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Kasim looked up as Tarek came out of the small kitchen with a sandwich in one hand and a can of Coke in the other. He shook his head and bent over the bag he was working on.
“You're always eating,” he muttered. “You'll get fat.”
“I've got a good metabolism,” Tarek retorted, walking over to a desk near the window and sitting down in front of his laptop. The curtains and shades were pulled tight across the window, sealing them off from the outside world. “Besides, I don't want to go into tomorrow hungry. That's how mistakes are made.”
Kasim snorted, not looking up.
“Who told you that? Mistakes are made when you don't plan.”
Tarek bit into his sandwich and opened his laptop.
“And when you don't eat,” he said stubbornly with a mouth full of bread and cheese. “Are the bags finished yet?”
“That one is.” Kasim motioned to a black, heavy-duty backpack on the floor. “This one will be soon.”
“Let me know when you're ready to move the packages into them.”
Kasim grunted in response, and Tarek took a drink of soda before logging into his laptop. A comfortable silence fell in the living room of the suite as Kasim worked and Tarek ate his sandwich, trolling through the web. The silence was broken about ten minutes later when Tarek let out a sound that was a cross between a gasp and a growl.
“Kasim! Come!”
Kasim frowned and looked up.
“What is it? It can't wait?”
Tarek swung around to face him, his eyes blazing and his cheeks quivering.
“No, this can't wait.”
Kasim stood up slowly, his eyes on his face, and walked over to stand beside Tarek.
“Well?”
Wordlessly, Tarek pointed to the screen. Kasim leaned forward, looking where he was pointing. A conversation in a chat room was in progress and he scanned it, thunder clouds growing on his brow as he read.
“This says someone released information on Viper,” he said. “They claim to know where to find her.”
Tarek nodded. “It also says Viper killed Asad.”
Kasim shrugged, still reading.
“We know that already.”
“Yes, we do, but no one else did.” Tarek grabbed his arm and Kasim looked at him. “That means this information is true.”
Kasim looked at him thoughtfully for a minute, then straightened.
“It means part of it is true. Can you find this information? I don't care what people are gossiping about. I want the source.”
Tarek leaned forward and scrolled through pages of chats until he found a link. He clicked on it, opening a separate browser window. Another link appeared and he clicked that, opening an article.
“There.”
Kasim read through the article, which was little more than an anonymous, open letter.
Many people have reasons to resent the democratic countries of the West, the United States of America in particular. For some of you, it is a cultural disparity you do not understand which feeds your dislike of any form of republic or government at odds with what you've known all your life. For others, it is a deep-seated adherence to a set of religious values that drives your aggression. Some of you have lost family and loved ones to the bloody battles of war. Some of you have lost comrades to a faceless enemy.
All of you have one thing in common. You all resent the god-like power the West has wielded over weaker governments and cultures they perceive as inferior. While their politicians enact trade deals and embargoes in public, their war machine sends troops and weapons to enforce their will. Most of the time, you know where they are and you see them coming. Sometimes, you do not. Sometimes, they are silent and invisible, and have been and gone before you ever know they were there, leaving behind bodies in their wake. These are the deadly assassins who come for you at all hours of the day and night, and from whom you have no recourse.
Most of you have heard rumors of one such assassin. Most have dismissed the rumors as fairy tales. Let me set the record straight. They are not rumors. They are not fairy tales. The American assassin known as Viper does exist, and the toll she has exacted is extensive. Most recently, she was responsible for the death of Johann Topamari, Jin Seung Moon, Jenaro Gomez, Al-Jibad in Syria, and Asad Jamal just last month. These are only a sampling of her most recent targets. There have been countless others before these, and doubtless many more to come. Not only is Viper real, but she is one of the most prolific weapons the United States has.
Some of you may recall a bounty released last year, offering a large sum of money to the person who permanently got rid of this threat. That bounty was never collected. I am not renewing it. I have no interest in perpetuating the greed that has brought mercenaries and assassins like this into our society. What I am interested in is a fair playing field. With trained weapons such as this roaming at will, at the beck and call of governments not held accountable for their actions, what hope does the next generation have? What kind of legacy do we leave behind? A society that has become a hunting ground for those who think they are stronger and more sophisticated than others? One that is controlled by the will of a few who would terrorize the many?
Or do we leave behind a world free from the fear of whether or not a faceless stranger will come to kill you in silence? Do we remove this threat? Or allow it to continue?
These assassins are extremely illusive, trained to disappear, and trained to be invisible. Viper is particularly well hidden. She has been a faceless force – until now. Here is a photo, along with a list of cities across the world where she is known to spend significant time. Now is the time to make a stand, or forever live under the threat of a silent blade.
Kasim and Tarek studied the photograph in silence. It was a grainy black and white image of a woman with dark hair hanging in a braid to mid shoulder blade. It had been taken in a crowd, and she was facing toward the camera, a look of deadly intent on her face.
“So, this is the one who killed my brother,” Kasim said slowly.
Tarek looked at him.
“Our friend in Washington must be the one behind this,” he said. “This was released from the Pentagon.”
“How do you know?”
“Someone traced the originating IP address. As I said, the source is confirmed. The information is good.”
Kasim nodded, reading the list of cities below the photo. He pointed to Philadelphia on the list.
“Tomorrow, we make a statement in one of her cities,” he said. “We will serve as the starting gun, then others will follow.”
Tarek sat back.
“If she is here, we have an opportunity to avenge Asad,” he said softly. “Now we know who we are looking for.”
Kasim turned and went back to his chair and the bag he was working on.
“And we will,” he promised. “If only one of us survives tomorrow, the other will hunt her until death.”
Tarek glanced at him.
“And if something goes wrong? What if neither of us survive?”
Kasim looked up and smiled.
“Her days are numbered,” he said, nodding to the letter on the screen. “If we should fail, another will be close behind us. Viper will not last a week.”
Alina dropped her keys on the bar and glanced into the kitchen, noting the sauté pan in the center of the island. She strode down the short hallway to the den in the front of the house. If Damon was in the command center, she couldn't take the folder Jack had given her down there. It would invite questions that she wasn't ready to answer.
Crossing to the desk, Alina bent to open the bottom drawer. Inside was a document safe with a digital combination lock. She typed in her code to open the safe, placing the folder inside. It would be secure enough there until she could go through it alone. Closing the safe, she reset the lock and went back to the kitchen. She was opening a cabinet to reach for a wine glass when the island slid silently aside and Damon came out of the opening.
“Hey,” he said. “Everything ok?”
She looked at him.
“Yes. I just had to pick something up.” Alina watched as he lifted the sauté pan and hung it back on the pot rack. The island covered the opening in the floor again. “Have you eaten?”
“I made a sandwich about an hour ago.”
Damon turned from the island and looked at the wine glass in her hand. He raised an eyebrow.
“That kind of afternoon?”
Alina chuckled.
“No. I thought I'd have a drink while figuring out what to do for dinner.”
Damon glanced at the keys on the bar.
“Is the Audi still in one piece?”
“Exactly the same as when I took her,” she said, setting the glass on the island and walking into the dining room to get a bottle of wine from the rack. “No assassination attempts. It was a good day.”
“That's what I like to hear. Do you want me to pick up something for dinner?”
She looked up from her contemplation of the bottles in the wine rack.
“Like what?”
Damon shrugged.
“I don't know. Pizza? Pasta? Salad? What are you in the mood for?”
Alina selected a bottle of Shiraz and carried it into the kitchen.
“You choose.” She pulled out a corkscrew. “I don't care what we have.”
Damon watched as she cut the foil on the bottle.
“I haven't had pizza in a while,” he said thoughtfully. “How do you feel about that?”
“If that's what you want, that's fine.”
Damon nodded and walked over to the bar to pick up his keys.
“Call it in and I'll go get it. Then we can tackle Kasim and figure out what he's got planned.”
Alina nodded, pulling the cork out of the bottle. Once it was out, she reached into her pocket for her phone.
“Any luck with the chat rooms while I was gone?” she asked, scrolling through her phone until she found the number for the pizza place in town.
“Some, but not enough.” Damon walked back and bent to drop a light kiss on her lips, then turned to leave. “I'll tell you when I get back.”
“What do you want on the pizza?” she called after him, watching him stride toward the back door. “Or are you eating whatever I get?”
He shot her a grin over his shoulder.
“If you don't know what I like on my pizza yet, I'm going to have to re-evaluate this relationship,” he said, opening the sliding door and going out.
Alina shook her head and hit the button to dial.
“You say it like we've spent so much time together eating pizza,” she muttered, picking up the bottle of wine and pouring herself a generous glass.
“Angelo's, can you hold please?”
“Yes.”
Alina carried her wine over to the bar and set it down before continuing into the living room to pick up the TV remote from the coffee table. She pointed it at the plasma above the fireplace, switching it on. Footage from her security cameras filled the screen, and she watched as Damon drove the down the driveway toward the road. Returning to the bar, she picked up her wine and took a sip, absently watching as the Audi weaved through the trees until he pulled out onto the paved road and out of camera range.
“Thanks for holding.”
“I'd like to order a large regular crust with extra cheese, sausage and pepperoni,” Alina said. “For pick-up.”
“Name?”
“Raven.”
“Anything else?”
“Yeah, add an order of garlic knots.”
“Should be about twenty minutes.”
“Thanks.”
Alina disconnected and slid her phone back into her pocket. A loud beep made her look up to the plasma again sharply. Her brows raised in surprise as a silver BMW pulled into the trees from the road. Now what was Angela doing back again? She hadn't expected to see her for a while, not after forcing her to delete her online journal. Yet, here she was. After watching the car make its way through the trees toward the house for a second, Alina turned to get a second wine glass. By the time Angela had pulled around the house and into the back, she was on the deck waiting.
Angela parked the car and got out, waving as she closed the door and started across the grass toward the deck.
“Hi!” she called. “Is that wine in your hand?”
Alina grinned. Leave it to Angie to spot the wine from the driveway. She waited until Angela had mounted the steps to the deck, then handed her one of the glasses.
“I'd just poured myself a glass when you pulled in,” she said, going over to sit in one of the Adirondack chairs at the far end of the deck. “I knew you'd want one.”
“I'll never turn down wine,” Angela said with a laugh, following her and dropping into the other chair. “Especially at your house. You always have the good stuff.”
Alina smiled faintly. “I'm glad you enjoy it.”
“Is Damon here?” Angie asked after taking a sip.
“He went to pick up dinner.”
Angela looked at her and smiled.
“I love that you're finally acting like a normal, red-blooded female,” she told her. “I don't know what took you guys so long. It's clear you two were made for each other. How is he?”
Alina cast her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”
Angela waggled her eyebrows.
“You know what I mean. How is he? On a scale of 1 to 10?”
“Oh my God, Angie, really? What are you? Twelve?” Alina exclaimed.
“That bad?” Angela persisted. “Come on. Spill it. What is he? 8? 9? No way he's less than a 7, not with a body like his.”
Alina stared at her speechlessly, a reluctant grin tugging at her lips.
“Ok. You don't want to say. I get it. It's a new relationship and you don't want to say anything that might get you in trouble. Got it.” Angela sat back with her wine and crossed her legs comfortably. “I'll guess, and you just nod yes or no. That way it's not like you're judging him.”
“That's exactly what I'd be doing!”
“9? I'm guessing he's a nine. There's always room for improvement, after all.”
Alina was silent.
“Of course, real improvement only comes with practice,” Angela continued wickedly. “Lots of practice.”
“Oh, I don't think I could take much more improvement,” Alina finally muttered, propping her feet on the railing in front of her.
Angela laughed triumphantly.
“So he's a ten! I knew it!”
Alina shook her head, wondering how this conversation even came to be. She took a fortifying drink of wine and watched as a black shadow glided out of the trees to settle on the roof of the detached garage. Raven surveyed his property regally, his black gaze coming to rest on the two women on the deck. She smiled faintly.
“What are you doing here, Angie?” she asked, turning her attention back to her old friend. “You never come all the way out here without a reason.”
Angela was quiet for a moment, then she took a deep breath.
“I was pretty pissed off at you last night for making me delete my journal,” she said. “But when I got home and calmed down, I gave it some thought, and I realized that Steph was right. You always do have my best interests in mind. You've always looked out for me, even when we were kids. You were looking out for me last night and I just didn't see it.”
Alina was silent. Angela couldn't be further from the truth. She hadn't been looking out for her at all when she forced her to deactivate the journal. She had been turning off the faucet of information, trying to mitigate the damage already done in an attempt to save her own skin. She wasn't a hero looking out for her friend. She was a government operative trying to stop a flow of data from being used against her.
“Once I realized that, I stopped being so angry,” Angie continued, oblivious to the thoughts of her friend beside her. “And then I thought of John and his funeral. They still don't know who went in and shot the church up. The police have no leads, no clues. They don't even have an idea on motive. And that's when it hit me.”
Alina slowly turned her head to look at Angela, a deep sense of foreboding stealing over her.
“What?”
“The shots at the church that day only went in one direction, and the only people in that direction were Blake, Michael, Stephanie...and you.”