by Kim Baldwin
“It looks like a damn war zone down there,” Allegro said. The MIS troops and terrorists were shooting at each other. “A lot more Afghans. Somehow they must have realized we got to the other missile and called in reinforcements here.”
“Jesus,” the MIS officer said. “When did all this happen? Our guys just got here.”
A metallic ping rang out as a bullet pierced the exterior of the plane not far from where Domino was sitting, and she flinched. “Shit, they’re shooting at us.”
“We’re taking shots,” the lieutenant radioed in. “We can’t land like this.”
Allegro stood and walked over to him. “Do you have parachutes on board?”
“Well, yeah. It’s a cargo plane, but…” He went a little white as he hesitated.
“You don’t have to,” she said. “I will. Get me the gear.”
“I have to clear this first,” he said, reaching for the radio.
“We don’t have time for that. We have thirty-five minutes to deactivate that huge mother of a missile before millions die. Now get me the gear.”
He hurried out of his seat and walked to the back of the plane.
“I’m coming with you,” Domino said, getting to her feet.
“No, you’re not. I can do this alone.”
“Looks like you can’t go with her even if she let you,” the MIS officer interrupted, holding up a parachute vest. “I only have one chute here.”
Domino looked at Allegro. “We’ve done it before, we can do it again.”
“No. I said I’m going alone.”
“Take this, too,” the lieutenant offered, stripping off his bomber jacket and handing it to Allegro. It was a little big, but much better protection against the cold than the one she was wearing. She took it from him with a nod of thanks and put it on, zipping the hand inside, against her chest, then strapped on the parachute.
When the man had retreated back toward the front, Domino took a couple of steps nearer until they were standing face-to-face. She spoke in a low voice, so the others couldn’t overhear. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”
“I don’t have time for this conversation, Luka.” Allegro finished adjusting the chute. “Besides, should anything happen to me, I need you to tell her I’m sorry and that I really do love her.”
“You’re good to go,” the lieutenant shouted from the front, as he pressed the latch to open the rear cargo door and cold air rushed in.
“Please let me go with you,” Domino pleaded.
“Promise me you’ll tell her.”
“I promise, you idiot.”
“Later.” And with that, Allegro let herself drop.
She landed smoothly at the edge of the village, a safe distance from the trucks and the shooting, and was out of the chute in seconds. Moving toward the chaos, she tried to stay out of sight, keeping low and taking cover wherever possible behind abandoned houses.
The launch truck had already lifted the missile in place to fire. Terrorist soldiers were guarding the doors to the truck and the back hatch very literally with their lives, while the rest of them were fighting the MIS. Allegro checked her watch. Fifteen minutes left. She spotted an MIS soldier nearby. He’d been hit in the leg and was lying low, shooting from that position.
She yelled in his direction. “American here. Don’t shoot!”
“Who are you?” he yelled back.
“I’m with the MIS as well. Don’t shoot.” She couldn’t say she was EOO. Very few in the government knew about them. “I’m new, they just flew me in. I have the fingerprints.”
“What the hell took you so long?” he shouted.
Allegro moved to him in a crouch. The MIS had been avoiding direct fire at the operations truck for fear of hitting the computer before they could deactivate the missile, which was why there were several terrorists still around it. “Listen, I need your help to get to the truck. Do what you have to, to get everyone on this side of it away from there. Shoot all around it, use a grenade as close as you dare if you have to.”
“I’ve got you covered,” he said.
“Thanks.”
“Good luck, soldier.”
Allegro took off toward the truck, staying low and dodging dead bodies on both sides. She had her Uzi, with a silencer attached, but she didn’t use it so the flash from it wouldn’t give her position away.
The soldier did a good job at scaring away or killing any terrorist who’d been positioned on her side of the truck. When she reached it, she opened the door of the driver’s side and pulled herself up until she was lying on the roof of the truck. Glancing at her watch, she saw she had just seven minutes left. She heard someone at the driver’s door, but before he could get her, a shot took him out, probably fired by the soldier covering her. Allegro removed the knife that was strapped to her calf under her trousers and quickly slashed a long slit in the tarp on the roof of the truck bed. The shooting around her was deafening.
Uzi at the ready in her hands, she stood and jumped onto the slit. The momentum and her body weight tore her through it, and she started shooting even before she landed, aiming high so she wouldn’t hit the computer. Two men were inside, a terrorist soldier and the leader who’d been positioned at the computer. She hit both with her burst of fire on her way down, killing them instantly. The terrorist leader, she saw, would likely have escaped injury even if the MIS had fired on the truck. He’d been shielded from the back by his suicidal soldiers, and on two sides by thick metal panels that reached the canvas roof. She’d come in from just the right angle. He’d evidently thought the thick metal behind the driver would be ample protection.
Allegro ran to the laptop and removed Qadir’s hand from her jacket, unwrapped it, and placed it on the optical plate next to the computer. It registered the handprint, and brought up a screen that read TARGET: LONDON. 4 MINUTES TO LAUNCH and asked for the password, as expected. She entered the numbers, got the DEACTIVATE MISSILE? screen, and hit the Enter key to affirm. Then she typed in the code a second time when prompted to, and waited for the last screen, the confirmation to abort the operation. It was no go without confirmation.
Someone shouted something in Farsi, and the flaps at the back of the truck flew open. She wheeled around and fired a burst from her Uzi, hitting three surprised terrorists. They went down, but so did she.
Allegro saw the blood a millisecond before the pain in her chest and leg registered. It overwhelmed her, leaving her gasping for breath, dizzy and disoriented. She struggled to her knees, clenching her teeth to try to block out the unbearable agony.
As if in slow motion, she turned to face the monitor. MISSILE DEACTIVATED. TERMINATE OPERATION? was blinking. She stared at it hazily, trying to focus, but her consciousness was fading fast. She grabbed at the table to stay upright. The screen changed. 5 SECONDS TO CONFIRM TERMINATION. 3 SECONDS TO CONFIRM TERMINATION. “I’m gonna go with yes,” she said to herself as she gathered the last of her strength and punched the Enter key.
She smiled before she let herself collapse.
*
“She did it?” The tone in the copilot’s voice was that of disbelief as he waited for the answer. “Well, I’ll be damned.” There was a short pause as he listened, “Roger that.” Without turning to look at Domino and Lynx, he said, “She deactivated the missile on time. The Afghans have started to disperse and are running for the mountains. She really did it.”
“Is she okay?” Domino bent close to his ear as she gripped the side of his seat. When the copilot didn’t answer, she placed her hand firmly on his shoulder. Because his back was turned to her she couldn’t read his expression. “Is she okay?” she repeated, louder.
“That’s a negative,” he replied. “She’s been shot. I’m sorry.”
“Is she alive?” Her voice shook.
“I don’t know. But it didn’t sound like it.”
She turned toward the pilot. “Get us down there right now,” she ordered.
“I have orders to return to the ai
r base,” he argued.
“Listen,” Lynx said from behind Domino, “I don’t give a damn what your orders are. If there’s any chance at all that she’s alive, we’re going to get her.”
“Dead or alive, I’m not leaving her behind. Just get us the fuck down there.” Domino wiped away a sudden rush of tears.
“I need to clear permission for landing,” the pilot said.
Domino put her face near his. “Then what the hell are you waiting for? Tell them we’re going down now.”
The pilot turned to his copilot. “They’re right. She’s a goddamn hero.” With that, he radioed in that they were returning to the site for a recover landing.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Amsterdam
Two months later
“Still nothing?” Hans Hofman inquired gently.
“No,” Kris answered. They were seated beside each other on the couch in Hans’s living room, looking out over the canal. “I still run to the door when I hear the postman. And hold my breath every time I see there’s a message on the answering machine. But there’s been nothing at all. Only that one brief call from Luka that Misha was safe and would contact me when it was possible. She couldn’t tell me any more.”
“There was no mention at all of this group you say she was with, in the newscasts after all this happened,” Hans said. “They said it was the U.S. Military Intelligence Service that stopped the attack. Perhaps she wasn’t there at all.”
“They wouldn’t have said anything about her organization,” Kris replied. “It was an undercover type of thing, very secretive. I doubt they’d allow any publicity about it.”
Hans put his arm around her. They’d finally taken his casts off two days earlier. “You mustn’t give up hope, Kris.”
She put her head on his shoulder, and they stared out at the passing boats for several minutes.
“How’s your mother?” he asked.
“Better. She’s opening up to her therapist, and to me. We’ve talked about the things in Father’s diary. Thank you for giving it to me. It helped me to understand why she is the way she is. She had a lot to deal with.”
“Your father was a complicated man,” Hans agreed. “And the estate?”
“The renovations are done and it will go on the market next week,” Kris said. “The agent says it should get the asking price, which will settle the rest of the debts Father owed and allow for Mother’s care for several more months.” She turned to look at her uncle. “I’m all packed up. I appreciate your letting me stay here until I can look for a place of my own.”
“I should thank you. For being here with me during those first days out of the hospital. I couldn’t have managed so well by myself.”
“Of course, Uncle.”
“I’ve been thinking,” he mused aloud. “A change of scenery would do us both good. What do you say about taking this old man to Venice?”
Venice. Tears came from nowhere. Immediately she thought of the last night of Carnival. She could almost feel Misha’s kisses. Oh, Misha. It would be a bittersweet return to the city she loved, without Misha there, and without the home she’d loved so dearly, but it might help give her some sense of closure.
“Perhaps you’re right,” she agreed. “It may be just what I need.”
*
Venice, Italy
Her uncle seemed in a glorious mood as they approached the city by boat, but Kris fought a rising tide of melancholy. The day was warm, the sky a bright blue, and it didn’t help that it would soon be dusk, her favorite time of day in Venice.
“Why don’t we pass by the villa first?” Hans suggested as they stared out over the rail.
“What for?”
“Call it curiosity,” he said. “I would like to see what they’ve changed.”
Kris cringed. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”
“I understand, but please humor me.”
“Whatever you like.”
Kris sighed. Though her heart longed for a look at her beloved former home, she also dreaded seeing the villa again, with new owners. The fact that they might have made changes, that it might look different, felt like an intrusion on her past and memories. But her uncle insisted, and coming here had been his idea, after all. Something he needed. Maybe it was better to go there first and get it over with. Then she could take him to her favorite restaurant around the corner and console herself with one of its excellent pasta dishes and a good bottle of wine.
They strolled arm in arm from the dock, walking slowly, enjoying the view along the way. A gondolier waved at them, and she waved back, but kept her focus on the canal until they got directly in front of the villa. Even then she had to force herself to look. It hadn’t changed. Not one bit.
Hans went to the front door and knocked.
“What are you doing?” Kris asked.
“I’d like to see inside, wouldn’t you?”
Not really, no. But she could see his enthusiasm, so she nodded. To her relief, there was no answer, but Hans wasn’t ready to depart. He tried the door, and it opened. He peeked inside.
“We can’t just go in there,” she protested.
“But it’s empty.” He opened the door fully so she could see, and indeed, there was not a stick of furniture or anything else within.
She followed him into the villa, puzzled. “I thought the new owners would have moved in long before now.”
They heard a noise from upstairs.
“Is anyone here?” Kris called out.
“Sì,” came the reply. A woman’s voice. Familiar? “Up here.”
Hans smiled at her. “Why don’t you go take a look?”
Kris raced up the stairs, her heart pounding. It can’t be.
But it was.
Misha was standing on the balcony, smiling that wonderfully cocky smile of hers. Behind her, the sun was just setting, casting an orange hue on the water below. She had a cane, and there were dark circles under her soft caramel eyes, but she was the most beautiful sight Kris had ever seen.
“Misha! What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.”
Kris ran into her lover’s outstretched arms and they embraced, holding tight to each other for a very long moment. Misha’s heart was pounding; Kris could feel it against her chest, as fast and strong as her own. She pulled back just enough to look at her. “I don’t understand. I thought I’d never see you again. When two months went by, and you never called, I assumed the worst but didn’t know who to call.”
Misha gently put a finger against her mouth to stop her. “I’m here now. And I’m alive and kicking. That’s all that matters. I needed to let myself heal before you saw me.”
“Was it bad?”
“It’s over now.”
Kris glanced at the cane. “Are you all healed?”
“For the most part.” Misha took her hand and placed against her chest, over her heart. She covered Kris’s hand with her own. “But I’m going to need you to help me heal here.”
Kris brought Misha’s hand to her mouth and kissed it. “I want that, too.”
“So…you’re okay with everything?” Misha asked softly. “With who I am? What I do?”
“What you do is not who you are.” She caressed Misha’s cheek with her hand. “Luka helped me see that.”
“It would appear that Luka helped us both see a lot. Maybe we should invite her over to dinner.”
Kris frowned. “The mansion has been sold, Misha.”
“That’s why we’re going to invite her and Hayley here.” With a mischievous grin, Misha took a small ring of keys from her pocket and placed them in Kris’s hand. “You love this place so much, I thought you could stay here.”
Stay here? She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What are you saying?”
“I bought it back from the new owners. It’s yours again.”
Kris’s heart, already overflowing with the joy of their reunion, seemed to burst wide open. Tears of happiness streamed dow
n her face as she leapt into Misha’s arms and kissed her. “It’s ours?”
“Ours.” Misha repeated softly. “Really?”
“Really.”
They kissed again, long and fiercely. And then Misha’s mouth left hers, and descended to her neck. “Sei così bella,” she whispered, between kisses. “Sei così bella.”
Epilogue
Colorado
Six months later, October
“Yeah, I got here just fine,” Misha told Kris in her Bluetooth as she steered her rental Jaguar up the steep, isolated mountain road that led to the EOO headquarters.
“Oh, good. I miss you already. I don’t know how I’m going to get to sleep without you.”
Misha had wondered the same on the long flight over. She pictured Kris stretched out naked on their antique Italian Renaissance bed, draped in the burgundy silk sheets and plush down comforter she’d climbed out of that morning with great reluctance. The doors to the balcony would be slightly ajar. Kris liked the fresh air, even when it was cold, and Misha couldn’t help but indulge her. At eleven p.m. there would be frequent snatches of conversations drifting in on the breeze from the tourists passing by below. And music, from the boats cruising along on this starlit autumn night.
“I think you’ll have a lot more success sleeping without me there. We don’t seem to get a lot of sleep when we’re in the same bed.”
“Are you complaining? We can try separate bedrooms,” Kris said playfully.
“I don’t care if I have to staple my eyelids to my forehead to stay awake. We are not going to screw around with the sleeping arrangements.”
Kris laughed, then made an appreciative purring sound. “Staples? You turn me on when you get all tough. I like that bad and dangerous girl image of yours, by the way.”
“Then why don’t you lie back in that big bed, close your eyes and touch yourself, and imagine this bad, dangerous woman’s mouth on you.”
