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Rio de Janeiro - 6 years ago
Music pounded from the speakers in the ceiling, pulsing above the unintelligible din of humanity in the dimly lit, crowded bar. Alina Maschik sipped her drink and watched in the mirror behind the bar as more patrons poured into the establishment through the door. The air was thick and humid with the press of bodies surrounding her, and sweat beaded at her temples and trickled between her breasts. She ignored the discomfort, her eyes watching every face that entered. She was fortunate enough to be seated at the bar, having arrived just before the current onslaught of late-night revelers. A tall man pushed into the barely noticeable space between her and a heavy-set woman, signaling to the bartender. While he waited, he glanced down at Alina and his lips curved into a smile.
“Como é que uma mulher bonita como você está sentada sozinha?”
Alina didn't glance at him.
“What makes you think I'm alone?” she retorted in Portuguese.
He shrugged and leaned on the bar, turning sideways so he could give her his full attention.
“I don't see anyone with you. Perhaps you're waiting for someone?”
“Perhaps.”
“Perhaps you'd like some company while you wait?” he asked with a flash of white teeth.
“If I wanted company, I would have asked for it. You'll have better luck elsewhere.”
The man grinned.
“If your companion doesn't arrive, I'm a ready and willing replacement,” he said. “Very willing.”
“Duly noted.”
The bartender came over and the man ordered his drink, then motioned to Alina's empty glass.
“And give this angel another,” he added, smiling down at her again. “If you won't accept my company, at least accept a drink.”
She nodded reluctantly, unwilling to draw any more attention to herself.
“Thank you.”
The bartender handed the man a beer and set another Caipirinha in front of her. The man nodded, took one last lingering look, and then made his way through the crowd to join his friends in the corner. Alina watched him go in the mirror, reaching for her fresh drink and turning her attention back to the front door.
Her contact was over twenty minutes late. If it were up to her, she would have left already. She had no idea if lateness was common with this informant, or if it was an indication that something was wrong. A frown crossed her face and Alina sipped her drink. This was the final test. Harry had been very clear about that. This was it. Pass or fail, there would be no more training. No more tests. It was do or die time.
Literally.
Alina swirled the ice in her glass, dropping her eyes to watch the liquid swish from side to side thoughtfully. There were only four of them on this trip. Damon had already completed his mission in Cuba, and the other two would complete theirs on the way back. They were the top four of their training class: the elite. She had no idea how or where the rest of their class was completing their training, or even if they were. All she knew was this was her first live mission and she was being graded. It was all up to her now. The months of training, of grueling physical and mental labor, had all led here.
It was time to become the weapon they had trained her to be.
The door to the street opened again and Alina raised her eyes. Her heart thumped in her chest as she recognized the face from the photos she had studied before coming ashore.
Her contact looked around the packed bar. As she searched through the crowds, Alina took the opportunity to study the woman. She was dressed in black pants and a white sleeveless top that draped over her tan shoulders. Her hair was pulled back from her face, falling down her back in thick curls. She carried a small purse over her shoulder, which she anchored with one hand firmly wrapped around the long strap.
Alina drained her glass quickly and moved off the bar stool, turning to make her way through the crowd to the woman inside the door.
“Sylvie!” she exclaimed as she emerged from the press of bodies between the bar and the door. “How was your cab ride?” she asked, joining her and speaking the phrase that would identify her.
The woman turned to her and a big smile stretched across her face.
“I decided not to take one. It's such a nice night, I walked,” she replied with the proper response, looking around. Then, “It's packed in here. Shall we go somewhere less crowded?”
Alina nodded and followed her contact outside. They stepped into the street and she inhaled a deep breath of fresh air as they turned to walk down the sidewalk.
“I'm sorry I was delayed,” said Sylvie in a low voice as they walked. “I didn't think you’d wait.”
“I wouldn't have, but I had no other way to contact you.”
“You shouldn't have stayed. Something isn't right.”
Alina looked at her sharply. “What do you mean?”
Sylvie shrugged.
“Someone is watching me. I don't know how long I have before they come back.”
She reached into her small purse and pulled out a flash drive. Tucking her arm through Alina's as a close friend would, she slipped it into her palm.
“Everything you need is on there,” she said in a low voice. “Your target is a very powerful man. The codes on that will get you past his security. The cameras are controlled from the main terminal on the ground floor. Once you're in, your best course of action is to disable the cameras first, then tackle security. But when you reach his floor, you're on your own. All I can tell you is that he has two bodyguards at all times. They rotate and change throughout the day and there is no way to know which ones will be with him at any given time. Tonight he could very well have more on duty. There is no way to be sure.”
“And tomorrow?”
“He leaves for the airport at eight, but he travels heavy and his entourage will include his mistress and her sister. Tonight is your best window.”
Sylvie pulled her arm out from Alina's and paused on the sidewalk. Their eyes met, and Alina saw fear in them.
“I dare not stay with you any longer,” she told her. “Go now, and God speed.”
She turned and began to walk quickly up the street from the direction they'd just come. Alina watched her for a second, then continued down the street, her mind spinning. How on earth had something gone wrong already? Somehow this textbook mission was going sideways before she even got started!
She hadn't gone ten feet when a chill snaked down her back. Frowning, she looked around in confusion as the unfamiliar feeling rolled over her and her heart started pounding. A second later, tires squealed in the street behind her. The staccato sound of gunfire filled the air and screams ripped through the night. Spinning around, Alina watched in bemusement as people scattered like roaches in sudden lamplight, running from the gunshots. The source of the bullets was a black sedan, which had stopped at an angle, blocking the road.
It was all over in a moment. The gunfire ceased, and the black sedan sped down the road towards her. She quickly stepped into the shadows of a recessed doorway, pressing herself against the cool stone building, out of sight. The sedan sped past, skidding around the corner a minute later.
Alina stayed concealed in the shadows for a second, her heart pounding and her mouth dry. Then she stepped back onto the sidewalk, looking up the street at all the commotion.
A lone body lay still, face-down on the pavement, her white shirt soaked in red.
Horror washed over Alina and her throat tightened as blood pounded in her head. She hesitated for the briefest of seconds, then turned and continued down the road blindly. She rounded the corner and increased her pace, her feet carrying her away from the drama as quickly as she could without drawing attention to herself. Her breath came short and fast, her stomach rolled, and she knew that if she stopped moving, she would throw up.
What the hell just happened?
She tightened her shaking fingers around the flash drive in her hand and pressed her lips together to stop them from trembling. Whatever had happened, Sylvie's cover was blown.
And that meant so was hers.
Somewhere off the Coast - 400 feet below surface
Damon Miles glanced at his watch as he moved along the passageway toward the officer's wardroom. The nuclear submarine had been their home for three weeks now. A former Navy SEAL, Damon was used to the close quarters and felt almost at home. The others had no such affiliations and the XO had, quite wisely, opted to schedule a few hours each day when the small group could use the wardroom. This eased the discomfort of the other trainees and, more importantly, helped to prevent excessive disruption of his crew.
Damon nodded to a sailor as he passed. The crew was aware of their presence on the boat, having been briefed as soon as they were underway. As he reached for the handle of the door to the wardroom, he glanced over his shoulder at the retreating back of the sailor. He wondered what they had been told about the group of five civilians catching a ride on their boat. Certainly not the truth.
He opened the door, stepping into the small room. Two men looked up from where they were seated at a long, heavy wood table in the back of the room. One was grinning, but the other looked guilty as sin. Damon raised a dark eyebrow.
“What's going on?” he asked, heading towards them.
“Nothing, man,” the guilty one answered with a shrug. “What can be going on in a sunken sewer pipe under the ocean?”
Damon shrugged.
“You tell me, Martinez. You're the one who looks like you just stole the captain's vodka.” He pulled out a chair and sank into it, glancing at the cash in the other man's hand. “Never mind. I think I figured it out.”
Martinez chuckled and tucked the cash away.
“You said you didn't want to know about it,” he pointed out.
Damon shook his head.
“I don't.” Then, after a long moment of silence, he sighed. “What kind of odds am I getting?”
“Not good ones,” Martinez answered bluntly, “but I'm still backing you. You haven't lost me money yet.”
“There's a first time for everything, Martinez,” a deep voice spoke behind them.
Damon turned and watched as Harry closed the door behind himself.
“Don't tell me they've pulled you into the pool, too!” he exclaimed incredulously.
Harry grinned and moved across the room, leaning on the wooden cane in his hand only once.
“My dear boy, I was the first one in the water,” he said cheerfully, pulling out his wallet. “Walker, what's the latest box?”
Walker glanced at Damon and cleared his throat.
“Over-under is four minutes.”
Damon choked.
“Four minutes!” he sputtered. “What the hell?!”
Walker shrugged. “What can I say? She's closed the gap on you.”
“Obviously.”
Harry clapped him on his shoulder as he passed a twenty-dollar bill to Walker across the table.
“Don't take it personally, Miles,” he said. “It was bound to happen. After she took you to school in Virginia, you should have been expecting it.”
Martinez guffawed at that and Damon scowled.
“Thanks for the reminder,” he muttered. “I hope you lose all your money.”
Harry let out a bark of laughter.
“Who said I was putting it on her? How are we on time?” he asked, turning back to Walker.
Walker glanced at his watch, then at Damon.
“Almost closing time. I'll post it online. No more bets after ten minutes.”
He opened his laptop and started typing while Damon stared at him.
“Seriously, man? You set up an online betting group for this?”
Walker looked up with a grin.
“Hey, it's not my fault you and Alina ended up on a boat away from everyone,” he replied. “I'm simply offering a service for the people who are invested in your rivalry and can't be here.”
“You have to admire the American spirit,” Harry murmured dryly. “How long before she passes your time?”
Damon glanced at his watch.
“Six hours.”
Alina stopped outside the door to the fifth floor, breathing heavily. The cameras were disabled, as Sylvie had suggested, and the lone security guard on the ground floor was unconscious and bound in a janitor’s closet. That had been the easy part. The challenge now lay on the other side of the door.
She took a deep breath, taking a moment to try and calm her racing heart. It didn't matter how many hours she'd spent training for this, or how many times she'd gone through the mental drills. Her palms were damp and she knew if she lifted her hand, it would be trembling. Everything was shaking. Her nerves were in control, not her head, and that was not acceptable.
Harry's voice echoed in her head. Emotion is counter-productive. It will get you killed. Lose it, or you lose your edge.
Alina took another deep breath and reached for her 9mm Glock. She'd modified it herself a few weeks earlier in the armory at the training facility. When she had left for this last exercise, it was the first weapon into her bag. Now, attaching a suppressor, she felt the trembling leave her fingers. The familiar act was soothing, and she exhaled slowly.
It was time to get this done.
She reached for the handle of the door and cracked it open, peering through. The door opened onto a long, wide corridor that ran the width of the building. About halfway down, in the center, a large, square atrium dominated the floor, filled with tall, lush trees and exotic flowers and shrubs. The lights on the rest of the floor were low, causing the artificial light from the miniature oasis to glow like a welcoming beacon. Doors and hallways led off at intervals on either side of the carpeted main aisle, promising a labyrinth beyond.
Alina glanced at her watch and slipped through the opening, the door to the stairwell closing noiselessly behind her. She moved down the main hall toward the atrium. The only sound came from the center of the foliage, where a faint trickling noise betrayed the presence of a fountain. Her feet made no sound on the industrial carpet and she moved swiftly toward the last hallway on the left before the atrium.
After disposing of the security guard downstairs, she had taken a few minutes to watch the cameras on this floor before disabling them. The target had three body guards with him tonight, one directly outside his door and the other two in the outer office. Aside from them, she had the floor to herself.
Turning into a hallway that led to the target, she moved along the wall. Harry had been very clear. She was expected to take out the target, leave no witnesses, and get back to the submarine as soon as she was finished. She was expected to be invisible, and to move like the wind. Alina tightened her lips. She had every intention of doing just that.
A glass door was visible at the end of the hallway. Beyond that door, two brawny bodyguards played cards at the secretary's desk. She paused just out of sight of the outer office, listening. Everything was silent. She closed her eyes.
Her breathing steadied and, slowly, she became aware of a very faint sound. At first, it seemed like her own breath in her head, but then she detected a low, deep undertone. Voices. The bodyguards were talking in low voices. The distance was too great to make out words, but it was enough to know they were talking. When they stopped, the guard outside the main office might notice.
She would have to move quickly.
Alina opened her eyes and slid her finger over the trigger. Taking a deep breath, she moved swiftly toward the open glass door.
The guards never even saw her. Before she stepped into the office, the one facing her was looking down, studying the cards in his hand. Her first bullet tore through the center of his throat and he emitted a gasping noise as blood poured from the wound onto his cards. That was the last thing he saw before another bullet entered his forehead. His companion looked up in astonishment as his buddy fell back in his chair, dead. Before he could react and turn around, Alina was directly behind him. He died silently as her combat blade punched into the side of his neck, severing his trachea and vocal cords, then cutting through the carotid artery. As his body slumped sideways in the chair, she pulled out her knife and moved toward the closed door a few feet away.
She knew from watching the cameras that beyond that door a narrow corridor ran to three large offices. The corner office on the right would have the third guard posted, and inside was her target.
Alina reached for the door handle.
Somewhere off the Coast - 68 feet below surface
Alina slung her bag across her body and followed the SDV pilot down the ladder from the hatch to the passageway. The SEAL Delivery Vehicle that had carried her from the rendezvous point off the shore to the waiting submarine lurking in international waters was sealed to the hatch outside the escape trunk. Designed to accommodate an entire SEAL team, it had seemed a bit of an extravagance when it delivered only her to the shore three days earlier. Now, she was heartily glad that it had been available.
Without it, she would never have made it out of Brazil in one piece.
Alina backed down the ladder, wincing as pain shot down her leg from the wound on the side of her thigh. She hadn't had time to do more than wrap some medical bandage around it and tape it down before her flight to the water. It was a miracle, really, that she had even been able to do that much.
When she had exited the office building, leaving four bodies behind, there was no digital evidence that she had ever been there. The cameras were restored and the footage went from everything fine to everyone dead without missing a beat. As she slipped into the alley behind the building, her adrenaline had worn off, and Alina's body reacted to her first four, cold-blooded kills. She had bent over behind a battered old metal trashcan to unload the contents of her stomach. It was when she straightened up that she saw him.
Alina dropped onto the deck now with another grimace of pain, and turned to move down the narrow corridor to the wardroom. Her SDV pilot nodded in farewell and went in the opposite direction, his job done.
Even now, her mind was spinning. It was impossible. He had been standing at the opening of the alley, watching her. The bright light from the street lamp behind him cast his face in shadows, but as she caught sight of him, he turned to leave and the white glow of light illuminated his profile. It was a profile she knew as well as her own, but it wasn't possible. He was dead, killed in action almost six years ago.
Disregarding her orders, she had pursued the man into the crowds of the city, following him for blocks until she lost him. Standing in the street before a bar at the lower end of the city, Alina had been overwhelmed and confused. Without thinking, she went into the bar and ordered a drink while she tried to make sense of it. By the time she'd finished the glass, she had concluded that her mind was playing tricks on her. It couldn't have been him in the alley. He was dead. He wasn't coming back. It had to have been someone else. And so she paid for her drink and turned to leave.
That's when she saw them: two men, dressed in fatigues, waiting for her outside.
The Organization had trained her well. She had memorized every street, alley and path in and around the favelas, and that knowledge became invaluable as she ran for her life. She'd managed to evade them in the end, but not before one of them put a bullet in her thigh.
Alina moved past a sailor in the corridor and stopped outside a closed door. She took a deep breath and opened it, stepping into the room. Chairs were arranged in three rows, facing the front where a whiteboard dominated the wall. A long, heavy wood table stood toward the back, and three men sat at one end, playing cards. They were laughing as she entered and one turned to look, his lips still curved in a grin. His bright blue eyes caught hers, and he glanced at his watch pointedly.
“About time you showed up,” he said, throwing down his cards and standing. “I was beginning to wonder if you got lost.”
She made a face at him and lifted her bag over her head, dropping it on the floor.
“I don't get lost.”
“Don't pay attention to him,” said Martinez with a laugh. “He's been looking at his watch every five minutes for the past six hours. It was only ten minutes ago that he stopped.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
A deep voice filled with amusement spoke behind her, “That's when you didn't beat his time.”
Alina turned to watch as a tall, bald man pulled himself up out of one of the front row chairs with the assistance of a heavy, wooden cane.
“Ten minutes?” she asked incredulously, swinging around to face the tall, blue-eyed man coming towards her. “I lost by ten minutes?!”
“What can I say?” he said with a grin. “You're too slow.”
“That's a crock,” she muttered. “I would have been back over an hour ago if —”
She stopped abruptly and Damon raised his eyebrow.
“You know there are no ifs,” he told her. “You didn't make it back in time, and that puts me up by one.”
“That won't last long,” she said tartly. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”
He let out a bark of laughter and turned to go back to the card game.
“Oh, I will. Harry, make sure you collect your money.”
Harry shook his head and leaned on his cane, studying her.
“Why are you later than you expected?” he finally asked, his sharp eyes taking in the dark rings under her eyes.
“The contact was dirty,” she said bluntly. “I was shot on my way out of the favelas.”
The group at the card table fell silent at that. They looked at her, then at their instructor. Harry scowled.
“Where?” he barked.
“In my leg.”
As one, every eye in the room dropped to her legs, still encased in a wetsuit.
“Get to the medic,” Harry told her. “Come see me when you're done.”
“Yes, sir.”
Harry looked up as Alina entered the small radio room. He was the only occupant, seated at a functional desk with a folder open before him. When she walked in, he was in the process of flipping through some pages. As she closed the door, he set the papers down and closed the folder over them.
“What did the doc say?” he asked, sitting back in his chair and watching as she sank down into a seat in front of another desk.
“He pulled the slug out and stitched it,” Alina said tiredly. “It was a 9mm. I'll live.”
Harry looked at her in silence for a moment, then rubbed his bald scalp.
“You'd better tell me what the hell happened,” he said. “This was a straight-forward, basic mission. What went wrong?”
“I have no idea. When I made contact with Sylvie, she was late. She thought she was being followed. Not two minutes after we separated, she was gunned down in the street.”
“What did you do?”
“Left and went to take care of the target.”
Harry leaned forward. “And?”
She shrugged.
“He was where Sylvie said he would be. I neutralized the building security, disabled the cameras, and went up the back stairwell.”
“How many bodyguards?”
“Three, two in the outer office and one in the hallway outside the target's door.”
“How did you dispose of them?”
“I shot one in the outer office and sliced the other's throat before he could sound a warning. The one in the hallway I shot.”
Harry nodded in approval.
“And the target?”
“Eliminated. One round through his head and one through his heart.”
He sat back in his chair and studied her.
“Then what happened? Were you intercepted on the way to the dock?”
Alina's face flushed and she dropped her eyes.
“No.”
Harry was silent for a second, but when she didn't continue, he sighed heavily.
“What did you do?”
“When I was leaving, I saw someone in the street,” she said in a low, controlled voice. Slowly, she lifted her dark eyes to look at him. “Someone I knew.”
Harry scowled.
“What do you mean, someone you know? You were in Rio de Janeiro! Who do you know in Brazil?”
“Dave.”
Harry gawked at her as if she had three heads.
“Are you out of your mind?” he demanded. “Your brother Dave? The one who died in Iraq?”
Alina waved her hand and leaned her head back tiredly.
“I know it sounds insane. It probably is, but he looked just like him.”
“And you went off-mission,” he stated rather than asked. “How many times have I told you, stick to the plan? Never forget the plan? Does any of that ring a bell?”
Harry was almost yelling by the time he was finished and Alina grimaced.
“It won't happen again.”
“Damn straight it won't happen again!”
They were both silent for a beat, then he pushed his chair back and got up, going over to a locked cabinet bolted to the floor. He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the top drawer, pulling out a folder. Turning, he went over and dropped it in her lap.
“Is that the man you saw?” he asked, leaning on the desk and looking down at her.
Alina opened the folder and stared at the photograph paper-clipped to the file. She gasped.
“Yes!”
Now that she was looking at a full photograph and not a profile, she could see that it wasn't her dead brother. The eyes and chin were all wrong, and the nose wasn't crooked, where Dave's had been broken when he was in high school.
“His name is Pedro, and he's one of our CIA assets in Rio,” Harry told her, taking the folder away from her and dropping it onto the desk behind him. “If he was there, your presence was known. Did he get a good look at you?”
“No. I was in the shadows and the alley wasn’t lit.” Alina looked at him. “Why would the CIA kill one of our contacts?”
“We don't know that they did. If their man knew you were there, others may have found out as well. He may have been simply doing his job, trying to figure out why you were there. That's what spooks do. You followed him?”
Alina nodded.
“I lost him in the city, just outside the favelas. I was confused and unsteady, so I went into a bar and got a drink. When I came out, two men in fatigues were waiting for me.”
Harry crossed his arms over his chest.
“Two men in fatigues,” he repeated. “Our fatigues?”
“No.”
“Were they Portuguese?”
“They were darker skinned, but I won't swear to their ethnic origins. I was too busy trying to get away from them.”
“If you'd stayed on point, that wouldn't have been necessary.”
“I'm aware of that.”
“Then why the hell did it happen?” he barked. “You were told to complete your assignment and get out. Invisibility and speed are the best weapons you have. We send you to be a ghost, not a goddamn tourist stopping in a bar for a drink!”
Alina's jaw tightened, but she kept silent.
Harry watched her for a second then straightened up and went back to his chair.
“You allowed emotion to cloud your judgment,” he told her. “You dragged your personal feelings and past into a present where they don't belong. You no longer have a past. You no longer have a brother, or a family. All you have is this. You chose this, remember? You said you wanted to serve your country. You said you were willing to leave everything behind. Do you still stand by that?”
“Yes.”
“Really? Because every time I turn around, you're clinging to the past. Either there's anger over something that happened before you joined the Navy, or there's some kind of emotion coming from you over that dead Marine you called a brother. That's not leaving everything behind. If you want to be a weapon for your country, you have to lose the baggage.”
Alina was silent, tamping down the surge of anger threatening from deep in her belly.
“Yes, sir.”
Harry studied her for a long minute.
“This will have to go in your file,” he said finally. “Charlie will have to see it.”
“Yes, I know.”
He nodded.
“You can give me the details on the target in the morning. Go get off that leg and get some sleep.”
Alina nodded and started to stand, then sank back down.
“How did you know it was the CIA asset I saw?”
Harry raised an eyebrow.
“You thought it was Dave,” he replied calmly. “I knew Pedro looked similar to your brother. That's why I sent you to Rio.”
Alina stared at him, her face expressionless.
“You...you knew?” she repeated, then she sucked in her breath. “He knew I was there because you told him! You wanted me to see him!”
“Yes. I was testing you. You failed.”
He picked up his pen and opened the folder in front of him, dismissing her. Alina’s eyes narrowed and her lips tightened, but she stood and turned toward the door. She was just reaching for the handle when his voice stopped her.
“You don't have time for emotion, Maschik. It will only ever be your enemy. Find a way to get rid of it or you won’t survive a month. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”