by Loye, Trish
She almost snorted at herself as she pulled into the parking lot of the office tower where EDGE had its base. Like she’d ever get taken out of the lab. While she could shoot a weapon and knew some jujitsu thanks to EDGE training, she wasn’t an operator by any means. Besides, who would run her lab if she wasn’t there?
The parking lot was almost full. EDGE held four floors-including the top floor-of the building, as well as the roof for helicopter landings and several secret sub-basement levels. Charlie drove through the parking lot and took a left instead of a right like the big arrow wanted her to. At the end of the lane was a control pad near a blank cement wall. She pressed her palm against the pad.
The cement wall slid aside, revealing a small parking lot with shiny black cars. Charlie’s friend Cat’s SUV was at the far end. She smiled. Maybe Cat would come visit her.
Her phone beeped. A text from Dante.
Briefing. 15 min.
She just had time to make a tea.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, both hands wrapped around her ‘Scientists Do It Periodically’ mug, she sipped her strong tea. Milk and one sugar added to take the edge off the bitterness. She sighed in contentment.
Finally.
She sat in the conference room and replayed the morning’s conversation in her head. Her aunt had to go. Charlie had never meant to let her stay so long. She’d moved in six months ago after coming to Montréal to be closer to Charlie.
Too close, Charlie mused.
Aunt G would balk at a retirement home. Who would she talk to, she always asked? It was a place filled with old people.
Charlie needed her own space, but maybe she could get her aunt into a neighboring brownstone or apartment?
“Dr. Singh?”
Her gaze snapped to Colonel Blackwell, the Operations Officer of EDGE’s covert missions, who sat at the head of the conference table. She hated when he caught her mind wandering. His frown made her want to shrivel in front of him. He was hard and lean like a hungry wolf, with black hair grown a bit shaggier in the last year adding to the image. His dark eyes tracked her like she was prey.
“Dr. Singh?” he said again.
Dammit. Pay attention, Charlie. She needed more caffeine.
“Yes, sir?”
Captain Cat ‘Valkyrie’ Richards, ex-CSOR officer and her supposed friend, snorted softly from beside her. Charlie made a face at her when no one else was looking. There were only four of them in the room. Blackwell, herself, Cat, and Dante.
Cat was tall and strong. Her wheat-blond short hair and brilliant blue eyes made her a striking figure and Charlie’s complete opposite in looks, but she was still one of Charlie’s best friends.
Dante sat across from her. He stood only a couple inches taller than Cat. His hair was buzzed short—probably so it couldn’t be grabbed in a fight, knowing him. Some sort of tribal tattoo crawled up the back of his neck, its dark lines the softest thing about Dante ‘Gears’ Marchetti.
Looking at him, most people saw an MMA fighter or gang member, not a brilliant engineer. And that’s the way he liked it. Charlie figured he loved to be underestimated, even by other EDGE operators. His background was a mystery to most of them.
But not her.
Since she had clearance, she’d read his file within the first week of him showing up as her lab partner. It had been an entertaining Friday-night read.
“I asked,” Blackwell said, “if you had heard of the tango called Spider.”
She set her mug down and straightened. This must be a prelim briefing for some kind of mission for Cat and Dante. Yearning twinged through her, but she stuffed it down and focused on the question.
“Spider is codename for an alleged trafficker of arms and technology,” she began. “Though some of the stolen items attributed to him haven’t yet made their way onto the black market. Could be he’s hoarding them. If he has everything the reports say he does, then he is a very, very dangerous man.”
She sipped her tea and thought back to all the reports she’d read on Spider. “He has no known allegiance to any country or terrorist group. He’s rumored to have an in with almost every governments’ defense research groups. Hence the nickname spider.” She wiggled her fingers. “He’s got a web of contacts.”
“Cute, Q,” Dante said, calling her by her nickname. She liked that she had one. It almost made her feel a part of the team, and it was a lot less formal than Dr. Singh, which made her sound like her father.
She grinned at Dante. “You sure you don’t want me to explain it with my colored pens? It gives a better visual.”
Cat snickered.
“From what I understand,” Blackwell continued, ignoring their antics, “you’re headed to some big tech conference in London—”
“The International Engineering and Technology conference,” she said, leaning forward. “The IET conference is a very exclusive tech conference and they’ve asked me to speak…” She noticed Blackwell’s slight frown. “Sorry, sir. It’s just one of the best conferences for anyone in the tech field. I can’t wait to go.”
“I understand your excitement,” he said, though he clearly didn’t share it. “Dani found reference on the black net that Spider might be at this conference,” Blackwell continued.
“Doing what?” she said. “Shopping for new tech to steal?”
“Exactly,” Blackwell said. “We know from rumors on the black net that he’s holding an auction for the weaponry he’s accumulated sometime in the next two weeks.”
Charlie thought of her and her aunt attending a conference alongside a terrorist. Her stomach twisted. “Am I still going?”
“Yes,” Blackwell said. “We have reason to believe the auction will take place in Turkey. Alpha team is already in place. I don’t put much value in the rumor Dani found, but as a precaution I’m sending Valkyrie and Gears with you as protection. Spider has been known to kidnap scientists before.”
And murder them when he’d gotten what he wanted, she knew from reports.
Even though the chance of Spider showing at the conference was small, she was thankful Blackwell was sending team members with her. “Thanks, sir. Why don’t I go through the conference attendee list and look for potential suspects?”
“Excellent suggestion,” he said.
“Do you think Spider would actually register for the conference?” Cat asked.
“It would allow him access to everything,” Dante said. “Q, I’ll help you go over the list. We can cross reference attendees’ travel with Spider’s hits in the last two years.”
“Gears,” Blackwell said. “You’ll take point on surveillance, while Valkyrie sticks close to Q as a precaution.”
“Yes, sir,” they both said.
“What are you speaking on?” Gears asked. “The micro-bugs?”
She nodded. “I still need to coordinate their counter-rotational stabilizers. If one crashes, it sends out a small EMP pulse. Totally fried my phone the other day.”
He laughed. “Have you tried a modulating capacitor?”
“Yes, but the resulting magnetic flux affects flight dynamics.”
“Maybe try a cascading circuit ser—”
“Okay, geek alert,” Cat said laughing. “Can you guys speak English for us?”
“While your technology is very exciting,” Blackwell said, his dry tone indicating the opposite, “let’s get back to the matter at hand. This is not a direct-action mission, Q. It’s one with only a slim chance of interaction with the tango, which is why you’re being allowed to go. Make sure you make no direct contact with any suspect. Let Valkyrie or Gears handle that.”
She frowned. “So I’m just supposed to go to the conference and pretend everything is normal?”
“Everything is normal.”
“Way to let a girl down easy,” she muttered.
“Excuse me?” Blackwell said.
“Nothing, sir.” Even the slightest chance to be on a mission made her want to do a happy dance, she was
n’t going to blow it by mouthing off to her CO. “Can I bring weapons?”
Cat grinned, while Blackwell’s frown deepened. “I doubt you’ll need them.”
That wasn’t a no, she decided.
2
Jack walked into the café on the outskirts of Porto, a city in northern Portugal. It was busy at seven in the evening. The man he was to meet already sat with his back to the wall at a table for two in the corner. Jack’s insides twisted at the sight of him.
The man’s black hair was shorter than the last time Jack had seen him a year ago, and his dark gaze—an almost exact duplicate of his brother’s—narrowed with suspicion. Two coffees sat on the table in front of him.
Jack nodded and pulled out the other chair so he could also put his back to the wall. He took a sip of the coffee nearest him. “Ethan.”
“Did you find the signaler?”
Curt as always.
Jack could be just as blunt. “Yes.”
Ethan frowned when Jack sipped the coffee and didn’t say anything further. Ethan’s twin would have ripped into him with his razor wit. But Aiden Fletcher had always been quicker to temper, while Ethan was the calm, serious one. Aiden had said you had to be smart and completely humorless to get into the Secret Intelligence Service.
And Ethan certainly fit that description. Scary smart and getting more serious with every year. But he hadn’t always been that way. When they’d been teens, Ethan had been just as likely as Aiden and Jack to get into trouble.
“And?” Ethan said, interrupting Jack’s memories.
He took an even breath, keeping his face relaxed, and thought back to that night in Iraq. The night his life and everything in it had gone to shite. Every time he thought of it, it inevitably came back to the same thing: that damned signaler on the other end of the comm. The one who’d since vanished without a trace.
He wasn’t going to lie… He just wasn’t going to tell the whole truth. He needed Ethan on his side.
“I found the original signaler, Corporal Jeff Andrews. He told me he’d been ordered to leave the room by an officer,” Jack said. “Someone in Intelligence.”
“Military, then. But no name?”
Jack shook his head.
Ethan cursed. “So why didn’t he say that at your court-martial last year?”
“Because he’d been bribed and then threatened. That’s why he took off. Someone killed his girlfriend. It’s why he’s been on the move through Europe and such a bitch to find.”
“Where is he now?”
Dead.
Jack shrugged and kept his expression impassive. “He spoke only on the condition that he could keep moving. He’s scared. I let him go. There was no way he’d come back and testify on my behalf. I need to find the guy who paid him off.”
Ethan nodded. “The officer. Probably the one on the radio that night. Anything else?”
Ethan didn’t probe further into why Jack had let the signaler go, but Jack didn’t relax. Ethan had sharp eyes and an even sharper mind. He’d pick up on anything Jack showed, and then he’d dig.
“He said that one time the bastard referred to himself as Spider.”
Ethan didn’t move, but Jack sensed a sharpening of his scrutiny. “You’re sure he said Spider?”
“Positive.”
Ethan stayed silent.
Jack sighed. “Not going to share why the name Spider has you so tense?”
“No. What else did he say?”
Jack gritted his teeth. He needed Ethan to keep the others off his back. “He said the guy was on the tall side, Caucasian, and had light hair.”
“That’s a shite description.”
When Jack had gotten it he’d thought the same thing, but he hadn’t probed further at the time because he’d thought he could go into more detail later. He hadn’t expected someone to shoot Corporal Andrews through the apartment window while Jack had been standing there.
Jack shrugged. “I know. But Andrews never really got a good look at the guy that night. And he’s only had voice contact with him since. Andrews did tell me, Spider wanted him for a job. Something about a tech conference in London.”
“A job?”
“Andrews had computer skills.”
“Had?”
Fuck. He’d messed that up. This was Ethan. He had to be smarter. “Well he can’t go near a computer now that Spider’s looking for him.”
Ethan scrutinized him for a moment before giving a quick nod. “I’m supposed to convince you to come back. They want to question you about some new evidence that’s come to light.”
He leaned closer. “New evidence?”
“Don’t get excited. They now think that you might have ordered the air strike on purpose.”
“What?” Jack shook his head. “Those fucking knobdobbers. First they discharge me for incompetence and now they think I purposely killed my patrol? For what bloody reason?”
Ethan took a sip of his coffee. “They found evidence that linked you to the stolen shipment of weapons that you say your patrol found.”
“Get tae fuck.” He couldn’t believe the bastards back home. He flexed his fingers, trying to release tension. He couldn’t lose it now.
Jack took a small ragged breath as memories of that night assaulted him. It had taken days for him to be able to hear after the bomb had gone off. Days for him to hear that his entire patrol had been killed.
And then the accusations had started. It had been a year-long nightmare. No one had believed him about there being another person on the other end of the radio that night. And Corporal Andrews had sworn that no one but him had been on it. And all record of their transmissions had been wiped.
No one believed that Jack hadn’t called in the airstrike, or that the insurgents had some kind of advanced weapon that destroyed their comms.
Eventually he’d stopped protesting. And the army had given him a dishonorable discharge.
“What evidence?” he asked finally.
“I wasn’t privy to it. Probably because of our history.
Why don’t you come in and let me handle finding Spider?”
“You know I can’t do that.” He’d made a promise. He would have justice for his friends.
“I figured,” Ethan said. “What’s your next step? Do you need anything from me?”
He nodded. “A list of all the Intelligence officers in Iraq that night.”
Ethan sat back. “That’s going to be hard to come by.”
“Do you want your brother’s killer or not?”
“Some people think he’s already been found.” He stared hard at Jack.
“It’s a matter of whether you trust me.”
“I trust my brother’s instincts. And he trusted you.”
“You used to trust me.”
Ethan surveyed the café for a moment before he sighed. “I still do. I’ll get the list. But Jack? I can only hold them off for so long.”
“I know.”
“What’s your next step?”
“I’m going to London.”
* * *
She was going to London. Charlie gave a squeal and gripped the steering wheel as she drove home that night. On a mission!
Okay, maybe it wasn’t an actual mission, but it wasn’t just a normal conference either. She glanced at her messenger bag, stuffed with fun things from her lab. It would have to travel separately from her and her aunt, but she loved that she was taking it.
She’d need sensible clothes and sturdy shoes, or maybe boots. She couldn’t just wear her jeans like she’d planned, she’d need to dress business casual and blend in. She also had to have something nice to wear for the reception planned on the first night, plus a dress for the dinner dance, and something fancy for the awards gala. She wasn’t sure she had the closet for this trip.
She’d never been to London. She wanted to go on one of those double-decker tour buses and have a cream tea at Harrod’s.
Her mind started playing the video in which she singlehand
edly captured Spider herself, bringing him to his knees in the middle of Trafalgar square. No. In front of Buckingham Palace and Prince Harry.
Oh yeah. That was a good daydream.
“Slow down, Charlie,” she muttered. This was not a vacation, or an action movie. It was just a conference. And maybe a little bit of a mission.
But she couldn’t stop the grin on her face, and it was still there when she opened her front door. The smell of her aunt’s butter chicken greeted her. Her stomach rumbled. Maybe having her aunt live with her wasn’t so bad. Having dinner made for her was a definite plus. She shrugged off her leather jacket as she walked to the kitchen.
“Auntie G,” she called out. “I’ve got news.” She couldn’t tell her about Spider, but she’d tell her about Cat coming.
“So do I,” her aunt sing-songed back.
The dining room table had been set. With cloth napkins.
For three.
Her aunt came out of the kitchen before Charlie could get there, wearing one of her best salwar kameez, beautiful dark green silk pants and tunic, a lighter green dupatta scarf around her shoulders. Her shining hair and gracious smile didn’t hide the determination in her gaze.
Charlie stopped and frowned. Did her aunt have a date? Not that she’d be displeased, but her aunt had never dated anyone before now.
“There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Charlotte,” her aunt said. “Narinder, please come meet my niece.”
A tall, thin man with stooped shoulders walked out of the kitchen behind her aunt. His beard was clipped close and the lids of his brown eyes drooped slightly, giving him a hound dog look. His brown skin had no wrinkles. In fact, he looked to be around the same age as Charlie.
Crap.
She clenched her teeth. Her aunt was not going to do this to her. Two could play this game. Charlie shrugged her coat back onto her shoulders and forced a smile. “Hi, Bua. Don’t worry, I won’t interrupt your date. I’m heading out to meet friends, anyway.”
