Wednesday morning Berit was once again thankful for her position within the CIA. She bypassed the long lines and swiped her card as she entered through the far left, avoiding the slowly moving main checkpoint. “Good morning, Luke,” she greeted the guard and looked directly into the facial recognition camera.
“Good morning, Ms. Barker.” The serious uniformed man replied.
The short line flowed to a separate bank of elevators where Noah Hennel stepped beside her. They didn’t wait long. The car filled quickly but before Berit stepped in, Director Hennel grabbed her elbow and gave it a slight squeeze.
“We’ll take the next one.” He glanced down the short line then stepped to the controls and swiped his card. “We’re late for a meeting. I’m taking this one express to my floor.” They both ignored the disgruntled sighs. The doors swished open and the two of them stepped in.
He pulled out his cell phone and punched in a few numbers. “I really am headed to a meeting so let’s make this quick.”
Everyone knew the elevators had both audio and visual equipment. Berit glanced up to the corner where the camera was visible.
Director Hennel held up his cell phone. “Don’t worry about that. Talk quick though.”
“I had a date last night with Captain Reid. I’m meeting him again around lunchtime to look at the condo that he is considering purchasing.” She allowed her exasperation to show. “Sir, I’m really not sure what you expect me to find. What kind of information am I looking for?” She liked these people. She liked Micah.
“Gabriel Davis wasn’t working alone. He had allies in this building. We have to identify and eliminate anyone who is a potential threat, even if they work for our government and are sworn to uphold the Constitution.” Hennel looked at his phone. “We have thirty seconds before the jamming stops.”
“You think Matthew Saint Clare is a double agent?” She held his gaze. He had the highest threat potential and was known to be a good friend of Gabriel Davis.
“I don’t trust anyone…except you.” He cocked his head to one side. “Be careful. Don’t trust anyone, even your boss. There’s something about Joseph Lambert that rubs my sixth sense the wrong way, but it could be that he’s just a pompous ass.”
“You’re not wrong there.” She shook her head slowly. “I don’t think the man has any friends.”
Deep chuckles came from her old friend. “But he has vices.”
Her eyes popped wide. “What do you know that I don’t?”
The older man shook his head and glanced toward his hand where he was counting backwards from five.
“I’ll be sure to get right on that, Director Hennel,” Berit said as the car came to a stop and the doors snapped open.
“I’ll expect a report by the end of the week.” Noah Hennel turned to the right toward his office. For a big man, he moved with a quiet grace that only comes from field experience.
Turning left, she walked with purpose toward her own office, noticing that even in two-inch heels, she too made very little noise. She thought about her meeting in just a few hours with Micah Reid. Could he possibly be a terrorist? After everything she’d read in his file, with the one exception of the coed Syrian mission, the Navy captain had a stellar record. He personally, and the many teams he commanded over his career, had rid the world of hundreds of terrorists. Berit couldn’t imagine him siding with a subversive group.
She would put Marine Colonel Logan Jackson in the same category as Micah. He, too, had been fighting terrorists his entire career. Switching sides was unconscionable.
Nor could she imagine Teagan Jackson feeding information to a dissident cell. Threatening the children would be a mistake, as the new parents had already proven. Plus, she didn’t have access to any sensitive information except for the final testing of the new helicopters the Marine Corps had just added to its table of equipment.
Elizabeth Saint Clare. She was a true unknown. Berit made a mental note to try to get to know the CIA agent better. First, she would do a deep search of her files.
Same for her husband, Matthew. As the director of Special Activities Division, he had access to massive quantities of information. She understood why a terrorist organization would love to have a man in his position on their side. He controlled one hundred of the most lethal men in the world. One order from him, and someone died.
Berit had her work cut out for her as she headed into her office.
“Good morning, Carol.” She slowed as she passed her administrative assistant’s desk. “Any fires I need to put out already this morning?”
“Yes. As a matter-of-fact, Director Lambert wants to see you. He requested you come straight to his office.”
Fucking great. “Did he say what files I needed to bring?”
“No, ma’am. And he specifically asked for you alone.” She held up her hands in the stop gesture. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
Berit wondered what special kind of hell he had planned for her. No matter what, she was going to take her lunch hour and meet Micah.
As she entered the outer door to her boss’s office, she immediately noticed that his administrative assistant was gone. She wondered if he had sent her away on purpose or if it was just a coincidence. He’d said he wanted to see her right away, so she approached his door and knocked.
When she heard him say come in, she opened the door and found him talking on a satellite phone, his back to her. He wasn’t speaking English. Many of the words sounded Arabic but it wasn’t a dialect she recognized nor understood. Not surprising, there were as many idiosyncrasies as there were pockets of once-nomadic tribes.
He spun around. Shock, then anger, glared from his face. “Someone just walked into my office. I have to go.”
Oh, shit. Maybe she shouldn’t have walked in. “I’m terribly sorry, sir. I knocked, and I swear you said come in.”
His face returned to its standard scowl as he sat down behind his desk, slyly sliding the phone into his pocket. “Yes, Ms. Barker, I have a matter to discuss with you. Please have a seat.” He gestured to the two guest chairs.
Sitting on the edge of the closest seat, she folded her hands in her lap and pasted on a smile, cringing inside. “What can I do for you, Director Lambert?”
“I’ve been informed that you’re becoming friendly with Teagan Jackson and her small group of friends here in DC.” He sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers.
How the hell did he know that? Was someone in that group spying for him?
“You assigned me as liaison with Marsha Davis after her husband, Gabriel’s, death. When she was murdered, the children inherited everything and since Teagan—”
“Yes, yes.” He cut her off. “I’m familiar with the circumstances.” He leaned forward placing his forearms on his desk. “Everything still worked out as I had hoped.”
Berit felt her jaw drop.
“I can tell by the expression on your face you had no idea that I had purposely selected you as liaison with Gabriel Davis’s wife.” His attempted smile looked more like a sneer. “I needed someone with your talents to infiltrate that group of friends. Your years in clandestine services should come in handy for this assignment. I want you to infiltrate this group and report back to me. And only me.”
Déjà vu. Kind of.
“Sir, exactly what am I looking for?” Hadn’t she asked this question just moments ago of Director Hennel?
Lambert stared at her for a long moment. “The terrorist who shot Gabriel Davis has never been caught. There were several other…” he paused as though looking for the correct word, “irregularities about his death. I’ve been asked by someone higher up to quietly investigate these matters. Now, tell me about your relationship with Colonel Logan and Teagan Jackson, special agents Matthew and Elizabeth Saint Clare, and Captain Micah Reid.”
Damn. What was she to do now? When in doubt, answer the question as truthfully as possible.
“I had dessert with all five of them last Saturday night at the Saint Clare’s home.” She wasn’t going to tell him that she had created bogus papers as an excuse to see Teagan in an attempt to do exactly what both her former and present bosses requested. Berit had a feeling each wanted to know something different.
A genuine smile crossed Lambert’s face. “Excellent. So, you’re already establishing a personal rapport with them. Continue.” As though he already knew that she had supper the night before with Micah.
“Last night I met Micah Reid for dinner.” Before he could think it was a date, she added, “We had discussed African food on Saturday night, and I offered to take him to my favorite Ethiopian restaurant. He’s been reassigned to the Pentagon effective the first of January.” She decided the timing was perfect. “I’m meeting Captain Reid today at noon to look at a condominium with him. He wanted a woman’s opinion and since Elizabeth Saint Clare has been put on bed rest, he asked me to accompany him.”
“I saw that Special Agent Saint Clare had been put on light duty.” He scowled. “She’s still able to work from home. Our security team inspected their house and deemed it safe and secure. I understand that Senior Special Agent Matthew Saint Clare has installed quite the security system.”
“I wouldn’t know,” she admitted. “I was invited to their home and met at the door.” He didn’t need to know those details either.
“Sir, do you believe that someone in that group shot Gabriel Davis?” She had to find out how much he knew.
“I’m sure one of them did.” He looked smug.
Holy shit. He knew. But he might not have the right information. Or Lambert could have put the information together in the correct way and Hennel had it wrong.
What the hell had she gotten into?
He looked her up and down with a critical eye. “Why don’t you go down to Wardrobe and pick out something appropriate to wear?’
Appropriate? She was dressed appropriately in approved office daywear. What the hell? “Micah is expecting me to come from the office and return here.” Idiot. She suddenly wondered if he had ever been involved in fieldwork. Could she read his file? Did she have that kind of access? Before going to work for Joseph Lambert, she’d read his standard public biography, but everyone knew that was more often a piece of fiction rather than factual.
“You’re right. He wouldn’t expect you to appear sexy during the day.” His face brightened as though he suddenly got an idea. “You should set up a date with him. I’ll approve anything you need for this op. Be sure to see Maggie down in Wardrobe. She’ll find something appropriate for you to wear. When do you think you’ll be back in the Saint Clare home again? We can provide you with some of our newest listening devices. They are undetectable to almost every sweeping device.” He paused for a second. “Have tech check the log and see if Matthew Saint Clare has our latest bug sweeper. I’d really like to have them put under surveillance.”
Berit suddenly felt uncomfortable with this operation. It was one thing to befriend a man, a woman, a group, in order to entice them into talking about a particular subject and passing that information upward. It was completely different, in her mind, planting audio and visual equipment in the home of someone who trusted you.
Or was it?
She was a spy. In this case, she’d been asked to spy on someone she genuinely liked. When she’d first started with the CIA, she’d been a handler and had asked hundreds of assets to do exactly what Joseph Lambert had instructed her to do. But somehow, that was different.
And then there was Micah. He had pinged her feminine radar for the first time in years. Her cheek had tingled the entire drive home from where he had barely brushed his lips. Lying in bed last night, thinking of the sexy Navy captain, she had reached in her nightstand and used her vibrator for the first time in months. She fantasized about the way he would touch her, separate her wet folds and stroke her before he dove deep into her ready body.
“Do you have any questions?” Her boss’s words immediately brought her out of her daydream like a cold sopping towel slapping her across the face. She was disgusted and appalled for allowing herself to drift away like that.
Hell, yes, she had questions! “No, sir.” She had to get out of there. Something about the way her boss was looking at her had her creep meter redlining. She stood and strode out the door. She didn’t slow down until she was in her office and the door was closed.
Flopping down in her chair, elbows on her desk, Berit put her face in her hands. She didn’t want to do this.
But, damn it, it was her job. She had to figure out if any of them were traitors. She started her most secure computer and pulled up the file of Elizabeth Kamp Sinclair Vatucci Saint Clare.
Around eleven o’clock, Berit looked down at her clothing with a critical eye. Was she too old for the game? In her younger days, would she have worn a tight sweater under her jacket knowing that at least fifty percent of men were attracted to her breasts? Would she have selected a different pair of pants that morning? Perhaps slacks that would cling to her still firm ass for the other half of the male population who preferred to gaze at hips and a rounded backside.
Fuck it. She was what she was. For a woman her age, she looked damn good, especially since she’d never had surgery to make her look younger, and never would. She was not a vain woman. She was never anything beautiful to look at, but that’s what made her such a great undercover agent. She wasn’t memorable, yet, she was able to change her outward appearance with deft makeup, a change of hair color or length, and a push-up or compression bra. The CIA had taught her well.
Exiting the building, she watched her reflection in the large glass doors. Micah Reid was going to see this woman. Her loose-fitting blouse downplayed her large breasts that seemed to sway with every step. Her slacks fit loosely because they were comfortable, a necessity considering her long days. Her ankle boots had been selected for their more aggressive tread since the local weathermen were calling for sleet followed by snow. She’d lived in DC long enough to realize that December was often cold and sloppy.
Berit was prepared for the weather, but not for her reaction when she saw Micah.