Spy Games (Tarnished Heroes)

by Bristol, Sidney

  Her clothes were in the corner. His things were disturbed. And he couldn’t find it in him to care.

  Sarah was here. She might not be tomorrow, but for now, in this moment.

  The microwave dinged, calling him to dinner.

  He scooped up both meals and returned to bed. Sarah had yet to move from where he’d left her. He’d laugh if he wasn’t so pleased with himself. He nudged her with his knee, making room for the food. She groaned and glared at him with one eye.

  “I thought you were starving.” He held out one of the boxes to her.

  “I am.” She levered up. “Bathroom first. Then food.”

  He watched her, greedy for every minute of this exchange, as she shambled into the bathroom like a woman just fucked right.

  It wasn’t going to last. They worked in a clandestine, off-the-books operation. Their paths couldn’t cross again. But for right now, he’d live the lie and damn his conscience.

  …

  Rand stared at the ceiling. Or at least, the ceiling he knew was there. In the darkness, it was hard to tell.

  Sarah’s body was a warm weight against his side. His T-shirt was a thin barrier between them, as was proven by the hard nub of her nipple prodding him.

  She needed sleep.

  And he couldn’t begin to doze. Holy hell. What had happened? In twenty-four hours, his world had turned upside down.

  He’d been sixteen when he realized what his feelings for Sarah were becoming. At the time, he’d freaked out. The age difference alone was enough to make him question how he was wired, but as he grew up those yearnings for her matured. He wasn’t a creeper—he’d just fallen early for the best woman on earth. And now, he’d found her again.

  Matt would never approve, not that he was aware of where Rand’s emotions lay. Rand had always been careful to keep that from his friend. But he knew Matt, and Matt would never allow that to happen. Then again, a front row seat to anyone telling Sarah what she could and couldn’t do would be an amusing experience.

  Rand loved her. That hadn’t changed. But their lives…he couldn’t snap his fingers and alter the past.

  A red flash of light, tiny and miniscule, froze him between the sheets.

  Again. Another flash.

  The security system.

  He’d never stayed overnight in this apartment or seen it tripped, so it’d taken a moment to register.

  “Sarah? Sarah, wake up.” He shook her shoulder. “We’ve got company.”

  She sucked in a breath, and her eyes popped open. To her credit, she didn’t speak, just pushed her hair out of her face and stared at him. Waiting for his lead.

  “Stay here,” he whispered.

  Rand rolled out of bed, keeping low, and approached the front door, snagging the gun off the fridge as he went.

  The panel near the door had a video screen. Typically, it allowed a person to see the front door and who wanted to be buzzed in. Rand had wired the system into the security cameras and tweaked the alarm to trigger anytime someone rang the apartment. He flipped through the feeds, looking for movement, someone out of place.

  There, on the elevator.

  It was a kid.

  What the hell?

  Rand quickly arrowed through the other feeds, but besides a couple getting it on in a stairwell and a teenager talking on the phone, the only person moving with intent was the child in the elevator.

  The kid was maybe ten, twelve years old. How’d he even get into the building if Rand hadn’t buzzed him in?

  The package.

  He’d turned the tracking device off and disabled it. Could he have missed something? Had the same person who sold Sarah out given him up as well?

  Rand cocked the Glock and waited.

  The elevator kid reached their floor and wandered out. Or at least appeared as if he were wandering. There was purpose to his stride, the set of his shoulders. The kid was good—for a child.

  He switched the feed to the camera in the door and waited.

  The kid paused right in front of Rand’s apartment and glanced in either direction. He removed a clear plastic bag with a cell phone and loose battery from his pocket, held it for a moment in direct line of sight to the camera, then set it down on the ground. He didn’t knock or try the door. He turned and headed for the stairs.

  What the hell?

  “Rand?” Sarah whispered.

  “Stay there.”

  He watched the kid descend two flights. Huh. He was really leaving.

  Rand slid open the locks and waited. Listening. Watching. But nothing happened. He opened the door, gun at the ready, and swept the hall, right and left.

  Empty.

  Someone wanted to communicate with them. Why? Who?

  He grabbed the bag and shoved the door shut, locking it fast.

  “What’s going on? Who was that?” Sarah stood at the foot of the bed, arms wrapped around herself.

  “I don’t know.” He armed the security system. As soon as they could get their stuff together, they were leaving.

  No one was supposed to know about this place.

  “What’s that?” Sarah met him halfway. “A phone?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Who gave it to you?”

  “A kid.”

  “No, I mean—Americans? MSS?”

  “No clue. Get dressed. I want to be ready to move before I turn this on. Clothes are in that bag. I guessed.”

  They moved in the darkness, dressing, getting his gear together. In less than five minutes they were ready to bolt, if it came to that. He was pretty damn proud of Sarah. She didn’t question him, she wasn’t afraid. He hated to admit it, but she was a damn good operative so far.

  “Ready?” He held the battery in one hand and the phone in the other.

  “Yup.”

  He slid the battery into place and the screen lit up. Without hitting the power button. What other modifications were there on this thing?

  They watched the device boot up. He held his breath. Nothing about this was normal.

  The phone rang the moment the screen loaded.

  He flicked the Answer button and put it on speaker.

  “Rand?” a familiar voice said.

  “Hector?” His handler.

  “Rand, tell me she has the briefcase.” There were notes of alarm and stress in Hector’s voice Rand had never heard from his handler.

  “Briefcase?” Rand glanced at Sarah. Her hand was over her mouth and her eyes were wide. “No.”

  “Fuck.”

  “What’s so important about the briefcase?” he asked.

  “Did Irene pick it up? Could someone have got it?” Sarah asked. Her voice trembled.

  “Sarah?” Hector’s swallow was audible. “We’re getting video from the airport, but they’re not cooperating. I think…it’s gone.”

  Rand couldn’t be bothered about a briefcase. Nothing was more important than ensuring his assets’ lives were not at risk. “Hector, we’ve got to move. I’ve got to—”

  “You have to get on a plane home. Now. I’m not losing the two of you, too,” Hector said.

  “But my assets—”

  “Are probably dead, and you’ll be next if they have that briefcase. Shit. I had no idea she was—” Hector’s voice dropped, his words unintelligible.

  Goddamn it.

  The children.

  Grief stabbed him, but he didn’t have the luxury of regret or sorrow. If he mourned them—Sarah died. He died. Others would die, too.

  “We’ll be at the extraction point in fifteen,” Rand said.

  “Make it ten.” Hector hung up.

  “What’s in that briefcase?” Rand turned to face Sarah.

  “The—the access codes, names, addresses—all of it.”

  “What? What are you saying?” He took a step toward her, forcing her against the wall. He’d spent over a year of his life working with his asset. The man had a family. Children. Rand knew their names. They’d put themselves in danger to protect him. We
re they dead?

  “I don’t just deliver all the contact protocols for our agents, I deliver the ones for our assets, too. Without those contact protocols, if we don’t reach out in the right way, we’ll lose all of our informants across Asia. Decades of covert contacts lost.”

  “How long do we have?”

  “Maybe two weeks. Some of them, days.” Her voice broke and her eyes were so wide, what little light there was reflected off them.

  Rand stared at Sarah. The implication of what was happening was so large he couldn’t wrap his head around it. She wasn’t just delivering sensitive documents, she was the connection point for all of the informants who couldn’t reveal their true identities, the people who needed help, the ones giving them the best intel—and if they lost this briefcase it was all gone.

  Two weeks. That wasn’t a lot of time to put it all to rights.

  “Your codes were just changed,” she whispered.

  “I know.”

  “I have five more drops, then I was taking the rest to Charlie.” She said the name as though he should know who the fuck that was.

  “Charlie?”

  Sarah nodded.

  “Who is that?”

  “He’s the agent who coordinates all of our assets in Asia. I work with him and my handler, Irene. Charlie is the primary point of contact for our assets. If anything heeds to be picked up, dropped off, whatever, Charlie’s the one who organizes it. He doesn’t know who the assets are, some of them no one can identify. He’s the back-up plan if anything goes wrong.”

  “And you were supposed to, what? If all you do is take that briefcase from point A to point B, why do they want you?” He was missing crucial pieces of the picture.

  “It’s more complicated than that.”

  “Explain it to me.”

  “I carry packages for different contacts. You. The Asian coordinator. Others. At each drop site, I open the case and follow the instructions for dropping whatever it is I’m handing off.”

  “I see.” She knew habits, which meant she was a living, breathing cipher. If someone followed Sarah and waited, they could pick up all the assets coming to retrieve their dead-dropped packages. Some people would be extra cautious and send a proxy in their place, but even that was a lead, someone to follow back to the asset.

  “I had a meet scheduled with him for tonight. I should have been there to give him the updated codes. If they have the contents of the briefcase, they know who everyone is. Where they are. How to communicate with them and not set off any alarms. They could wipe out everyone.” She covered her mouth with her hand.

  “Why do you know so much about what’s in the case?” He stared at her, trying to read deeper.

  “Because…I’ve assisted the Asian coordinator. Not officially, and not often, but if my work schedule allows it, I help.”

  “Okay.” Now he was getting it. She was an unofficial agent in the field, and this situation had far reaching implications. “My asset might be dead?”

  She nodded.

  “Goddamn it.” Not only would Rand’s asset be dead, but his family. The family who’d hidden him. Lied for him. Who were ready to divulge all of North Korea’s dirty secrets. And they were blown. Dead. Unless he’d missed something.

  The mole hadn’t just given up Sarah. Whoever the mole was, they’d just killed dozens of agents and assets across the Asian block if what he feared was correct. Good people would be dead. And it was his fault for falling down on the job.

  Chapter Five

  Sarah settled into her second—or third?—plane seat, her body weary, mind racing. Time was beginning to do funny things. She’d been in the air too long. She no longer knew what day it was, and the only reason she knew she was leaving Paris was because of the signs she’d passed on her way to make her final connection back to the U.S. Where she would see Rand again.

  Her mind kept circling that fact, but she had no idea what to do with it.

  She’d seen him again.

  Touched him.

  Kissed him.

  They’d…what? Had sex? Fucked? It wasn’t making love, though the way he’d held her after spoke of some feeling. Where Rand was concerned, her emotions were complicated. She loved the man she’d known, but they weren’t the same anymore. She cared for him, still felt something, but she couldn’t name it.

  She didn’t know what they were or what to call what’d happened between them. Maybe in debriefing, she’d get a handle for what was going on. If she saw him at all. She’d just assumed that she would. For all she knew, Rand was already gone and out of her life permanently.

  What would Matt say?

  She couldn’t tell Matt she’d seen Rand.

  Sarah chewed her nail and stared out of the window. The plane slowly taxied out to the runway.

  Maybe this time she’d sleep. And maybe pigs would fly—she hardly ever slept on planes.

  Fuck.

  This whole mess was all her fault, somehow.

  She took a motion sickness bag from the seat pocket in front of her and a pen she’d taken from the flight counter. She’d never understood Rand’s use for lists until after he was out of her life. The first time she’d made one, she’d felt silly, and in desperate need for his shoulder to lean on. But he’d already left. So she’d jotted down everything she needed to do to keep the family going, and that was it. Now, lists helped put everything into perspective.

  What did she know?

  She’d arrived in Seoul and done precisely as she always did. Got some food, tried to read a local paper in a vain attempt to better her Korean, and when her alarm went off, she’d started into the city.

  At a certain point outside the airport, she’d turned and caught sight of a man she thought she recognized. It’d been the way he’d held his head—stiffly, not quite looking at her, but he could clearly see her sort of manner. He’d been maybe ten feet away, and he’d given her the creeps.

  It wasn’t uncommon for her to get wibbly-wobbly nerves from time to time. She was an American woman traveling alone in sometimes dangerous parts of the world. In all her time couriering for the company, she’d never run into anything bad. It was moments like those she used her training. One of the things she’d held onto was the techniques they’d taught her about how to spot a tail, how to lose one, and so forth.

  When she’d doubled back and circled a block only to see the same man still behind her, she’d panicked and made the call to let the company know she feared she was being followed. From there, a quick progression of events led her to the tea shop. She’d scurry away, hide, make the call, wait, then move, only to see her pursuers again. That had led to her being counseled to get rid of her phone and everything else on her.

  From the tea shop and running into Rand until now was all reactionary.

  There was someone within the company they couldn’t trust.

  Rand insisted his handler Hector was safe, but just in case, their escape was coordinated through a third-party group—other private contractors like Rand. Sarah hadn’t asked questions. She didn’t need to know who was helping them, only that they were safe and headed back to the States where her part in this would be over.

  Christ, what was she going to tell her day-job boss?

  She’d missed her flight to China. There’d be no one onsite to facilitate this week’s meeting or translate the particulars of the new water plant. Talk about terrible timing. Maybe she’d get lucky, and Lin would be able to hop over and cover for her.

  What was going to happen to her? Her job? Her future?

  When this had all begun, she’d just assumed nothing bad would ever happen to her. She was insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Now, the rug had been yanked out from under her and the last person she’d have expected to catch her was there.

  Rand.

  What the fuck?

  What was she going to do about him?

  Sarah stared down at her list, made in a jumbled mix of short hand, Mandarin, and a few Thai characters.
To anyone else, she might as well be drawing pictures, some sort of weird mandala, but she could pick out the items, the list, the habit she’d developed because of him.

  Rand had kissed her back.

  What had come after she didn’t regret, per se, but it hadn’t been wise, either.

  She didn’t know this man, not really. He’d changed. And though in the moment he’d seemed like her Rand, he wasn’t, and chances were, he never would be again.

  They’d had sex. It couldn’t happen again.

  Granted, she didn’t exactly expect him to stick around. Why would he? When Matt had needed him the most, he’d left. Why would she ever think she’d rate a second thought from Rand Duncan?

  …

  Young-sik traversed the hall, keeping on the balls of his feet. Despite the cool air pumping into the apartment building, he was sweating. And why wouldn’t he be?

  He was proud of the work he did for his country, but even he knew this was likely a suicide mission. There were two other men getting into place so they could attempt to flank Wei. In his own home.

  It was too coincidental that Wei would arrive at the same time they were tracking the girl. Except he hadn’t gone after her at all.

  Young-sik needed to know what Wei was after that they didn’t know about.

  “Any movement on the east side?” Young-sik whispered into the radio.

  “None.”

  This was a bold move. It was dangerous. And chances were, at least one of his men would die, but if they were able to obtain information that would lead them to the traitor within their midst then it was worth it.

  Now, all they had to do was wait for the right moment.

  …

  Rand tapped his fingers, mentally counting the minutes since he’d left Seoul, calculating how long it might take the MI6 team to extract his asset. He hated these cross-agency gigs and leaving that part of his job up to someone else, much less another intel group, but it couldn’t be helped.

  MSS agents had laid eyes on Rand and Sarah. They could never go back, not for quite some time, without risking their lives.

  At least this way, Rand’s assets were getting a faster extradition. They’d never wanted to go to America in the first place. He was pretty sure they’d always intended to flee to the UK, so in the greater picture, this simply expedited the process. He hoped to be part of the joint team that would work with his asset, but that was likely a company matter and he was only a contractor.