Code Name: Blondie

by Christina Skye

  Their eyes met.

  “Leave the clothes. We’ve got a little time left.”

  Miki took a deep breath and focused. “It’s about those photos in your trunk. They’re thermal images, infrared to be exact, and they were taken with a damn good camera.”

  Max didn’t move. He’d been sliding his hand back and forth across the unfinished glove made of mystery yarn, but now he stopped. “What about them?”

  “All I know is, the third one in the pile was wrong. I saw it because of the heat outline of the palm tree. I’ve done infrared photography for a few commercial firms so I’m familiar with the color layout. This one was off.”

  “Say that again.” All emotion left his face.

  “The third one down was off, I said.”

  “Tell me how.”

  Miki was still having trouble concentrating after what they’d just done. She looked at him blankly and then frowned. “I tried to tell you before you went to sleep, but you were exhausted and I figured it could wait.”

  “You were wrong.” A muscle flashed at Max’s jaw. “We were both wrong.” Bending down, he tossed her underwear in a perfect arc without looking up. “Get dressed. We’ve got work to do.” He was already pulling on his t-shirt and dark pants. “I need you to point out exactly what you saw in those images.”

  “They’re important, aren’t they?” Miki slipped on her underwear quickly. “Who are you?”

  “Someone you can trust.”

  She felt the force of his words slip deep and lock in. “I know that now, but I don’t know anything else—like who you work for.”

  “We don’t have time for that now. I need answers.”

  She heard the urgency in his voice, but her hands didn’t work the way they should have. All her coordination seemed to be off. Apparently insane lovemaking did that to you.

  She felt as if she was watching a movie with a damaged sound track, words and images out of synch. Max had changed in the space of seconds, all emotion put away, and he expected her to do the same.

  She couldn’t, but she tried to pretend only her body was involved in the unforgettable sex they had shared. Right now she needed to be cool and distant like Max.

  How could she, though, when he had touched her heart with his unspoken pain and his ironclad sense of duty? How could she deny that he had cherished her and made her feel safe, in spite of any threat?

  Miki closed her eyes and faced the frightening truth. She had fallen and fallen hard. She had given her heart to a virtual stranger, and there was no going back.

  “Miki, are you listening?”

  She managed to nod, but her hands were cold with the force of her realization. This is the one, a quiet voice said.

  “We have to hurry.”

  She swallowed hard and looked at the possibilities, then made the hardest decision of her life. She’d let him go, let her future go, because it was necessary. She refused to create emotions or guilt that might distract him at a crucial moment and get him killed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “N-nothing. I’m just a little dizzy, I guess.” She forced a smile. “Show me what you need.”

  He studied her face for long seconds. “You’re sure there’s nothing wrong?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Max pulled her down the corridor toward the bunker’s main room and spread a stack of photos on the floor, fanning them out in a row. “Show me which one.”

  Struggling to hide her emotions, Miki pointed to a pair of palm trees on what appeared to be a rocky promontory. “The tree on the right. The heat outline for the roots and lower trunk is wrong.”

  “How would you recognize something like that? Have you had professional training with infrared?”

  “At first, I experimented on my own. After that, I did some predictive diagnostic work for a commercial real estate company. We checked roof insulation, sub-floor water pipes and electrical fuses for maintenance problems with infrared photographs. You can map temperatures via color chart, so it’s handy for predicting equipment failure. One of our clients put in about a thousand palm trees, and most of them developed problems because of irrigation pipes that were buried in the wrong places. When you look at about a hundred thermal images of a palm tree, you start to recognize what’s normal and what’s not.”

  “Give me details. Is it too hot, too cold? Is the temperature stable or erratic?”

  “None of those things,” she said quietly. She wanted to touch his face, but she didn’t. There was no room left for emotions. “It’s the shape of the tree. The trunk is wrong, and there’s no significant heat difference between the tree and its roots. That’s impossible for a real palm tree.”

  Max nodded slowly. “Okay. I can use that.” His hands tightened as he yanked on his gloves, smoothing the black leather over his fingers.

  Back to normal, Miki thought. Everything calm and impersonal.

  But not for her. She was changed beyond recognition, unable to find her way back to her old, easy cynicism. Now that she needed those protective walls so badly, they were gone. All she wanted to do was touch him again.

  “I asked what you thought.” Max was staring at her. “Are you certain the tree is a fake?”

  The edge to his voice told Miki that the question was not to be answered lightly, and she ran her fingers through her hair, taking her time before answering. “I’m not an expert in infrared technology or horticulture, so I can’t be totally certain. But based on what I’ve seen, I’d say yes. That palm tree is probably fake, made of some kind of resin that gives a consistent infrared output from trunk to roots.”

  Max turned and packed his vest. “I’ve got to go.”

  “But what’s so important about that tree?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  She had expected this answer, but it cut deep just the same. “I know you’re going back out there. If you took me with you, I could pinpoint the problem.”

  “Not happening.” Max stared down at the photos, his eyes narrowed. “But you can help me with this.” He pulled a map out of his trunk and spread it out nearby. Truman trotted up, looked over his shoulder and licked Max’s face.

  “Gotta get your two cents in, don’t you, champ?” As he scratched the dog’s head, Max held the map open. “Give me any suggestions you have.” He tapped one corner of the map. “I’ll be coming in this way, from the water.” He pointed at what appeared to be a high ridge. “It’s a sheer drop of three hundred feet.”

  She sucked in a breath. “You’re going to climb that?”

  “No one will expect an intruder coming from the cliffs on that side of the island. It will buy me valuable time beneath the radar.”

  Miki turned the map slowly, weighing every word. “Go in just before dawn.”

  “Why then?”

  “Look at this ridge.” She traced the area he planned to climb. “The other cliff faces east, and you’ll be climbing behind it. When the sun comes up, it will cast this whole slope into shadow.” She tapped the topography lines on the map. “Vance wanted me to do a shoot like this back in Tahiti, and it was a real challenge because the cameras were set in the wrong direction. I can tell you from experience that if you time this right, they won’t even suspect you’re there. Not unless they’re alerted in advance,” she said grimly. “So no singing, please.”

  “I never could carry a tune. Any more suggestions?”

  “You won’t have much light to climb.” She studied the map, aware that every detail could save his life. “It will be tricky finding handholds on the ascent. Try to be in place on your cliff about half an hour before dawn, just before the light begins to change.”

  “I didn’t think about the light falling through those two mountain ridges at dawn. It’s a good tip.” Max pointed to a different corner of the map, placing an infrared photo off to one side. “This is my target point. See the heat disparity between the two sections of terrain?” He tapped the picture of the fake palm tree. “Is there anythin
g else you can tell me? Think hard. This is as important as it gets.”

  Her shoulders tensed. “I’ve screwed up a lot of jobs in the last five years, Max. Some people might say that I’m a major failure.” She crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “But photography is what I know, so I’m sure about this.”

  “I believe you then.”

  “You’re sure I can’t go along to help?”

  Max’s voice was tight. “You’re staying here. If I’m worrying about you, it will slow my reaction time and put us both in danger.”

  Miki looked away. New rules, she thought. She had to forget about her feelings. “In that case, I guess there’s something else you should know.” She crossed her arms, looking at him defensively. “There’s…someone else. He travels a lot, but we’re involved. In fact, we’re getting married this fall.”

  The map closed with a snap. “Married.” Max looked down at his vest. “Nice of you to mention it.”

  “I thought you should know, just in case you were expecting anything…more.” She took a tight breath. “Because it isn’t going to happen. You should forget about me.”

  Max tightened the straps on his vest. “Good advice. I’ll try to take it. Any other revelations before I go?” His voice was grim.

  Miki saw that her fingers were locked together, and she forced them to relax. “No. It was good, but now it’s over. That’s all I wanted to tell you.” She was surprised at how calm she sounded when her heart was being torn in little pieces.

  “Understood. But there’s one thing I need you to do.” His voice was curt, and he didn’t look at her face as he reached into his pocket. “It has to be done right. Can I trust you?”

  She swallowed hard. “Of course you can.”

  He held out a radio transmitter. “I need you to send a short-burst signal as soon as I leave.” He pressed the unit into her hand. “Hit the black button by your thumb six times with no delays. Count to twenty, then do it again. Can you remember that? It has to be done exactly the way I said.”

  Miki fought a chill. She was a klutz. She’d always been a klutz. And he trusted her with a top-secret communication?

  She squared her shoulders. “Two short bursts of six, twenty seconds in between. I can do that.”

  He nodded as he attached a full canteen to his vest using a carabiner clip. “There are MREs against the wall. You’ve got water and you’ve got a weapon there, too. Stay safe, and don’t be afraid to use the gun if you have to. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” His voice was cool and clipped. “Don’t leave this area. Your life depends on it. If you believe nothing else, believe that.”

  “I’ll be here. Max, about tonight—”

  “Forget it. It’s history.”

  She was dulled by the flatness of his voice. “I’d like to go through the rest of those photographs. I may be able to spot another anomaly—assuming that you still trust me.”

  Hs face locked down, without any expression. “Be my guest. You’ll be safe here if you do what I say.”

  Miki didn’t believe him. She had a feeling that things were about to get a whole lot worse, and her life wouldn’t be simple ever again. She couldn’t go back. Even if she never saw him again, this silent, hard man would always be part of her life.

  Talk about colossal mistakes.

  A cold voice whispered that taking risks was this man’s job. Danger was his high, and death was part of his resume.

  She didn’t have any idea what kind of danger he was facing, and she might never know. She watched him shoulder his pack, her heart beating hard. It felt as if she lost a part of herself when he walked away.

  He didn’t look back, a shadow swallowed up by the night.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ISHMAEL TEAGUE WAS EATING a tuna fish sandwich with wasabi and organic bean sprouts when the signal came through. He dropped his sandwich and lunged for his radio receiver, listening intently.

  Not that listening mattered. There was an automatic recorder in place so that nothing would be lost.

  The signal was clear. Two bursts of six separated by a twenty-second pause, according to the pre-arranged code. Probable weapon system sighting.

  Izzy played the short-burst message through five times, just to be sure. Each time was the same.

  There was no mistake.

  Max Preston was close to his target, and that would make Lloyd Ryker ecstatic. But something continued to nag at Izzy. He leaned forward and punched a string of commands into a keyboard, then sat back impatiently. As a security caution, he had entered speed and strength parameters for all incoming messages, and he had already input Max’s movement and strength variables. Now he sat frowning, wasabi and bean sprouts forgotten as he waited for his computer to compare the two sets of data.

  The computer finally gave an answer. The sender of the message was not Max Preston.

  From what Max had said, the pilot was too sick to do anything. That left only the woman, Miki Fortune. Izzy sat back and steepled his fingers. Then he picked up his phone to call Ryker.

  The Foxfire director was not going to be happy.

  KIT O’HALLORAN WAS UP to her elbows in soapsuds, giving Baby a bath. The baby in question, an exuberant black Lab puppy, whimpered in pleasure as Kit scratched her soft ears. They had been out before dawn, practicing search and rescue procedures in the nearby mountains. After six hours of mixed work and play, Kit was bone tired.

  Meanwhile, Baby and Kit’s three other Labs were as fresh as they had been at dawn. Life wasn’t fair, she thought wryly.

  She smiled at the sound of paws charging over the patio behind her. All she had to do was think about Baby’s three litter mates and they appeared an instant later. Right on schedule, Diesel, Butch and Sundance raced through a bar of sunlight and skidded to a stop at her feet.

  In the middle of the big copper tub, surrounded by soap foam, Baby glanced down imperiously, every inch the leader of this canine team. As Kit ran an expert eye along the puppies’ lustrous fur, she was pleased by what she saw. Her newest feed mix was working better than she’d hoped.

  She couldn’t resist a small surge of pride for these four special dogs. All the service dogs she trained showed exceptional curiosity, loyalty and stamina, but these four had skills that went right off the charts.

  No one in the government would give her too many details about the dogs’ bloodlines, since they came out of a classified government program, and Kit accepted the possibility that she might never know. Even Wolfe Houston, the Navy SEAL she was going to marry—as soon as he stopped flying around the world on top-secret missions—could add little additional information. But Kit didn’t need government files or medical reports. She had trained her first dog when she was nine years old, and she knew a champion when she saw one.

  These four were all champions.

  She leaned over to scratch Diesel’s head. “Aunt Miki says that I spoil you guys and she’s probably right.” She turned away to look for a brush and Diesel shot away. When the dog returned, he was carrying a red Hawaiian shirt in his teeth.

  The shirt belonged to Miki, who had left it behind after her last visit to Kit’s ranch.

  Was this another coincidence, or did Diesel truly understand more than Kit realized? All four dogs had a range of comprehension that was astounding, and their knowledge grew every day. Even more surprising was their ability to work, think and plan as a team, something Kit had never seen in her years as a trainer. That ability had saved her life several months earlier, and Kit knew that with the right training, the dogs would go on to handle any kind of challenge the government could throw at them.

  She didn’t want to think about the dangers they would face. She didn’t want to imagine the day they would leave her care. Kit knew perfectly well that she couldn’t keep the dogs forever, playing and training on the sunny slopes of her mountain ranch north of Santa Fe. But oh, how she wished she could. The day they left she would feel as if her heart had been torn out.

  But
life meant transitions. Wolfe always said that changes were good, but it usually took time and perspective to see that.

  Her husband-to-be, the philosopher-warrior.

  A sudsy Baby shot forward in the water, licking Kit’s face eagerly, and soap went flying across the sunny patio. Kit didn’t mind a bit. The dogs were her life as much as her career. At least now she had a man to share that life with.

  Kit had loved Wolfe Houston as a teenager when he came to live with her family. She loved him now as a woman, with no reservations and no regrets. If the man would just stop crisscrossing the globe, saving civilization as they knew it, she was going to haul him down to the local courthouse and marry him. Miki had volunteered to take the wedding photos, and Kit was already dreaming of an uninterrupted honeymoon spent in her family’s isolated cabin north of Chama.

  She didn’t think they’d make it out of bed once.

  But the world was an unsafe place, and her fiancé seemed busier than ever keeping it safe. With a pang of loneliness Kit closed her eyes, wondering where Wolfe was at that moment. A training mission in Thailand? Surveillance in the Middle East?

  She worried about him every minute of every day, but she kept her fear in perspective through sheer effort of will. He’d come back when he could, and when he came, she would make up for all the lost hours. They might even have time for a quick stop at the courthouse on his next visit. She ran a hand through her hair, smiling crookedly at the thought of Wolfe’s reaction to her wedding dress.

  Miki had found it first, of course. Because she was a photographer, Miki followed fashion with the detached but expert eye that could separate trends from keepers. The dress she’d found hugged Kit’s body in a slim column of antique white lace, drifting gracefully when she walked, and the back was cut well below the waist. Talk about sexy.

  Kit hoped that Wolfe’s first glimpse hit him like a jack-hammer. She had loved him for too many years to take the thought of their marriage lightly. It was only fair that he should be as hot and bothered as she was by the reality.

  Sunlight streamed over the patio, dancing off the smooth surface of the pool as Kit dreamed about specific—and highly graphic—ways she would drive Wolfe crazy in bed. Suddenly Baby shot to her feet in the tub, tail wagging. Diesel barked once, then sat down alertly next to Kit while the other two dogs moved in wary circles through the grass.