Cold Red

by Fiona Quinn

  Anna pursed her lips tightly and glowered through the snow storm down the road. “The fucking Russians,” she muttered under her breath.

  “Whoever staged the bomb supplies could continue to look innocent and stay in any game they were playing with SIC,” Finley said. “They’d just play it off. ‘Why did your guy have C-4 in his house? Are you trying to blow this up in our faces?’” Finley adjusted his belt, so he could swivel toward Anna.

  “The Zorics could do that easy enough. You only took down one family cell.” She turned and shot him a glance. “I’m not belittling the effort. You saved the lives of dozens of trafficked kids in your raid. My understanding is that you also somehow thwarted an assassination attempt on government officials. So please don’t read what I just said as…small. I’m just saying that”

  “It was a single battle in a great big war.”

  “Yeah. That,” she said.

  “The Zorics absolutely had the means, the motive, and the opportunity. It’s also one hell of a long game. And we know that Russia is all about the long game.”

  “It’s a theory,” Anna said. “If that’s true. I think I might still be okay with the Zoric family.”

  “Why do you say that.”

  “The night before the raid, Cal called me and told me he needed me in a meeting with Johnathan and him where he was going to pass us some information. I told him I’d do my best to get there. He seemed a little shocked that I didn’t just say, ‘yes, sir.’ I remember that now. The shock. He said, ‘You will be there, missy, or there will be hell to pay. Do you understand me? This is big. And this isn’t an invitation. It’s an order.’ That’s when I said, ‘yes, sir,’ but I didn’t mean it.”

  “Why did you hesitate to take the meeting?”

  “I was supposed to be on a phone call to Slovakia and my Zoric handler. I wasn’t sure how long that would take. I thought I’d tell my contact what was going on and reschedule.”

  “Did Johnathan know about the phone call?”

  “No one did. And I was speaking on a safe phone.”

  “What happened on that phone call?”

  “Are you interrogating me?”

  “Gathering facts,” Finley said.

  “Nothing. I called, they said Johnathan and Cal could wait. We went through my reports. I was given a phrase to say and an ear to say it in. It was supposed to be that night, which meant I had to leave immediately. I made plane reservations. Then, I called over to Johnathan’s house. When he didn’t answer his phone, I drove over there. I thought it was important, though not imperative, that I find him. I mean, I could have taken care of Washington on my own. I headed over to Johnathan’s to tell him about the assignment, thinking that he could catch me up on what had happened in the Cal meeting. I’d work on appeasing Cal later.”

  “Just an FYI, Cal never went to that meeting. We had Johnathan’s house staked out, and you’re the only one who went over that day. How far away do you live from Johnathan?”

  “Two miles. Judging on his appearance, Johnathan was in the shower when I got there. I had let myself in with my key. I sometimes go and get Marmaduke for a walk.”

  “The Great Dane.”

  “Right,” she said.

  “We waited for you specifically. But we were only going to give it five more minutes. We were afraid that Johnathan had somewhere to go after the shower, and we’d have missed the take down. It’s interesting though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The media showed up in force. Usually that takes some time. There was flash bang and then there were reporters. Someone had them rallied. As I told you, I didn’t know much about the case. I was doing a favor. But they showed the team your photos to make sure we were arresting the right people. They’d probably be the same photos that would be distributed by the bureau if the media asked for them when the car went missing. These were headshots, one of you and one of Johnathan. You both looked like beautiful Hollywood-type people. You could be cast for starring roles in a spy movie.”

  “Is that why you were staring at me so hard when I was sitting in the car.”

  “Lots of reasons why I was staring at you hard. You do look different in an evening gown and makeup. Not that different.”

  “Why are you bringing up the photos?”

  “The theatrical quality to it. I’m thinking about how this would be perceived as an “us against them” scenario. Psychologically, society thinks that beautiful people are less culpable. Less able to do anything wrong. In the courts, they get less time in prison, a smaller fine. Public opinion goes to the attractive people.”

  Anna snorted. She could clean up nicely when she needed to. She knew that she could turn some heads. That Finley thought she was attractive enough to turn public opinion made her feel oddly bubbly. And this sure as heck wasn’t the time for school-girl stupidity.

  “You stack those photos against the FBI special agents,” he was saying.

  “Wait, how’s that going to work? You’d make the housewives all over America swoon. Mulvaney, okay, I don’t mean to be catty but if it was just her, I… oh yeah, it wasn’t supposed to be you in the car. It was supposed to be your friend. Where does he sit on the attractiveness scale?”

  “He’s a solid four, four and a half. But he’s got a really great sense of humor.” Finley grinned then winced and put a hand on his head. “Did you just call me pretty?”

  “Not now you aren’t. You were the morning of the arrest. Damaged goods.” And Anna’s mind went back to the pond fiasco, when she was crumpled on the ground in front of the blazing fire. He was naked except for the boots he’d pulled on. He had one hell of a body: chiseled abs, broad chest, powerful arms. And he’d warned her not to judge him because it was cold out. But if that was how things looked when he was cold, that was darned impressive. Anna shifted around in the seat.

  A stab of pain up her back reminded her to get her mind back to the situation at hand.

  She’d have plenty of time to fantasize about Steve Finley’s body once they were safely in their hospital beds. Medicated. “Okay. The FBI SWAT team was waiting for me. I was supposed to be at the meeting. But that doesn’t impact the rest of the timeline. Cal called a meeting that I was ordered to attend. Cal didn’t show. I’m assuming that meeting was to get the pigeons on the roost for the take-down. Ostensibly, Cal was already up at the cabin, ready not only to move the event along its trajectory, but also to give himself a seat outside the ring when things got bad and the FBI swarmed their compound. He’d be safe and sound.”

  “Then the Zorics didn’t know?”

  “I bet they knew about Johnathan. I bet they scheduled that phone meeting with my handler and kept it going as long as they did to protect me from being there at the house. This event didn’t require two sacrificial lambs, just the one. Johnathan wasn’t family. And he wasn’t even dependable enough for them to send in on his own. I was there to handle him. And here’s the other thing, remember what Johnathan said? The day of his arrest was supposed to be his payday. Just before the crash he was saying that he should get millions and millions of dollars, all he had to do was broker the deal. He thought it was done. Signatures were scrawled. He thought he was rolling in riches. The money should be moving to his off-shore accounts.”

  “He’d served his purpose, and then he not only was disposable, but it was financially expedient to get rid of him. The Zorics handed Johnathan over to SIC to get the event in play. And the Zorics thought they had you on a plane going to Washington. I think that they wanted you there for a reason. To keep you out of the fray.”

  “Seems that way. They said the weather was getting stormy, take the very next flight available. That’s why I went to get Johnathan.”

  “They told you to bring Johnathan?”

  “No.” She paused. “They never mentioned him in the conversation. I just assumed. We’d always done the Washington events as a couple.”

  “Had you followed through on your own, you’d be in a plush
hotel room in DC right about now. And I’d be dead.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Finley

  “Honey, man, we’ve got blue lights in our rearview mirror.” Finley had grabbed up the phone and quick dialed the Iniquus Panther war room.

  “I’m listening to the police scanner in your area. The patrol car hasn’t called in a pursuit. We’re going to reach out to their dispatch and negotiate. Don’t stop.”

  “Roger that.” There was no speaker on Harvey’s piece of shit phone. “Honey says don’t stop,” Finley called over to Anna.

  She was in combat mode, all cylinders firing. Her jaw was set, but her hands stayed relaxed on the wheel, her elbows tucked. This wasn’t her first rodeo. With a glance in the rearview mirror, Anna hissed “shit” between her teeth and picked up their speed.

  Their tires were squirrely on the icy roads.

  The talking stopped.

  There was a black sky, a white landscape, and the bright strobe of blue lights – though Anna was making progress in putting some space between them. The night was bright with the sound of the siren and flapping swish of the windshield wipers.

  “Alright, we have some information in. I’m listening to the Virginia scanner now. There’s an APB out to Virginia State Police that you’ve killed two FBI officers and have taken their coats and credentials to pose as FBI as you make your escape in a stolen car. Hang on. Nutsbe, what’s going on? Can you plot out the players?”

  A distant “working on it” sounded in the receiver.

  Finley held the phone up near Anna’s ear, so they could both hear.

  “You’re doing great,” Honey said. “Keep on best you can while we come up with a plan. You’ve been one step ahead of them for almost three days now. That’s all you have to do. Just stay one step ahead. Okay?”

  “Are we near the state line?” she called out loud enough for Honey to hear.

  “It’s still a ways off. But if you get there, you’re going to be stopped by the Virginia State Police. Our commander, Titus Kane is calling in to their commander now. He’s going to see if they can’t get you an ambulance and an escort to the hospital without the handcuffs.” As Honey spoke, Finley repeated the information.

  “Let’s think that through,” Anna said.

  Finley lifted the phone up near her mouth so the operators in Panther Force war room could hear.

  “Finley needs a hospital now. I don’t know what he told you, but his brain got stomped on in the accident. His eyes look like a damned chameleon’s, sliding off in different directions. It’s unnerving.”

  “Special Agent Finley indicated you both needed medical attention,” Honey said. “He reported you were both functional.”

  “Functional.” Anna let that word drift off. “Look, if it means getting put back in cuffs to get him to a hospital, as long as it was in Virginia instead of West Virginia that might be a go. Could it be that they’d get a medivac helicopter in and get Finley to a level one trauma hospital?”

  “Your saying not in West Virginia for a reason?” Honey asked.

  Finley tried to process what she was saying about the importance of location. The FBI and the AWG were national, the state they were in wouldn’t matter. SIC, they weren’t exactly national, but Mulvaney had said on their way out for the pickup that SIC was headquartered in West Virginia, but they were growing and expanding. They had groups spreading throughout the southern United States all the way to Missouri. So why was Virginia okay and not West Virginia?

  “Emphatically. Yes,” Anna said.

  Emphatically?

  “Finley, we’ve apprised the FBI DC about the location of the accident and the remains of their special agent,” Honey said. “We’ve just received word that they’re sending a team in as we speak.”

  “Thank you,” Anna and Finley said together.

  “The FBI field office is also making calls on your behalf. Because you carjacked your transportation, there are laws in play. Granted, once the circumstances are revealed, it’s unlikely there will be criminal proceedings, but you know the drill.”

  “Understood,” Finley said, his voice quiet, his mind still trying to process the difference in Anna’s mind between West Virginia and Virginia.

  “Shit,” Anna hissed, again.

  Finley twisted his body as the noise levels rose. There were two more sets of flashing blue lights behind them. Two more sirens shrilling in his brain. The sound shot blinding bolts of electricity through his head.

  “You seeing this?” Finley gasped into the phone.

  “We have a slight delay on the satellite. What’s happening? Wait. Got it. Three pursuit vehicles.”

  Anna sent Finley a quick accessing glance then eased down on the gas pedal, picking up their speed. “Did you see the tactical case on the back seat?” she asked.

  Finley reached backward and pulled it over center console. He unzipped it and clawed through looking for weapons. Nothing.

  Anna reached out her hand and pulled out the range noise-cancelling headphones. “Try these.”

  He glanced them over, then slid them on his head, adjusting the dial so the sirens were muted, but he could still hear Honey over the phone saying, “Can you hear me past the sirens?”

  “Barely,” Anna replied. “I’m going to try to put some distance between us. I’m in a four-wheeler, and they’re in patrol cars. The first one is anyway. It’s hard to see in the snowfall. I don’t have a visual.”

  “This is Titus Kane, Iniquus Panther Force Commander. Your conversation is being recorded. As you’re on a civilian’s phone, this is not a secured line. For the record, I need to be clear, are you and Special Agent Finley in danger of life or limb if you pull over?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said.

  “May I have your rank and full name, please.”

  “I’m Zelda Fitzgerald. I’m, uhm, a US citizen. I was apprehended with Johnathan Borkin from his home on Thursday by the FBI. The car taking me to Washington DC was in an accident where two people, Johnathan and Special Agent Mulvaney, were killed. Special Agent Finley and I hiked to the roadway. I’m in his custody. Though I’ve been arrested, I still want to make sure that the special agent is okay. I repeat, he is in immediate need of medical care for traumatic injury.”

  “Titus here, thank you. My next question: Is there a reason beyond knowing that the sheriff was waiting for you at the gas station that makes you unwilling to be arrested by or receive help from these officers?”

  “Yes. I believe they put both Special Agent Finley and me in life-threatening danger outside of the scope of the law.”

  Anna had kept something significant from him. It must be “need to know.” Classified sucked when it put your ass on the line, and you didn’t even know why. Was she saving herself? Him? Both?

  “Honey here. We’re getting you a Plan B. Are you okay on gas?”

  “We were filling up the tank when I phoned you earlier,” Finley said. “We’re good for about three hundred miles.”

  “Alright,” Honey said. “So to be clear, Miss Fitzgerald you believe that getting caught by these officers puts you in danger, so in extricating yourself you’d be willing to face some danger?”

  Finley brought the phone closer to his mouth as he said. “That doesn’t bode well, brother.” He extended it back out so Anna could hear.

  “Six of one—" Honey started.

  “Don’t,” Finley stopped him. “Zelda’s averse to that particular phrase.” Finley sent her a smile, hoping to take the edge off the razor-sharp stress that filled the SUV.

  “Honey here. I’m going to spell out a plan. You two figure out if this is how you want to proceed.”

  “Shoot,” Anna said.

  “In this weather, with the snow accumulation on the secondary roads, we can’t see us getting you over the Virginia state line without being arrested. State troopers are positioning as we speak. There’s red tape galore. We’ve got outreach, but that information is getting chased up the ladder. In o
ur experience, this wouldn’t normally be a problem. Someone is exerting pressure. It’ll take time to figure out whom.”

  “I don’t think we have that kind of time,” Anna said.

  “Miss Fitzegerald—"

  “Please, just Zelda.”

  “Yes ma’am, Zelda. Can you tell me about your injuries?”

  “For me it’s soft tissue damage. Nothing I can’t grit my teeth through. Finley, on the other hand, is visually impaired, his pupils are even and seem to dilate okay. He took a pretty good blow to his head. He’s experiencing vertigo that makes walking on his own difficult. His thought sequencing seems fine. Vocabulary seems intact. Emotional range seems okay. He’s kept a make-do c-collar on to protect his upper vertebrae, but brain injuries are tricky. The sooner he’s in a trauma unit the better. I think the most expeditious route is going to be the safest route for him, even if it means some risk.”

  “To clarify, is Finley ambulatory?” Honey asked.

  “For a short distance, maybe.”

  “A mile?” he asked.

  “That would be pushing it.” Anna didn’t sound like she had any conviction behind his ability. Finley didn’t either. Anna too would be pushing herself hard, a mile seemed like a damned long way, especially if they were carrying provisions and moving up or down an elevation in the two feet of snow accumulation. “What’s the plan?”

  “We have access to a hunting lodge twenty miles farther down your highway. Before you get there, there’s a monument wall with a historic plaque and pull off for picture taking. The pull off takes the driver in a circular drive behind the wall. There, you’d find a flat space and then a drop off. If you could get some distance between you and the cars, they’d be blinded for a short time by the rise of a hill. You could slide down behind the wall. Chances are they’d pass you by. The cabin is five miles up a dirt road or one mile as the crow flies directly west of that rock wall. You could hole up there until we can get our ambulance to you. The ambulance has been en route since Finley placed his phone call. They’re driving lights and sirens, and we are not impeded by snowfall in Virginia.”