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Regina's heels tapped out a rapid rhythm down the hallway as she made her way to her office, late for her one o'clock appointment. He would be waiting for her and Regina moved quickly, replying to an email from her phone as she walked. The Feds had been in possession of Billy's computer now for almost twenty-four hours. Regina could only assume that the lack of outcry meant that nothing had been found on it to incriminate her. She had been worried ever since she learned that they had taken all his electronics and, while she didn't think he was smart enough to keep anything to use against her, you never really knew for sure with men like Billy. They could sometimes surprise you.
Regina hit send on the email and raised her head, relaxing slightly as she continued toward her office. Once Viper and Michael O'Reilly were taken care of, there would be nothing left to worry about.
She and Alex would be safe.
Regina threw open the door to her office and swept inside. Sure enough, there was her one o'clock, seated in a chair at the small conference table, working away on his laptop while he waited for her. He glanced up as she entered, nodding slightly as his fingers moved over the keys rapidly.
“Good afternoon!” Regina greeted him, closing the door behind her. “Sorry to have kept you waiting.”
“That's fine.” Art Cosgrove finished what he was working on and saved it before standing up and holding out his hand to Regina. “I was just finishing up some emails. I have news for you.”
“That's what I like to hear,” Regina said, grasping his hand loosely before seating herself at the conference table. “Tell me.”
“We got a copy of Viper's file this morning,” Art told her, seating himself.
Regina's eyebrows soared into her forehead and her thin lips curved into a feline smile.
“Fantastic!” she exclaimed. “Where is it?”
“I'm risking my career giving this to you,” Art said, sliding a thumb drive across the table. Regina's glossy red-tipped fingers snatched it up.
“Are you kidding me?” she demanded, her lips still smiling. “I'll make sure you get a promotion.”
“There's more,” he said, going back to his laptop. After a moment, he turned it to face her and clicked play on the media player. “I also have the camera footage from the parking garage where that FBI agent's car was blown up.”
Regina looked at him sharply. Art got up and came around to stand behind her, missing the quick look.
“The footage of Ms. Walker's car is pretty bad,” he explained as they watched the grainy image of a figure loitering near the car. “You can't even tell if it's a woman, although I think the stature is slight enough that it could be.” Art leaned forward and fast-forwarded through the file. “In this footage, the figure never actually approaches the car and there are other images flickering through the frames, like old footage was taped over it. It makes it virtually impossible to tell if that person is the one who planted the bomb.”
“Who else could it have been?” Regina asked, the thumb drive grasped so tightly in one hand that her knuckles were white. The long nails of her other hand tapped nervously on the table. “It had to have been Viper.”
“I'm sure it was,” Art agreed, “but based on this, we don't have visible proof.”
“Then why are you showing this to me?” Regina demanded impatiently.
“I'm getting to it.” Art stopped fast-forwarding. “Here it is. Watch.”
Regina glanced at him behind her, then sighed and turned her attention back to the laptop. A black Jeep was driving down a ramp toward the camera.
“What's this?” she asked.
“This is from the camera across the street from the parking garage. It was recorded about three minutes after the car exploded,” Art explained.
Regina stared at the laptop screen, her attention arrested. Her eyes narrowed and she watched as the Jeep stopped at the entrance briefly before turning out of the garage. The driver was the only person in the vehicle. He was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses and his face was partially averted from the camera.
“Who is it?” Regina demanded sharply. Art shrugged.
“We don't know yet,” he answered, “but we have a clear shot of the plates and they're looking for the Jeep. We'll find him.” He reached over to close the laptop and Regina turned in her chair to look up at him. “He may have seen something. The bomb techs said it was a basic ignition charge, set to explode as soon as the engine started. Someone had to have triggered it. If Viper was there, that guy may have seen her,” Art said, straightening up and looking down at Regina. She gazed up at him, her eyes suddenly limpid.
“He could be the witness we need,” she murmured. “Do you think you'll find him?” Regina asked. Art nodded.
“I have my best man on it,” he told her confidently.
Regina smiled that feline smile again, her lips curving slowly. Her free hand reached out and slid intimately up the inside of his thigh.
“Oh, I doubt that,” she murmured seductively, her voice dropping an octave. “At least, not in my opinion.”
Art sucked in his breath.
“Reggie, here?” he gasped as her questing fingers slid higher.
“Why not?” she purred. “After all, this calls for a celebration.”
Michael stared at the pages in front of him. The coffee he picked up on his way into the office sat cold and forgotten on the desk. The only sound in the room was the very faint ticking of a clock on one of the bookshelves as Michael turned another page of Viper's file.
It started with basic training and followed her short military career until her discharge from the Navy. Most of the file had been blacked out for security reasons, including all instances of her real name, but what was left was impressive enough to make him realize that Viper was certainly a very special agent. She had started off with a bang, breaking every record in boot camp except two, all set by men. After basic training, she was guided into naval intelligence by a superior and it was here that whole pages of thick black lines began. The agent known as Viper had descended into the murky underworld of military intelligence, where she apparently settled in comfortably and excelled. The sections not blacked out were laced with commendations and praise from her superiors. Words like “tenacious,” “exemplary,” and “dedicated” were sprinkled liberally throughout the file, along with three recommendations for promotion. She had been on a fast track to heights unknown in the Navy when she opted to not re-enlist.
Viper was discharged with honors and snapped up immediately by the CIA, who sent her to a top secret training facility. Most of that section was also blacked out, but Michael was able to deduce enough to realize that it was there that she trained to be the government assassin she had become. After the training facility, she went out into the field. Once again, the parts not concealed had nothing but praise from her handlers. The adjectives “focused” and “aggressive” joined the others, along with notations regarding her commitment to her assignments. She never failed. Her handlers had nothing but utter confidence in her.
Viper was one of the golden children of the Organization.
Michael flipped through the file, scanning page after page, looking for something that would indicate a propensity to turn and go rogue. He could find nothing. By the time he got to the end of the active file, Michael was even more impressed with the woman who had blown into his life and knocked him out cold next to his truck. Her entire career was a non-stop shot straight to the top of everything that she attempted. She had obviously found her niche in the Navy, no easy feat for an enlisted sailor, and excelled beyond the expectations of her superiors. She was on her way to being fully established in military intelligence when she allowed herself to be recruited into one of the most clandestine agencies in the world. Once there, she had repeated her extraordinary success, once again rising above and beyond what was expected of her. She became everything they asked her to be, and then took it even further by becoming a hero several times over. Viper had become a legacy within the elite Organization.
Michael sat back, feeling somewhat stunned. And this was the woman they wanted to hang from the nearest tree? This was the woman they said was attacking federal agents and was a threat to national security? This was the agent they said was a threat to the White House?
She had joined her nation's Navy, served with distinction, and then moved on to continue to serve with distinction in the CIA. This was not a rogue agent. Michael was convinced, more than ever, that this was simply a woman who knew too much about a terrorist and an assassin.
He drummed his fingers on his desk, his eyes fixed sightlessly on the closed door to his office. The file had an address of residence in North Carolina, just south of Raleigh. Michael was sure that Art would have him send men to search it, but whether or not they would find anything was anyone's guess. Viper wasn't stupid. If she had been anywhere near her residence, which Michael highly doubted, she would have had plenty of time to get out after his warning to her last night.
He frowned slightly. Why was North Carolina jumping out at him? Michael's fingers stilled and he stiffened, his eyes still fixed on nothing. He stayed like that for a few moments, his mind churning, before he slowly lowered his eyes back to the file as an insidious and dreadful suspicion crept into his mind.
No. No, it's not possible, Michael thought, flipping to the front of the file again.
He looked at the date Viper enlisted into the Navy, staring at the year, his heart rate increasing. Slowly, he flipped forward and looked at the date she had discharged from the Navy.
Michael's frown grew darker as he started flipping through the file again, this time taking note of the dates of the missions and the countries they involved. Viper had been all over the Middle East, Europe, South America and Asia. The last mission was three months ago and, glaringly, did not include a country.
It can't be, Michael thought, sitting back in his chair, staring at the pages as if they had grown horns and a tail. It's just not possible.
Viper joining the Navy the same year as Alina didn't mean anything. It was just a coincidence.
“...I ended up in military intelligence.”
Michael heard Alina's voice in the back of his head and he shook his head slightly, his mind rebelling at the thought. There were hundreds of people who worked in military intelligence.
“...It also turns out that the whole marksmanship thing runs in the family. I turned out to be a pretty good shot myself...”
Michael's thoughts were spinning now and he was having trouble catching his breath. The shot that killed Johann Topamari was sniper's shot. Michael had known that all along. Only a very experienced marksman could have made that shot in one try.
“...I'm partial to gunnies...”
Realization crashed down upon him mercilessly and Michael's face alternated between hot and cold as color flooded it, only to drain away again as anger warred with denial. The denial eventually gave way to stunned shock as the truth finally sank in. His eyes went to the photo of his Marine unit on the shelf across the office. Viper was partial to gunnies because her brother had been one!
Close upon the heels of that thought came anger, white hot and instant.
“Of course!” Michael whispered, his throat hoarse from the effort not to shout. “How could I be so blind?”
Everything made sudden and perfect sense! Why Alina had contacted him so suddenly after over ten years, why she had reacted so swiftly that night in his kitchen, why she was so comfortable with the gun that she carried in a specially designed holster in the back of her pants...
Michael's head snapped up, his eyes widening suddenly. Through his growing anger, he saw her again in his mind's eye. She was standing with her back to the counter in his kitchen, her gun pointed downwards in her hands...her Ruger SR45, .45 semi-automatic pistol!
Oh Lina, what the hell have you gotten yourself into? And what have you gotten ME into?!
Regina yawned and stretched. The sun was setting outside and her office was getting darker by the minute. She had been too preoccupied to turn on the light, but she got up now to walk over to the light switch. Viper's file was open on her laptop and she had already read through it twice. Regina flipped the switch and the shadows in her office disappeared as fluorescent light flooded the room. Turning, she went back to her desk.
The file had been heavily blacked out, but the important things were visible, things like the residence in North Carolina and the locations of all the safe houses Viper had used in the past. The majority of them were in other countries, but three were on the east coast of the United States: one in Manhattan, one in Baltimore, and one in Miami. There were also references to a few other agents that she had worked with, all code-named, but one name jumped out at her.
Hawk.
Regina sank into her seat again thoughtfully. She knew all about Damon Miles, aka Damon Peterson, aka Hawk. She remembered him very clearly from basic training all those years ago, and she had recognized him instantly in the surveillance photos that Dimitrius had sent down from New Jersey three months ago. She knew that Damon had been working with Viper in New Jersey, and Art's video of the Jeep confirmed her suspicion that Damon was still working with her.
Billy had set that bomb to go off when Stephanie Walker turned her ignition, but Stephanie had mysteriously disappeared and the bomb detonated on its own. She didn't know how she had done it, but Regina knew that Viper managed to find out about the bomb. As soon as she saw the Jeep, she knew that Damon had been right there with her.
Regina's lips tightened and her eyes narrowed angrily. Damon always had preferred Viper's company, even in basic training. He completely ignored Regina, even though she had indicated repeatedly that she was available. Instead, he had eyes only for Alina Maschik, the Wonder Bitch.
She had been a thorn in Regina's side then, and she was still a thorn in her side. Regina turned back to her laptop and smiled to herself smugly. Four possible locations on the east coast were easily narrowed down to two. Regina knew Viper was around Washington DC, so that only left the residence outside Raleigh or the apartment in Baltimore as likely places for Alina to be hiding. She would send someone to both places to investigate. When she found out which one Viper was using, she would finally put an end to it all.
Viper's reign was about to end. And, if she was very careful and cunning, perhaps Regina could ensure that Hawk went down with her.
Regina reached for the phone on her desk.
Michael pulled into his driveway and cut the engine to the truck. Grabbing his laptop bag, he climbed out and slammed the door. A Dodge Challenger was parked at the curb in front of his house, and he watched as Blake got out of the driver's side.
“How long have you been sitting there?” Michael called.
Blake shrugged and walked up the driveway to join him, carrying a large brown paper bag.
“Only about twenty minutes,” he answered. “I got us Chinese.” Blake raised the bag and Michael raised his eyebrows, leading the way to the front door.
“You're bringing food? The news must be bad,” he said, unlocking the door and stepping inside. Blake followed him.
“Not bad. Frustrating,” he muttered.
Michael turned on the hall light and disappeared into the dining room to drop his laptop on the table before coming back to lead the way to the kitchen.
“Welcome to my day,” he said, flipping on the light to kitchen and heading for the refrigerator. “We can take turns.”
Blake set the bag of food on the island and opened it as Michael pulled two bottles of beer out of the fridge. He started pulling the cardboard containers out of the bag, setting them on the island.
“I've got shrimp or beef lo mein and pork fried rice,” Blake said, taking the beer with a nod of thanks.
Michael grabbed one of the lo mein cartons and a set of chop sticks and headed toward the garage with the food and his beer. Blake grinned at his single-mindedness, turning to follow with the other lo mein carton.
“We can use the half-finished table,” Michael said over his shoulder.
Blake followed him down the steps and headed to the table-top resting on the saw horses in the middle of the garage.
“Hold on,” Michael told him, turning to the shelving unit inside the door and grabbing a tarp from the top shelf.
“A tablecloth?” Blake watched as Michael tossed it over the table. “If you pull out candles, we're done here,” he warned.
Michael let out a short laugh and set his food and beer down on the tarp while Blake pulled a stool over to the table.
“You know I like to keep it classy for you,” he retorted, settling down on another stool and opening his lo mein.
“Much appreciated,” Blake mumbled before shoveling in a mouth full of shrimp lo mein.
They ate in silence for a few moments, the food taking precedence over conversation. While he ate, Michael debated how much he wanted to share with his old friend. He desperately needed an unbiased view on Viper. He knew his own anger was preventing him from thinking clearly. He hesitated, however, to bring Blake into his problem. Everyone connected with Viper seemed to have a very short life-expectancy these days. However, that being the case, Michael knew that he might need Blake's assistance. He was the only person in Washington that Michael knew he could trust.
“I got the report back on the slugs.” Blake finally broke the silence, looking up from his lo mein.
“Ok.” Michael sipped his beer, waiting expectantly to hear that they all matched.
“They don't match,” Blake informed him, setting the carton down on the tarp and picking up his beer. Michael stared at him blankly.
“Come again?”
“They don't match,” Blake repeated morosely. “A little embarrassing for both our agencies, given the high alert that was issued this morning, don't you think?”
Michael slowly set down his half-empty food carton.
“What, exactly, didn't match?” he asked slowly.
Blake watched as his friend picked up his beer absently and his eyes narrowed slightly. Michael seemed almost dazed.
“The bullets from the parking garage all match,” he explained, sipping his beer. “They all came from the same gun. The slugs that killed your SEAL and Billy Conners all match too, but they came from a different gun. The gun that shot out the cameras in the parking garage isn't the same gun that killed those two men.”
“They're sure?” Michael demanded sharply. The look he got from Blake made him smile a little sheepishly. “Ok, ok. I'm sorry,” he said apologetically.
“They're sure,” Blake assured him, slightly mollified. “The tech working on it double-checked before sending the results to me. Given the high-profile of the case, she bumped it to the top for me. I think she was a little afraid to tell me what she found out,” Blake added thoughtfully.
“I warned Art that we didn't know the two incidents were related!” Michael exclaimed, his mind spinning with all the ramifications. “Good Lord, what a disaster!”
“Yup,” Blake agreed glumly. “Billy was a nasty character. Anyone could have popped him. We can't work on the assumption that it was this Viper everyone's looking for, which leads me to my next bit of news.”
Michael looked up sharply.
“What else?” he asked.
“There was something missing from Billy's apartment after all,” Blake told him, sipping his beer. “My people found references on his laptop to an external hard-drive, but there was no external hard-drive anywhere in that apartment.”
“Maybe he kept it somewhere else,” Michael suggested. Blake grinned.
“I would think that too, except we did find a hidden compartment in the wall at the back of his closet,” he said. “And it was open and empty.”
“So you think whoever shot Billy has whatever was in that compartment?” Michael asked. Blake nodded.
“I think it's a safe bet,” he answered. “You saw the evidence on his body. Someone was trying to get information out of him before they killed him. He could have told them about the hard-drive before they killed him.”
“What's on the hard-drive?” Michael asked. Blake shrugged.
“My best guess? Insurance,” he replied. “The references on the laptop are for file numbers, and all indications are that the files contain emails and deposit information. Obviously, we won't know until we get the hard-drive, but it looks like Billy was either blackmailing someone or keeping track of information so that he could blackmail someone in the future.”
Michael was silent for a moment.
“He worked for Morganston Securities, right?” he asked suddenly. Blake nodded.
“Yep. You said you knew them,” he said. Michael frowned slightly.
“I do, but I still don't remember how,” he answered, shaking his head.
He fell silent again and Blake watched as Michael stared unseeingly at the floor. After a moment, he looked up.
“What do you think?” he asked Blake. “What's your gut reaction to all of this? Do you think the shootings are related? The parking garage, the SEAL on my porch, and Billy?”
“I don't know,” Blake answered slowly, picking up his lo mein again. He picked at it absently, popping a shrimp into his mouth. “My knee-jerk reaction is that they're all related, but I can't give you one good reason why I think that. Do I think this Viper is involved with any of it? Again, my gut thinks so, but I can't give you one logical reason why.”
Michael was silent for a moment, sipping his beer. Blake watched him from under his lashes, picking up at the food with his chopsticks.
“What do you think?” he finally asked when Michael showed no signs of breaking the silence. Michael glanced up.
“Well, I have a little more information than you do,” he answered slowly. Blake nodded.
“I guessed as much,” he said before lifting lo mein into his mouth. Michael shrugged and set down his beer.
“I know,” he said simply.
Blake chewed patiently while Michael was silent for another long moment, struggling with himself before finally making up his mind.
“I'm willing to read you into my own private hell of an investigation, but I have to warn you that if I do, your life-expectancy is likely to decrease significantly,” Michael finally told him. Blake raised his eyebrows, a laugh leaping into his eyes.
“You and I both know that particular danger has never stopped me in the past,” Blake retorted, swallowing and setting down the food container. He picked up his beer and settled back on his stool comfortably.
“Tell me what I need to know.”
