| |
Blake hit the hands-free button in his car as he turned the corner, keeping the black SUV ahead of him within sight. It looked like Regina was headed to the Admiral's House to visit her cousin and he allowed the distance between them to grow slightly. He didn't need the Secret Service noticing him tailing her.
“Talk to me gorgeous,” he answered the phone.
There was a short laugh on his cell phone.
“I bet you say that to all the techs,” the female voice told him. Blake grinned.
“Yep,” he agreed. “What've you got for me?”
“Where did you get this from?” the tech demanded, the small talk over. “This gun is the smorgasbord of cold cases.”
“How so?” Blake demanded, slowing down and stopping at a red light.
He watched as the black SUV turned a corner far ahead. Regina was definitely going to the Admiral's House. He glanced at his watch. Almost noon. She must be joining him for lunch. Blake glanced in his rear-view mirror and flipped on his turn signal, pulling out as the light turned green and cutting in front of the lane next to him to turn right. The car he cut off laid on the horn, but he ignored it, continuing down the side street.
“Well, so far, I've connected the slugs from this gun to no less than seven cold cases in the past three years,” the tech informed him. Blake's eyebrows rose in surprise. “It's also a match to the bullets in the SEAL and to the bullet from Billy's apartment.”
“So, you're telling me this gun has a history?” Blake demanded.
“And a long one,” the tech agreed.
“Give me some dates.” Blake pulled over to the side of the road and reached for his tablet.
“I emailed all the information to you,” the tech answered, “but the first date was March, 2010. The second was July of 2010, and the third was October of the same year.”
“Got it.” Blake finished typing them onto a notepad on his tablet. “That's good work.”
“I'm not finished yet,” the tech replied smugly. Blake grinned.
“Amaze me,” he invited.
“The slugs from the parking garage came from a Ruger SR45,” she said triumphantly.
“You're a doll,” Blake told her.
“I know.”
Blake disconnected the call and glanced at his phone. Michael had called just after three in the morning to say that he had landed in Philly and would be in touch, but he hadn't heard from him yet. Blake debated for a moment, then shrugged and hit speed dial.
“Hello?” Michael picked up on the second ring.
“Still sight-seeing?” Blake asked.
“Yep,” Michael answered. “What's up?”
“How good is your memory?” Blake asked.
There was a short silence.
“If this is going to turn into another discussion about my age, I'm hanging up now,” Michael informed him. Blake chuckled.
“Not this time,” he assured him. “Your girlfriend left me a present last night.”
“I didn't realize you two were close,” Michael said after another short silence.
“Neither did I, and I want to know how the hell she got by Buddy,” Blake muttered. “Next time you see her, you might ask her for me.”
“She left it in your house?” Michael exclaimed.
Blake caught the note of amusement in his voice and sighed.
“Yes,” he said. “She's very unnerving, isn't she?”
“Very. What was it?”
“The smoking gun,” Blake answered bluntly.
There was another long silence.
“Tell me,” Michael finally said.
“I just heard from my tech in ballistics,” Blake said, satisfied that he had Michael's full attention now. “The gun that killed Jason and Billy can be linked to seven cold cases, all in the past three years. She emailed me all the information and I'll forward it to you, but she gave me the dates of the first three cold cases.”
“Hold on.” Michael sounded muffled for a minute, like he was holding something in his mouth and Blake pictured him pulling the lid off a pen. “What are they?”
“March, July and October of 2010,” Blake told him. “Do you remember where your girlfriend was those months?”
“Hold on.” Michael set the phone down and Blake was able to catch murmured voices in the background. He strained to listen, but couldn't make out any words. “I'm just pulling up my notes.”
Michael was back and Blake heard him typing on a laptop.
“Not sure about March, but according to her file, she was in Sudan in July,” Michael said after a minute. “Where was the cold case?”
“I'll send you the email, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't in Sudan,” Blake retorted. “Looks like Viper is officially in the clear on the murders of Jason and Billy.”
“That's good news,” Michael replied. “Send me the email and I'll get back to you on all the dates.”
“Will do.”
“Where's the rat?” Michael asked.
Blake swiped the screen on his tablet and pulled up the email from the tech.
“Headed to lunch at the Admiral's House,” he answered, forwarding the email to Michael. “I just forwarded the email to your personal address.”
“Got it,” Michael said after a minute. “I'll let you know on these dates as soon as I can. Stick with her until you hear from me. Your surveillance duty may be almost over.”
“I'll keep my phone on,” Blake answered, putting the car in gear and easing out into traffic again.
Alina watched through her binoculars as Regina and Ludmere engaged in an energetic discussion in the back study of the Admiral's House. The French doors to the patio were closed, but the curtains hadn't been pulled and Alina had a clear view of the two inside. The conversation had started off calm enough, with Alex sitting in a chair and Regina pacing restlessly around the room. Now, it had escalated to both of them pacing around the room.
Viper lowered her binoculars and brushed an errant leaf out of her hair. She had navigated around the Secret Service details easily enough and was settled high in the branches of a massive tree behind the Vice President's house. Leaning her head against the wide trunk at her back, Viper watched two squirrels chase each other across the ground and up a tree not far away. She smiled slightly as they chattered to each other loudly before disappearing into the branches and out of view. A rustling noise above her head drew her attention upward, and Viper looked up to find herself confronting the hooked beak and dark eyes of a red-tailed hawk. He stared at her, unblinking, and Alina smiled slowly. He was perched on the branch right above her head, less than a foot away. They stared at each other for a moment before the hawk blinked and settled down comfortably above her. He shifted his gaze from her to something in the distance and Alina dropped her eyes back to the French doors in the distance.
Raising her binoculars again, she put the hawk out of her mind and turned her attention back to the couple inside the house. Regina had stopped pacing now and was gesturing with her hands while Alex gripped the back of an armchair. Alina zoomed in on his face and pursed her lips at his ferocious scowl. The Vice President looked downright mean and ugly. She zoomed out again and watched thoughtfully as the two continued to go back and forth.
There was little doubt in her mind what the argument was about. Regina was getting ready to run. Even if she wasn't telling Alex her immediate intentions, she had to be telling him that everything was about to blow up in their faces. The Vice President would have to be warned. Viper's lips curved slowly into a cold smile.
All sins are punished one day, she thought as Alex threw his hands up in the air and started pacing again. Even yours.
The argument in the room continued and, after a few minutes, Regina grabbed Alex's arm and said something that stopped him in his tracks. Alina watched as he dropped into a chair, staring at Regina. Regina was still talking animatedly as she picked up her purse from a chair and slung it over her shoulder. She faced Alex, her hands moving almost as fast as her mouth appeared to be, and he stared up at her, nodding every so often. Then, she bent down and kissed him on the cheek before turning to leave the room.
Alina was starting to lower the binoculars, glancing at her watch, when Alex stood up abruptly and gained her attention. She frowned as he took two steps toward the door, and then stopped. She zoomed quickly in as Alex suddenly collapsed, falling to the floor. As he fell, his hand reached out and made contact with a three-legged side table. The table came crashing down with him and a moment later, the door to the room flew open and two men rushed in, kneeling beside the fallen Vice President.
Viper quickly lowered the binoculars and dropped out of the tree silently, disappearing into the woods as chaos erupted in the Admiral's House behind her.
Damon pulled the shower curtain back and caught himself scanning the bathroom quickly for Alina. He frowned as he stepped out of the shower. Of course she wasn't there.
She had left him in Lima, Peru.
He toweled off, tamping down the rising anger at the thought. She had done it with the best of intentions and, while he was starting to understand that, the wound was still raw enough to smart. If he didn't get some kind of physical release soon, he was still going to be a simmering pot of rage when he saw her again, and that was the last thing Hawk wanted. Emotion spooked his Viper in a way that no assassin, traitor or terrorist could. If he showed her how upset he really was, Damon knew he would risk widening that emotional moat that she kept around herself, and he wasn't sure he would be able to cross it at all if that happened.
Damon toyed with the idea of baiting John beyond what Stephanie could control, his lips twitching. It was just so easy! Michael would help. He had caught on right away to the pleasure Damon took in baiting Alina's ex.
By the time Damon entered the living room, dressed and refreshed, his lips were curving and he was almost in a good mood. He walked through to the dining room and dropped his bag on the floor before turning and raising an eyebrow slightly.
Stephanie and Michael were seated on the couch facing the TV, controllers in hand, playing what looked like one of the Call of Duty games. John lounged in the recliner watching, calling out pointers to Stephanie every few minutes. Damon watched for a moment, his lips curving into a grin. He supposed there wasn't much else to do when you were cooped up in a safe house indefinitely, but he was still amused that Stephanie was playing Call of Duty.
“Don't go—too late,” John exclaimed as Stephanie got blown apart and her life meter expired.
Michael laughed and continued playing as Stephanie threw her controller down and stood up with a huff.
“That's ridiculous!” she exclaimed. “I should be able to cross behind that truck. Look!!! There was no one there!”
“Yes there was!!” John retorted. “He was around the corner!”
“I would have heard him!” Stephanie shot back, drawing laughter from both Michael and John. She swung around and faced Damon beseechingly. “You get what I'm saying, right?” she demanded. Damon grinned.
“Yep,” he answered.
“Bullshit!” John exclaimed. “Are you telling me that you would have gone behind the truck?” he demanded. Damon shook his head.
“Nope.”
“But you just said...” Stephanie began before getting cut off by a loud knock at the door.
Michael instantly paused the game and got to his feet swiftly, pulling out his real gun and motioning for Stephanie to stay back. He missed her narrowed eyes and seemed surprised when she pushed past him, her own Glock in her hands.
“We ordered food earlier,” she announced. “It's probably the grocery boy.”
Damon beat them all to the door, moving so swiftly and silently that he seemed to materialize to the right of it before Stephanie or Michael had taken more than a few steps. He motioned for silence and gestured for them to stay back. Michael reached out and grabbed Stephanie's arm when she would have ignored Damon and moved forward anyway. She glared at him impatiently, but Michael shook his head slightly and nodded to the floor.
Stephanie followed his gaze and watched as a red beam snaked across the wooden floor, coming from the other side of the door. She froze, watching as the beam slowly swept left to right. Stephanie felt John move up silently behind her and place his hand on the small of her back. Glancing back, she met his pale blue eyes. For once, they were serious and his mouth was drawn in a grim line. He, too, was watching the red beam that was searching for movement.
Damon motioned to Michael and pointed to the peephole. Michael nodded and reached behind him to grab a small cushion off the couch, tossing it to Damon. Hawk caught it with one hand, and the silence in the apartment was deafening as they all watched him pull out his gun. He flipped off the safety, motioning them back. Stephanie felt John pull her back and around the couch until they were standing outside the dining room while Michael moved to the other side of the living room, near the hallway leading to the bedrooms. She looked at Damon and felt a shiver run down her spine.
The dark stranger was back, and his eyes were like chips of sapphire ice.
Hawk reached out and moved the cushion in front of the peephole. A second later, there was a sound like a pop from a cork gun and the cushion blew apart in his hand. Stephanie jumped, tightening her grip on her Glock.
“I don't think that's the grocery boy,” Michael said, just before all hell broke loose.
Damon tossed the pillow away and turned his attention to the door. A second later, there was a loud crack and the door flew open as the lock ripped away from the door jam, sending splintered wood skidding across the floor. The chain snapped easily with the force of the impact and Damon waited for the door to hit his outstretched hand before slamming it back. It flew closed again, driven by the full force of Hawk's arm, hitting someone solidly as they were moving in.
Hawk wasted no time, moving with a speed that made Stephanie blink. He rounded the door and grabbed the dazed intruder by his neck before the assailant realized what was happening. Yanking the would-be assassin into the apartment, he kicked the door closed with his foot while he pinned the intruder to the wall next to the door, his strong hand holding him by his throat.
There was a brief second of shocked silence before the intruder hit Damon against the side of his head with the handle of a gun. Damon snarled as his head snapped to the side, but his grip on the man's neck never lessened. He turned and threw him to the floor easily, kicking the gun out of his hand and following him down in one smooth motion, planting his knee on the man's chest heavily.
Hawk found himself staring into the cold, dark eyes of a killer, and he smiled.
His fist slammed into the killer's face, snapping his head back against the floor with a satisfying crack. Damon hoped that wouldn't be the end of it, and he wasn't disappointed. The killer tried to get the gun out of Hawk's hand, grabbing his wrist and wrenching it sideways. He succeeded in angling the gun away from himself and throwing Damon off balance. As soon as he felt himself start to slip, Hawk countered with a sharp jab to his opponent's throat that made Michael, watching from behind, wince in reaction. The killer released his grip on his wrist as he choked and started gagging from the impact against his esophagus. Taking advantage of the momentary lack of defense, Hawk grabbed the killer by his hair and lifted his head, slamming it into the floor sharply before removing his knee and getting to his feet.
Stephanie got a good look at Damon's face then, and she gasped silently, backing up instinctively until she hit John's unmovable chest. He didn't even look like Damon anymore. His eyes were hollow chips of ice and the man was smiling! It was a terrifying, twisted look of wrath that made Stephanie shiver. She realized with a shock that went straight through her that she was staring at the face of an assassin, trained to kill without compunction and without emotion. The Damon she met three months ago, and who had been teasing John a few hours ago, was gone. In his place was a cold and methodical machine, waiting for their intruder to come to his senses and get up to fight. Reaching behind her, Stephanie found and gripped John's hand, unable to tear her gaze away from the chilling blue eyes staring down at the man sent to kill them.
Hawk waited for Viper's would-be killer to regain his senses, his whole body taut and ready to strike out. Tucking his gun into the holster at his back, he watched him with narrowed eyes, studying every twitch and every breath as if he were a specimen under a microscope. When the killer finally focused his eyes on Hawk's face, Hawk motioned him up with a quick, inviting movement of his hand. The killer's eyes narrowed and he sprang to his feet, advancing.
Hawk blocked a blow aimed at his head easily and countered with one to his opponent’s midsection, doubling him over with a grunt. Grabbing him by his neck, Hawk forced him upright and was about to land another blow to his face when the killer blocked his fist and landed a hit of his own to his abdomen. Damon grunted and blocked a follow-up hit before grabbing one of the man's wrists and twisting his arm around and up behind his back at an odd angle. Using the twisted arm as a steering bar, Hawk swung him around slammed him into the wall face first, wrenching the arm up higher and watching as the killer flinched in pain. Stepping close, Hawk leaned his face down close to his ear.
“You picked the wrong day to come calling,” he hissed.
“All I'm saying is that I don't know how I feel about the ethical position we now find ourselves in,” Stephanie muttered, watching as Michael finished hammering a piece of wood to the front door jam.
After examining the dead bolt and finding it still intact, Michael had disappeared into John's bedroom, returning with a slat of wood he took from one of the shelves in the closet. John produced a toolbox and, between the two of them, they managed to get the replacement wood pared down to fit along the edge of the door jam, temporarily fixing the door so that it would lock securely until repairmen could be sent for.
“I'm not sure that we're actually in an ethical position,” John retorted from the kitchen. He emerged with three beers, handing her one as he passed. “We don't actually know what he's doing to him in there,” he added over his shoulder, handing a beer to Michael.
Michael accepted it with thanks and stepped back from the door. He unscrewed the lid to the bottle and took a sip before setting it down and going back to the door. He closed it, locked it, and pulled hard. The wood held.
“I think that'll work until someone can get out here to fix it,” Michael announced, leaving the door locked and picking up his beer again.
“Well, we know that Damon forced him into the bathroom forty minutes ago and we haven't heard anything since, except vomiting at regular intervals,” Stephanie snapped, ignoring Michael. “What do you think is going on in there?”
“Maybe Damon is being a good Samaritan and holding his head,” John answered with a grin.
Stephanie rolled her eyes and sipped the cold beer. Clearly, she was the only one in the room who felt uncomfortable with what was undoubtedly transpiring down the hall and behind the locked bathroom door. Even Michael seemed content to turn a blind eye.
“Don't worry,” Michael smiled at her as he stepped past her on his way to the recliner. “He might still be alive when they come out.”
“It doesn't bother you at all?” Stephanie demanded, turning on the arm of the couch to face them. “Don't you want to know what's going on in there?”
“I think I'd rather not,” Michael answered, settling into the recliner. “If I don't see it, I can't testify to it. That's something you should know all about,” he added pointedly and Stephanie had the grace to flush red.
“I was protecting a friend,” she muttered defensively.
“I know you were,” Michael said gently. “While we're on the subject, you both can stop being so careful about not using her real name. I know the truth.” Stephanie and John looked at him, startled, and he nodded briefly. “I promised Dave I'd take care of her. Her identity is safe.”
“I wanted to tell you in your office that morning,” Stephanie told him. “But I had to protect her.”
“I understand.”
“My guess is that's Damon's goal as well, right now,” John remarked, sinking onto the couch next to her. “He's trying to protect her as well. That man was sent to kill Alina.”
“I know.” Stephanie drank some more and pursed her lips. “He would have killed us too.”
“He certainly would have tried,” John agreed, sipping his beer. They were silent for a moment, considering that.
“Why did we all just stand back and let Damon handle it?” Stephanie asked suddenly, looking at the other two.
“It all happened too fast to do much else,” Michael answered with a shrug. “Besides, I think he needed the exercise. He's been like a caged animal ever since I met him in Peru,” he added thoughtfully.
“What was he doing in Peru?” John demanded.
“Don't know,” Michael answered with a shrug. “He never said.”
“It doesn't make any sense,” Stephanie said with a frown. “He was supposed to be helping Alina, and he clearly still is or you wouldn't be here now.”
Michael was opening his mouth to respond when they all heard the bathroom door open and a single pair of footsteps come out. Conversation came to an abrupt halt as three pairs of eyes turned to the hallway, waiting. When Hawk stepped into the living room a second later, he found all three of them staring at him. His lips twitched as he returned their stare.
“Where is he?” Stephanie was the first one to break the silence, standing up and looking past him to the empty hallway.
“In the bathtub,” Hawk answered calmly.
“Is he alive?” Stephanie demanded, her eyes meeting his. She noticed that those eyes had returned to their normal dark blue, and a glint of amusement leapt into them as she stared at him.
“Of course he is,” Damon replied. Barely.
“Unconscious?” John asked.
“For now.” Damon went into the kitchen. He emerged a moment later with a bottle of water to find all three of them staring at him again. “What?”
“What did you find out?” Michael asked, grinning at the speechlessness of the other two.
“Regina's leaving on a plane tonight at nine-thirty. She's flying out of Shannon Airfield to Miami and, from there, to the Virgin Islands,” Damon answered, sipping the water.
“Once she gets to the Islands, she'll be out of reach,” John said. “She'll disappear.”
“I don't think we have to worry about her getting to Miami, let alone the Islands,” Stephanie said slowly, watching Damon's face. He met her gaze and smiled slightly.
“Regina thinks Viper was here,” he told her. “She thinks she's won.”
“Won't she wait for confirmation of that?” Michael asked from his recliner.
“She'll get confirmation,” Damon held up a smartphone, “courtesy of our unconscious killer.”
“Nice.” Michael grinned. “Well played.”
“I'll give Viper every advantage I can,” Hawk answered softly.
“How do we know Alina knows about the flight plans?” John asked.
“She knows,” Michael murmured. “Blake knew Regina was getting ready to run. Viper would have been a few steps ahead of him.”
“Have you heard from Blake recently?” Damon asked, perching on the other arm of the couch.
“No.” Michael pulled out his phone. “That reminds me, I have to call Chris and have him check Viper's file. I need to know where she was on these dates Blake sent me.”
“Don't bother.” Damon stopped him. “She wasn't in the country for any of them.”
“How do you know?” Michael asked, pausing and glancing at him with sharp eyes.
“The first time Viper set foot stateside was three months ago,” Damon answered, sipping his water. “Before that, she was in South America for two years.”
“You can prove it?” Michael demanded. Damon smiled slightly.
“Our agency can,” he murmured. “In the meantime, I think it's a safe bet that the smoking gun belongs to one of Frankie Solitto's triggermen.”
“Solitto!” Both John and Stephanie exclaimed together.
Damon glanced at them, his eyes dancing.
“Didn't I mention that before?” he asked innocently.
“No!” Stephanie retorted. “What the hell does Frankie have to do with all of this?”
“I think we might not want to know,” John murmured tiredly. “He seems to be popping up a lot lately. Last time he did, we didn't make out so well.”
“That was my thought too, when Blake said he had the gun,” Michael told Damon, nodding in agreement. “But how did Viper get it?”
“One guess,” Damon answered with a grin.
“Why would Frankie hand Alina the gun that would incriminate one of his own?” Stephanie demanded. “That makes no sense.”
“It does if he's afraid of her,” Damon said softly.
“You think that's what happened?” Stephanie asked as John whistled softly.
“I think Frankie's keeping himself on Viper's good side,” Damon said. “Let's just leave it at that.”
“I'll call Blake now and tell him she's in the clear on the cold cases,” Michael said. “You're sure about this?”
“I'm sure,” Damon replied. Michael nodded and hit speed dial on his phone. “While you're at it, tell him to stop watching Regina,” Damon added. Michael looked at him sharply.
“Why?” he demanded.
“Viper will have her well-covered. No need to risk Blake running into Viper's nest and startling the target,” Damon answered, capping his water and standing up. “And, no offense, but too many of you Feds know what she looks like now. Her anonymity is already in shreds. Let's not make it any worse than it has to be.”