Cold Red

by Fiona Quinn

  Foomph! A weight landed on Anna’s back, pressing her face down into the snow.

  “I got her!” the man yelled. “I got her! I don’t see the other one anywhere.”

  Anna reached her hands over her head to find the man’s skull and wrapped angry fingers around him while her thumbs found and dug into his eye sockets. The move startled her attacker.

  “Hurry!” Anna screamed out, hoping the phone would convey her panic.

  The man tipped to the side to get away from the pressure on his eyeballs. “You’re under arrest,” he gasped out. “You have the right to, gawd dammit! Ouch! Fuck!” He kept one hand clenched on her jacket. They rolled down the hill as each one scrambled to get the dominant position. Anna’s hands searched to make sure the man wasn’t holding a weapon.

  “Gawd damn it! Hey, I need help over here.” They rolled again, hitting the hard surface of the road. “She’s a wild cat!” he yelled.

  From up the hill Anna heard. “I’m coming. Keep ahold on her!”

  Suddenly, the air lit with a high-pitched noise and a flash of brightness against the white expanse of snow. Anna’s mind was right back in Johnathan’s living room with the flash bang that lit her senses. Her stomach heaved. She grabbed hold of the officer’s coat and slammed her knee up hard into the man’s crotch, taking advantage of his disorientation.

  He was a rag in her hands.

  Anna pulled herself around, climbing on top of him to pin him down. She felt for his gun and found the holster was empty.

  Her gag reflex worked overtime as the smoke filled her nostrils.

  She opened her mouth and felt air dance over her vocal chords as she yelled out, “I’m here! I’m here!” She couldn’t hear herself screaming out. She hoped the Iniquus operatives could.

  The next time she opened her mouth to yell, the bile from her stomach slicked up the back of her throat, and she hunkered over to heave up all the convenience shop food, right into the officer’s face.

  He rolled to get away from the stream, grabbing handfuls of snow and rubbing it over his skin to get the vomit off.

  Anna reached into his duty belt for his cuffs and quickly secured the man, before the next wave of nausea took over.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to puke on you,” she said, knowing he probably couldn’t hear her yet.

  * * *

  The Iniquus operatives, dressed in snow-camo with skeleton-faced balaclavas obscuring their faces, and night-vision goggles, had quickly gained control.

  Anna had been led over the hill to a waiting pickup truck, equipped with a front mounted snow plow. Her head still rang, her stomach still sloshed.

  An operative was on either side of her, holding her swaying form upright as they side-stepped down the incline toward the open door of their vehicle

  A man was waiting for her with a flashlight to check her pupils and a bottle of warm water to flush over her face.

  She bent over coughing and hacking. Another wave of vomit hit her.

  “Thank you, ma’am. It’s always best to leave that on the side of the road.”

  She had one hand on her knee and waggled the other back toward where she left the SUV.

  “Yes, ma’am, we’ve got him.” He handed her a bottle of water to swish out her mouth.

  Anna pushed up from her crouch as two other skeleton-faced men brought Finley over the crest of the hill. Finley still had the noise cancelling headphones in place. That at least was a blessing.

  As he got down to her, Finley stretched his arms wide, gathering her tightly against him. Anna felt a kiss pressed into her hair.

  A tap on her shoulder got them moving. She and Finley crowded into the cab, while the operative team jumped into the bed of the truck.

  From the truck, they were moved to the ambulance.

  As they transferred to that vehicle, Anna was told that this would be her ride all the way back to Washington DC. Finley, thank goodness, had a heli waiting.

  Finley was strapped to a backboard, his neck in a proper c-collar now.

  Anna sat on the bench beside him holding his hand.

  They had a driver and an operative riding shotgun. There was another Iniquus guy in the jump seat back here with them who worked as the paramedic.

  Anna and Finley had both failed the pinch test and were hooked up to IV lines for hydration. The guy had added painkillers to her line. A warm glow filled her.

  That wasn’t right.

  Painkillers didn’t give people a warm glow. Painkillers took the sharp edge off their discomfort, Anna thought. Holding hands with Finley, knowing he was going to get the help he needed, that was what was making her feel this way.

  “What?” Finley asked and squeezed her hand, a smile slid across his face. It was a little shy. The smile had a sweet quality to it that was endearing.

  Anna smiled back. “It’s weird how the brain pops things up. I’m having an armadillo moment.”

  “Yeah? Tell me what weird piece of information just bubbled up.”

  “Did you know that it takes fifty hours with someone before you consider them a casual friend?” Anna asked.

  “Fifty? Really? Huh.” He paused. “What time is it? I think we’re almost to the point where I could consider you a casual friend. Not quite though.”

  That made Anna laugh.

  “Where’d you learn about this fifty-hour deal?”

  “The Journal of Social and Personal Relationships. I was researching ways to make SIC think I was on their side. What was that ‘huh’ about?”

  “I’m just thinking of all the people I’ve spend more than fifty hours with that I don’t think of as friends at all.”

  “Obligatory time doesn’t count – which is what I found out when I was researching this. Johnathan and I were “together” for five months, and I hated the guy. I’d rather be friends with a rattle snake.” She picked up the swaying IV tube and looked at the saline flowing through. “And I was sure he felt the same way about me.”

  “I’m feeling badly right now. Here I thought we were forming a friendship, but I guess this is kind of obligatory,” Finley said.

  Friends? Yeah. That wasn’t really how Anna felt about Finley. What she felt had more depth, more heat.

  “What happens after the fifty hours?” he asked when she didn’t respond.

  “At ninety hours, you call yourselves friends instead of casual friends and at two hundred hours, you’re close friends.”

  “Two hundred.” His voice drifted off as he lifted his eyes thinking that through. “That’s a lot of talking.”

  “Talking isn’t required, just being in the same place, sharing an experience.

  “I don’t think that research includes the dynamic of having your life saved repeatedly within that time frame. “I think this falls under the life-debt tradition.”

  She canted her head. “Like Chewbacca swore his life debt to Han Solo?”

  “Really? You went to Star Wars for your simile?” He flipped his hand to lace his fingers with hers. “You are such a geek.”

  “I’ll own that.” Anna lifted her knees to rest her feet on the side of his gurney. Her eyelids slid shut.

  “No,” he whispered. “I can’t say that Chewbacca was part of my life-debt thought process.”

  They both fell into an exhausted silence.

  Cocooned in the ambulance, they slowly drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Anna

  “You’re Honey?” she asked as a mountain of a man walked through the open curtain of her emergency room cubby.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, touching his hand to his chest.

  “Like big as a honey bear? Is that how you got your moniker?”

  “No, ma’am. People tell me they call me Honey for my sweet nature.” He smiled and dipped his head, which was charming on a man who towered toward the ceiling.

  “Have you heard anything about Finley?” She squirmed around to sit up on her bed, crossing her legs in front of her.
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  Honey placed a bag in her lap. “Yes, ma’am. He’s going to need surgery. He’d like to see you before he goes under. When I passed by the nurses’ station, I overheard them getting your release papers together.”

  Anna rifled into the bag and put her nose right down in to inhale the warm chocolatey smell of the oversized muffin.

  Honey nodded toward the bag. “My wife says these will cure just about anything. I thought I might bring you one.” He held out an insulated cup. “I think coffee is the real panacea. So the two together might be the right ticket.” He glanced around until his eyes fell on her pile of clothing laying across a plastic chair.

  “I was going to bring you something fresh to put on. But the coffee shop was the only thing open at this time of day.” He caught Anna’s eye. “I’m happy to run by your place and pick something up?”

  “The clothes are gross, I know. But I’m just wearing them home. I’ll be fine.” Anna waved her hand toward the pile then focused back on her priority. “He’s having surgery. That’s all you can tell me?”

  “Finley sent me to check up on you and bring you up if you were in between tests. That is if you’d like to.”

  Anna swung her legs out from under the rough cotton sheet. Honey reached out to sling the curtain shut, keeping his back turned as Anna pulled on her clothes. To be honest, after so many long deployments and the time she’d spent out in the middle of no-where with her teammates, her modesty had kind of fallen by the wayside. Truly, whatever.

  A nurse’s shoes could be seen under the curtain. “Knock knock,” she called.

  “Come in,” Anna called back.

  Honey took a step backward.

  The curtain rattled along the rod as the nurse slid it to the side. She lifted her shoulder and startled to the side when she saw the sheer size of Honey Honig. With a hand clutched to her chest, she huffed out a “heh, heh, heh, sorry” before she turned her attention to Anna. “All dressed and ready to get out of here, I see. I have your release paperwork. I just need you to sign it here.” She handed off the clipboard then held up three prescriptions. “This one is for pain. This one is nighttime pain if you’re having trouble getting to sleep because of anxiety. If you feel like you need more of these prescriptions, the doctor would like it to be in consultation with a mental health practitioner. No need for a car accident to become a life-long disability.” She dipped her chin looking up at Anna, like a mother who was making a stern point.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Anna said.

  “The third one is for a physical therapist. The doctor would like you to set up an appointment first thing Monday morning.”

  “Alright.” Anna handed the clipboard back to the nurse, exchanging it for the prescription sheets that she folded and stuck in the pocket of her tactical pants. The pants hung low on her hips. She’d lost a lot of weight in the last few days. Anna thought that she might eat an entire cheesecake to make up for the lost calories. She glanced up at Honey who turned and offered her his arm.

  Anna appreciated his gallantry mostly because the blisters on her feet were killing her. As they paced out of the emergency department, Honey snagged a wheelchair, and Anna sat down gratefully. She ate her muffin on the way up to Finley’s room. Her moans of “mmm so good,” had Honey chuckling behind her.

  Up the elevator, down the corridor, a turn of the corner, down another corridor, Anna was very happy she was along for the ride. She bunched the bag and tossed it basketball style into a trash bin as she rode by.

  She had lifted her cup for a sip when Honey turned her chair and reached out a massive paw to rap on the door.

  The door swung open to her Asymmetric Warfare Group commander.

  Anna pushed her elbows into the chair arms to lift herself to standing. She was supposed to be undercover. How was she supposed to handle this?

  “None of that,” he said under his breath.

  Her butt plopped back in the chair. He tapped her on the shoulder and sauntered off.

  Anna sent a confused glance toward him as he moved off.

  That was odd. Uncomfortable. Disconcerting.

  “Zelda,” Finley called. “Anna…”

  She flipped her attention into the room. There was a man holding the door wide. Honey pushed her into the room, then turned on his heels. As the door shut, Anna saw that he had swiveled into place and was posted on guard duty. She assumed Honey was protecting the secretiveness of this conversation. Anna wasn’t sure she was up to cloak and dagger right now. The pain pills they’d given her downstairs made her fuzzy.

  “I’m Special Agent in Charge Damion Prescott,” the man said, holding out his hand for a shake.

  Anna heard Captain Underpants. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Say that again, please.” Anna lifted her hands to show him that she was too banged up for niceties like handshakes.

  “Damion Prescott.” He reached for the arm of her chair, maneuvering her over, so she was near Finley.

  “You okay?” she whispered toward Finley. “I heard surgery. Is this brain surgery?”

  “Blood clot on my occipital lobe. That’s why I’m having trouble seeing. They’ll get it. No big deal.”

  “Right.” Anna wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “No big deal.” She desperately wanted to reach out to Finley to touch him and hold him, but in front of Prescott that could go badly. Finley had called her Anna. She needed to know why.

  She looked from Finley to Prescott who was pulling a chair over, so they could have a quiet little tête-à-tête.

  Anna chewed her upper lip as she sought out Finley’s gaze for information.

  Finley shifted toward her. “You don’t have to obfuscate anymore. I was read into the program.”

  “Oh?” What program? Was that why Colonel Brigstock was here in Finley’s room and not downstairs in the emergency department checking on her?

  Extra special sauce Prescott slid into his chair. “You’re working with AWG to figure out if the Zoric family is involved in cyber warfare, the attack on the drones in Syria, and if they were responsible for the attacks on our comms around the world. We believe they used their abilities to interfere with the satellites in the area of your disappearance. We didn’t know where you went. We had your car on satellite, then we had static.”

  “You ready for some shit?” Finley asked with a self-deprecating chuckle.

  “No. Actually, I’m not.” Anna had hit her wall on shit she could handle. She hefted herself up from the wheel chair and stalked toward the door. She just wanted to go home and sleep.

  “I’m sorry,” Finley said softly as her hand touched the doorknob.

  “Of course, you are.” She kept her back to him. “How long has the FBI known my role?”

  “I personally didn’t know anything about you,” Finley said, his voice rang with enough sincerity that it turned Anna around.

  Prescott opened his hand toward the wheel chair, encouraging Anna to take a seat. “The AWG got in touch with me when you and Johnathan first came back to the United States from Slovakia. Our office has been working on the Zoric family crimes for a long time. If you reached out to any of the major players when you got here, you’d be on our watch list. We have FISA warrants on their international communications, including your Zoric handler’s incoming US calls. When you came into the United States, the AWG knew we would follow through.”

  “Followed through how?” Anna dropped into the seat, relieved again to get off her blisters. She was going to go home, put her feet up, and not move for days on end.

  With a cheesecake.

  And a box of wine. Not that she loved boxed wine – but the volume and ease of pouring was what she was aiming for. Anna felt pretty sure that if she asked, Honey would make sure she had both.

  “Before a plan was made, an AWG representative paid me a visit. They asked us not to interfere.”

  Anna shot a look, zinging Prescott with her anger. “That’s one hell of a way not to interfere. Your team freaking threw flash bang at me!
”

  “Anna.” Finley’s voice was smooth and warm. He was smart enough not to touch her. She would have bitten into him, possibly even literally, she was so pissed off.

  Before Finley could tell her his thought, Prescott broke in. “You were on our back burner. The AWG handled your surveillance and translation. I was told when you were coming into Washington for the social parties with Johnathan Borkin, so I knew where you were, kept you on my map. That’s it.”

  She glared at Prescott with her very best fuck-you face. It was hard to contrive through the pain meds and exhaustion.

  “The Washington Bureau didn’t go after you and Johnathan,” Finley said. “That was a different office. They were given intelligence on materials and explosives that were tied to the DC bombings. Remember the stories we heard on the radio? It was the West Virginia office’s understanding that the two pieces were parts of one story. When West Virginia received the information, there was no reason why they would check in with Prescott.”

  Anna had fixed her gaze on Finley. He nodded at the wrath he saw there. It had to be painted plain as day. The DC FBI knew she was there and connected to Johnathan, and they didn’t protect her as an asset. If they sent in Mulvaney and Finley, they sure as heck knew something.

  “The West Virginia office didn’t coordinate with us except to say that they needed to move two prisoners to Washington DC for questioning and wanted the DC bureau to handle the transportation,” Finley said. “They suggested Mulvaney and Bivens, my buddy.”

  Anna lowered the temperature on her anger. “They suggested. Isn’t that odd? Do you know who made the suggestion, and how they’re connected to all of this?”

  Finley pulled his lips flat finally able to shake his head no, now that the c-collar was finally off.

  “Finley doesn’t, but I do,” Prescott said.

  Anna turned and waited, but Prescott didn’t offer up any information.

  Fine, Anna thought, she’d try another tack. “This person, they knew Bivens and Mulvaney?