by Will Jordan
‘I don’t give a shit what you do. I’m just here to deliver the message,’ he remarked bluntly. ‘But for what it’s worth, we risked our lives to break you out of that place. It would be a shame if that was all for nothing.’
He leaned back in his chair, watching her reactions and saying nothing further. As shitty a deal as it might have been, it wasn’t as if she had other options. She just needed time to come to that realisation.
It didn’t take long.
‘If I do this, I have some conditions of my own,’ Anya decided.
‘Such as?’
The woman leaned forward, staring straight into his eyes. ‘I want back in. I want to be part of the Agency again. I want my old unit re-formed, under my command. I want my full security clearance restored. I want my life back.’
‘That’s not going to happen.’
She shrugged and leaned back. ‘Then I am not going anywhere.’
She was raising the stakes. He had little option but to call her bluff. ‘Anya, twenty-four hours ago you were freezing your arse off in a Russian jail. Now you have a chance to start over. Do you really want to fuck that up by asking for something they can’t give? That part of your life is over, but you can still make the most of what you have left. Isn’t that enough?’
The woman remained silent. He had no idea what was going on behind that cold exterior and those icy blue eyes, but somehow he sensed his words had struck a chord.
Deciding to press his advantage, he pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘Anyway, consider the message delivered. See you around.’
He was just approaching the door when she spoke again.
‘Do you believe him?’
He stopped and turned around to look at her. She was leaning forward, staring right at him, her eyes wide, almost hopeful.
‘Do you believe Cain will honour this agreement?’
There was no answer to give but the truth. ‘I don’t know. But I believe he cares about you. And that he’s sorry for what happened.’
She let out a faint sigh and leaned back in her chair. And for a brief moment, he caught that strange look of vulnerability and longing that he’d seen on the flight back from Russia.
‘If I agree to your offer, what happens next?’
‘You’ll be flown back to Langley. Then we wait for further instructions from Munro.’
She nodded thoughtfully. ‘Then I accept. But I want you to come with me.’
Drake blinked in surprise. ‘You don’t need me.’
‘I don’t need anyone,’ she assured him. ‘But I want you there.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re the only one who hasn’t lied to me.’ She folded her arms, making it plain she wouldn’t budge on this issue. ‘That is my condition. If you agree to it, I will help you. If not … then as you say, see you around.’
Saying nothing, Drake turned and banged on the door three times. As it buzzed open, he gave Anya one last look before leaving the room.
Part Two
Deception
Regard your soldiers as your children, and they will follow you into the deepest valleys; look on them as your own beloved sons, and they will stand by you even unto death.
Sun Tzu’s The Art of War
Chapter 30
DRAKE STRETCHED AND rubbed his eyes as the seat-belt light pinged, announcing that they had begun their descent towards Andrews Air Force Base in Washington. It had been a ten-hour flight from Anchorage, with a refuelling stop in Colorado to add to the fun.
He never slept well on aircraft. There was something about the warm, dry air and the cramped confines of the seats that set him on edge.
Beside him, Anya was wide awake, sitting with her eyes glued to the television screen in front of her. It was tuned to CNN.
The handcuffs around her wrists didn’t seem to trouble her at all. Drake was left with the disconcerting impression that she could slip out of them any time she wished, and was merely going through the motions to humour him.
‘Good morning,’ she said without glancing over.
‘Don’t you ever sleep?’
He ran a hand through his hair, sticking up at all angles from his restless efforts at falling asleep. He didn’t need a mirror to tell him he looked like shit. His eyes felt dry and gritty, his skin greasy and unpleasant.
She gave him a sharp look. ‘I have been gone four years, Drake. I have a lot of catching up to do.’
His irritation vanished in a flash. Looking at her now, it was almost possible to forget what she’d been through.
‘How are things looking so far?’ he couldn’t help asking.
‘A mess,’ she replied, visibly angry, as if she had entrusted the fate of the world to someone else in her absence, and they had dropped the ball. ‘We are still stuck in Afghanistan.’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘Twenty years ago I told them we would be back there one day, and here we are, fighting a war we can never win.’
‘What makes you so sure?’
‘The Mujahideen were the bravest soldiers I ever met. Not very disciplined, but completely without fear. You can’t beat an enemy like that. The Red Army tried and failed. What chance do you think we have?’
Drake stared at her. The Afghan freedom fighters were legendary for the tenacious guerrilla war they had fought against the mighty Soviet army. Their humiliating withdrawal after ten years of fruitless conflict had signalled the beginning of the end for the Soviet Union.
‘You fought with the Mujahideen? During the Russian occupation?’
‘In another life.’ She shrugged, dismissing the old memories as if they were of no consequence. ‘Now … it is a different world.’
He was silent for a time, weighing up his next question. In the end, he couldn’t help himself. ‘Mind if I ask you something?’
She held up her manacled hands. ‘It seems I’m in no position to refuse,’ she remarked with a wry smile.
‘Why did you turn rogue?’
The smile vanished as quickly as it had come. ‘Is that what Cain told you?’ His silence told her everything she needed to know, and she gave a resigned shrug. It was the weary, pained acceptance of an old injustice.
When she looked at him again, her gaze had hardened. ‘Let me ask you something, Ryan Drake. Do you believe in what you do? Do you think you serve a just cause?’
Her question caught him off guard, and it took him a few moments to summon up his answer. ‘I suppose so.’
‘I did. Once.’ She sighed and leaned back in her seat, holding up her cuffs once more. ‘And this was my reward.’
Their jet touched down at Andrews with the smooth, easy efficiency of a commercial airliner, taxiing to a halt inside one of the big hangars on the west side of the airfield. A couple of black Grand Cherokee 4x4s were waiting for them, along with four agents from the CIA’s Office of Security – three men and one woman. Typical of the Agency, they were all dressed in dark business suits.
‘Looks like the welcoming committee’s here,’ Drake observed.
Dietrich, Frost and Keegan went out ahead of him. They had accompanied him on the flight from Alaska, delaying their own return by a couple of hours. Drake suspected their decision had as much to do with the allure of travelling by executive jet as their sense of professional obligation, but he was grateful for their company all the same.
He glanced out the window and saw Keegan stretch and arch his back, then run a hand through his shaggy mane of blond hair. Nearby, Dietrich lit up a cigarette.
‘Come on, let’s get this over with,’ he said, taking Anya’s arm and helping her up. She shrugged out of his grip, determined to do it herself.
With Anya in front where he could keep an eye on her, they descended the stairs at the front of the aircraft to the concrete hangar floor. No sooner had they emerged from the plane than two of the security agents came forward to meet them – one of the men and the woman.
Approaching with sure, easy strides, the woman flashed her ID card. ‘
Good morning, sir. My name’s Watts. I’m the officer in charge here.’
Drake shook hands, surprised by the strength of her grip. She was a good-looking woman. Smaller than Anya, with a neat, compact physique and short brown hair.
‘Drake,’ he replied. ‘Good to meet you.’
‘And you, sir. We’re here to escort you to Langley.’
Drake glanced at the small group of agents. ‘Only four operatives?’
‘Believe me, there’s not much we can’t handle,’ Watts assured him, her dark eyes flashing with a touch of professional pride as she steered them toward the Grand Cherokees. ‘Anyway, Director Cain suggested we keep things low-key. Local PD have been notified, and we have an armed tactical team on standby. If anything happens, they can be on site within minutes. Plus, we have other security protocols.’ She turned her attention to Anya. ‘Can I see your left forearm, ma’am?’
She was being polite, but it wasn’t a request.
Hesitating, Anya reluctantly held out her arms, cuffed together as they were. Watts rolled up the sleeve of her jumpsuit, while a second operative approached with what looked like a large hypodermic syringe.
‘This may hurt a little,’ Watts explained.
Pressing the device tight against her arm to form a seal, he pulled a trigger on the underside. There was a dull hiss, and for a moment the woman’s face tightened in pain. A trickle of blood ran down her arm as the syringe was pulled away.
‘What was that?’ Drake asked.
‘Satellite tracking device, implanted in the muscle layer beneath the skin. Very hard to remove by force,’ Watts explained. ‘It transmits her location via secure satellite uplink to our monitoring station at Langley. With it, we can follow her anywhere on the face of the earth.’
Drake raised an eyebrow and glanced at Anya. She didn’t look happy at being bugged in such an invasive way, but she said nothing. That seemed to be her standard tactic when dealing with authority.
‘One more thing, sir. I’ll take her handcuff keys,’ Watts said, holding out her hand.
Drake frowned. ‘She’s my prisoner.’
The security agent gave an apologetic shrug. ‘It’s protocol, sir. I’m sorry. For the duration of the transfer, we’re responsible for the prisoner.’
She was still holding out her hand. Realising she wouldn’t take no for an answer, Drake gave her the keys. What harm could it do, anyway?
His thoughts were interrupted when his cellphone started ringing. He glanced at the number and frowned. It was Jessica.
His sister never called without warning, especially not on his work phone. It must be important.
‘Secure her for transport. I need to take this call,’ he said, then leaned a little closer and lowered his voice. ‘Go easy on her.’
Watts nodded.
Turning away, Drake retreated a short distance and hit the receive button. ‘I’m a little busy right now, Jess. Can I call you back?’
But his sister didn’t reply. The voice that spoke was male, American, low pitched and gravelly. It was a voice that sounded ominously familiar.
‘Don’t talk. Just listen. If you ever want to see your sister again, you’ll listen very carefully to what I’m about to say.’
Those words froze him on the spot.
‘There are three rules to this conversation. Rule One, if you don’t cooperate fully, if you try to alert anyone, if you make any attempt to stall or lie to me, I will kill your sister in such a way that even you won’t recognise her body. Rule Two, I’m going to give you a series of instructions in a few moments. If you fail to comply with them, see Rule One. Rule Three, you speak only when asked a direct question. Do you understand?’
The phone was shaking in his hand. ‘Who are you?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’
Drake exhaled, unable to suppress the shudder of fear that swept through him. Now he knew why the voice sounded familiar. It was Munro.
‘You’re bluffing,’ he said, trying desperately to keep his voice under control.
‘Am I?’
The line crackled for a few moments, and he heard muffled words in the background.
Then, just like that, another voice came on the line.
‘Ryan?’
His heart leapt, the blood pounded in his ears, and a horrible tightening, sickening feeling twisted his guts.
It was her. No doubt about it. She was shaken, terrified, distraught, but her voice was unmistakable. It was his sister.
‘Jess, where are you?’
‘They told me to tell you they’re listening in. Two men, they … took me when I was walking to my car last night.’ Her voice was trembling. She was having to fight to stay in control. ‘They’re going to kill me if you don’t do what they say …’
‘Oh, Christ,’ he said under his breath. ‘Jess, listen to me. I’m going to fix this. I’m going to get you out of this. I promise …’
Suddenly there was a commotion on the other end, and Munro’s voice came back on. ‘You get the picture, Drake. Do what I tell you or bad things will happen to young Jessica. And believe me, they’ll be real bad.’
Drake felt as if a knife had been driven into his stomach. ‘You fucking—’
‘Careful, Ryan! Let’s not get off on the wrong foot here.’
It took a great effort of will to calm his voice. Shouting and screaming wasn’t going to resolve this. Somehow, he had to stay calm and logical.
‘What do you want?’
‘You’ve been running plenty of errands for Cain lately. Well, now you can run one for me. You’re transporting Anya back to Langley. I want you to break her free.’
This was insane. ‘We were going to hand her over to you.’
‘You actually believe Cain would give her up?’ Munro chuckled with amusement. ‘No, he’ll use her to hunt me down. My old mentor, taught me everything I know, and all that bullshit … He’s trying to make me play his game. The only way to beat him is to change the rules.’
Drake couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
‘Are you out of your fucking mind?’ he hissed. Luckily for him, the roar of a departing jet masked his angry words from Watts and the others. ‘She’s in an armoured car, surrounded by agents with guns. It’s impossible.’
‘Just like it was impossible to get her out of prison?’ Munro prompted. ‘Come on, Ryan. You can do better than that. Find a way. If you don’t … see Rules One and Two.’
It took every ounce of self-control in his body not to scream his next words at the top of his voice. ‘If you hurt her, I swear to God—’
‘I’m not a monster, Ryan, despite what you might have heard about me,’ Munro cut in, a hard edge of anger in his voice. ‘When the time comes, you have to act fast. I can help you, but only if you listen to me. Take out the agents in your car, secure Anya, and I’ll give you further instructions.’
‘How will I know when it’s time?’
‘I’ll call you. As soon as your phone starts ringing, you have to act. If you try to warn anyone, your sister dies. If you fail and get caught, she dies. If I think you’re not giving it your best, she dies. In fact, you’re gonna have to work hard to keep her alive, so I suggest you don’t fuck up. Good luck.’
The line went dead.
For several seconds, Drake didn’t move. He just stood there in the cavernous hangar, rooted to the spot, his mind racing. Could he warn someone? But how?
The phone! Munro had called using Jessica’s phone.
Tracking it would be a piece of piss for the Agency. Phones were like homing beacons for satellite tracking. If they could find it, they could send in assault teams …
But even if they did, Munro could easily execute her as a final act of revenge, or she could be killed in the crossfire. Or Munro might have destroyed her phone now that he’d made his point.
Confused and frightening thoughts whirled through his mind. He imagined Jessica being grabbed from behind by powerful men in black bomber jackets and bundled
into the back of a waiting van. She wouldn’t be able to fight them off. They’d be ready for anything.
Then he saw her being driven out to some cold, deserted building, where they would have everything set up and ready for her arrival. Then they could go about their work without worrying about being disturbed …
‘Ryan! Are you finished?’ Dietrich called out from the second vehicle. ‘We’re leaving with or without you.’
Drake took a breath, clenched his jaw and flipped the phone closed.
‘Yeah,’ he replied, trying to mask his fear as he turned around. ‘Yeah, I’m finished.’
Chapter 31
SOMETHING WAS WRONG. Anya could tell the moment Drake slid into the back seat. The tension in his shoulders, the tight set of his jaw, the worry lines on his forehead, and most of all the haunted, almost desperate look in his eyes.
Her handcuffs were secured to a restraining point in the footwell, preventing her from moving far, but she leaned a little closer to him and spoke quietly. ‘Is something wrong?’
He shook his head.
He was lying. Even if she hadn’t been good at reading body language, she could tell he was lying.
‘You look nervous.’
Anger flared in his eyes, but he quickly masked it. ‘If I want your opinions, I’ll ask for them.’
Anya leaned back in her seat as they rolled out of the hangar. Bright sunlight streamed in through the tinted windows, hurting her eyes, but she didn’t care. It was worth any discomfort to see the sun again, to feel its warmth on her skin.
She had missed it desperately during her imprisonment, though she hadn’t allowed herself to think about it too much. Like a diet of the mind, she only indulged that particular appetite on rare occasions, fearing she would drive herself to despair otherwise.
She ached to be outside, to feel the breeze in her hair and grass beneath her feet, to smell the scent of wild flowers, to lie on her back and stare up at the endless sky …
No. She pushed those thoughts away through great effort. Those were things she couldn’t allow to intrude into her mind, weaknesses she couldn’t expose. Not yet. Not when her freedom still hung in the balance.
