or later I would need a backup plan. In here, I’ve replicated everything I had in Paris. Shall I show you?”
“Actually,” Justine broke in, “Vaughn needs to lie down somewhere for a while.” When Vaughn started to protest, Justine talked over her. “You promised me that once we got someplace safe you would rest. Sabastien and I will work on getting the intel we need.”
“We don’t have time—”
“What we don’t have time for is for your body to break down when we decide on our next move. It’s the middle of the night, you haven’t had any sleep, and most people with your injuries would still be in bed recuperating. Go lie down. Now!” Justine ordered.
“Use the bedroom on the first floor in the corner of the main house—it has its own bathroom and tub.” Sabastien said. “I can set the alarm from here after you’re in and I’ve got cameras set up. You’ll be perfectly safe in there. But do me a favor, keep your clothes on until you get into the bathroom, which, sadly, has no camera coverage. There are some things I shouldn’t see.”
“Turn the camera off in the bedroom, you perv,” Vaughn growled.
“Right. Off. Got it.” Sabastien nodded vigorously. “At least I
told you it was there,” he called after Vaughn as she exited the barn.
Sage started to follow her, but Justine grabbed her by the good arm. “No. Let her go.”
“But—”
“Sage, now is not the time.”
“When will be the time? Tell me that? We’re constantly in danger and on the move…” Her voice was shaking.
Despite the fact that she was still angry at her, Justine pulled Sage into a hug. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Sure it is. Strangers have tried to kill me three times, Vaughn nearly died protecting me twice, someone is trying to assassinate the senate majority leader, and we’re hiding in some high-tech barn and eating bonbons.”
“You brought chocolate?” Sabastien asked.
“Very funny.”
“Let’s get to work,” Justine said. “First, let’s find out what our status is.” She turned to Sabastien. “Can you tap into the Company’s database of bulletins released in the past forty-eight hours?”
“Can birds fly? Do pretty women turn me on? Is the sky—”
“We get the idea. Just get on with it.”
“Okay. Here we go…”
Once she’d closed the door to the bedroom, Vaughn grimaced in pain and put her hand to her chest. When she was able to catch her breath, she removed her shirt and checked the bandage, something she hadn’t allowed Justine to do in the field. The dressing was dry. Thank God for small favors.
Vaughn stripped the rest of the way and ran a bath. She hoped the steam would help her breathing, in addition to relaxing her aching muscles. She hadn’t had to run far, but Justine had been right—stretching and diving had done nothing for her recuperation. It frightened her that she might not be able to do her job effectively, and someone else could die as a result.
The water was soothingly hot, and she gratefully lowered herself into it. Since the bandage was waterproof, she didn’t have to worry about getting it wet. When she was settled, she closed her eyes. Images flitted behind her lids—Torgensen twisting in mid-air, Sielig hemorrhaging blood from the wound in his neck, his gun still trained on Justine and, as always, Sara, her face shredded, her lifeless body spasming before going slack in Vaughn’s arms.
