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Alina sat behind the wheel of her black SUV and surveyed the scene before her from behind her sunglasses. It was late in the afternoon and the sun was starting to cast shadows on the wide Susquehanna river. She had passed the bridge to the island about a mile back. Now she was parked on the bank of the river, staring straight ahead at the four reactor towers on Three Mile Island. Two were eerily dark, a testament to the reactor incident that had occurred over thirty years ago, resulting in the reactor being removed. The other two, however, were still in full use, with fluffy white smoke rising from the funnels.
Alina picked up her military binoculars from the seat beside her and surveyed the island, taking note of the security details and the fencing alignment. She studied the roads in and out, the buildings, and the parking lots. After about half an hour of studying the island, she set down the binoculars and picked up her iPad. A few swipes of her finger and she had pulled up all the local newspaper articles of the past two months. She was in the middle of scanning them when her phone chirped.
“Yes?” Alina said shortly as she picked it up.
“Whoa, cranky!” Angela's voice exclaimed. “Am I interrupting?”
“And if you are?” Alina asked, swiping to another page.
“Too bad,” was the cheerful response. “Dinner? I had steak in mind. I know a fabulous steakhouse in Voorhees. Best steak in South Jersey.”
Alina paused in her reading. Angela knew how to get her attention.
“It will have to be later,” she said, glancing at the display on her dashboard. “I'm about two hours away.”
“Well, hurry up,” Angela retorted. “I'm hungry. I'll call and see if I can drag Steph away from work long enough to eat.”
She hung up without waiting for an answer and Alina set the phone down slowly. She looked out the window again, gazing once more at the infamous island before her.
What was she doing? She tapped her finger on the side of her iPad. Her objective was to track down Johann Topamari and eliminate him, using all means possible. Nowhere in that objective had she made allowances for old friendships and steak dinners. The initial dinner? Well, that was necessary. She had to re-connect with Stephanie and get inside her investigation. That had a purpose. But this? Dinner with Angela had no purpose. Alina frowned. She had known coming back to Jersey was going to be complicated.
Viper stared unseeingly at the dead reactor in the distance. She had arrived in Jersey and everything had gone according to her plan, right up until Damon had shown up. Then everything had gone askew somehow. Now, she had the added pressure of having to accomplish her objective before some kind of attack on US soil took place. She knew Hawk was there to ensure that the public had no idea anything had occurred, but she knew him well enough to know that containment was not his specialty. He was a hunter. They both were. He was up to something, and she wouldn't know what it was until he was ready to tell her. Hunters didn't give themselves away.
The problem was that she liked Damon. She always had. They’d clicked immediately in training camp, and in the years since when they crossed paths, they had deepened that bond. They became as close to friends as people in their job could be. Now they were working together. And Alina had never worked with anyone. Not since training camp.
A deep sigh escaped her. She had also, somehow, become part of a circle of friends again. Friends that she had walked away from ten years ago. Alina had changed so much since she last saw them that she’d never dreamt they would be able to pick up their friendships right where they left off. Yet, somehow, that was exactly what was happening. How was this possible? Alina had been all over the world and seen things that she never wanted to see again. She was a completely different person now. She had made a notorious name for herself internationally, and she had enemies around the world. Viper was not the sad little girl she had been ten years ago.
God help her, she suspected this whole situation was going to get even more complicated before it was over.
“Dinner?” Stephanie repeated vaguely, sitting back in her chair. John glanced up from his desk, his ears perking up. “Where?”
“That steakhouse I've been trying to get you to try,” Angela answered. “I just spoke to Alina. She is two hours away, so you have plenty of time to finish whatever it is you're working on and get there.”
“So what time are we thinking?” Stephanie looked at her watch and then back at the computer screen before her.
“About seven,” Angela said. “I'll call you at six to remind you.”
She hung up and Stephanie looked at her phone, setting it down with a huff.
“I didn't say I would go,” she muttered, doing a neck roll.
“Where are we going to dinner?” John asked, sitting back in his chair and stretching.
Stephanie glanced over.
“I guess I am going to a steakhouse. At least, if I can make any headway on this report.”
“I love steak!” John said.
“You're not invited,” she said without ceremony. “Where are you on Body Number 2?”
“Martin Sladecki.” John pulled a legal pad out from underneath a pile of bank statements. “Age fifty-seven, owned a franchise of convenience stores named “Quick Stops” and worked out of Trenton. He has a sister who lives in Palmyra. It's a fair bet that's where he was headed when he met with his accident.” He got up from his chair and walked over with his notepad and his smartphone. “Sisters name is Nancy. She's divorced with two kids.”
Stephanie sat back in her chair as John perched on the edge of her desk.
“Do we know his connection to Angelo yet?” she asked.
He switched to his smartphone, swiping the screen a few times before holding it out to her. She found herself staring at a picture of both Angelo and Martin.
“That's a picture of a picture in Angelo's house,” John told her. “Both of the deceased and their respective wives. Looks like it was taken down the shore.”
“Do we know which beach?”
He laughed and took the phone back.
“I may be good, but I'm not that good,” he retorted. “The Atlantic looks the same from all the shore points. However, Matt, down in the lab, thinks he can at least pin-point when the picture was taken. He has the original.”
“Well, regardless, all this proves is that they were friends,” Steph muttered. “Anything else on Martin's businesses?”
“Yep.” He picked up the notepad again. “All seven locations have been featured in investigations at one time or another for ties to the good, old-fashioned Jersey mob. There was never enough evidence for charges, but on more than one occasion he was questioned in relation to money-laundering activities which, of course, you knew already. I am still waiting on all the reports from archives, but it looks like this has been ongoing since the early nineties. Each time we questioned him, he had a $500 an hour lawyer on speed-dial.”
“That's expensive legal counsel for someone who drove a four-year old Cadillac.”
John nodded.
“He had someone paying the bills. General opinion was that it was Frankie Solitto, head of the Jersey Family. Of course, there is no confirmation of that.”
“I've never known street gossip to be wrong.” Stephanie picked up her pen and started twirling it absently. “So, we have a money-launderer for the Solitto Family vacationing with a known arms dealer on the Jersey shore. Does Angelo have any ties to the Solitto Family?”
“The opposite,” John answered. “Frankie Solitto draws a very firm line between doing business with his Family and any other businessmen. It just isn't done. If you work for Frankie, you don't work for anyone else, including yourself. Angelo wasn't working for, with, or in any way around the Solitto Family. I can guarantee that.”
“So Martin broke the cardinal rule and was working with Angelo?” Stephanie tossed the pen back onto the desk. “So Frankie Solitto had him whacked?”
“It's possible,” John shrugged. “I’m going through Martin’s bank statements now. Not an easy task.”
Stephanie nodded and pushed him off her desk.
“Then you better get back to it,” she said. “If the mob had them both whacked, our friend from DHS can go on his merry way.”
“I thought of that,” John said, sitting down at his desk. After a moment, he glanced up. “But it can't be that easy, can it?”
“Of course not,” Stephanie replied. “It never is. But let's rule out one theory before starting over again.”
Angela waved from the bar as Alina stepped into the crowded restaurant. It was a little after seven and the place was packed. The narrow, wooden deck running the length of the barn-shaped building was packed with waiting smokers and the entryway was packed with the waiting non-smokers. More waiting patrons lined the walls around the hostess’ desk, making it virtually impossible to move in or out. It was a capacity-packed night.
Alina moved through the throng, heading towards the big square bar in the center of the restaurant where Angela was waiting with a red martini in hand. She had already scanned the crowds and knew where all the exits were and roughly how many people were seated and eating. She knew which ones were likely to be carrying concealed, and she knew which ones were members of law enforcement. What she didn't know was why she had agreed to come.
“Hi!” Angela kissed the air next to Alina's cheek and shifted over to make room for her at the bar. “I put our names in for the table in the back corner.”
“How long is the wait?” Alina asked.
“Forty minutes as of twenty minutes ago. I just beat the rush.” Angela smiled at her happily, her green eyes dancing. “I'm so happy you agreed to come! I can't get used to seeing you again!”
Alina smiled despite herself and suddenly knew why she had come. Regardless of who and what she was, Angela and Stephanie had helped make her into the woman that she was now. They were still a part of her.
“What are you drinking?”
“Just water right now,” Alina said, motioning to the bartender. “I'll have wine with dinner,” she added when she saw Angela was about to argue.
“Yes, well, there's something you need to know about dinner,” Angela said, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “You may want something stronger.”
Alina looked at her and the look on Angela's face told her all she needed to know.
“John's coming,” she stated instead of asked. Angela put her drink down on the bar and put both her hands on Alina's arm.
“I had nothing to do with it,” she hastened to explain. “Stephanie texted me about half an hour ago to say that she was on her way and was bringing John and that other agent that is working with them. I asked what I was supposed to tell you and this is what she sent back.”
Angela fished in her purse for her Blackberry and held it out. Alina glanced down at the text on the screen.
Remind her that she said she would be fine with him.
Alina bit back a laugh. She could see why Angela wasn't about to give her the message verbally. Stephanie could have worded it a bit more tactfully.
“Really, it's ok.” Alina looked over to the bartender. “A glass of water with lemon, please.” She looked back at Angela. “Have you met the mysterious other agent yet?”
“Not yet.” Angela tucked her Blackberry away again and drained half her martini in relief. She had been dreading telling Alina about John. She didn't know what she had been expecting, but Alina was so different now, she hadn't known how she would react. “Stephanie seems to be more amenable to having him around, though. They must have come to some form of agreement on division of labor.”
Alina chuckled and accepted her glass of water from the bartender.
“He must be sitting back and giving Stephanie her space,” she commented.
Angela nodded with a grin.
“I'm expecting a little man who is about five foot three and as boring as they come,” she confided. “My guess is that he's a paper-pusher who lets other people do the dirty work while he takes all the credit.”
“That's a pretty harsh assessment.”
Alina watched as Angela finished her drink. She set the empty glass down on the bar and shrugged.
“I bet I'm right, though,” she retorted, picking up her slim clutch purse from the bar. “I have to run to the ladies’ room.”
Alina nodded and watched as Angela disappeared into the crowd. As always, she was immaculate. Her hair and make-up were perfect, her nails flawless, and her high heels were Jimmy Choo. Alina ruefully admitted to herself that she had always felt under-dressed when she was with Angela. She glanced down at herself and turned to lean her back on the bar so she could scan the crowds. She’d just had time to stop and change before heading to the restaurant. The black cargo capris and deep purple halter top that had seemed appropriate for a casual dinner with friends now seemed a trifle too casual. However, Alina could honestly say that she was perfectly comfortable being a little too casual. She could move freely in her loose pants, and the halter top hid the sheathed military survival knife that was nestled in the hollow of her back. The knife was usually strapped to her ankle, but the black patent leather and wood platform heels on her feet had necessitated a wardrobe adjustment.
Angela's name was called over the intercom and Alina straightened up. She started to move towards the hostess’ stand and caught sight of Stephanie and John stepping into the restaurant. Their suits were rumpled from a long day and John had discarded his tie, while Stephanie had unbuttoned the top four buttons on her tailored shirt. They both looked tired and hungry. When Damon followed them in, looking crisp and fresh in black slacks and a deep blue button-down shirt, Alina's lips twitched. What was he up to now?
John caught sight of her first and said something to Stephanie. Alina motioned for them stay near the hostess as she moved effortlessly through the crowd. Her eyes met Damon's over Stephanie's head as she grew closer, and Alina saw the gleam of pure amusement in his eyes. Her own narrowed slightly, which brought a grin to his lips. Stephanie turned to him as Alina walked up and the grin disappeared before she could see it.
“Damon, this is Alina. She is a very old friend of mine,” Stephanie introduced them. “Alina, this is Damon Peterson. He is working with John and I temporarily.”
Alina held out her hand to him.
“A pleasure,” she murmured.
Damon grasped her hand, his eyes gleaming again.
“The pleasure is all mine,” he answered with an easy smile.
Alina pulled her hand away and turned to face John.
“What a nice surprise!” She smiled smoothly.
“Almost like old times,” John said, looking down at her. Their eyes met briefly and she caught a whiff of an old familiar smell. The man still wore the same cologne.
“Not quite.”
She turned to give Angela's name to the hostess.
“John, behave!” Stephanie hissed behind her back.
Alina heard him chuckle and she suddenly felt as if she was trapped in a farce.
“This way.” The hostess turned to lead the party to the back of the restaurant and a corner table, partially obscured by a large potted cactus.
The lighting was more subdued in this corner of the restaurant and two lit tapers cast a comforting glow over the dark, scarred wood. It was quiet and partially set aside from the rest of the tables in the section. Alina wondered briefly if Angela had requested it with the thought that any scenes between herself and John would be less likely to be noticed back here.
Alina headed for the seat partially hidden behind the cactus out of habit. It had its back to the wall and afforded an excellent view of the rest of the restaurant. She reached it at the same time as Damon. She looked up into his eyes and he grinned ruefully. He pulled out the chair and motioned for her to sit.
“Thank you,” she murmured, sinking into the chair.
“Great shoes,” he murmured in her ear.
He took the seat next to her with a smile and Alina was suddenly glad of the poor lighting. A warming sensation was stealing up her neck and she strongly suspected that, for the first time in years, she was blushing.
“Where's Angela?” Stephanie asked, seating herself next to Damon. John sat on Alina's other side.
“She had to go to the ladies’ room,” Alina answered. “Here she comes now,” she added, somewhat relieved to have John and Stephanie turn their heads towards the woman making her way to the table. John had looked at her curiously as he took his seat, causing Alina to wonder if he had noticed her warm cheeks.
“Hello, hello.” Angela swirled up to the table and dropped into the last chair without ceremony. “Why, hello!”
She caught sight of Damon and Alina watched her mouth drop open.
“Damon, this is Angela,” Stephanie introduced them with a laugh. “Angela, this is Damon Peterson.”
“Nice to meet you,” Damon said with an easy smile.
“You can close your mouth now,” John said blithely, reaching for one of the menus.
Angela flushed.
“I have no idea what you're talking about,” she retorted, snapping her jaw closed. “Did you find the restaurant ok?” she asked, looking at Stephanie.
Stephanie nodded without looking up from her perusal of the menu.
“GPS,” she said absently. “I am starving.”
“I'm not surprised,” John said. “You haven't eaten all day.”
Alina picked up her menu and lowered her eyes to it, trying to ignore the patently curious man beside her. He was soaking in every comment and every look like a sponge.
“Typical.” Angela looked at Damon. “You'll learn quickly that Stephanie is a workaholic,” she informed him. “She just puts blinders on and forges ahead. I'm convinced that there are days she forgets to eat altogether.”
“Sounds like someone else I know,” Damon answered easily, setting his menu aside and smiling. “She's the same way. I have always maintained that she's trying to make up for the fact that she is a woman,” he added with a grin.
Alina closed her menu with a snap. She set it down and glanced at him, her eyes flashing. Damon met her look blandly and her eyes narrowed.
“She may be,” John said. “Stephanie, I mean.”
He hadn't missed the flash in Alina's eyes or the glance to the man next to her. He watched her lazily under his lashes.
“Don't be ridiculous.” Stephanie finally looked up. “I work hard because I can't stand leaving anything undone.”
“I, on the other hand, have NO qualms about leaving my work at work,” Angela announced with a laugh.
“What do you do?” Damon asked.
“I work for a bank in the anti-money laundering department,” Angela answered. “Fascinating, I know, but someone has to do it. I have no responsibility whatsoever. So I can, and do, leave work all the time,” she added with a laugh.
“I wish I had that luxury,” Stephanie said wistfully.
“Do you find it challenging trying to make a career in the FBI as a woman?” Alina couldn't help herself from asking. She was genuinely curious. Stephanie thought for a minute.
“It's not any more challenging than I would imagine it is making it in any other male-dominated field,” she said slowly. “I've been lucky in the sense that I have always had supportive bosses over me. I learned very early on that anything that I had to prove, I only had to prove to myself.”
“That's an incredibly healthy outlook,” Damon remarked.
She shrugged.
“Yes, but as I said, I’ve been very lucky,” she said. “There are other women who haven't had such an easy time.”
“Did you run into that problem in the military?” John asked Alina.
Everyone looked at her and she shrugged.
“It was the military,” she said, as if that was all that needed to be said.
The waitress came to take their orders and Alina was relieved to be out of the limelight for a moment. The sudden surge of remembered frustration that coursed through her at John's question had been unexpected. She had been able to overcome the feeling of inferiority that she experienced starting out in boot camp by becoming the best in her unit, but the memory of the anger and frustration from years ago caught her by surprise.
“Should I order a bottle of wine?” John asked, pulling her back to the present. He was looking around the table questioningly. “It seems a little redundant for us all to order glasses.”
“Sure!” Stephanie agreed. “I think I’m done with work for the night.”
“Oh my God, make it a bottle of champagne!” Angela chirped.
Stephanie laughed.
“Oh, stop picking on me. Can’t we pick make fun of someone else for once? What about Alina? She looks like a workaholic too.”
“No, she just looks dangerous,” Angela retorted.
Damon glanced at Alina in time to catch her slight, non-committal smile before she turned her attention to the waitress with her order. Damon flicked his eyes quickly around the table, fascinated. This was a part of Alina’s life that he had never been able to discover, despite numerous attempts. She always kept quiet about where she came from and who she’d been before the military. Stephanie and Angela’s easy humor was obviously something that Alina had always been part of, and John was also clearly something more than what anyone had told him. Damon had seen him catch the flash in Alina’s eyes earlier, and had been amusing himself by watching him watching her ever since. Alina actually had a past!
“I don't know if dangerous is the right word,” John said when Alina had finished ordering. He looked at her consideringly, his blue eyes serious. “It's more of a look of...experience,” he finally decided, “but I can see the danger hiding underneath.”
Damon finished ordering and turned back in time to see Alina's slight smile again.
“Interesting thought,” she murmured. “I wonder what could have happened in my past to make me look dangerous?” she added, her dark eyes meeting his.
Damon raised an eyebrow slightly at the sudden silence that fell on the table. Stephanie sat back in her chair with a barely audible sigh, and Angela pretended to examine her nails while her eyes avidly darted between Alina and John. Alina saw the sparkle of amusement that leapt into John's eyes.
“I don't know. I'm not the one who said you looked dangerous,” he replied slowly before the amusement reached his lips in a slow grin. “Of course, there's nothing cast iron within reach.”
Alina couldn't help herself. She leaned towards John and lowered her voice, forcing him to lean in closer.
“Oh, trust me,” she murmured, her eyes meeting his. “I don't need cast iron to be dangerous anymore.”
She sat back slowly, satisfied to have caught the flash of surprise in Johns eyes before his mask of amusement slid back into place. Unfortunately, she could feel Damon's curiosity radiating from her other side, and accepted with an inward sigh that he was never going to let her get out of explaining this entire exchange.
“Speaking of dangerous,” Angela stepped smoothly into the brief silence. “What did you do in the military, anyway?”
Alina was silent as the waitress came back with their drinks. When the glass in front of her was filled with red wine, Alina reached for it almost thankfully. This dinner was getting more and more uncomfortable by the minute. Once the waitress left, she looked around the table. The only person not waiting for her answer was Damon, and he had such unholy laughter in his eyes that Alina couldn't trust herself to look at him again.
“I was in Military Intelligence,” she said, finally.
John's eyes widened in surprise, but Stephanie didn't look surprised at all. Angela's mouth fell open again.
“Seriously?” Angela was the first one to respond. Alina nodded, reaching for her wine again. She felt a little like she had just walked in front of a window naked and the whole street had looked in. There was a short silence before Angela threw her hands up in the air. “So what you're saying is...I'm the only one at this table who has never carried a gun to work!” she exclaimed.
Alina blinked and her lips twitched. Stephanie was rolling her eyes, John was looking at Angela like she had two heads, and Damon was clearly about to start laughing at any minute. Not one person at the table thought anything was unusual about her having been Military Intelligence, and not one of them was a threat to her. Relief made Alina's lips twitch again, and then she burst out laughing. Stephanie and John started laughing, and then Damon. Angela looked around with wide eyes.
“What?” she demanded. “It's true! I feel left out.”
“Angie, you really are something else,” Stephanie finally got out. She looked over at Alina, whose shoulders were still shaking. “And you!” she pointed to her. Alina raised an eyebrow. “It's so nice to see you laugh again! Finally!”
Damon looked at Alina and watched as she shrugged. Her eyes were still alight with laughter and he suddenly realized that he had never actually seen her burst into uncontrolled laughter. There was always something hooded in her eyes, somewhere that the laughter didn't quite reach. He sat back thoughtfully, reaching for his wine. This was certainly a different side of Viper.
And one that he strongly suspected she had long forgotten.
