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Washington, DC
Michael O’Reilly climbed out of his truck and slammed the door, nodding to the tall man waiting for him on the sidewalk.
“That was quick!” the man called.
Michael beeped his truck locked and strode toward his old friend.
“I wasn’t wasting time after a call like that,” he replied, reaching the sidewalk. “Where is he?”
Blake Hanover motioned to the building behind him.
“Inside,” he said, turning to walk toward the entrance. “It was pure luck I was in the office when the call came from Metro PD. I just got back late last night.”
“How’s Agent Walker?” Michael asked, opening the door and holding it for the other man.
“Not good,” said Blake. “I’m going to arrange to work out of the Philly office for a few days. I didn’t like leaving her alone.”
Michael glanced at him.
“That bad, huh?”
“She’s trying to hide it, but the whole thing has been a blow.” Blake led the way down a sterile corridor, navigating the city morgue like the seasoned FBI agent he was. “Have you talked to your Black Widow?”
“Not since Sunday,” Michael answered, a frown crossing his face. “I haven’t been able to get hold of her.”
Blake glanced at him.
“That doesn’t sound good.”
They reached the end of the corridor and Blake pushed open a door, holding it for Michael to pass into the large room beyond. A technician in a white lab coat was waiting for them.
“Agent O’Reilly?” he asked.
Michael nodded and pulled out his Secret Service badge, holding it up for examination. The technician studied it for a moment, wrote something on his clipboard, then held it out to Michael with a pen.
“Sign on the last line, please,” he instructed, “next to Special Agent Hanover.”
Michael scrawled his signature and the technician took the clipboard back.
“Follow me.”
Michael glanced at Blake and turned to follow the technician through another set of doors at the far end of the room. Blake fell into step beside him, and they were silent as they entered a sterile room lined with freezers on one side. Tables were arranged in a row across the center of the room, all of them empty except for one.
“Here he is,” said the technician, walking up to the lone occupied slab. “Hanover said you might be able to confirm his ID.”
“Possibly.”
“If you can, it would be a relief. I need to make arrangements for the disposal of the remains if he is a devout Muslim.”
Michael nodded and stopped next to the steel table. The outline of a body was visible, concealed beneath a sheet. The technician looked at him.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yep.”
The technician pulled back the sheet and Michael stared down at the bloated, discolored face lying lifeless on the table.
“They pulled him out of the Potomac this morning,” said Blake. “He floated up near the banks in Georgetown. Cause of death was a stab wound to the neck. It went right through the carotid artery. Death would have happened in seconds, or so I’m told.”
Michael was silent, staring at the face as thoughts swirled through his head. The wound to the neck was precise, the weapon entering at exactly the right angle.
“Any other injuries to the body?” he asked.
“Just the wound to the neck,” the technician replied. “There aren’t even any defensive wounds.”
“So he was either surprised or knew his attacker,” Blake said. “Is he one of the terrorists you were tracking?”
“Yes.” Michael looked away from the face and glanced at Blake. “He’s one of them.”
The technician replaced the sheet, concealing the body again.
“Do you know his name?” he asked.
“No, but I know someone who does,” Michael answered, turning away from the table. “It’s safe to start making your arrangements. He’s definitely a devout Muslim.”
Blake followed Michael back into the larger outer room.
“That’s one down,” he said in a low voice. “You said there were three? We think Viper took care of one already. Do you think she’s responsible for this one too?”
“I don’t know,” Michael answered, striding toward the door to the outer corridor. He pushed open the door and stepped into the corridor. “I just don’t know.”
“It’s a very professional wound,” Blake said, following. “Who else knew they were here, and could do that?”
“The list is longer than you’d think,” Michael replied grimly. “I’ll see if I can at least get his name for you.”
Blake glanced at his friend.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded.
Michael looked at him, but was silent until they got outside in the fresh air.
“Something just doesn’t feel right about the whole thing,” he finally said, stopping and running a hand through his short hair. “I know what Viper does. She’s an assassin. The wound, the target, everything is just what an assassin would do. Except I don’t think she would have dumped the body into the Potomac. It’s not clean enough for her. She’s been trained to leave no trace. A body floating in a river is a really big trace.”
Blake pursed his lips for a moment.
“Fair enough, but a body isn’t that easy to dispose of. What else would she do with it in the middle of the Capitol?”
Michael shook his head with a frown, his eyes troubled.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, “but this just isn’t sitting right.”
Blake studied him thoughtfully for a moment.
“You think there’s something else going on?”
Michael thought about the background Viper asked him to do on one of Washington’s elite.
“Yeah, I just don’t know what.”
Dawn was lightening the sky outside while the city still slept. Alina opened her eyes and stretched, rolling over in the bed. She propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at Damon, tracing a faint scar on the side of his neck. The injury happened three years ago, in London. He told her about it the first time she saw him at her house in Medford, New Jersey, last year. Alina tilted her head. Now why did she suddenly remember that?
His dark hair had flopped over his forehead and a five o’clock shadow darkened his jaw. She smiled and brushed a long, dark lock out of his eye before lowering her lips to press them softly against his.
“Mmmm.” His blue eyes opened and he smiled at her. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” Alina smiled softly. “I don’t know if I can get used to this. I’m not sure how I feel about waking up next to you.”
Damon raised an eyebrow, amusement lighting his eyes.
“Is that so?” he drawled, pulling her down on top of him. “Let me help you make up your mind.”
Alina laughed as his lips captured hers and he rolled her onto her back. She was just wrapping her arms around him when a cell phone rang stridently through the room. Damon groaned, tearing his lips from hers.
“It’s yours,” he muttered, shifting off her.
Alina rolled over and reached for her phone, glancing at the screen.
“It’s Charlie,” she said, propping her weight on her elbow with her back to Damon. “Yes?” she answered.
“You made it to Singapore, I see,” Charlie said, his voice brisk. “I got the check-in notification. Did you have any problems?”
“No. The hotel was a surprise. What’s the occasion?”
“It’s one of my favorites,” said Charlie easily. “Fantastic view of the water.”
“Yes, it is. Why are we here?”
“Not very subtle, are you?” Hawk murmured behind her.
“There’s someone there: someone you need to find,” Charlie said cryptically.
“Who?”
“He used to be a soldier. He’s made Singapore his home now. As you know, it’s one of the financial hubs of the world. Tread carefully, but move quickly.”
“How quickly?”
Alina bit her lip as Damon slid his hand over her thigh, leaving goosebumps in his wake.
“The reservation is for three days.”
“Do you have a name?”
“That’s what you have to find out.”
Alina rolled her eyes.
Oh, is that all?
“Understood. What’s happening with Kasim?” She swatted Damon’s hand away. “He’s still at large somewhere with two of his cohorts.”
“One of his cohorts. The other one just floated up in the Potomac,” Charlie said after a moment. “I don’t have much information yet, only that he was stabbed in the neck. For now, the FBI and DHS are looking for leads on Kasim. When you’re finished there, we’ll re-evaluate.”
“They can’t handle him. You know that.”
“I don’t want him handled yet.”
Alina stilled, her body stiffening.
“What do you mean?” she asked softly.
“I want to make sure what we stopped is all he has planned. I’m monitoring the situation.”
“You think there’s something more?” Alina frowned. “What does Sgt Curtis say?”
“Not much. He passed away unexpectedly,” Charlie said dryly. “He did infect himself with the Ebola virus, and his organs shut down faster than expected.”
Alina pursed her lips.
“That’s unfortunate,” she murmured. “What about the medical personnel who were exposed?”
“They’re being monitored by your Dr. Krupp, or at least, their blood is. He’s working on it.”
Alina ran a hand through her hair and sat back against the pillows. Damon was watching her with those unfathomable eyes of his, and she carefully avoided meeting their gaze.
“And the antidote in the hospitals?”
“Already pulled.” Charlie sounded amused. “Stop worrying about what’s happening here. I sent you to one of the most beautiful and exotic cities in the world. Enjoy it.”
Alina glanced at Damon, devastatingly gorgeous with his sleep-tossed hair and stubble on his strong jaw.
“Oh, I am.”
She disconnected and reached over to set the phone back on the bedside table.
“Well?” Damon prompted.
“I have three days to find someone he thinks I need to find.”
“Ok. Who is it?”
“He didn’t say.”
Damon stared at her.
“What?”
She shrugged.
“All he said was he used to be a soldier, and that this is one of the financial hubs of the world.”
Hawk frowned.
“He wants you to focus on the banks,” he stated.
She nodded.
“Yes, but why?”
“What did he say about Kasim?”
Alina repeated what Charlie told her and Damon listened, his lips pressed together thoughtfully.
“Do you think they have another plan?” he asked when she was finished.
“It’s possible,” she said slowly. “I wouldn’t rule it out, but I also wouldn’t lay bets on it. Asad was the brains of the two. Without him, Kasim is just a bomb-maker.”
“Don’t underestimate him,” Hawk warned softly. “He got this far.”
Viper looked at him for a long moment.
“I know. That’s why I want to get back as soon as possible.”
Damon smiled slowly, his eyes gaining a mischievous twinkle she was learning to recognize. It made her pulse leap and her heart skip beats.
“Don’t be in such a rush,” he murmured, lowering his head to press a soft kiss on the base of her neck. He smiled against the rapid pulse there and kissed a leisurely path up to her lips. “We have three days. Let’s make the most of them.”
The man watched as the nail technician placed both his hands in warm, citrus-scented water. She nodded to him and turned to talk to her co-worker at her side while his nails soaked. Leaning his head against the high back of the massage chair, he closed his eyes.
When he had arrived back the afternoon before, he was already planning his flight back to the United States. It was the only place he could find the information he needed. He had to go back to Philadelphia. His intent was to get home, book a flight, sleep, and leave again today.
The airport had changed all that.
His lips pressed together unpleasantly. He was walking out of the baggage claim area when he saw her, moving purposefully through the crowds. She was avoiding the cameras skillfully, and he knew it would be pointless to pull the CCTV footage from the airport. She wouldn’t be on it.
Viper was too good for that.
He couldn’t deny it had been a shock to see her there, in his home city, clearly having just arrived. She was careful, he would give her that. She not only avoided all the cameras and security, but she swept the whole terminal, looking for signs of ambush or surveillance. The entire sweep was accomplished in less than thirty minutes. She was nothing if not efficient.
The man suppressed a sigh. The only reason she didn’t see him was because, through pure chance, he saw her first. It was simple enough to grab a baseball cap and reading glasses from one of the small gift shops, and transform his appearance into something she wouldn’t look at twice, especially when he knew exactly what she was looking for. They were trained to see the same things, search out the same warning signs. Government agencies were all so boringly identical. Same clothing, same haircuts, same undercover disguises. Hell, most of the civilized countries even used the same surveillance vehicles. The colors and models changed, but the MO remained the same. Stupid.
He frowned, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling of the salon, painted a mellow cream with tree branches stenciled in decorative clusters. Of course, he wasn’t a government man, just as she wasn’t an official government agent. She had seen him, though, and he knew she wouldn’t forget his face. Short of plastic surgery, there was no way to hide from her now, not really. He might be able to slip past her once or twice, but if Viper ever got a good look at his face, he knew he was done.
And now she was here, in Singapore.
The frown eased as the nail technician lifted one of his hands out of the water and dried it before starting on his nails. He watched as she began filing, starting with his pinky.
There was only one possible explanation. She was here for him.
How the hell did she find out who he was?
The man returned his eyes to the ceiling thoughtfully. All his contracts were anonymous. He never knew who hired him. He didn’t want to know. He was very clear in his terms. If the client began to slip and give him too much information that would indicate their identity, he stopped them. The less he knew about the people paying him, the better off they all were. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement that his clients appreciated, knowing their identities were safe. He had never had a reason to doubt the wisdom of not knowing who hired him. Until now.
Discovering how a lowly FBI Special Agent was involved with an elite, international assassin would be much easier if he knew who wanted the FBI agent dead badly enough to pay him twice his normal rate. The man shook his head to himself. He should have realized there was something wrong with the size of the fee. No one paid that much for a simple Federal agent, not without a good reason.
The technician finished with his left hand and lifted his right one out of the water. He looked down again and watched as she dried it and reached for her filing block again.
First things first: he had to find Viper, and he couldn’t do it himself. It was too risky. If she saw him, it would be over. He had to find her before she found him, and he had to move quickly. There was a reason she was called Viper. She moved silently, struck swiftly, and never left survivors.
Or so they said.
The man watched as his nails were shaped and tidied. There wasn’t a lot for the technician to do. He made it a point to have a manicure once every two weeks, and took very good care of it between sessions.
He would use Wesley. Wesley was a local man with a promising future. He knew how to move without being seen, and observe without doing anything rash. Viper wouldn’t look twice at him. He had the misfortune of being one of the most nondescript people the man had ever seen. Not very helpful with the ladies, but extremely useful for his line of work.
The man leaned his head back again, satisfied. Wesley would find her. If he was fortunate enough to get a clear shot, he would tell him to take it. Maybe he would get lucky and Wesley would take care of Viper for him. His lips twisted sardonically.
Doubtful, but a man could hope.