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Alina stood next to the window in the small bedroom and stared out into the night. The room was dark and the house was silent. She had left Hawk stretched out on the couch downstairs to sleep, but Alina couldn't sleep just yet. Her mind was churning. A sudden scratching sound on the roof pulled her attention away from the window and she smiled as Raven appeared at the makeshift swinging window she had rigged up in the corner. He nudged it and the glass swung inward, allowing him to step on the sill and then hop onto his perch in the corner of the room. His black eyes gleamed as they latched onto her, standing across the room.
“Good hunting?” Alina murmured.
Raven stretched his wings and settled down on his perch, his eyes fixed on his mistress as she turned her attention back outside. The sky was starting to lighten to a pale gray in the distance and she knew she needed to rest. She was exhausted, and it was counter-productive to think when she was exhausted. Yet, she didn't move from the window.
Hawk had traced the plates of the SUV. The current registered driver of the vehicle was a man named Billy Conners. It took absolutely no time at all to pull up a rap sheet on Billy going back to his juvenile days. He was bad news all around, his criminal career spanning everything from petty theft all the way through the ranks to rape and murder. He had done hard time in Illinois for the rape and murder, and was released on good behavior two years ago. He was placed under the care of a parole officer that, at the time, was working on the grassroots campaign supporting the candidacy of Alex Ludmere for Vice President.
Alina's eyes narrowed and stared sightlessly out the window. The parole officer was dead now. He died of a heart attack a year ago, but Alina discovered that before his death, he had given a stellar report to the parole commission. As a result, Billy's parole ended three months earlier than originally scheduled. Billy then quit his job at the factory where he was working and promptly disappeared from the paper trail of employment records. The last mention of him Alina was able to find was six months ago when his name popped up on a lease for an apartment on the outskirts of DC. He was listed as occupant, but the apartment was leased to Morganston Security, the parent company listed for the lease on the SUV. A background check on the company had offered up a woman's name as the sole shareholder. Regina Cummings. Alina's gut told her that Regina was the mystery woman in the photos from London two years ago.
Viper had a name. She just needed the face.
Alina turned from the window slowly and moved toward the bed. Raven watched her as she got into bed tiredly, his eyes full of moonlight. She smiled at him and he suddenly lifted off his perch and came to rest on the headboard, next to her head. Alina reached up slowly to stroke his feathers under his beak and Raven made a low cooing noise, tilting his head to the side. She gently stroked his neck for a few moments before taking her hand away and settling against the pillows.
Damon was worried about Michael getting access to her classified file. Alina was worried about Michael himself. He had become a target and Alina was willing to bet that the moment he started asking questions about The Engineer, he became a liability to the very person who was trying to keep Viper quiet.
They were getting desperate now. They had tried to silence her three months ago and failed. They tried to silence Stephanie today and, in the process, pull Viper out of hiding and failed. They tried to take on Michael tonight, and once again failed. Not only were they getting bolder, but they were getting sloppy. The mistakes that she had been patiently waiting for were happening.
Alina's lips curved into a cold, satisfied smile. It was time to beat the grass and see what snakes emerged.
Her eyes slid shut a few moments later with her hawk ever watchful above her.
Michael carried his mug of coffee into the dining room, his blue-tooth hooked into his ear, and sipped it while he stared at the map on the wall. The conference call droned in his ear and he turned to sit at the table in front of his laptop grimly. The agency was in an uproar. Anyone would think that it had been the director's house that had been stormed last night. Michael pulled up his email while he listened to two superiors argue over sharing jurisdiction with the FBI.
“Mike, what's the word on that Fed whose car blew up?” one of them asked suddenly, cutting off the other one. Michael set his mug down.
“I haven't spoken to her yet,” he said. “I've contacted her department head and they're trying to locate her now. She's on vacation, so they have no itinerary.”
“What about her partner?”
“Same,” Michael answered shortly. “Neither are answering their cells.”
“Fabulous,” someone muttered. “Do we know yet who did that?”
“Still working on it, sir.” Michael took another sip of coffee. “We're trying to get video from the parking garage.”
“What about the body from last night? Do we have an ID?” another voice asked.
“Jason Rogers,” Michael answered, setting his coffee down and pulling up the email from the lab. “Ex-Special Forces. We're tracing his old team now.”
“Ex-Special Forces. Well, isn't that just wonderful,” Michael's direct boss, Chris, drawled. “Any idea why an ex-Special Forces hero would want to break into your house, Mike?”
“Not at the moment, sir.” Michael went back to his emails. “I'm still working on that one myself. I've never heard of the guy.”
“Where are we on finding this missing government agent? This Viper?” Michael recognized the voice of Art Cosgrove, Chris' boss, and he repressed a groan.
“Still working on that too, sir,” Michael answered, picking up his mug again.
“I think we need to consider the possibility that Viper is behind this,” Art stated soberly.
Michael paused in the act of lifting the mug to his lips.
“Viper is nowhere near DC,” Chris objected. “Michael would have found her by now if she was within a hundred miles of here.”
“How would he know?” Art demanded. “No one knows what she looks like except her Organization, and they're not giving away diddly-squat. We've got ex-Special Forces involved in an attack on the agent assigned to find her, and we've got the FBI agent who can probably identify her missing after her car gets blown up. What more do you want?”
“What's the tie-in with Special Forces?” Chris asked.
“I don't know. That's your job,” Art retorted. “But you can't tell me she doesn't know people in Special Forces. All those people know each other.”
Michael felt his blood pressure starting to rise and his eye start twitching.
“Mike? What do you think?” Chris asked him directly.
“With all due respect, I think that's improbable,” Michael said, sitting back in his chair and rubbing his neck. “And we don't even know that these two incidents are related.”
“Why don't you think it's probable?” Art demanded condescendingly.
“First of all, the assault on my home last night involved multiple people. Everything we have on Viper says she works alone. Second, a government-trained agent doesn't hire street thugs to do their dirty work,” Michael replied, unable to keep the impatience out of his voice. “Third, the bomb on the car was apparently a very simple device, not high-tech at all, and that also doesn't line up with someone of Viper's caliber. The CIA doesn't do kitchen-timer bombs. None of these have any of the earmarks of an operative trained by the CIA, and most especially, Viper. She's not sloppy and she's certainly not this visible. No one even knows she's been there until the body shows up.”
“Her past methods aren't relevant here,” Art snapped and Michael's eyebrows soared into his forehead. “She's up against the whole United States Government. She knows she can't win alone. I say she's hiring people to do the dirty work for her.”
“You do understand we're talking about a CIA clandestine agent here, right Art?” Chris interjected. Michael took another deep breath.
“Why, exactly, does the administration think she is a security risk again?” he asked. “I was never really clear on that...”
“That's above your pay grade, gunny,” was Arts' short reply. Michael grit his teeth. “I'm sending out an alert to all agencies that we believe Viper is in the DC area,” Art decided.
“With all due respect, sir, I think that's a mistake,” Michael said, getting out of his chair and circling the table impatiently.
“I'll note your opinion,” Art told him. “Chris, you'll proceed as we discussed earlier. I'll get the word out now.”
“Sir, if you...” Michael began, but was cut off.
“I said, your opinion was noted,” Art snapped.
Michael grabbed the blue-tooth off his ear and disconnected, throwing it onto the table angrily. He swung around and stared at the map on the wall furiously. As soon as they put out an alert that Viper was in DC, she would vanish.
“For God's Sake, Viper, tell me where you are,” he muttered, staring at the map.
His personal cell phone rang and Michael turned to glance at the number. When he saw Chris's number, he picked up the phone reluctantly.
“I'm sorry, Chris,” he answered.
There was a chuckle on the other end.
“No need to apologize to me,” he retorted. “I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did before hanging up on that circus.”
“Viper isn't behind any of this,” Michael said firmly, picking up his coffee cup again and swallowing a big gulp. “I would bet anything on that. And we have absolutely no proof that the bomb on Ms. Walker's car and the attack on my house are even related. They're basing this whole thing on a hunch!”
“You're preaching to the choir, Mike,” Chris answered. “But orders are orders.” He paused for a moment and Michael was silent. “Unless you know something you're not telling me?”
Michael finished his coffee, thinking about his encounter with Viper and his conversation with Ms. Walker yesterday.
“No,” he lied, setting his empty mug on the table.
“Then we'll have to let Art have his way.” Chris sounded disgruntled. “What are you doing about the house?”
“The kitchen window I can have replaced tomorrow,” Michael said. “The bay window will have to be boarded up. It's a special order.”
“It's a miracle that was all the damage done,” Chris said.
Michael remembered Alina's quick thinking with the lasagna.
“Yes,” he agreed thoughtfully. “I had a friend with me. She was quick on her feet.”
“I heard.” Chris chuckled. “Did she really use the lasagna?”
“Yes.” Michael's lips twitched. “Yes, she did.”
“Obviously, she's never had your lasagna,” Chris said with another laugh. “Well, keep me posted on any developments, especially any that can slow down the Art Express before it derails.”
“Will do,” Michael agreed.
He hung up and dropped the phone onto the table, rubbing his eyes. Lord, he was tired! Grabbing his mug, Michael went back to the kitchen to pour himself another cup of coffee. Alina hadn't answered his text until after he'd fallen into a restless sleep. She told him to stop worrying about her. Michael sipped the coffee and stared out the broken window above the sink.
He didn't know what he was expecting to find if he got access to Alina's military file, but he knew she was more than what she had indicated to him. She had been too comfortable with the events the previous night, too calm, and too damned quick. She was diving behind that island before he even grasped what was happening. Then, there was the way she handled the two men who came through the back door. Michael had been prepared to help her if needed, but he wasn't needed. She moved so fast that he hadn't even been sure what had happened until the first man went down.
Oh yes. Alina was much more than what she seemed, and Michael wanted to know just what Dave's little sister had been up to these past couple years. As much as he hated to do it, he had to face the fact that ever since she had shown up on Friday, things had been happening. In fact, ever since she had shown up Friday, he hadn't had a single hour of peace.
Michael turned away from the window and glanced at his watch. He was probably seeing shadows where there were none, but he had to be sure he knew who Alina had become. He couldn't keep his promise to Dave if he didn't know what she was up to.
Hawk looked out the window above the sink as he filled the reservoir to the coffeemaker. The sun was just making it over the trees and he yawned, shutting off the faucet and turning to slide the reservoir back into the side of the machine. Viper didn't mess around with her coffee. She had a state-of-the-art espresso maker that did everything except wash out your mug when you were finished, and Hawk loved it. He placed his mug under the spout and pressed a button. The grinder came to life, grinding espresso beans and breaking the early morning silence in the small cabin. He glanced upwards, wondering if she was awake yet.
They had been up most of the night and when she finally went to bed, he had stared at the ceiling for a long time before sleep claimed him. This morning, as soon as he opened his eyes, he shot off a secure email to his old friend Paul, in London. He felt disloyal for doing it, but Hawk knew that he had to be prepared in case Viper's file got out. While the agency could protect him to a certain extent, his anonymity would be gone and with it, his job.
He had to be prepared to disappear for good.
A shadow in the trees outside caught his eye and Damon glanced out the window as he pulled his mug from under the spout. Raven swooped once around the yard before coming to land on the banister along the back porch. Damon sipped his coffee, watching the bird absently. A moment later, Alina emerged from the trees, dressed in shorts and a tank top. He watched as she stopped in the middle of the backyard and bent over at the waist, catching her breath. She had been out for a morning run in the forest.
He set his mug down and pulled out another one, setting it under the spout and hitting the button again. Alina straightened up again and jogged over to the porch, picking up a bottle of water that was sitting there. He watched as she chugged it down, wondering how she got past him without waking him. The coffee finished brewing and Damon grabbed their cups and headed outside.
“Morning,” he greeted her, handing her the coffee.
“Morning.” She took the mug gratefully. “Thank you!”
Alina sipped from the steaming mug before sinking onto the step, cradling the mug in her hands. She stretched her legs out in front of her and stared across the clearing as Damon leaned against the porch support beam, sipping his coffee. They were both silent, listening to the birds chirping in the trees and absorbing the start of a new day. Raven hunkered down a few feet away on the banister, his eyes ever watchful, surveying his territory. A soft breeze stirred the damp tendrils of hair at Alina's temple and she brushed the curl back absently.
“Are you going to visit Billy Conners today?” Hawk broke the silence after a few minutes. Alina continued to stare out over the expanse of scraggly grass.
“Yes.”
Hawk glanced down at her thoughtfully.
“I think I'll go check on the Fearless Feds,” he said slowly.
Alina glanced at him and her eyes met his. She hadn't put the green contacts in yet and her dark eyes glinted in the shadow of the porch.
“Really?” she drawled, and Damon's lips twitched.
“Really,” he replied. “I have some questions for them.”
Alina's eyebrow rose and she continued to study him as she took another sip of coffee.
“You think they know something I missed?” she asked.
“It's always good to get a second set of ears on something,” he said with a shrug.
Alina smiled slightly and turned her eyes back to the clearing.
“True,” she agreed. She didn't believe for a minute that was why he was going to see them, but Viper knew better than to ask. If Hawk wanted her to know what he was up to, he'd tell her. “I'll be out all day. I've been summoned by Charlie. Anything you want me to tell him?”
Hawk finished his coffee and straightened up.
“Yes.” He turned to go back into the house. “Tell him to keep your damn file away from the Secret Service,” he said shortly over his shoulder.