Code Name: Princess

by Christina Skye

  The woman had to be about eighty, with permed blue-white hair, white gloves, and an ample chest hidden beneath a crocheted shawl. Her body was misshapen, bent over a rough wooden cane.

  Why was the grandmother from hell motioning to him? Irritated, he studied the heavily made-up face, certain he’d never seen the woman before.

  Then she stuck out one foot, revealing size thirteen ostrich-inlay cowboy boots underneath her full skirt.

  Hawk snorted. “Damn, Teague, you’re downright scary.”

  Izzy hiked up his skirt, revealing spandex bike shorts and hairy legs. “I didn’t have time for panty hose. Not that it’s easy to find them in a size 2X tall.” He slanted Jess a cool look. “I’m confident that you’re going to forget you ever saw me, Jess.”

  She nodded slowly, as if unable to believe her eyes. “That’s amazing.” She walked closer and pointed carefully. “But one of your—that is, your chest is a little off balance.”

  Izzy looked down and dug irritably beneath his shawl until he straightened the padding at his bosom. “Damned breast inserts never stay where they’re supposed to. I knew I should have used the duct tape.”

  Hawk headed toward the Jeep. “Thanks for all you’ve done, Jess. One of the men will be here shortly to drive you to Portland.”

  “Good luck,” she said gravely.

  “Luck is a highly overrated commodity. We’ll be using reasoning power, field experience, and superior intel.” Izzy slipped a big red purse onto his arm and gave another tug at his chest, where the breast insert had begun to slip again. “Trust me on this.”

  Hawk shook his head. “Something tells me we’re going to need all the luck we can get if you’re our secret weapon.”

  Izzy’s eyes narrowed. “Then be glad that I’m only one of them.”

  “I’ve never driven this model of Jeep before. It’s nicer than I thought.”

  After a little wrangling, Jess and her driver agreed to split their time at the wheel. Jess was on deck, savoring the pleasure of having her car back again. It might be battered and quirky but at least it was her quirky.

  “No doubt about it. Unfortunately, one ride will spoil you for sedans.”

  They were on a flat stretch of road with Puget Sound to their left and mountains to their right. Fog was drifting low, and the driver concentrated on passing cars.

  The man assigned to her didn’t say much, scanning the road with apparent randomness, but Jess knew he missed nothing. He’d even brought sandwiches and coffee along, so they wouldn’t have to stop until late that night. Apparently Hawk didn’t want to risk any more incidents in all-night roadhouses.

  Now if only they could avoid any traffic problems, a distinct possibility since the traffic lights were still out in this part of the state.

  As they rounded a curve, Jess saw a short man in a blue postal uniform standing in the middle of the road, waving. A silver Jeep Rubicon was parked just off the shoulder with its hood raised.

  Her driver didn’t slow down.

  “Aren’t you going to stop and help him?”

  Her companion didn’t answer, scanning the steep wooded slope beside the road. As he slowed down slightly, Jess’s skin began to prickle at the back of her neck.

  The man in the uniform headed toward them, smiling, and made a motion for the driver to roll down his window. “Got a battery problem,” he called, moving toward the car. “Stuck on the way home from my shift. Think I could borrow some jumper cables?”

  The driver kept his pace, shaking his head.

  “Hey, wait! I need help here.” Angry, the man trotted alongside the car. “I got a wife at home who’s six months pregnant.”

  “We’re in a hurry. I’ll have a repair truck come out from the next town. I believe it’s only six miles away.”

  “Damned phones being out don’t help.” The man in the uniform frowned and reached down, patting his shirt pockets. “Never have any cigarettes when I need them. I don’t suppose you—”

  “Don’t smoke.”

  The worker flashed a gun from his pants pocket, its muzzle trained on the driver. “Stop the car, hands up, and get out. Do it now.”

  The driver floored the Jeep and jerked the wheel. Jess heard bullets drill into the passenger-side door.

  “Down,” her driver yelled. He kept accelerating as the passenger-side window exploded in a hail of glass fragments. A small bridge rose in front of them, covering a shallow inlet off the Sound. He headed straight for it.

  A man in a green jumpsuit ran out from behind the silver Jeep, leveled a shotgun at his shoulder and pumped out five shells. Jess’s door shook. He kept firing, running at the same time as if he’d done it many times before.

  As they drove over the bridge, the driver glanced at Jess. “When I come down, jump out. Hit the water and stay out of sight. They won’t be able to see you from here.” A bullet raked the front fender. “We’re six miles north of Bright Creek. Take my cell phone from the seat and keep it on. One of the team will find you.”

  The back window exploded, glass filling the car.

  “Go.”

  With shaking hands Jess yanked open the door and jumped out. She hit muddy ground, lost her footing and staggered down the slope, then sank into a high wall of reeds beneath the bridge. Shivering in the cold, she heard the Jeep moving on past her. Footsteps hammered across the bridge, followed by gunshots at close range.

  The driver let out a harsh curse.

  Jess closed her eyes, her fist pressed against her mouth.

  “Where’s the other one?”

  “Doesn’t matter. We’ve got a car, so let’s get the hell out of here.” A door slammed and the Jeep’s motor roared. Another door slammed and the Jeep barreled away.

  Moments later, there was no sound but the hiss of the wind on the reeds and the wild hammering of her heart.

  Her Jeep had certainly been a popular item recently. Storms had a way of doing that, Jess thought grimly.

  “I thought we were going to pick something up?”

  “It’s waiting for us in Bright Creek.”

  Hawk shot a glance at Izzy as they sped through the rain. “Do you have any idea how dog-ugly you are, Teague?”

  Izzy gave his blue-white wig a tug. “Up yours, Mackenzie.” As Hawk drove, Izzy’s smile faded. “No soap or perfume,” he said quietly. “Don’t handle anything with distinct smells.”

  Hawk’s brow rose. “Afraid it will clash with your eau de bag lady?”

  “No, because it will disturb the search dog we’re going to pick up in five minutes.”

  A little town was coming up in front of them, and Izzy pointed to a ramshackle storefront with a huge FOR RENT sign in the window. “Park around back behind the Suburban.”

  “I hope this is going to work.”

  “Trust me, this dog will make your hair stand straight up.”

  As they got out of the car, the back door of the building opened. A tall man in a dark business suit emerged with a dog on a leash.

  The animal didn’t look like much, Hawk thought. Just a big brown mass of dog that stood alertly, watching them approach.

  “Meet L.Z.”

  “As in Landing Zone? You’re telling me that this dog can jump out of an airplane?”

  Izzy’s eyes narrowed. “And a hell of a lot more than that, Mackenzie.” As they crossed the pavement, the big Belgian Malinois barked once, his whole body going tense. “Nice to see he remembers me,” Izzy muttered. “Things like makeup and a costume change won’t fool L.Z. for a second, and that’s only part of what makes him so amazing. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

  What was she supposed to do now?

  Jess shivered in the cold wind, soaked to her waist. Time seemed to slow down as she staggered forward, her damp hair pasted against her face. She hit the power button on the agent’s cell phone, scrambling up the slope toward the bridge.

  All she heard was static.

  What had the agent said? Was it six miles to the nearest tow
n?

  She reached the road and saw her driver facedown, motionless. Blood pooled around his head and shoulders.

  Oh, God.

  She shoved the phone into her pocket and sank down beside him. He groaned as she gently turned him over.

  The front of his chest was a solid red stain, but he opened his eyes and managed a faint smile. “The phone?”

  “No answer.”

  “Afraid . . . of that.” He managed to touch her arm. “Good work. Told me you were . . . tough.” He winced a little and seemed surprised to see his hand covered with blood. “Should have run the bastard down.”

  “You couldn’t have known what he had planned.”

  “Tired. Going . . . under.” His eyes closed.

  Jess crouched beside him and managed to pull him off the road into the grass. The cold wind hissed over the marshes, a low, sad sound, as she waited for a passing car.

  But no one passed, and the driver’s lips were turning blue-white. She’d covered him with her leather jacket, but she wasn’t sure how much longer he had.

  Shivering, Jess ran down the hill toward the silver Jeep Rubicon left abandoned by the road. The key was still in the ignition. Candy wrappers and newspapers covered the backseat.

  She leaned under the hood and scanned the engine quickly.

  Fuel line.

  Radiator.

  Spark plugs all tight.

  She checked for all the easy problems and came up with nothing.

  She was still wet, freezing without her jacket, and her hands were stiff. Then she saw the small leak from the radiator. When she checked the chamber, the water was half gone.

  She grabbed two discarded soda cans from the front seat and ran to the marsh, filling them quickly. After patching the hole with gum and making three more trips, the radiator was full again. The motor sputtered, then broke into a delightful roar.

  Jess jumped out, closed the hood, and saw something glint on the ground. She shoved it in her pocket. Then slid behind the wheel and raced back to the fallen agent.

  He was losing consciousness again when she crouched and slid an arm beneath his neck. “I got the Rubicon running. Now we’ve got to get you inside.”

  He blinked at her, looking disoriented. “Not doing so good. Sorry.”

  “You have to help me. You’re going to die here if I can’t get you to a doctor.”

  He took a sharp breath and put one hand on her shoulder. It took them ten minutes, but he managed to stagger to the Rubicon, where he collapsed into the seat.

  Jess sped off toward the town called Bright Creek.

  “How’d you fix it?”

  “Radiator leak. I patched it with gum and refilled the chamber. The idiots have driven this car right into the ground, and that’s not easy with a Rubicon. Heck, they didn’t even know what to look for.”

  “Radiator leak. No . . . shit.” There was a glimmer of a smile on the agent’s ashen face as his eyes closed and he went under again.

  Wind tossed the big trees in the main square of Bright Creek beneath a sky filled with gunmetal clouds.

  “Run through that again, Teague. He’s scent-trained for both weapons-grade plutonium and all major biohazards?”

  Izzy scratched the big dog’s head. “He can detect scent trails that the most sophisticated lab equipment misses. We’d be ten years behind without animals like this.”

  “I believe it. The dog looks smart enough to talk.”

  “The Navy’s working on that, too,” Izzy said tightly. “But if you ask me, I’ll deny it. L.Z. has been scent-trained to our missing bear, and when I leave, the dog will go with me. If there’s any scent connection with Princess, L.Z. will signal. Then I’ll take Luellen into custody while you and the team rush the place.”

  “What if she’s got backup in there?”

  “If so, they’re silent and invisible. My people have been watching the place for the last twenty-four hours.”

  Hawk studied the Laundromat across the street from his vantage point of a vacant building they had commandeered for this purpose. One of the Laundromat windows was boarded up and the D was missing on the neon sign. A tall woman was counting change near the front desk.

  “I’d still like to ride shotgun, Teague.”

  “Forget it. If there’s a man within a hundred yards, she’ll clam up. Given what’s happened to her, I guess she’s entitled to hate men.” Izzy finished sliding a line of duct tape in place across his chest, rearranged his dress and picked up his cane from the floor of the Jeep. “How do I look?”

  “Don’t ask.” Hawk gave a tight grin. “The makeup’s pretty good, I have to admit. Just look flustered and helpless. And remember to hide the cowboy boots.”

  “Everyone’s a fashion critic.” Izzy patted the big brown dog in the backseat. “Ready to move out, L.Z.?”

  Instantly the dog sat up, ears raised.

  Hawk felt like he was watching an ultrasecret weapon go into full combat readiness, and it was an awesome sight. “I’ll be listening to the relay from your mic. If you run into trouble, just say kiwi.”

  “Say what?” Izzy turned. “A fruit code, Mackenzie? You couldn’t come up with anything better than that? Hell, I at least expected tango-two or code bravo.”

  Hawk crossed his arms. “Keep it simple, stupid.”

  Izzy straightened, giving his ample chest a shake. “Ain’t nobody simple around here, is there, L.Z.?”

  The big brown dog barked once.

  Izzy hiked his purse up onto his arm. “Time to go to work, boy. Let’s go track down our princess,” he ordered.

  chapter 20

  * * *

  H awk touched his earphone as Izzy and the dog crossed the street. He worked the transmit button. “You read me, Teague?”

  “Clear as Tina Turner pounding home the national anthem,” came the low answer.

  “Nice image. Bet her legs are better than yours.”

  Izzy muttered a few choice words as he hunched over his cane, moving slowly. Anyone watching would have sworn he was at least seventy.

  The door to the Laundromat opened, and the owner looked out, studying Izzy warily. Hawk listened to every word that followed, impressed with Izzy’s performance, which appeared to be working like a charm. When he mentioned his arthritis, the woman offered him a rolling cart. Then Izzy explained that he had to bring a load of dirty clothes in from his car, and the woman even offered to help. Izzy apologized haltingly for causing her any bother and said he’d handle the clothes himself.

  So far there had been no response from L.Z., but it was still too soon to be conclusive.

  Hawk tried to be patient.

  “How is he, doctor?” Jess waited anxiously, pacing the waiting room of the Victorian house on Bright Creek’s main street. It had taken her less than ten minutes to make the drive and another five minutes to find the doctor’s office. Now the wounded government agent was on an I.V., waiting for medevac transport to the county hospital. After all that had happened, Jess was feeling a strange sense of anticlimax.

  “He’ll be well taken care of. Beyond that I can’t say. I’m only a general practitioner, and surgery is far from my specialty.”

  Jess glanced at the row of maps on the wall and then noted the framed medical school diplomas. University of Washington. UCLA. Ohio State. The wounded man was in good hands, she decided.

  “Pardon me, but you look like you could use some rest yourself.”

  Jess looked down, startled to see that her pants were still wet, streaked with mud. “It’s a long story.” Remembering Hawk’s warnings, she decided the less she said the better. “We had an accident. I’d rather not say more until I speak with the local police.”

  “I’ll have to report the gunshot wounds, of course.”

  Jess nodded, her eyes moving back to the framed maps. She frowned when she realized one of them looked familiar. “Can you tell me what that town is?”

  He glanced up and shrugged. “It’s Bright Creek. Our whole area, a
ctually. Now I’d better get back to work. You’re welcome to rest here as long as you like. By the way, you dropped this paper bag when you came in.”

  Jess reached out for the bag, which she’d found wedged under the front seat of the Jeep Rubicon along with old newspapers and food wrappers.

  “If your friend is taking any of those medicines, I’ll need to know that. Some of them are highly experimental, not approved for general use.”

  “Medicines?”

  The doctor frowned. Opening the bag, he shook half a dozen bottles on the table. “None of these have patient names, so I assume that they are being used for a double-blind clinical trial.”

  “Not that I know of.” Jess turned one bottle in her hand.

  “Very well, I’ll get back to work now.” The door closed.

  As she stood staring out at the street, a wave of exhaustion hit Jess.

  Her fingers closed over a piece of metal she’d picked up from under the tire, forgotten in her pocket. Without thinking, she traced the smooth outlines and then went very still.

  It was a boot buckle, she realized.

  Wavy lines crossed the half-circle, with the letters TEK etched in the middle. Just like the boot ornaments she’d seen in the pictures Hawk had shown her.

  She dug her driver’s cell phone out of her pocket and hit the redial button on the chance that the driver’s last call had been work-related.

  “Central.”

  “Central what?”

  After a pause, the man on the end cleared his throat. “Where is Worthington?”

  “Agent Worthington is in Bright Creek receiving a transfusion. He was shot about twenty-five minutes ago.”

  “What is your name, ma’am?”

  “Jess Mulcahey.”

  “I see.” Papers rustled. “Would you please hold?”

  Jess sighed and sat down in a chair facing the big picture window. Two cars parked. A bakery van lumbered past.

  “Ms. Mulcahey, where are you now?”

  “In Bright Creek at the doctor’s office on Main Street.”

  “I see.” Again she heard the hesitation in the man’s voice. “I’ll have someone sent over as soon as possible.”