Next Exit, Use Caution

by CW Browning

  Damon stepped into the living room and looked around. Angela was in her usual spot at the dining room table, but there was no sign of Alina.

  “Where’s Alina?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

  Angela looked up.

  “Last I saw, she was in the den,” she said, nodding down the hallway. “Tread carefully. She’s not in a good mood.”

  Damon glanced at her, his lips twitching.

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” he wondered. “I’ll take my chances.”

  Angela shrugged and went back to her laptop.

  “Good luck.”

  Damon started down the hallway. The door at the end opened as he did and Alina emerged from the den, a frown on her lips. When she saw him, her face lightened somewhat.

  “I’m just going to make some coffee,” she said, heading towards him. “Do you want some?”

  “I’m fine.” He turned to follow her back to the kitchen. “How’s it going here?”

  Alina shrugged and pulled a clean mug from the cabinet, setting it under the spout of her coffee machine.

  “Nothing too exciting going on,” she said, hitting the button and turning to face him. “Trent tried to call Angie a little while ago. I stopped her from answering. Other than that, all’s quiet on the Western Front.”

  “I still don’t see why I couldn’t answer,” Angela called from the dining room. “It’s not like he can do anything through the phone.”

  Alina closed her eyes briefly in exasperation and Damon grinned sympathetically.

  “It’s not a matter of him doing something to you over the phone,” he said, turning to look at Angela from the kitchen. “It’s a question of not acknowledging him.”

  “He’s a work associate,” she said, getting up and coming over to stand on the other side of bar. “I can hardly not acknowledge him! Besides, we don’t even know for sure that he’s dangerous.”

  “Yes we do!”

  Damon and Alina spoke in unison and Angela blinked, looking from one to the other.

  “We do?”

  Alina sighed.

  “Yes, we do,” she said tiredly, walking over to the bar while her coffee brewed into the mug behind her. She pulled out her phone and opened a photo, turning it for Angela to see. “He’s the one Raven attacked in the woods the night before John’s funeral.”

  Angela stared at the photo taken from Viper’s NVGs and her mouth dropped open.

  “Why am I just hearing this now?!” she exclaimed, looking up.

  “Because John’s funeral happened,” Alina muttered, taking the phone back. “Forgive me if someone shooting up the church pushed Trent to the back of my mind.”

  “Why was he here?” Angela asked after a minute, her brows drawn together in a frown. “I don’t get it. How did he even know where I was?”

  “He followed you,” Alina said, turning to go get her coffee mug from the coffee maker.

  “Why?”

  Damon glanced at Alina, his eyes hooded, waiting to see what she would say. Anything was too much as far as he was concerned, but Angela was waiting for some kind of answer.

  “I don’t know,” Alina lied. “When I find out, I’ll be sure to pass it along.”

  Angela stared at her for a beat.

  “I doubt that,” she muttered. “You don’t tell me anything anymore. Not that you ever told me much to begin with since you came back from Timbuktu, or wherever you were for ten years.”

  “What difference would it make?” asked Damon logically. “You’re here, where you have a reasonable chance of being protected. How does knowing why someone is targeting you change anything? You’re still being targeted, and you’re still better off here than anywhere else.”

  Angela glared at him.

  “That is such a male thing to say!” she exclaimed. “I’m just supposed to sit back and not ask questions, is that it?”

  Damon looked startled.

  “That’s not what I meant,” he protested. “I’m just pointing out how not knowing the answers doesn’t affect you one way or the other right now.”

  Angela looked at Alina, sipping her coffee with an unholy look of amusement on her face.

  “Are you listening to this?” she demanded.

  Alina nodded.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Do you agree with him?”

  “It doesn’t matter if I agree or not, I’m not the one that said it,” she said with a grin. “I know better.”

  “Damn straight you do,” Angela muttered, turning and going back to her laptop. “Don’t think you’re off the hook, though! First the candles and strawberries, now Trent. You’re keeping me in the dark, Lina, and you know I don’t like that!”

  “Candles and strawberries?” Damon asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “It’s nothing you need to know about,” said Alina, carrying her coffee out of the kitchen and down the hall. “Come into the den. I want to show you something.”

  Damon grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and followed her, unscrewing the cap as he went.

  “Is it going to make me happy or irritate me?” he asked, stepping into the den behind her. “I’m getting tired of bad news.”

  “Did you get some while you were out?” Alina asked, glancing at him.

  Damon shrugged.

  “It wasn’t good news.”

  “Are you going to share?”

  “Not yet.” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to object. “When I know what it means, I’ll share. It might not be anything.”

  Alina glowered at him briefly.

  “That sounds suspiciously like you’re trying to keep me out of the loop. Didn’t we just have a rather heated conversation about this the other night?”

  Damon grinned.

  “Was it heated?” he asked, a devilish twinkle in his bright blue eyes. “I think I would have remembered that. The last heat I remember was in Singapore.”

  “Not that kind of heat,” she muttered, a reluctant grin pulling at her lips. “All anyone thinks about around here is sex. Don’t you start, too.”

  “Too?” Damon latched onto that word. “Who else is thinking about it?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Alina opened her laptop and motioned him over. “I found out what Jordan Murphy was doing in Madrid. Or at least, what the person claiming to be Jordan Murphy was doing.”

  Damon walked over to look over her shoulder.

  “Who’s that?” he asked, looking at the photo on the screen.

  “That is Kyle March before he had reconstructive surgery in Madrid.”

  Damon looked at her sharply and sucked in his breath.

  “How the hell did Kyle get Jordan Murphy’s name?” he demanded. “The two weren’t in the same unit. Hell, they weren’t even in the same country at the same time!”

  “I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon,” Alina said, sitting back in her chair and spinning to look at him. “The short answer is I don’t know. There has to be a connection between Kyle and Jordan somewhere, but I don’t know where. You’re right. Their military careers never crossed and, as far as I can tell, there was no connection outside the military either. Kyle was born and bred in Rhode Island, and Jordan came from Kansas. There’s nothing to connect the two.”

  “And yet something obviously did,” Damon murmured thoughtfully. “Kyle must have known Jordan was dead when he was in Madrid. He wouldn’t have taken the risk otherwise.”

  Alina nodded.

  “The more I find out, the more questions I have,” she said. “Why did he use the alias of a real person?”

  “Your contact found this?” Damon asked, glancing at the photo on the screen. “How?”

  “She accessed the medical warehouse and found the records. They’re scheduled for destruction.”

  “Anything from her since?”

  “No. She’s on her way back to Cairo. I told her to get out before anyone realized she was there.”

  Damon nodded.

&n
bsp; “That’s the best course. I do question how she found the information so quickly.”

  Alina laughed.

  “That’s why I use her. She’s amazing. Sometimes I think she has more contacts than Charlie.”

  Damon drank some water and looked down at her.

  “Have you heard from Charlie?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “No.”

  “What the hell is he up to?”

  Alina closed the laptop and stood up.

  “I don’t know, but he better be finding that leak for me,” she muttered. “Are you planning on staying here for a while?”

  Damon raised an eyebrow.

  “I can. Why?”

  “I found Trent’s hotel. I’m going to pay it a visit. The sooner we remove that threat, the better for all concerned.”

  Damon grinned.

  “Getting tired of the full house already?”

  “You have no idea.”

  Damon grabbed her wrist as she passed him.

  “Be careful,” he said simply when she glanced at him questioningly. “If he’s the one who switched the antidote, he’s got more to lose than just his job.”

  Viper smiled coldly.

  “Oh, I know,” she said softly, “and I intend to see that he loses it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Viper glanced up from her magazine in the hotel lobby as the elevator opened and Trent strode out. He was wearing a high turtle neck, and his right arm was heavily bandaged and in a sling. He didn’t look around, but went straight through the lobby to the front desk. He spoke to the person behind the counter for a few moments before turning to leave through the front doors. Viper turned her eyes to the desk, watching as the employee typed into the computer. She watched him for a moment thoughtfully, then closed her magazine and glanced at her watch.

  Standing, she moved toward the elevator, tucking her magazine into the oversized tote bag slung over her shoulder. Honestly, Alina didn’t know how women carried bags like this around all day. They were large, heavy, and got in the way of everything. However, it served a purpose for her right now in portraying an image. Not one employee in this hotel would remember the bored guest waiting in the lobby for someone.

  The elevator opened and Viper stepped into it, pressing the button for the eighteenth floor with her knuckle. She kept her head down and angled away from the camera in the corner, focusing on her phone in her hand. When the doors opened, she never looked up from the screen as she stepped out of the elevator and turned left. As soon as she was halfway down the silent corridor, Alina tucked it into her pocket and lifted her head, going straight to Trent’s door. She bent over the handle and was inside a moment later.

  Unlike Kyle and his two-room suite, Trent occupied a standard, no-frills, queen room with adjoining bath. It was small, functional, and would take all of ten minutes to search. Alina pulled out a pair of gloves, sliding them on as she looked around.

  The room wasn’t a mess, but it was certainly feeling the absence of housekeeping. The bed was rumpled and unmade, the trash can needed emptying, and towels were tossed on the floor in the bathroom. A rolling luggage bag lay open on a chair with clothes half in and half out. An assortment of pill bottles littered the dresser and Alina picked one up, glancing at the prescription. Percocet. Another was amoxicillin. She put them back and turned to the suitcase. Nothing of interest there, she decided a minute later. Turning, she went over to the small, functional desk and looked down. A cord hung out of one of the drawers, plugged into the outlet on the wall. Alina reached out and opened the drawer, raising an eyebrow when she saw the slim laptop inside.

  Viper pulled out the laptop and sat down, opening it. There was no password protection, and a second later she was opening his email. Scanning it quickly, the only item of interest she found was a receipt for a pair of train tickets to Washington, DC. She pursed her lips thoughtfully and closed out of the email. On the desktop was an unnamed folder and she clicked on it. Opening the first image file, her breath caught and her eyes narrowed sharply. She was staring at a photograph of Angela’s house.

  Viper opened all the photos in the folder, shaking her head when she finished.

  “That’s not creepy at all.”

  There were over thirty photos of Angela, her house, her car, and a whole set of Angela and Stephanie out to dinner. Viper stared at them and her lips tightened. These were surveillance photos. Trent must have started watching her the night he got into town. Alina tilted her head, studying one of the photos of Angela and Stephanie at dinner. Something was nagging at her memory. Something with Stephanie...her head straightened suddenly. The car! Angela came out of work to a flat tire, and Stephanie went to get her. That must be the night they were at dinner.

  Viper’s lips thinned unpleasantly. After looking at the photos, there was no doubt in her mind Trent was the one who slashed Angela’s tire. He was probably hoping for a quick and easy grab while she was stranded by the side of the road. Unfortunately for him, Stephanie came to the rescue before Angie ever left the safety of the parking lot.

  Viper pulled a flash drive out of her inside jacket pocket and plugged it into the laptop, copying the files over quickly. Trent was targeting Angela, but why? Why was Angela so important?

  And why the hell did he just buy two train tickets to Washington, DC?

  Michael filed off the train with the rest of the passengers, glancing at his watch as he stepped onto the crowded platform. It was rush hour and the commuter traffic was heavy as men and women hurried to get home. Michael followed the wave to the escalators and rode it up to the main hall, his head up and his eyes alert. He didn’t care much for crowds and his time in combat made him uncomfortable with noise over a certain decibel, both of which were out of control during rush hour in 30th Street Station. Since rejoining the civilians in the city, he’d learned to keep his head up and his eyes moving. It helped keep the anxiety at bay.

  Michael looked up at the sea of humanity in the main lobby as the escalator ascended. It was just before he reached the top that he saw him. First, it was just his profile, but then the man turned his head to look behind him, affording Michael a full view of his face. It was a face Michael had spent hours studying a few weeks ago while he was trying to track him down. It was a face that Michael doubted he would ever forget.

  It was also a face that was supposed to be dead.

  Michael pushed past the man in front of him as the escalator reached the main floor and quickly moved through the crowds, keeping his eyes on the back of the head a few yards in front of him. How was it possible? His mind raced as he kept the man in sight. Asad Jamal was dead, killed by Viper a few weeks ago. Yet, there he was in front of him, moving through the crowded 30th Street Station.

  His lips tightened, and he watched as Asad passed through an exit and onto the street. What was going on? First one of the terrorists floated up in the Potomac, now here was another one who was supposed to be dead. Did Viper know he was still alive? Where was the third one? And what were they still doing here?

  Michael pushed through the exit and looked up and down the crowded sidewalk. He caught sight of him half a block down, walking rapidly with his head down. Michael turned and started after him, keeping within easy distance in the steady foot traffic. It was much less crowded on the street, and Michael felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. The fresh air felt good on his face, and he fell into a steady stride as he followed Asad down Market Street. He reached into his pocket to pull out his cell phone, pressing speed-dial and holding it to his ear as he walked. The phone rang once and went straight to voicemail. Viper wasn’t picking up. He put his phone away and glanced at his watch. If Asad led him to the other one, he had to alert someone. Viper was the preferable choice. Failing that, he would have to call in reinforcements in the form of Blake and Stephanie, and that was something he didn’t want to do.

  One block turned into two, and then three. After fifteen minutes, Michael was beginni
ng to wonder just where Asad was going. Market Street was wide and busy, and the evening traffic was heavy, but Asad just kept striding along the sidewalk, heading east. The only time he paused was near City Hall, where he stopped to look up at the impressive facade before continuing on and turning onto Filbert Street. Here the foot traffic was lighter, and Michael allowed the distance between them to extend. He needn’t have worried. Asad never once looked back, crossing to the next block without slowing his stride. He turned the corner at 12th Street, disappearing from view, and Michael broke into a run, closing the gap quickly and rounding the corner a minute later. He was just in time to see his quarry disappear into the Reading Terminal Market.

  Michael hurried to the entrance and went inside the busy indoor farmers market, looking around quickly. He frowned, scanning the area before beginning to move through the market slowly. After a few minutes, he gave up and let out a low curse.

  Asad had disappeared.

  Stephanie jolted awake when her phone began ringing. She looked around, disoriented, trying to find the source of the noise.

  “Here.” Blake’s deep voice cut through her sleep haze and she looked over to see him holding out her phone. “It slipped down the side and I grabbed it before it fell.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured, taking the phone. “Hello?”

  “How’s the leg?” Lenny asked cheerfully.

  “Umm...fine...I think,” said Stephanie, shifting to sit up higher on the pillows. “I can’t really feel anything right now.”

  “Hey, take it while you can,” he told her. “When I got shot in the shoulder, I thought it was a walk in the park until I went home and didn’t have the good drugs anymore.”

  “Great. Something to look forward to.”

  “I’ve got some news for you. It looks like there might be something in that hunch of yours. I talked to the sister of one of the victims, and the best friend of another. They both told me almost the same thing.”