by CW Browning
“What the hell?” he muttered. Buddy whined and Blake looked at him. “Yeah, I don’t get it either. Come on. Let’s get you some water.”
Blake went into the kitchen and picked up Buddy’s empty water bowl, carrying it to the sink. Buddy padded into the kitchen behind him, waiting for him to set it down. Blake obliged before going back to the living room. He went straight to his laptop and opened it, unlocking the security layer quickly. While Buddy noisily drank his water in the kitchen, his collar jiggling and jangling in his enthusiasm, Blake sat before his computer and opened up a security program. By the time Buddy wandered back from the kitchen, he was staring at the video footage from the cameras he had installed throughout the small condo.
Buddy flopped down next to him, but Blake didn’t even notice. He was too busy watching as a man dressed in dark jeans and a black hoodie jimmied open the dining room window and climbed through. The hood on his sweatshirt was up, concealing his face from the camera in the dining room. He moved straight into the hallway. There the hall camera showed him looking into the living room for a moment before he turned and headed down the hallway toward the bedroom. The intruder glanced into the kitchen as he passed, but never broke stride. The hall camera lost him when he went through the door, but the bedroom camera picked him up as he walked in. He paused inside the doorway, looking around slowly. A moment later, he disappeared into the walk-in closet and the bedroom camera lost him.
“What the...”
Blake muttered a few choice words as he stared at the silent footage, waiting for the intruder to reappear. A minute later he did, heading straight out of the bedroom.
He left the way he came, never stopping anywhere else in the house.
Blake sat back in the chair, staring at the laptop screen, bemused.
Who the hell broke into a house and didn’t take anything?
Blake scowled and closed his laptop, standing up. He turned and strode down the hallway to the bedroom, Buddy following amiably. Going straight to the closet, he pulled the cord to turn on the overhead bulb. What was the guy doing in here?
Blake looked around, studying everything. His clothes were hung neatly on the bar circling three sides of the closet, all spaced perfectly as his OCD demanded. The coated wire modules installed on either wall beneath the clothes for extra storage were untouched, the various boxes and storage bins right where they should be. The gun safe at the back of the closet didn’t appear to have been tampered with. Nothing was amiss.
The intruder came in here for a reason. Something had to be different. Blake stared at everything again, starting on one side and concentrating on a section at a time. He was halfway around the closet when he tilted his head suddenly.
There!
Just as his clothes had to be perfectly spaced apart on the rail, so did his shoes on the shoe racks. Blake would love to be able to blame his time in the military for this particular OCD of his, but in all honesty, he could not. For as long as he could remember, he would obsess over the spacing between his apparel. If the spacing wasn’t even or, heaven forbid, two articles of clothing actually had the audacity to touch, it drove him crazy until he fixed. In Afghanistan, some of the guys would move his gear half an inch, laying bets on how long it took him to notice.
Now his OCD had unexpectedly paid off.
Blake turned and strode out of the bedroom, going back to the living room quickly. Reaching the desk, he picked up his work bag and pulled out a pair of latex gloves. He pulled them on as he strode back to the bedroom. Re-entering the closet, he moved forward and picked up a snow boot that was about an inch too close to the hiking boot next to it. He glanced inside as he picked it up and frowned. Turning it upside down, Blake’s eyebrows soared into his forehead as a plastic bag fell out and hit the carpet with a soft thud.
Blake set the snow boot down and bent down to pick up the plastic bag. He opened it slowly, careful to disturb it as little as possible.
Inside was a pile of sealed plastic baggies filled with white powder.
Michael frowned and pressed end on his phone as the call went directly to voicemail. He laid the phone down on the island in his kitchen and turned to open the fridge. He’d been trying in vain to get through to Alina for two days now. Each time he tried, the call went straight to the impersonal, computer-generated voice telling him to leave a message. Where was she?
He studied the contents of his refrigerator with more interest than they warranted, and after a moment, closed it again with a sigh. He didn’t want anything in there. He was just restless.
Michael turned to leave the kitchen, swiping up his phone as he went. On Saturday night, he left Alina’s in Medford to go to his parents’ house in Brooklyn. The next day he tracked down a bomb in the back of a kid’s car, saving Manhattan from countless fatalities, while Viper went after the terrorist that planned it all. That was the last he had heard from her.
Michael scowled and went into the dining room where his laptop sat on the large farmhouse table. According to Blake, Stephanie Walker had spoken to Alina later that day on the phone, but no one had heard from her since. Where was she?
His phone rang suddenly, making him start, and he turned it over to look at the number. He raised an eyebrow and answered, glancing at his watch. It was past ten o’clock.
“Hello?”
“Hey Mike, you still up?” Blake asked.
“I answered, didn’t I?”
“Is everything ok over there?”
Michael frowned.
“Yes, why wouldn’t it be?”
“I just got home from taking Buddy for a walk. Someone broke in while I was gone.”
Michael’s eyes widened in surprise.
“What?!”
“The dining room window was open. It was closed when I left.”
“What did they take?”
“Nothing.”
Michael frowned.
“Nothing?”
“Not a thing.”
“Are you sure you didn’t leave the window open?” Michael asked after a moment of silence. “People don’t just break in and not take anything. How do you know someone was there?”
“After your girlfriend made herself at home in my house last year, I installed hidden cameras. And they really are hidden.”
Michael smiled reluctantly.
“Fair enough. What did they pick up?”
“Some guy in a hoodie entered through the dining room and went straight for the bedroom closet. He came out a minute later, then left.”
“And he didn’t take anything?”
“Nope. So, I checked the closet.”
“And?”
“I found something that wasn’t mine,” Blake said grimly.
“Do you want me to guess?” Michael asked after another moment of silence.
“The dude put a brick of heroin in one of my snow boots.”
“What?!”
“The only reason I found it was because he didn’t put the boot back in exactly the same spot,” Blake said, his voice tight. “Thank God for my OCD.”
“Who would have thought that would turn out to be useful?” Michael agreed, getting up and taking a restless turn around the dining room. “Blake, this isn’t good. You didn’t move it, did you?”
“’Course not. I left it there and took pictures, then called you. What the hell is going on?”
“I have no idea. Who have you pissed off lately?”
“You want a list?”
Michael grinned despite himself.
“Let’s try this, where are you in your investigation on the Casa Reinos Cartel?” he asked. “Could they have done it?”
“Who knows,” Blake sighed. “I guess it’s possible. I have to call it in to my boss, but I have no idea what to tell him.”
“The truth,” Michael advised. “That’s your only option. Show him the video and tell him exactly what happened.”
“Do you realize what could have happened if I didn’t install those cameras last year?” Blake demande
d after a moment of silence.
“You’d be joining Agent Walker on the inactive duty roster,” Michael said. “Call your boss. The sooner you report it, the better. Whoever planted it will probably call in an anonymous tip. You want to beat them to it.”
“I know.” Blake sighed. “Just when I thought things were settling down after the weekend.”
“Do you want me to swing by?” Michael offered after a second.
“No, I’m fine. I’ll call it in now. He’ll send some agents over and you’d just be in the way,” Blake said.
“Well, let me know what happens. I’m working from home all week.”
“Will do.” Blake paused. “Hey Mike? Be careful. I’m not convinced this is the Cartel. It’s not their style.”
Michael frowned thoughtfully.
“You think it might be connected to those bombs?”
“I’m just saying pulling a dirty trick like this is more consistent with the general population of DC than the Cartel or random terrorists.”
Michael thought of the unusual request Viper made of him over the weekend to investigate one of the staple figures in the town and his frown deepened.
“I’ll take care of me,” he told his friend, “you just make sure you take care of you.”
Chapter Five
Downtown Singapore Mainland
Alina glanced at her watch and pressed the button for the twentieth floor. Her messenger bag was draped across her body and she adjusted it absently as the elevator doors slid closed. She was late. When Hawk texted her to meet him for dinner, she was on a bus, returning from a fruitless trip into one of the more remote corners of the island. She was striking out with all the addresses she pulled from the Embassy yesterday. Viper didn’t know what Charlie was looking for, but none of the men she had found thus far warranted any interest. Just the opposite in fact.
And yet, she must have rattled someone. Alina frowned as the elevator rose swiftly and silently. The local man who had been trailing her all day was nothing if not persistent. Who was he?
The elevator came to a seamless stop and the doors slid open. Alina stepped out, glancing around, and her eyebrows rose. Instead of the hotel restaurant she was expecting to see, she found herself standing in a lushly carpeted hall with suite doors widely spaced apart. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, quickly texting Hawk.
Do you want me to guess?
She started to the right, glancing at the nearest door and noting the number. She was half-way down the hall when her phone vibrated in her hand.
Last one on the right.
Alina shook her head and strode to the last door in the corridor. She opened it and stepped through, glancing around as she closed the door behind her softly. She was standing in a spacious living room suite with a couch and two chairs arranged around a modern glass coffee table. On the far side of the living room, sliding doors fronted a large balcony and she could see Hawk standing outside, his hands on the stone balustrade.
Alina moved forward, pulling the messenger bag over her head and dropping it onto the coffee table as she passed. A glance to the left revealed wide double doors open to show a king sized bed in the master bedroom. She shook her head again and stepped out onto the balcony.
“Let me get this straight,” she said. “You got a balcony suite in a completely different hotel just to have dinner?”
Hawk turned to look at her, a grin spreading across his face.
“The room service comes highly recommended.”
Viper caught sight of his rifle case near the edge of the balcony and everything was suddenly clear. The only question was, why was she here?
“In that case, how can I refuse?” she murmured.
On one side of the balcony, a chaise lounge overlooked the pool beside the hotel. On the other end were two wrought-iron chairs and a table for any guests who preferred to eat their meals outside. A set of unlit candles sat in the center while two wine glasses and a bottle of wine were off to the side. The highly glossed wall of the hotel acted as a mirror, and Alina caught sight of herself in the reflection as she walked toward the table.
“If you’re working, why are we having dinner?” she asked, glancing at the wine.
“I don’t know if I will be working,” Hawk answered readily, turning back to look over the city. “It depends on whether or not the target cooperates.”
Viper glanced at him, then at the high-rise hotel across the street. She pursed her lips thoughtfully, but remained silent. Their jobs were their own, and his was none of her concern.
“Is this your idea of showing me the city?” she asked, joining him at the balustrade. “I’m not sure it lives up to the hype.”
“Don’t underestimate me,” Damon murmured, his eyes dancing.
Alina bit back a grin and glanced up at the man beside her. She was having more fun than she’d had in years, she realized with a start. Things were certainly more interesting with him around.
“Oh, I never do,” she murmured. “When is dinner?”
He glanced at his watch.
“It should be here any minute.”
Alina watched him as he turned and went over to the table to pick up the bottle opener next to the wine.
“Good. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“Neither have I,” he admitted, pulling out the cork. “Any luck with the ex-soldier?”
“Not yet.” Alina walked over as he poured the red wine, accepting one of the glasses from him. “I’m working on it.”
“Here’s to a speedy resolution.” He raised the other glass in a toast.
Alina smiled and drank.
Stephanie dropped her purse and keys onto the dining room table and turned to go down the short hallway to her bedroom. She wasn’t back to work yet, but she had just spent the whole morning in the office cleaning out John’s desk and fielding questions from co-workers. Her boss Rob was unusually understanding and took her out to lunch before she headed home, John’s personal effects in two boxes in her trunk.
Stephanie kicked off her heels and dropped onto the side of the bed, exhausted. The thought of simply laying down and going to sleep was almost irresistible, but after a moment, she got up again. Going to her dresser, she pulled out a pair of jeans. Hiding from it wouldn’t change anything. John was gone. Nothing was going to change that.
Angela gave her the name of the attorney handling John’s will as promised, and Stephanie had left a voicemail for him this morning. She still had to call his mother and advise her of the existence of a will. That was a call she wasn’t looking forward to making. While she had always liked Mrs. Smithe, there was no denying the past few phone calls with her had been rough.
After changing into jeans and a tee-shirt, Stephanie went back to the dining room. She was just heading into the kitchen to get a soda when her cell phone rang inside her purse. She sighed and reversed direction.
“Hello?”
“Hey Sunshine,” Blake’s voice greeted her. “How’s it going?”
Stephanie smiled despite her melancholy mood.
“It’s been better, but I’ll get through it. How are things in DC?”
“About the same, actually,” he said. “You first. What’s going on?”
“Nothing serious. I just got back from cleaning out John’s desk.” Stephanie turned to go back to the kitchen. “Just a long, emotional morning. How about you?”
“My house was broken into last night.”
Stephanie gasped.
“What happened?”
“I took Buddy for a walk late last night and while I was gone someone broke in and planted a brick of heroin in my closet.”
“Wait...what?!”
“Yeah,” he said grimly. “Luckily I installed cameras last year after your Black Widow broke in and left a gun on my dining room table.” Blake paused. “Actually, now I think about it, no one seems interested in stealing from me. They all just want to leave me presents.”
Stephanie cho
ked back a laugh and pulled a can of soda from inside her fridge.
“Not a bad problem to have,” she murmured, “although, I’m not sure I’d call a brick of heroin a good present. Were you able to ID them?”
“The guys at the office are reviewing the video now. None of the cameras picked up a clear image of his face. He had his hood pulled up, so I’m not expecting much.”
“What did your boss say?” Stephanie asked, going into the living room and dropping onto the couch. She propped her bare feet up on the coffee table and sat back. "Do you have any idea who would want to set you up?”
“I’ve got a few, but who knows which one’s right, if any,” he replied. “We’re waiting to see what happens with the anonymous tip we’re sure is coming.”
Stephanie shook her head, staring across the living room thoughtfully.
“The Casa Reino Cartel seems like the most likely culprit,” she said slowly. “You’ve been a thorn in their side for months.”
“I think they would just put a bullet in me.”
“Oh, please don’t say that,” she muttered. “I can’t hear that right now.”
“Sorry,” Blake apologized. “Hey, how do you feel about dogs?”
Stephanie blinked at the sudden change in subject.
“They have four legs and go outside to poop,” she said.
Blake laughed.
“That’s it?”
“They generally have good noses?” Stephanie offered, at a loss. “I don’t know. I’ve never had a dog.”
“Would you be opposed to my bringing Buddy up with me?” he asked. “Given the turn of events in the past twenty-four hours, my boss agrees it might be a good thing for me to work out of the Philly office for a few days. I’d rather not leave Buddy here again so soon after the last trip.”
“Will he want to come?” Stephanie asked, glancing around her living room.
“I don’t know. Let me ask him.” Blake sounded amused.
Stephanie laughed.
“Well, I don’t know how dogs are! Angela’s cat gets very stressed out if you try to take her out of her house,” she said. “How do I know dogs aren’t like cats?”
“Dogs are nothing like cats,” he assured her. “Trust me. He’ll be fine.”
