Virtually Hers: Virtually, Book 2

by Gennita Low

She felt T. move closer and a hand touching her forehead. “Well, no fever, so you’re lucid. What brought that on?”

  Helen turned over on her back. She could barely stay awake now. She wondered whether Jed was asleep already. She wondered what it would feel like to curl up next to him, both of them sleeping soundly.

  “I want to be at the meeting so I can ask Jed about Stratter’s,” she told T. “What is that place? And who are those people?”

  “Okay, you’re definitely no longer making sense to me. Sleep. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll make sure you’re wide awake for the meeting.”

  That was all the reassurance Helen needed to hear. She’d intrigued T. enough to make sure her operations chief get her there. She drifted off.

  ***

  “Five-One, can you hear me? If you can’t continue, let me know. We’ll let you rest up, but you have to be honest with me. Can you continue? Our mission is very important and we need all the help we can get.”

  The soft persuasion in his monitor’s voice didn’t reassure him. Liar. At least his partner was more honest about their intentions. He understood the veiled threats, even though they weren’t addressed to him.

  “Why don’t you just tell him that if he fucks up one more time, we’ll just let his ass rot in a windowless cell instead of here? I don’t even know why you’re so damn nice to him. You weren’t so friendly with the last one we had.”

  “This one has more potential. He’s gone further than the others and could have even beaten COMCEN’s remote viewer if not for the physical exercises. Have you checked his file?”

  “Not interested. I care only to get our operation done.”

  “Then you’d better look after our boy here, don’t you think? Unless you want to go look at the others we have and hope we find another who’s not so into the serum that he’d be lost within a day or two.”

  “Fuck. I don’t trust him.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t trust us either, but we have what he wants and he can give us what we want. And you will, won’t you, Five-One? You know it’s important we get to the weapons before they do. The more successful we are, the more of the juice for you. Right? Nod if you understand me, please.”

  He nodded. His monitor, bastard that he was, understood how to get his attention. From listening to their conversation, all the other remote viewers they had tried were all hooked on the high that came with the drug. He was too, in a way, but it was different for him. He wasn’t hooked like a junkie; he just wanted to seek out those secret sexual details from the people he encountered. They looked so damn prim and proper, but what walking storages of sexual energy they were indeed. Whatever happened just now was an anomaly. COMCEN was a fucking weird place, anyway. It didn’t feel “natural” to him, not like when he was remote viewing other locations. He remembered how difficult it was for him to focus, as if there was some kind of other energy interrupting his concentration. And then there was that bitch who was enjoying his collection of energy, and making more for herself. There had to be a way to get it back.

  If he just stayed strong, just kept in control, the serum would give him what he needed. These CIA handlers mustn’t know what he could do, or they would use it against him. They forgot he was a smart man, and like them, trained in covert activities too. An asset, that was what he was. That was what he needed to remain. To stay an asset, he needed to give them something back.

  He nodded again. “All I know is I didn’t go to Macedonia. It had to be COMCEN and that place had certain blockers. I don’t know what they are but they make it hard for remote viewers to stay long there.” He swallowed, trying to stop his body’s shivering. “While I was there, I did record that they weren’t planning on retrieving any more weapons.”

  “That’s impossible. They’ve been making a list of all the weapons that have gone missing all these years. I know they’re going to be looking for the bomb trigger next. It’s the next logical part after their success in retrieving the decoder at Munich.”

  Jonah finally opened his eyes. Were they actually having a conversation with him? Usually, the insults came first before they started questioning his findings. For once, the fat one stood there without a sneer on his face. Should he show them that he was, at least, able to understand what they were trying to accomplish? Better not.

  He cleared his throat. “These weapons are on a list, you said. I think I recorded a list but they don’t know where they are either. Remote viewing for locations takes time. The last mission was a lucky one because they had the Deutsche International logo on everything at that place. If, let’s say, the next bomb device you’re talking about is in Macedonia, and they don’t know it, it’ll take them a lot longer because I know that region speaks a mixture of Serbian and Croatian, so to pinpoint the exact location would really take a lot of sleuthing.” He gestured to the globe in the middle of the room. “If you know where it is, we’re ahead of the game already. All you need is to tell me and I’ll verify the location.”

  “We want to know for sure who has it,” his handler said, handing him a glass of water. “Our head contact knows it was dropped off in a CIA crate not long ago in KLA territory and that’s controlled by Dragan Dilaver. What we need for you to verify is whether the trigger is in his possession yet. Our sources told us Dragan has been out of the country, so we’re worried he’s already sold the device, which would complicate things.”

  Time to show that he knew a thing or two. “From my little time in decoding, I know the CIA has an off-record relationship with Dilaver, that is, we won’t touch his drug activities if he takes care of certain business for us. So why can’t you guys just give him a call? Ask him whether he has the device?”

  Jonah noted the way his two handlers exchanged glances. That told him a lot. The CIA’s inside contact to Dilaver must not be with the CIA anymore. Or maybe Dilaver had changed sides and that was why they needed to retrieve this bomb trigger. Or maybe they were no longer friends with Dilaver. One could never tell with the CIA agenda. One minute they were on one side, and the next, they were playing on the other. Political ping-pong, the intricacies of CIA games. He knew, from the start, that if he were to go up the CIA ladder, he was to do his assignments without too many questions. But that didn’t stop him from conjecturing.

  It excited him that he was actually in the middle of a CIA mission. Most of the time, his work had been mainly at the tail end, working in the dark rooms, decoding stupid data. Signing up for the top-secret experiment had been his one shot to move up. Remote-viewing experiment? Sure, bring it on. And through that, he’d discovered his new unique talent, the special ability that these goons didn’t have. If only he’d won that damn competition, taken out all those other test agents, he’d be living the high life right now. Like that bitch. The thought brought back sensations that he didn’t want to recall right now. The ear-splitting white noise. That sense of overwhelming pain. He shuddered. He didn’t want to go back to COMCEN if he could help it.

  He took in a deep breath and released it slowly. What he wouldn’t give for a cigarette right now. “I need some downtime,” he said. Give them something so they’d think he was an asset. “Look, I already found out that those people aren’t in Macedonia. I can do this. My brain isn’t fried because I know my limits. The juice helps me to withstand the stress after remote viewing, but something happened back there. That place has something—I can’t explain it—that seems to affect me.”

  His monitor nodded thoughtfully. “That might explain the other two viewers we had who couldn’t breach their security.” He turned to his partner. “The Russians used a similar system. We’ll just have to add that to our report.”

  “That might get us off his shit list for losing the decoder in the last job,” the other man grumbled. “He wouldn’t be surprised that COMCEN has some Russian secrets, though.”

  Who was this “he” they were referring to? Jonah lay back in the bed. He was feeling nauseous again. Every time he thought of COMCEN, that pai
n shocked his psyche like a live current. So much pain. Why did he feel as if the weight of the world was on him? He hadn’t done anything wrong.

  “Take a break, Five-One. We have to get this particular weapon ASAP. We’ll be back in a few hours. Do you think that’s enough time?”

  “Nothing another dose won’t cure,” Jonah told them quietly.

  He winced as he tried to relax. This pain made him want to cry as if he’d lost something very important. It disturbed him. He couldn’t figure out why he was feeling like this. He thought about the lost cache with all those wonderful sexual memories that were his to play with till that woman stole it. Ah. The familiar anger was back. He closed his eyes and prayed for sleep.

  ***

  “It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen your number on my caller ID, Conor.”

  The voice was raspier than he remembered, but Joe McGuy always greeted him as Conor when it wasn’t business between them. Through the years, Jed had approached his mentor both for and outside business reasons. It was a friendship built from a promise that one man kept and the other never forgot.

  “I wouldn’t want you to think I’m checking up on you in your old age,” he said easily, the Irish lilt of his growing years threading through his words as easy as ivy climbing up a wall.

  “Harsh on an old man. What’s the world coming to?”

  Joe might be retired and he might be up there in age, but old wouldn’t describe him. He still ran and finished the Boston Marathon every other year. Someone told Jed that he skydived on his birthday this year.

  “Can’t be too harsh with your granddaughter’s wedding coming up,” Jed said, leaning back in his chair, relaxing for the first time since he sat down to do paperwork.

  “Ah, that’s the fruit of my labor and I’m enjoying every minute of my retirement. When’s Trouble getting married anyway? She’s around the right age, isn’t she? I haven’t seen her for a while now either.”

  Jed smiled. Joe had a special spot for Grace, his daughter, even though he hadn’t seen her a lot as a grown woman. It all had to do with that long-ago promise.

  “She’s still young and wild. I don’t think she’s going to be tied down by a husband for a long, long time, my old friend.”

  “Don’t be too sure, my old friend. DC has a lot of young men.”

  Jed frowned. Had Joe been keeping an eye on Grace after all? “She’s there for an internship. Please don’t tell me she’s in trouble already.”

  Joe gave a raspy chuckle. “Your daughter has your genes, remember? And her mother’s. Which means, she’s in and out of trouble a lot, God help her.”

  He supposed if it was anything to be really concerned about, Joe wouldn’t be teasing him. “I’m assuming she’s managing on her own, since she would be calling me if it gets out of control. She knows how to get hold of me.”

  This time, Joe snorted. “Jed,” he chided, using his other namesake now, “that daughter of yours thinks trouble is fun. She’s also at the age when they all think they’re invincible. As for that internship, I think you should ask what her job entails exactly, if you care to call her more than once in a while.”

  It was Joe who had taught him how to be a father. But his training had also taught him to distance himself from those he loved. Grace and he had a different father-daughter relationship. In many ways, she had turned out a lot like him. Except for that devil-may-care look in her eyes. That was all Kitty’s.

  “Perhaps I’ll find out more about what’s happening at her end,” he said.

  “Do it soon,” the older man advised. “Now, what is it you need from me?”

  They slid from personal to business like well-oiled parts that had worked with familiar intimacy. Jed had always appreciated how Joe could drop the mantle of friendship and assume his old role of mentor without a change in appearance or inflection.

  “Stratter’s,” he said.

  “Stratter’s Pointe? All the way to the beginning?”

  “Yes. Do you still have connections there?”

  “Of course. A few of the old colleagues have gone there, just as you did.”

  “Are you sure it still functions the same? It’s been two decades, Joe. Maybe it’s more now.”

  “I wouldn’t doubt it,” Joe said, curiosity entering his voice now. “And what is that to you?”

  “You know that COMCEN won the funds for the SSS project.” Catching the flicker of lights out of the corner of his eyes, Jed leaned forward to check the screen to his right. T. had just punched the codes to his quarters.

  “Oh, yes. Super Soldier Spy. That’s causing quite a stir among us old farts in the know. It’s too super secret for us, really, so we don’t like to talk about it much. What’s that got to do with Stratter’s?”

  Jed punched the code to allow T. to access his floor. “The CIA has their remote-viewing program. I’ve been given partial access to it. What I want to know is, since when has Stratter’s become a medical ward with bars in their windows?”

  “Sometimes we have political prisoners who are injured, Jed.”

  Jed used his remote to unlock the front door. T. hadn’t even attempted to knock; she’d known he’d be expecting her. He waved her in.

  “They’re using it as a medical lock-up for remote viewers there now?” Jed asked, his gaze catching Tess’s interested one. “Are they prisoners, then? If they aren’t, I’m sure they would be among the usual operatives on the other floors that don’t have bars in the windows.”

  There was a short pause. Jed watched T. as she sat down on the chair on the other side of his desk. She folded her hands primly on the edge of the desk, then rested her chin on them, effectively looking thoughtful and bored at the same time. It was also a good way to conceal her eyes from him, so he couldn’t read her.

  “I’ll find out what I can and call you back,” Joe finally said.

  “If it’s possible, I’d like to send in one of my own.” Jed caught the little flicker of T.’s eyelashes, signaling that she was listening very closely. “As a political prisoner in need of healing time. Paperwork and a few calls. And privileged visiting hours, if that still exists there. That way, one of us can ‘interrogate’ him.”

  “That kind of string I can pull. I’ll let you know the details ASAP.”

  “Thank you. I must go now, but we’ll talk again soon, old friend.”

  “I hear your accent disappearing. You must have company. This late, it couldn’t be for business. Wait a minute, I’m losing it. It’s Jed McNeil I’m talking to.” The mockery in Joe’s voice was unmistakable. “It’s always business. Goodnight, son.”

  Jed hung up.

  “Hope you’re not sending Hell in. She’d make a lousy political prisoner.”

  Jed sat back comfortably, his arms relaxing on the armrests. “Is Alex allowing you up here alone?” he baited. “I’m surprised he isn’t frantically hunting you down.”

  T. frowned, her lips pursing mulishly for a fraction of a second. It was enough to let him know that Alex hadn’t let down on his determined chase since T. had relented and came back as part of the team when Helen was unexpectedly chosen as the winner of the Super Soldier Spy project. She couldn’t just let one of her GEM operatives flounder in COMCEN alone, so she’d signed transfer papers and returned, even though that had meant working side by side with Alex Diamond again. It was one of the few things Jed liked to rile T. about, a weakness that he enjoyed poking.

  “Alex doesn’t care where I am as long as I’m at COMCEN, at his beck and call,” she said, a little too coolly, as she sat back up. She ran her forefinger over the smooth oak of his desk. “And you’re changing the subject. Hell mentioned a place named Stratter’s. And someone locked inside a crate.”

  Jed rubbed his chin. Elena wasn’t going to let him off easy, was she. And how the hell did she know—of course, she caught that name off his thoughts, like he sometimes caught hers. He really didn’t want to talk much about Stratter’s. “Stratter’s I can explain later du
ring the meeting. The crate I can try to explain, but whether I’ll make sense is another matter entirely. I might need some time to think it over.”

  “Okay, I can wait. She was in danger this time and you were affected. Care to explain that instead?”

  “She thought she couldn’t breathe when I suggested—thoughtlessly, I might add—that she might be in a coffin. Which she wasn’t. But the idea, as you might suspect, induced normal fear and panic, enough so that it affected me because I was so immersed in her experience.”

  “Immersed,” T. repeated, her gaze questioning now. “How immersed are you two, exactly? I have a feeling both of you are keeping some things from me. When you see what she’s seeing, are you experiencing everything she is too? Because that’s not in the Remote Viewer Handbook, you know. Armando asked the correct question just now. Why was her choking affecting you?”

  “We’re capturing glimpses of each other’s feelings and thoughts,” Jed told her off-handedly. “Bound to happen, with our brainwaves in sync and spending more and more time together. It’s called bonding.”

  “And are you two…bonding?”

  Jed studied T. through half-closed eyes. GEM had secrets that they didn’t share with anyone, even their relatively new partners. He wondered whether Helen knew her operations chief wasn’t telling her everything.

  “We’re learning to trust each other,” he said, “if that’s what you mean.”

  “You know that’s not all I meant.”

  “And you know by getting me involved as her monitor, what that entails.”

  “I was hoping you’d be gentle. I would hate to see her feelings hurt.”

  Jed arched his brows. “Sleeping with Alex is making you soft, darling,” he mocked. “Elena’s feelings have never been your number-one priority before. You, or rather your higher-ups, wanted to see the extent of her gifts and abilities, and wanted someone with whom she could get personally involved. Bonding, I believe you yourself called it. Care to cut the bullshit and tell me what’s at stake here? Besides the supersoldier-spy part, of course. I know that’s important, but there’s something more that you aren’t willing to tell.”