by Ronie Kendig
Cardinal couldn’t help but notice how the man suddenly seemed weighted. Man, he could relate.
“But you know, I seen good, too.” The man nodded, his jaw jutted and lips pressed tight, almost as if he had no teeth at all now. “Sometimes, you have to look for it. Get out of where you are and look—really look for it.”
Good? The only good in his life had been…Aspen.
“Sometimes,” the man said, his voice bearing the burden of grief, “it gets taken from you.”
Shooting a look to the old man, Cardinal tried to ignore the sudden electric dart through his gut.
“Sometimes, we got choices to make when that happens. And sometimes, we make a choice that hurts.”
“The wrong choice,” Cardinal said.
The man scowled, his bushy eyebrows pulling together like a snowdrift over blue eyes. “Son, jus’ ’cause it hurts don’t make it wrong.” The man sniffled loudly then swiped a hand beneath his nose. “Takes a real man to fight that battle. Yes, sir.”
Cardinal’s stomach warmed. “Sometimes, a bigger battle is won by not fighting, not engaging the opponent.”
“Yep, you’re sure right.” The man shrugged in a way that told Cardinal there was more coming. Yet only the lapping of the nearby water whispered in the warm night.
The man had nearly stepped on Cardinal’s toes—metaphorically. He wouldn’t hand him a personal invitation.
“There was this man,” the beggar spoke, leaning closer and spiraling his stench over the area. It was strong. Almost spicy. “He’d stolen something from his brother. Pretty much the entire inheritance. Right out from under his brother’s nose.”
The man swiped his thumb under his nose. “Decades went by, and he finally wanted to return home. Felt he was supposed to. So he starts heading home.”
Something I won’t do.
“He was so scared, he had his people go before him.”
The man must’ve been rich to send people home with him.
“And he was still so scared, he sent his wife ahead of him. And the children.” The man slapped his leg. “Ha! Can you imagine?”
“That’s a coward.”
Wise-beyond-their-years eyes came to him slowly. “Yeah, but he went home.”
The words sailed over the hot night and corkscrewed past Cardinal’s every excuse, every defense, straight into his chest. Warmth spread. “I can’t go home.”
“That can’t sounds a lot like won’t, son.” The man poked his shoulder. “Sometimes, we make a choice that hurts.” He grinned his checkerboard grin. “But hurts heal when we face them. Leave them to fester, we have to chop off that limb or end up dying from the poison that infects our system.”
Heady over the man’s words, Cardinal felt a strange, alarming fear grip him. “Who are you?”
The man guffawed. “Shouldn’t you have asked me that before you ate that fish?” He clapped a hand on Cardinal’s shoulder. “Son, I think you know what you need to do.” He grunted and strained as he pushed to his feet, wobbling.
Cardinal helped him, coming to his own feet as he did.
“Now, I’d better be gettin’ back.”
“You have a home?”
Laughing, the man patted his jacket as if looking for something. “Nothin’ like a fresh North African catfish to fill the belly.”
Where were his manners? “Thanks.” Cardinal touched his stomach. “I think I needed that more than I realized.”
“Then finish it off.”
“I did.” Cardinal frowned when the man stared at him like he’d lost his mind then motioned with his arthritis-curled hand toward the wood. When Cardinal glanced at it, he was stumped to see several more bites. “Oh.” But…he’d eaten it all.
He looked up.
The beach stretched and curled around the bay. Empty.
Thirty-Seven
Safe House, Djibouti
We need a game plan.”
“No. Really, Sherlock?”
Austin skated a heated look to the only female left on the team.
“Want to stow the sarcasm and actually contribute?”
“Hey.” Candyman stepped up, his broad chest puffed. “Ease up there, chief.”
“Let’s all bring the tension down.” Boots thudded across the open room as General Burnett joined them. “This entire thing stinks, but we’ve got to get a handle on it.” He turned to Brie Hastings, an attractive late-twenties lieutenant who had as much spit and fire as Aspen. “What’d you find out about Hendricks and Payne?”
“Nothing yet, sir.”
He wagged a meaty finger at her. “Keep working those channels—find Payne. He’s the key. He went somewhere. I want to know where.”
“Sorry,” Austin said, his anger getting the best of him again, “but the bigger concern here is Aspen. We have to find her. She’s not trained for this.”
“She’s stronger than you think,” Timbrel Hogan said. Condemnation and accusation formed her venom-laced words. “She grew a lot after you abandoned her. Figured out where her priorities were.” She smirked.
“And she found a good man.”
“Good?” Austin snapped. “He walked out on her and us!”
“Did he?” Hogan spat. “Or did he abandon dead weight, and right now he’s out there hunting down whatever idiot took her from him?”
Austin wanted to curse at her ignorance. “If you believe that, then you don’t know the first thing about the man who played my sister.”
Arms folded, Hogan glowered back. “I bet Aspen’s thinking the same thing about her twin brother right now.”
“All right, all right.” The big guy sidestepped in front of Hogan, facing her. His voice softened and quieted as he spoke with her, his words shielded from others in the room. The salve of his approach seemed to soothe her, calm her down.
“Hogan,” Burnett spoke up, “how’s Talon?”
“A basket case,” she said, once again nailing Austin with a glare. “His first handler pretty much screwed him up.”
“Look—”
Burnett slapped his hand against the table, ending the argument. “Can you get him back together?”
Hogan hesitated. “I…I don’t know. He’s pretty shot.”
“What about that vet you people use?”
“Khat?” Her voice pitched. “She’s in Texas!”
“Do we have time to get her over here?”
Hastings shook her head. “I think we should have something pinned down in the next hour or two. And if we get word on Payne, we have to leave immediately. The jet’s already on standby. We should be airborne within a couple of hours, at the latest.”
Burnett muttered something about a can of soda then scratched the back of his head. He again focused on Hogan. “So get that vet on the webcam. Talk to her. Find out how to help him.”
“Sir,” Hogan said, Candyman hovering close by, “even if we talked to her—he’s psychologically traumatized, out to lunch.” Her gaze went to the Lab, still sitting beneath the table.
Austin’s heart chugged with guilt. Talon had been one of the best and smartest working dogs out there. When the time came for him to disappear, he’d expected Talon, tough dog that he was, to be fine. It hurt—a lot—to think that his commitment to serving his country in a deeper way had traumatized the poor fella. And now, with Aspen getting snatched…
“Let me try.” Austin’s heart vaulted into his throat. What are you doing? Talon had already shown that he wouldn’t respond to him. Not anymore. He remembered him, that was clear. But letting Austin handle him?
“What?” Hogan raised her arms. “Haven’t you done enough already?”
“No.” No, he hadn’t. “Not for Aspen.” He saw it now. Going under deep cover like he had wasn’t supposed to work this way. When you made that commitment, rules dictated no further contact with family members. For this reason and a plethora of other reasons. And staying here arguing like middle schoolers would land him in an institution, a room with a cozy jacket.
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“Hey,” Burnett’s voice boomed as he scowled at them. “We’ll need Talon when we figure out where General Tselekova is hiding, so do what you can. Use what you need. Just—get him operational.” He pivoted and glanced at the other end of the table where Smith sat at a bank of computers. “How’s it going on Tselekova?”
“Last known location was Moscow, officially. He got in some trouble, but nobody’s sure what.” Smith stretched his arms and yawned.
“Should we just head to Moscow?” Hastings suggested. “The flight time would give us extra hours to keep hunting. Once in country, we can go where necessary.”
“Get that working,” Burnett said.
She nodded and gave Austin a look.
“Timbrel, you got—”
“Khaterah, hey there!” Hogan pointed to a screen where a video feed showed a grainy image of a beautiful Middle Eastern woman.
“Timbrel?” She squinted into the screen. A man hovered over her shoulder. “What—is something wrong?”
“Yeah, there is.” Hands planted on either side of the screen, Hogan sighed. “Things have been pretty exciting here, and Talon’s not weathering it so great.”
“Define exciting,” the man said.
Highlighted with a glow from the monitor, Hogan’s face amplified her hesitation. “Aspen was snatched. Markoski is missing.”
A flood of questions and comments rushed through the camera.
“Hey, hey!” Hogan said as she held out her hands to stem the bevy of questions. “Khat, listen. We’re short on time. But I need help with Talon. He’s not responding. What can I do?”
“Okay,” Khaterah said. “Are you able to give him his own safe place?”
“Yeah…no, maybe.” Hogan nudged up the rim of her baseball cap. “We’re about to get on a plane. I can crate him.”
“Okay, have the crate. He’ll need a safe place to go. But in flight, stay near him, and every time he looks at you, give him a reward—whatever you can find. Hot dogs, chicken strips, something that is more alluring than his panic. You remember the ‘focus’ command, yes?”
Hogan nodded.
“Every time he looks at you, give him praise and a treat. Then introduce noises but keep that focus command going. Rapid-fire it till he’s looking at you every time the noise comes. We’ve got to build his confidence back up.”
The conversation continued over the next fifteen minutes. Austin listened hard and fast, determined to right this wrong he’d done to his partner. His superior officer. At Talon’s side, he smoothed a hand down the thick chest of the Lab, over the harness. Rubbed the soft ears that flopped down near his face.
“They said I was handsome, but I knew it was you the ladies loved,” Austin whispered to Talon as he inched closer.
His jaw snapped shut, the panting demanded by the heat ignored. Wary brown eyes gave furtive glances in Austin’s direction. Cheeks puffed with a stifled pant.
Too stressed.
Austin leaned away. “Good boy.”
Talon let his pink tongue dangle as he panted again.
Hogan walked toward him with a bag of treats.
“Let me do it.” Austin held out his hand.
She shot fiery arrows from her eyes.
Enough already. “He was my dog, my partner.”
“And you abandoned him.”
He hauled himself up to face off, and in his periphery he noticed her bulldog-champion coming closer. “I sacrificed my relationship with him and Aspen to serve my country, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love them both very much.” He snapped his hand out for the treats. “Talon knows me. You’ve never handled him. You’re a handler, right?”
She gave a slow nod, her brown eyes sparking with fury.
“Then you know these dogs are fiercely loyal. They won’t work with just anyone.”
“Including you.”
Man, this chick knew where to hit. Give a guy a break, okay? “I want to help him remember what we had.” He put his hand on the treat bag. “Please. Just let me try. I have to. No matter what you think of me, I love my sister. And I love Talon.”
She didn’t release the bag.
“You need to grab gear to head out. Besides, if you see anything questionable, you and your bulldog can take me down.”
She darted a glance to the side. “You think he’s big?” She smirked. “Wait till you meet Beo.”
Thirty-Eight
Murmuring drew Aspen from a sleep fog. She lifted her head—and winced at the pain that spiked through her neck and skull. Pounding forced her to squint against the pain. She searched for an explanation to wherever she was. However she’d gotten there.
Her head hurt. Her back. Pretty much everything. She lifted heavy eyelids to look around but kept the moans and groans begging for release to herself.
That’s right—the girl. The plane. But…this wasn’t a plane. Where am I? Where’s Talon? Is he okay? He doesn’t take stress well. Especially not the kind with chaos.
Light winked at her as she peeked across the sun-drenched room. Light streamed from high windows down onto the pale gray, cracked surface. On the floor. In a warehouse? A wild guess but the most probable considering her limited range of motion and ability to see her surroundings. She blinked against the sunlight as she strained backward to see behind her.
Crates in assorted sizes towered over her, like guardians.
Or captors.
Her mind scrambled back to the attack when she was yanked from the safe house. Talon’s deafening barks swirled in the jarring bubble of memories. Was he alive? Had they killed him?
And Dane. Her eyes shuttered closed remembering Austin’s accusations. Remembering that Dane wasn’t who he said. But he’d told her that himself, hadn’t he? Warned her not to look to him for affection or attention. Told her he couldn’t, wouldn’t get involved.
Who are you?
She couldn’t worry about him right now.
Escape. Maybe she could escape.
Okay, while many people would say she should do that, it presented a whole shipment of new problems—getting to the American embassy and convincing them of her identity. Before that, she had to find the embassy. She remembered Dane pointing it out when they went to the hospital. Good grief—that felt like a lifetime past.
After another check of her location to verify she was alone, Aspen pushed up on her shoulder then propped herself on her elbow—and a strange tug came at her right arm. Her mind registered the tightness around her wrists. Tied up. She huffed. Another problem to solve. But she’d do it. She hurried, knowing her time alone was probably short. They’d come back and beat the snot out of her. Or worse.
Then shut it and get moving!
She had a brother to smack senseless. A…guy to riddle full of questions, and a dog to lovingly coerce back to healthdom. If that was a word.
Skating a look around, she slowly hauled herself upright, expecting at any second to hear shouting or feel bullets riddling her body.
When nothing happened, she swung her legs around. Ankles tied. Okay, another problem. Augh! Really, Lord? Can’t make this easy, huh?
She shrugged and hopped over her bound hands, bringing them to the front, beneath her knees. Fingers nimble, she worked the plastic cord. It wouldn’t fray, but it was the type of binding that if she worked it enough…
Aspen grunted. Felt a fingernail snap. Below the quick. She hissed but hurried, scissoring her legs back and forth the bare half inch the binding allowed. They must’ve found this stuff lying around the warehouse. Her gaze again skimmed the building. The high windows. A high-level catwalk-type thing that ran along the perimeter…straight into an office.
Her breath caught. Shadows moved behind the blinds.
She dug harder at the binding. Slid out of view. Yeah! Scooting back, she worked the binding. Felt it give. Her heart raced.
Voices carried through the building. She couldn’t make out their words. Just upset. And getting closer.
She scurried back
ward. Her ankles sprung apart.
Aspen swung around. Came up on a knee. Pushed to her feet. Darted between the rows of boxes that stood twenty and thirty feet tall on pallets. Reminded her of the cargo on the boat. As she sprinted down the long line that seemed to stretch for a mile, she remembered Dane fingering some lettering. Cyrillic, wasn’t it?
She clung to the right, hoping to avoid being spotted by whoever cast the shadow in the office.
A shout shot up.
Aspen pushed harder.
The door—she could see the door! Freedom’s call yanked her onward. Hands still bound, she couldn’t run her fastest. But she pumped her legs hard. A whimper climbed up her throat. God, help me!
Shouts erupted back in the warehouse.
She plunged forward. Reached for the door. Hit it at full throttle.
The door flew open. Hit the wall. Snapped back. Thudded against her shoulder.
She yelped as it spun her around. Tripped her. She went to a knee. Pushed back up. Panting. Choking—air! She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t stop. Couldn’t slow. She had to go. Keep going.
To her left, a canal-like stretch of water.
Buildings lined the street to her right, sentries against her escape.
Aspen sprinted toward the buildings, praying she could get lost in the dizzying menagerie of structures. There were enough. She could find some place. Hide till danger passed.
Talon. He’d never ventured far from her thoughts. But what could she do? Nothing, unless she could escape.
She sprinted, tugging against the bindings on her wrist. It’d be so much easier…if they were free…
Something loomed in the horizon to the left. By the time her mind registered it, another three-story warehouse blocked her view. At the next street, she shot a look left.
Skidded to a stop.
Heart in her throat, she stared at the distant specter.
“No…” Panic swirled a toxic potion in her chest.
Spires leapt toward the sky above bulbous protrusions. Gold ones. Turquoise ones. Swirls of gold tracing the bubble up to the spire. Cathedral. “Russia.” She spun. Searched the surroundings for landmarks. Signs. Anything to verify what had her heart misfiring—so much that it hurt.
