Point of No Return

by Rita Henuber

“Language something you liked?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. I was sure the interpreters were giving their own spin on translations, so I wanted to catch them in the act. Only way was to learn the language.”

  “You’re right. I don’t want her to be that crazy.”

  Honey couldn’t suppress a smile. “Told ya.”

  “Where’s your mom?”

  “Dead. Skiing accident.”

  His shoulders slumped. “Sorry.”

  “I was ten months old when it happened. Didn’t suffer the pain of loss like you have.” That wasn’t exactly true. “I’ve lost chosen family, team members, so I have an idea what it’s like.” The experience had ripped her apart. Being next to a living, breathing person, talking to them one second and the next they’re gone. Killed in the most gruesome way. It was hard to comprehend.

  “I’ve never had a close call. Have you?”

  She nodded and ran her hand over her stomach, remembering what the team called her grand opening.

  “That scar isn’t from surgery?”

  She shook her head.

  “What happened?”

  “My team was with a mixed Special Operations group interviewing Afghans known to support the Taliban. We entered a courtyard and a man with two women trailing him headed to the Army captain in charge. The man reached inside the folds of his clothing and came out with a Luger. I saw his eyes and knew he wasn’t offering the captain a gift. I shot him. One of the women brought out an AK and was immediately taken down. The other woman lunged at me, swinging one of those huge ceremonial blades. Caught me under my vest. My guts were bubbling out before I knew I was sliced.”

  “Jeesus,” Jack whispered.

  “I was lucky. There were med techs in the group and a Pararescue helo was twelve minutes away. A SEAL, Hunter, a moose of a man, took me in his arms and ran, literally ran, with me to where the helo could land safely. All the time telling me I’d be okay. He demanded to go with me and no one was fighting him. He stayed by my side until I was put on the plane to Germany.”

  They were silent for a long time.

  “I used to think I was strong.” Jack said it so softy she wasn’t sure he’d meant to say it out loud.

  She reached out and took his hand, lacing her fingers between his. All her adult life she’d worked with men and knew when to keep her mouth shut.

  Jack squeezed her hand and bumped her shoulder with his. “First class, huh?” He stood, drawing her up with him.

  “Said I was a rich kid.”

  He gave her a quick head bob, a gesture she took as thanks for silently letting him work through his uneasiness. She returned the nod. Jack drew her against him. His scent filled her nostrils, his heat and the feel of her breasts against his hard body shot a spark of desire through her. She broke the contact. “Not much fun, am I?” he said, rubbing the small of her back.

  She reached an arm around his waist and kissed his jaw. “You’re plenty of fun when it’s time to play.”

  “Yeah?” He hugged her tightly then kissed the tip of her nose. “Good to know.”

  “I’ll be glad to critique a performance tonight if you like.”

  “You’re on.” He laughed as they went inside. “As long as it doesn’t show in the Post’s Sunday entertainment section.”

  “They have a porn section?”

  They switched stacks of notebooks, and after hours more of eyestrain she wanted to scream. Going from days testing the limits of her physical endurance to sitting in one spot staring at paper was beyond aggravating. She needed a run or . . . an hour in bed with Jack.

  “What?” He caught her staring at him.

  “I want to make another call. If you’re not ready to stop, tell me how and I’ll turn off the jammer.”

  “Nah. I’m ready. Gotta take a leak anyway.” He flipped the necessary switches and left her alone.

  She called the secured cell at her house. Buck answered and gave the phone over to Coop.

  “Are you in front of a secure laptop?”

  “Am now,” he said after a moment.

  “Key in this url.” She rattled it off. “It’ll load fairly fast.”

  “Whoooa.”

  “Did you get a security warning?”

  “Big-time. What are we into here?”

  “Lower left of the screen is a tiny icon. Looks like a branch. Triple click on it. What comes up?”

  “Death threats, warnings of dismemberment and . . . a password request.”

  Honey gave him the assigned password and waited. There was a long silence. So long, she checked the display to make sure she hadn’t cut the connection. “Coop?” More silence. “Coop.”

  “Here.”

  “Are you in?”

  “This is some heavy-duty crap we’ve hacked into. I’m not against hacking, but this . . . this is pretty far into the . . . we’re in deep shit if we’re caught here.”

  Honey smiled. “Not hacking, Coop. You’re in through a valid access. Hope that doesn’t take the fun out of it for you.”

  “Geeze. You coulda told me that to begin with. Would have saved me from having to change my shorts.”

  Honey was please to know something could scare him.

  “Dude. That says Interpol,” Buck’s voice said in the background. “Mossad and GIGN, the Frogs’ counterterrorism group.”

  “Fill me in on what I’m doing here.” Coop’s voice was serious.

  “Use the facial recognition program on Bristol, McKenzie, and the two women. Get into Global’s financials. Research hot spots for black-market weapons sales worldwide. Look for reports of cyber technology thefts in the U.S. The access you have has a low priority and your searches will be slow.” Again silence on the other end. “Coop. You have all that?”

  “Yeah. Sorry I never . . . This is. Freaking. Cyber world fantastic.”

  “Before you start clicking all over the place, listen. If you venture into an area you are not cleared for, you will get a warning. Go back again and your access will terminate. Understood?”

  “Yeah, and our balls will be in a wood chipper,” Buck chimed in.

  “Eggzackerly.”

  “Understood. Do I call you when I find something?” Not if but when. Honey liked his confidence.

  “I’ll check in every few hours. There’s a jammer in action here. Anything on what they’re doing in Porter’s place? As in the computer files,” she added hastily.

  “Nah. It’s all personnel files. Kara’s great by the way.”

  “Where is she?” Honey was fearful they’d allowed her to leave the building.

  “Treadmill. Gal has energy like you,” he said distractedly.

  Honey looked at Jack, patiently waiting outside for her to end the call. “One more thing. Research which three-letter agencies are snooping on Jack O’Brien.” She ended the call, indicating to Jack he could reset the jammer. He came back to the table ready to work.

  She took a couple of deep breaths and a leap of faith as vast as the Grand Canyon. “There are some things I need to tell you.”

  Jack was emotionless while she told him about Moore, the affair, how he’s used her. The probability her orders weren’t real, making what she was doing unsanctioned, the fact others were helping. Explained they were inside Global’s computers and about the video Santiago and Andrews had taken. She shared every detail she could recall on Global and that she’d asked Coop to check on who was watching him.

  He massaged his chin for a minute then rose and went into the kitchen area, withdrawing a bottle of Jameson whiskey from a cabinet. He snagged glasses and came back to the table, tipping the dark green bottle in her direction. She nodded and he poured healthy amounts, pushing one glass to her. Jack sat and propped his feet on the table, legs crossed at the ankles.

  “Why’d you tell me?” He swirled the smoky liquid in his glass.

  “I trust you.” Powerful words. In their business, trust was a scarce commodity, a gold standard.

  He kno
cked back the whiskey, placing the empty glass carefully on the table, not looking at her.

  She took a healthy swig of the Jameson and waited.

  Jack swung his legs to the floor and turned in his chair to face her. “When do you check in again?”

  A detached part of her was disappointed. She’d expected him to be grateful and share what he’d been holding back. She hid the letdown by taking another drink. “Pretty much anytime. No sense until tomorrow. Give them a chance to find something. If there is anything. Until then—” She sighed and surveyed the books and notes littering the table. “This is where it’s at.”

  Jack picked up the bottle and topped off the glasses, returning the bottle to the scarred tabletop carefully, like it was a valuable antique. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together. “Since you’re being so honest, why did you ask to get in on this clusterfuck? Promotion? Some misplaced patriotism? You just wrap yourself in the flag and everything is okay?”

  Honey tipped her glass, considering the amount of liquid it held. “Promotion? Yes. My goal has been to get a star on my collar. Meeting those girls’ families and knowing your family is involved made it personal. Global came after me and made it real”—she drew out the word—“personal. Patriotism?” She nailed him with a hard look. “You fucking. Better. Believe it.”

  Jack eased back in his chair. “Do you ever feel what you do isn’t for country, but only for the greed and power of those in charge?”

  He watched her carefully. The answer was yes, every day. Unsure of where he was going, she said nothing.

  “Over there, rules of engagement make it impossible for troops. Here, any time something happens the powers that be wrap up in the flag and tell us we have to lose more freedom so they can protect us.” Bitterness crept into his voice. “Our own government spies on us every day and no one gives a fuck. If citizens thought another country was doing those things to them, they’d go bat-shit crazy. Yet they sit back and say nothing when it’s their own government.”

  “Is that why you left the agency?”

  “Yes.”

  “How can you change things from outside?”

  “Who said I wanted to change anything? Is that why you’re in the Corps, to change things from inside?”

  “Yes.” Her father taught her one way to effect change was from inside. Learn the dynamic of the problem. Speak out. She’d learned, and even though she was on the promotion fast track, she was convinced by the time she had a voice in matters she’d be on a cane and sucking down Ensure.

  “It’s that simple for you?”

  “Nothing is simple.” The military was being emasculated by political intervention. Not from oversight but actual intervention. In her opinion, it was costing lives. Power games were played at the highest levels. Her father also taught her to be prepared to put her money in play. She had plenty and was doing just that.

  Jack picked up a stack of loose papers, hitting them on the table until they were straightened to his liking, then carefully put them down.

  She reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. “Time to open up, tell me what you’re holding back.”

  He gave her a hard look.

  “You can’t do this by yourself.”

  “Don’t let emotions cloud your judgment.”

  She withdrew her hand and straightened. “Oh, for crap’s sake.” She flopped back in the chair. “If I screw you over, you can kill me, wrap me in a flag and hide my body out there.” She gestured to the great outdoors surrounding them. “I’d never be found.”

  His expression softened and the corner of his mouth twitched. He dipped his head and a long silence ensued. He raised his head, lifted his chin and began to talk.

  “Lee and I . . . shared . . . information.” He paused and it was all she could do to keep from yelling just say it. “Becca was scheduled for a four-month deployment. My brother had a habit of checking out units she was going to. Some a-hole tried to mess her over one place and she filed a sexual harassment complaint another time. He researched the place looking for personnel problems before she got there. He sent an email saying he wanted to talk about Becca’s next assignment. Saying he wanted to talk was his way of telling me he’d found something I’d be interested in. I thought he’d found something and his intrusion was discovered. Or I was the target.” He shook his head ruefully. “I didn’t know she was going to Global until after. I learned she requested the temp detail so she could stay in DC for Ali’s birthday. Like I said, I haven’t found a fucking thing. Nothing. I’m still looking because of Lee.”

  “Thank you. How hard was that?”

  “Hard enough,” he said, shoving to his feet.

  She immediately regretted her flippant tone. “Jack, I . . .”

  “I’m good.” He cleared his throat. “Thanks for getting your people in on this. For the first time since this began I have real hope.”

  Jack O’Brien stood before her, no façade, no barriers, stripped down to his soul. Allowing her to see his pain. Trusting her. Her failure to realize how deep his emotions ran sent a blush of shame up her neck. She prided herself on her ability to read people as easily as most read a book. Body language, facial gestures, tone of voice. Using it all to gain an advantage. Not Jack. Hadn’t even tried. She’d stayed true to their agreement. No info mining except for what gave them pleasure in bed. Curiosity sickness hit hard. She wanted to know everything. How he felt. Not how he felt, men hated that question. What he thought. All about his family. Knowing more meant she’d have to share plenty about her messed-up family life. She clicked the top of her pen like the noise would somehow coalesce her thoughts.

  “I’m going to make coffee and fix your favorite thing to eat.”

  “What?” She quit clicking the pen top.

  “Food.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Fried egg sandwiches. You want a couple?”

  “Sure. Will you fry a piece of bologna for mine?”

  “Damn, woman. You eat some strange crap.”

  “Don’t knock it ’til you try it.” She quit inflicting torture on her eyes and brain and began clearing an area on the table. “How long has your family had this cabin?”

  “The thirties. A great uncle built it and left it to my dad. He left it to Lee. Not much has changed.”

  “Yeah,” Honey said, glancing around. “Tell me about your family.”

  Jack turned and gave her a narrow-eyed stare. “Why?”

  “Curiosity sickness.” She gestured to the table. “The . . . job, us. It’s blending. It’ll be easier if we know more about each other.”

  He scanned the cabin then nodded. “Okay. What do you want to hear?”

  “Not a party line. Tell me about your family. Start with why your dad left this place to Lee and not the both of you.” Hurt flashed then vanished as quickly as a flickering neon sign. “Sorry. Too personal.”

  “Nah. Dealt with it all my life. Lee was Dad’s favorite. Nothing Mom or Lee said, nothing I did, changed it. I had better grades. If I came home with anything less than an A-plus, I got the you-disappoint-me lecture. Lee could have failed and it wouldn’t have mattered to Dad. I excelled in sports. Lee didn’t even play.”

  “That had to have messed with you.”

  He shrugged. “I let it get to me a few times, until he died”—he went to the fridge—“and I read the open-after-my-death letter he left for me.”

  “Interesting.” She went to help. He handed her butter and eggs and he brought out cheese, mayo and her bologna, kicking the fridge door shut.

  “When did he die?”

  “Five years ago.”

  “My dad too. Was the letter an apology?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then what?”

  He shot her a sideways look. “Never seen you all curious.”

  “Come on, tell.”

  He ignored her and dropped a chunk of butter into a hot skillet.

  She sighe
d. “Okay. Please tell me why he did it.”

  “Since you asked so nicely.” He gave her a smile over his shoulder. “It was an explanation why he did it. He said, and I quote, from the day I was born he knew I was a triple-X alpha type. Like him. A self-starter who needed no one and would resent help. No one could stop me from doing what I wanted. Lee on the other hand needed constant support and encouragement to reach his goals.”

  “That’s bullshit,” she blurted and immediately issued an apology.

  “I agree. Question is, was it a bullshit parent excuse or a bullshit mind and behavior study on his own kids excuse.”

  “I . . . I . . .” It took a moment to process what he was suggesting. “Are you serious? Your father was capable of that?”

  Jack cracked two eggs into the sizzling butter and gave them a liberal sprinkling of salt and pepper. “My father was a master agent. He had a talent for reading people, knowing what they would do before they knew. Getting them to do what he wanted without them knowing. Involved in big shit. Chemical mind altering, cognition. Propaganda, dissidence. Unethical shit. The more I find out about him the more I wonder if I ever knew him.” He put a slice of the bologna in a smaller pan he’d been heating and it sizzled. She cut nicks in the edges to keep it from curling.

  “I’d been at the agency for a while and a senior agent who knew and worked with Dad went whistle-blower. After ingesting one hell of a lot of scotch, he told some wicked stories about Dad and said he was afraid of him. Most people were afraid of him. He was a stone-cold killer.” He turned the eggs and put cheese on top while she slathered bread with the mayo.

  “Did you believe him?”

  “Yes, but I never saw that. He never raised a hand or his voice to us. I was never afraid of him. Only of not doing well for him. He kept that part of his life completely separate from his family.”

  Her stomach fluttered like a cave full of bats. Jack could be describing her living in two worlds. Keeping each world separate from the other.

  “Was he capable? I don’t doubt it. Did he do it? Dunno, and it doesn’t make a difference. I don’t play what-if. I am who I am. I was raised to be polite, respect my elders and help others. I’m smart, funny, good lookin’, I’m good at what I do.” He went back to preparing the food.