Tuesday afternoon
October 11 — 4:31 p.m. EST
Washington, DC
“I have a confession to make,” Alex said.
She looked deep into Raz’s eyes. His lips curled in a soft smile. His eyes stroked her face in return for her intimate look.
“I’ve never been in one of these before,” Alex said in a sultry voice.
Raz looked around the luxury airport lounge. They had a few hours to kill before their flight. By his estimation, there were nearly fifty people in the lounge. There were at least twenty old-white-men in-bad-suits and an equal number of young women assisting them. In the corner, there was a group of women executives in painful shoes and tight skirts. In the opposite corner, true V-I-Ps sat reading books, electronic readers, or newspapers. There were one or two African-American men and a Hispanic woman sitting near each other. He and Alex were sitting in the only defendable position in the room — a pair of comfortable armchairs with a stylish steel table in front of the chairs, situated in the right corner of the room.
Raz gave Alex a sideways glance. She seemed all right, happy even. He couldn’t shake the clutching panic that she was sliding toward depression. Certainly, she had every reason in the world to be depressed. Most men he knew would not have survived the last two days. Most of the men he knew would either be drunk, commiserating with their friends, or planning revenge just a few hours after that kind of humiliation by their new boss. Yet here she was — laughing, joking, funny Alex.
What would he do if she got depressed again?
Watching the light fade from her eyes was one of the most painful things he’d ever endured. It was like perpetual night. It was almost unbearable to think that she might get depressed because Admiral Ingram was insane. Murderous rage flushed through him. As fast as it came, the rage faded, leaving aching worry in its place. He looked up toward the ceiling as if to beg an unseen God to keep his beloved Alex from the demons that lived inside her own mind.
She touched his arm, and he let out a worried breath. She gave him a questioning look. To avoid answering, he gestured to the lovely woman in a flight attendant’s uniform who was moving toward them. The waitress gave Raz an interested smile.
“I haven’t been in one of these, either,” Raz said under his breath finally. “How did we get in?”
“General gave John a membership,” Alex said. “According to my beloved Raz, there’s secure, free Wi-Fi here.”
Seeing the waitress out of the corner of his eye, he smiled as if Alex had said something provocative.
“Can I bring you anything?” the waitress asked.
He raised his eyebrows as if he wouldn’t mind having the waitress. She flushed and cleared her throat.
“I’d love a beer,” Alex said. “Bottle. Anything American.”
Raz cleared his throat.
“I apologize: Mrs. Drayson would prefer a glass of champagne,” Raz said in such a way as to imply that he was her assistant. He kept his eyes on the waitress. “The best you have. Cost isn’t an issue.”
“And the beer?” the waitress asked.
“She’s joking,” Raz said. “Mrs. Drayson wouldn’t be caught dead drinking American beer from the bottle.”
Alex played along by giving the woman a flip of her perfectly coiffed wig of long brown hair and a “You caught me” smile. When she looked down, Raz shook his head in disgust at her. He leaned toward this waitress.
“She gets this way whenever we’re in Washington,” Raz said.
He shook his head and shrugged like there was no understanding the rich. Alex looked away from Raz and the waitress to keep from laughing.
“I’ll have the same,” Raz said.
“Shall I bring you a bottle, sir?” the waitress asked. Her lips parted as if to pant.
Raz’s eyes stroked the waitress before he made a show of looking at the overpriced vintage watch he’d borrowed from Gerry Lamberton.
“We have time,” Raz said with a nod.
“Sir,” the waitress said.
She was just out of earshot when Alex leaned into Raz.
“Crappy champagne? Seriously?” Alex asked in a low voice. “Gross.”
Raz grinned at her.
“Can I beat little-Billy with the bottle?” Alex asked.
Raz raised his eyebrows at “little-Billy.”
“Trying it out for my new boss,” Alex said. “What do you think?”
“Not quite there yet,” Raz said.
Alex’s shrug made Raz laugh. Grinning, Alex tugged at the hem of the lace gloves she was wearing.
“Are you going to hump in the corner like bunnies?” Alex asked in such a tone that Raz burst out laughing. In case he missed her point, she nodded toward the woman. He blushed.
“Just the job, my love,” Raz said. “Jealous?”
“Absolutely.” Alex tugged on the hem of the gloves again. She raised an eyebrow in his direction.
“You need to wear them,” Raz said. “Any sane person would take one look at your hands and know you were a soldier.”
“You say the nicest things,” Alex said. “Rebecca used to make me wear these horrible white tights and white gloves to church. It was like a billion degrees in the church.”
“We suffer for fashion,” Raz said with a slight tug on the ridiculously expensive tie he’d also borrowed from Gerry Lamberton.
Grinning, Alex shook her head.
“What would you like to do?” Raz asked in a suggestive way.
“Did you try to secure the Wi-Fi?” Alex asked.
“Spy work,” Raz said.
“We do have an Admiral to dissect,” Alex said with a grin.
“Yes, we do,” he said.
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. He pulled out a tablet computer and gave it to Alex. She crossed her eyes in complaint of the computer, and he smiled. They had agreed that Mrs. Drayson probably didn’t own a military-grade, electromagnetic-pulse-proof computer. Raz took out a laptop they recently acquired. They were able to put all of the insides of his military computer in the body of a swanky civilian computer. Raz worked to build a secure channel on the Wi-Fi, while Alex read a mystery novel on the tablet.
The waitress dropped the champagne along with a provocative suggestion just after Raz had secured the Wi-Fi. Raz poured Alex a glass of champagne before taking back her tablet. He connected her to the Wi-Fi and gave her the tablet. She pretended to drink her champagne before taking the tablet back from him. He grinned at her pretense.
They settled in to work. They were looking up every piece of information they might be able to find on Admiral William Moses Ingram. They had worked together for so long that they knew each other’s strengths. Alex reviewed everything she could find, from NSA audio recordings of his phone calls to detailed lists of what was on his home computer. Since there was no Mrs. William Ingram, they could be sure that all of that porn was watched by him. Raz reviewed his financial information. They had already dispatched Chief Petty Officer Royce Tubman and his lovely wife, Quanshay, to Faunsville, Alabama, to speak with Nathan’s mother. Colin was on his way to speak with Nathan’s son, Zaine.
Somewhere in all of this information lay the reason Admiral Ingram had gone after Alex and the Fey Team. They just had to find it.
Time passed quickly. The next time Alex looked up, their flight was boarding in forty-five minutes. She tapped Raz on the arm, and he looked at her. His focus still on the material he’d been looking at, he didn’t see her for a moment. She nodded toward the clock and he looked.
“Shit,” he said.
“Don’t panic,” Alex said. “We’re already checked in. They’ll let us know when the plane is boarding.”
Raz raised his eyebrows in question.
“We’re in the luxury lounge,” Alex said, reminding him where he was.
Nodding, he settled back in his chair.
“You must have found something,” Alex said, turning to look at him. He had stiffened again and was looking around the room. “What is it?”
“There’s no one here,” Raz said.
“What do you mean?” Alex asked.
She took in the entire lounge in one glance. All of the other travelers had left the lounge. The wait staff had abandoned their work stations. A manager came out of the back to shoo their waitress into the kitchen. Just before she left the room, their waitress shot Alex a worried look.
“Shit,” Alex said under her breath. “Can I take these fucking things off now?”
Smiling at her, Raz tugged off the necktie. He stuffed it into his pocket before flipping the table in front of them onto its side. Alex pulled off the ridiculous gloves and shoes. She poured the champagne into a nearby plant and tossed the bottle to Raz. Settling back in her chair, she took out the Glock 9mm she always carried and set it between the chair and her thigh. Raz slipped his spare weapon next to his left hand and the chair. He took his handgun from his side holster and set it on his thigh.
Alex grabbed his hand. Their eyes locked. She gave him a sad, soft smile before letting go. He touched the back of her hand. There was a sound at the door, and the moment passed.
They shifted to ready.
Alex was stretching her neck when the first man stepped over the threshold and into the room. Alex slipped her hand nearer to her weapon. Wearing a dark green beret, the soldier marched through the door carrying an M-4. The soldier was thin and strong in a way only seen in active-duty military. Moving along the walls, he made military turns at each corner until he ended up standing next to where Alex and Raz were sitting. He’d just stopped marching when the next man came through the door. Surprised, Raz jumped to his feet. Standing at attention, the first man looked right through Raz. The second man marched around the room to come to stand next to the first. A third man worked his way around the walls until he was standing next to the others.
And so it continued.
One man at a time, U.S. Army Special Forces members marched into the room. Within minutes, the men wearing Green Berets and carrying M-4 machine guns lined the walls of the luxury airport lounge.
In a break in form, a young private ran toward Alex. Raz blocked the young man from reaching Alex. After a second, Raz turned to the side to let the private through. Raz wiped his eyes and shook his head with disbelief.
“Sir,” the private said to Alex.
He held out a green beret with her ranking on it. Alex hopped to her feet. Pulling off the ridiculous wig, Alex tugged on the beret. The private saluted her. She returned his salute. The private ran back to the doorway where her friend U.S. Army Colonel Jason Smith, or, as she knew him, “JS,” was standing in the doorway.
“Who do you work for?” JS asked the question their Special Forces training Colonel had been obsessed with.
“U.S. Army, sir,” the men called in unison.
The sound was deafening. Outside the door, people stopped to take a look at what was going on.
“Special Operations?” JS continued, and Alex laughed. This was their Colonel’s pet peeve. “Or Spec Ops?”
“U.S. Army, sir,” the men replied in unison.
“Special Forces?” asked JS.
“U.S. Army, sir,” the men replied.
“You are . . .?” JS asked.
“We’re Green fucking Berets, sir!” The men were practically screaming now. Alex grinned at the sound of their SF training drill-sergeant’s call coming from these young men.
“And what is she?” JS yelled.
“U.S. Army, sir!” the men yelled.
“And she is . . .” JS called.
“A Green fucking Beret!” the men said.
“Be specific,” JS yelled.
“She is our Fey, sir!” the men yelled.
The men dropped to their knees with more grace than seemed possible. They set their weapons in front of them and bowed their heads.
“Awaiting your instruction, sir!,” the men said.
Without a command, the men picked up their weapons and popped to attention. Alex returned their salute. Collectively, they saluted her. The men turned to their right. They marched out of the room the way they came in — along the walls. Stunned, Alex and Raz looked toward the door.
“I thought you’d like to know,” JS said mildly as the last Green Beret left the room.
He turned in place and left the doorway. Suddenly, Alex and Raz were standing in the airport lounge alone. The call for their flight came over the loud speaker. Unable to do much else, they tucked their weapons away and picked up their bags. By the time they left the lounge, there was no evidence that the Green Berets had ever been there. Alex and Raz rushed to their gate as fast as Alex’s heels would allow. They were escorted onto the plane and into their seats in first class.
“Well?” Raz asked, leaning over toward Alex.
To keep from crying, Alex simply nodded.
“I thought you’d say that,” Raz said. “More champagne?”
“Oh, God, no, please,” Alex said. “No more champagne.”
Laughing, Raz ordered beer for both of them, but insisted on pouring Alex’s in a glass. She clinked her glass against his bottle and laughed.
With her laugh, he knew that the Green Berets had done the trick. She was back to her old self. By the grace of some higher being, these men had kept the depressive cloud away from his Alex. He grabbed her hand and held it tight. She smiled at him and he leaned back in the seat.
They made the trip to San Diego without further interruption.
F