Spy Games (Tarnished Heroes)

by Bristol, Sidney

  He was doing it again. Focusing on the job instead of everything else.

  For the last eight years, he’d used the job to get by, to cope with everything he’d left behind. Now he was on a one-way flight to face what he feared most.

  A ticked-off, angry Sarah.

  He could say that it’d been a perfect storm. That his need for human touch, the high stress of the situation, and their history had combined to create a fuck-or-fight scenario, but deep down he knew he was lying. She represented better days, a life he’d liked, and he wasn’t good enough to turn his back on something he shouldn’t have just because it was the right thing to do. This time, he’d face the consequences, unlike last time with Matt.

  Just a few more hours.

  Which meant he needed to sleep now, because when the plane landed it’d be balls to the wall.

  …

  Zhang Wei felt the subtle pressure change, the disturbance in the flow of energy through the apartment. He tilted his head, waiting.

  Someone—someones—were in his home.

  Meditation would have to wait.

  Whoever these intruders were, they’d bypassed the security system, which meant they were better than the average would-be thief.

  Wei remained seated in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that gave him a view of his balcony covered in greenery, listening to the subtle, almost silent sounds.

  The two in the entry had paused, their breathing giving them away. A third crept through the front room, the gentle whish of feet through the plush rug betraying him. Judging by the weight of their steps, they were male, trained but not comfortable in their surroundings.

  The whisk of a blade leaving its sheath was the loudest sound in the room.

  It would be foolish for them to bring guns.

  The one man was the strongest of the three, probably their leader. Wei wouldn’t kill him, just maim him a bit. The other two were fair game.

  He waited until he glimpsed a shadow out of his left eye.

  Wei tugged the dagger in his boot loose, twisted, and rose to one knee, hurling the throwing knife. The wet slick of the blade slicing through flesh, the splatter of blood, and the man’s gurgle were music to Wei’s ears.

  The other man froze, gaping at his fallen comrade.

  Wei didn’t hesitate.

  He vaulted over the sofa, kicking out, and struck the second man in the chest, knocking him back against the wall. Wei yanked the knife out of the fallen man’s throat and slashed at the second.

  The third man yelled something—Korean? Figures—and charged around, through the galley kitchen.

  The crackle of a Taser only made Wei grin.

  Please. He’d had more dangerous toys as a child.

  The man jabbed the Taser toward Wei. He grasped the man’s wrist, twisted his arm, sidestepped, and slashed the knife across the back of his attacker’s thighs.

  The Taser clattered to the ground, the man screaming.

  That was likely to annoy the neighbors. He stomped on the guy’s neck, cutting off the scream.

  The leader of the little group charged around the corner. Wei grabbed his arm and rammed the man up against the wall, twisting his limb up behind his back.

  This was going to be fun.

  …

  Sarah smoothed her hands down the borrowed sweatpants, her stomach in knots. This was far, far above her pay grade. Before this, all of her briefings were done in a suite several floors above Wishing Well’s headquarters. Besides her initial training, she’d never been to an official company site. That’d been years ago.

  She turned right, following the numbers until she saw 122.

  She’d woken up to a piece of paper under her door telling her to join them “at her earliest convenience.” For some reason, that casual wording made her nervous.

  Muted voices on the other side weren’t easy to make out. Two or three people? She couldn’t be certain.

  Was Rand gone? Was he here? She hadn’t seen him since they’d parted ways at the Seoul airport.

  She pulled the door open and conversation ceased.

  Rand and two others stopped speaking and stared at her.

  Sarah swallowed and forced herself to put one foot in front of the other. She was supposed to be here. She had to be here.

  “Sarah, Mitch McConnel.” A lean man with ash blond hair stood and thrust his hand forward, a polite smile tugging at his lips. He had one of those ageless faces, and the paleness of his hair hid a liberal sprinkling of gray. “No relation to the senator.”

  “Hi.” She was woefully underdressed in the sweats and a T-shirt. Even Rand had on jeans and a button-down.

  “I’m Charlie’s handler.” All of the warmth left Mitch’s face.

  Oh, no…

  What had happened to Charlie? Why was he looking at her like that?

  “This is Hector Martinez, he works with Rand, who you already know. Sit, please.”

  “Is Charlie okay?” She gripped the back of the closest chair.

  “He hasn’t missed his contact window yet.” Mitch’s expression didn’t soften. It was hard, as though he were expecting the worst.

  What weren’t they telling her?

  “Ms. Collins?” Hector pulled out a seat.

  “Thanks.” She sat, still at a loss for what to think. “Where’s Irene? Shouldn’t she be here?”

  “Irene took some personal time,” Hector said.

  “Oh.” Sarah didn’t know her handler beyond the few times a year they handed off the briefcase.

  Yes, Sarah had known the risks, that what she transported was valuable, but she’d never really expected this. Charlie…

  She swallowed.

  A warm hand wrapped around hers.

  She glanced at Rand sitting to her left, but he didn’t look at her. His thumb caressed the back of her hand while he stared at a piece of paper in front of them.

  “Let’s get to it,” Mitch said. “Four days ago, these men followed Sarah from the airport in Seoul to her drop location. We were able to get a clear enough visual that we could place one of them. This man.”

  A cold, hard set of eyes stared back at them from an image projected onto the wall.

  Sarah swallowed.

  The man in plaid.

  “His name is Kim Young-sik, a known MSS agent who operates outside of North Korea. I imagine the other two men work for him. We lost track of Young-sik, but he’s not our main concern. This man is.”

  The image of a man wearing a long business coat, hat, and sunglasses took Young-sik’s place.

  “Oh, God,” Sarah whispered. She turned her hand in Rand’s hold and squeezed.

  “Who is it?” Rand asked.

  “No one really knows. The only alias we have for him is Zhang Wei, but chances are it’s only what he’s using now.” Mitch sat back in his chair, staring at the image.

  “He has too many names.” Sarah glanced at Rand. “He’s something of a spook. A Chinese ghost story. If you do something the government doesn’t like, you’ll get a visit from the Silent Man.”

  “How do you know that’s him?” Rand leaned forward, letting go of her hand, and peered at the screen.

  “Because he doesn’t exist on any passenger manifest,” Mitch said. “The South Koreans are cooperating with us, but they lost sight of him and can’t place him on any flight in or out of the country.”

  “He can’t just disappear. He has the briefcase, doesn’t he?” Sarah glanced between Mitch and Hector. That was the only logical line of thought.

  “Yes.” Mitch flipped to another image of the same man carrying her briefcase.

  “Shit.” Sarah pulled her feet up in the chair and leaned back. “But they can’t open it, that’s good, right?”

  “That’s what we were hoping you could shine some light on.” Mitch turned, leaning forward. “Usually, Irene would be here and part of this, but she’s unavailable right now. We need you to run down the specs on the case.”

  “Oh, uh, okay.”
She’d always been told to never disclose the specs, but these men worked for the company. They needed to know, right? Still, divulging this much information went against what little training she had. “It’s biometric and infrared.”

  “What?” Hector frowned.

  “I have a lower than average body temperature. The theory is that I have to be alive to open the case.”

  “Is it password enabled?” Mitch asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What’s the password?”

  “I can’t tell you that.” She winced, but her instructions were clear. No one could know the password in case the biometric precaution could be circumvented.

  “Tell me.” Mitch leaned forward, his kind gaze going hard.

  “I can’t. Not even Irene knows the password.”

  “Mitch, back off,” Hector said. He pushed off the wall and stepped into Sarah’s peripheral vision. He sank into the chair on Sarah’s other side, his hand braced on the conference table. “Sarah?”

  All eyes were on her. She held the keys, but the problem was, they weren’t the kind she could hand over.

  She shifted and Rand let go of her hand. “Telling you the password won’t do anything. Without me, no one can open the case.”

  “And without the case, no one can contact our assets in Asia. You see why we need the password?” Mitch extended his hand across the table toward her.

  “Then we need the briefcase back.” It sounded like such an easy task, yet Sarah had no illusions about how difficult that would be.

  “It wouldn’t have been lost if you’d kept it on you, like you were supposed to.” Mitch sat back, his lips curled in a grimace.

  “What?” Sarah frowned. “I followed protocol.”

  “No, protocol is to never let the information out of your hands.” Mitch jabbed his finger against the table top.

  “No, protocol is to secure the briefcase—then make the drop.” Sarah glanced between Rand and Hector. They were both looking at her funny.

  “Goddamn it,” Mitch muttered.

  “Let me see if I can’t find Irene.” Hector got to his feet.

  Sarah desperately hoped they could get Irene on the phone or here in person to clear this up. She didn’t like the idea of telling them more, because what if what Rand said was right, and they had someone on their team working against them?

  She wasn’t going to utter another word about the specs or the double-password system. They didn’t need to know more than what she’d already told them, which was that without her, the case was completely and totally secure.

  …

  “Hector? Hold up.” Rand jogged down the hall. The four-hour debriefing was one long, grueling practice in dodging punches. He wasn’t sure what Mitch or Hector were after, but they were sure as hell looking for something.

  “You should get some rest. You look like shit.” Hector lumbered forward.

  “When can I get back? Do we have any word on my assets?”

  “MI6 is taking care of it, you know that.”

  “Yeah, but they’re my people.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Hector, please?” Rand stepped in front of his handler and stopped, forcing the giant of a man to halt in the middle of the empty hallway.

  “We’ve got bigger problems than a couple of assets,” Hector said quietly.

  Rand glanced over Hector’s shoulder. The meeting room doors were still shut. Sarah? Or Mitch?

  “Follow me.” Hector nodded down the hall. Rand fell in line with him, anxious to know more. Now.

  “You known Sarah long?” Hector asked.

  “Almost my whole life.”

  “You two close, or…?”

  “We were once. Why?”

  “This way.” Hector didn’t answer his question, and Rand didn’t ask again.

  The CIA location he’d been taken to after checking in to a hotel to create a fake paper trail was some distance outside of D.C., in what appeared to be an office building. It was the first time Rand had been to this location, but he recognized a training site when he saw it. He was willing to bet they were between classes or sessions, because other than the four of them, he’d seen maybe three other humans, none of whom made eye contact.

  They couldn’t admit to knowing what they hadn’t seen.

  Hector took Rand deeper into the building, to some sort of break room. “Coffee?” Hector plopped one of those single serve cups into a machine and hit a button.

  “No, thanks.” Rand leaned against the wall. “What does Sarah have to do with all of this?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe nothing.”

  “Hector, don’t fuck with me right now.”

  If Sarah’s life was in danger, Rand had to know. She was his responsibility. His friend. His…something. They’d stopped being just childhood friends and adolescent crushes the moment they’d laid eyes on each other in that pharmacy. From that moment on, he’d known he’d give his life to protect hers, and he’d kill to do it.

  “I honestly don’t know. Beyond her connection to the briefcase, I have no clue.”

  Rand waited, watching Hector doctor his drink until it was practically sugar water flavored with a hint of coffee.

  “What do we know, Rand? What’s top of your list?”

  “Someone burned Sarah.” And he’d left her alone. Upstairs. It was a CIA facility. In theory, she should be fine. But right now, he didn’t trust much of anyone that wasn’t him or Sarah.

  “Why would someone want to burn a courier?”

  “I…don’t know.”

  “What does she know?”

  “No clue.”

  “Who does she know?”

  “Fuck if I know.”

  “Exactly.” Hector sipped his coffee. “Her file is anemic. Everything I know about her I could fit on a sticky note, and for someone who has been with the company this long, we should have more documentation about her. So, answer me this—what don’t the higher-ups want us to know about your friend Sarah?”

  “I. Don’t. Know.” And Rand didn’t like that. Not one bit.

  “Neither do I. You aren’t going to like this, but…I’m going to assign you as her protective detail. You’ve got history together. Maybe you’ll be able to feel her out better than someone else, get her to talk. She’s not telling us everything, either because she’s under orders not to, or she’s got something to hide.”

  Rand nodded. No, he didn’t like that this was how the job was going to go, but he wouldn’t want to entrust her safety to anyone else. As far as he could tell, Sarah was a victim here.

  “I want you to stay close to her. I can’t go around saying we can’t trust our own people, but Mitch and I are in agreement that this needs to be handled quietly and as off the books as possible.”

  “Can we trust Mitch?”

  “He was in politics before he came to the CIA. Sometimes it’s hard to figure out what that guy’s thinking.” Hector shrugged.

  “If you thought you could, we’d be having this conversation with him right now.”

  Hector sipped his coffee.

  “And Irene?”

  “Now there’s a question.” Hector sighed. “I don’t know her that well, and I’ve worked in the same building as her for a couple years now.”

  “I need to get back to Sarah.”

  “I agree. Stick to her like glue. I’ll let you know when MI6 clears your assets as safe. Should be any day now. Don’t worry, they’ll make it.”

  Rand paced toward the door, wheeled around and back. “What’s the deal with Mitch? Why is he in on this? Who is he?”

  “Charlie Peterson is the company’s man over our people in Asia.”

  “I don’t know of him.”

  “Because you’re a contractor.”

  “But he knows Sarah?”

  “She’s a company employee. Part-time sort of deal.”

  “So Sarah takes information from Mitch to Charlie? And others like me?”

  “I can’t answer that.�
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  “So that’s a yes.” Rand stopped and stared at his reflection in the glass of one of those motivational posters on the wall. That was why the briefcase was so important. Whatever she was transporting for the company would be locked in there, and she’d open it only to make a drop. At a glance, it was an easy gig, but it made her a target in a way Rand didn’t like. And then there was the fact that Sarah had asked about Charlie. By name. As if she were familiar with him. “Charlie hasn’t made contact, and though it’s not outside of normal parameters, you’re worried he’s compromised?”

  Hector spread his free hand and lifted his shoulders.

  He wouldn’t confirm or deny Rand’s assumptions, but he’d been around long enough to know how to read between the lines. Hector, and other direct employees of the company, would say as little as possible. It often made Rand’s job frustrating, but it was necessary.

  “He was involved with Sarah?” He hated this Charlie person on principle.

  “That I do not know.”

  “But, what? Mitch said something? He didn’t say something? He asked a question?” Rand watched Hector’s face, looking for the minute twinge. A micro expression that would betray the other man’s thoughts. “He asked a question about Sarah or Charlie that made you believe they are—or were—involved.”

  Fuck.

  Sarah. With someone else.

  He was too raw to think about it. To accept it. Hours ago he’d had her under him, been inside her, and thinking about her with another man, allowing him that kind of contact—it was too much.

  “I’m going to go find Sarah.” Rand wheeled around.

  This time, his thoughts didn’t stop him; they drove him on. First, he’d find her. Then, he’d secure her somewhere. And lastly, they’d talk. Or something.

  He went up, past the main floor to the section that comprised the bunk rooms. Places for people like them to stay for short spans of time. They were a little better than single-occupancy dorm rooms.

  Either she was done with Mitch, or would be soon.

  Rand strode down the hall, passing the room he’d stumbled into long enough for a catnap and a wash-up. A thin line of light shone under a door a quarter of the way down the hall past his. He paused, tapping on it with his knuckles. “Sarah?”