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Michael hung up with Blake and turned back to Damon. They had moved from the hotel bar to the luxury suite at the top of the hotel and Damon was typing away on his laptop.
“Do you think that was wise?” Damon asked without looking up.
Michael raised an eyebrow.
“Blake is helping in DC while I'm here,” he said. “He needs to know who our prime suspects are.”
“Well, you just made him a target.” Damon lifted his eyes to him. “Everyone who touches this mess becomes a liability to them. They're going after anyone they think can expose them.”
“He's already aware of that,” Michael retorted, setting his phone down on the table next Damon. “We were both already aware of that much last night before I left.”
“Do you trust him?” Hawk asked, glancing up at him.
“With my life.”
“That's exactly what's hanging in the balance,” he told him, turning his attention back to his laptop.
“I know.” Michael watched him for a minute. “What are you doing?”
“Making arrangements,” Damon answered shortly.
Michael frowned and turned to wander aimlessly around the sitting room.
“Viper's going after them, isn't she?” he asked, glancing back at Damon. “So far she hasn't done anything wrong,” Michael continued when it became apparent that his companion wasn't going to offer a comment. “As of right now, I have nothing to charge her with, except maybe destroying private property when she shot out the cameras in the parking garage, and I can't even prove that without her gun. Right now, she's free and clear. But, if she goes after the VP, she'll cross over to where I can't help her.”
“She won't go after the VP.”
Damon finally spoke. Michael glanced at him from across the room.
“How can you be so sure?” he demanded. Damon looked up.
“Because she doesn't need to,” he said simply.
“You think she'll just go after Regina?” Michael asked, his forehead creasing in a frown. Damon sat back in his chair.
“Regina is the only one who counts now,” he explained. “We have enough evidence between us all to hang Ludmere without having to make him a target. I think Viper realized that when they decided to go after you. You were a threat because you could track down the money trail that would lead back to Ludmere. Regina was the one Viper needed to pin down.”
“Morganston Securities,” Michael muttered, shaking his head.
“Excuse me?”
“I've been trying to remember how I knew Morganston Securities,” Michael explained. “I know it from Regina. She mentioned it the one and only time we ever had dinner.”
“It's her shell company,” Damon said. “She's the sole shareholder.”
“Billy's hard-drive!” Michael exclaimed suddenly, cutting Damon short and banging his hands together. He swung around to face Damon. “Of course!”
“Billy's what?” Michael had Damon's full attention now.
“Billy had an external hard-drive,” Michael explained, his eyes alight. “Blake told me last night they found references to it on his laptop when they took it from his apartment.”
“Wait. What were the Feds doing in Billy's apartment?” Hawk demanded.
Michael strode over to the table and turned a chair so that he could straddle it, facing Damon.
“Billy Conners was shot in the head Sunday,” he told him and Damon's eyebrows soared into his forehead in surprise. “Blake called me over to Billy's apartment because he'd been tied to a chair in his bedroom and shot, just like Jason was on my porch.”
“This was Sunday?” Hawk's mind was working backwards quickly.
“Yes. Same caliber as the shots that killed Jason,” Michael said. Damon stared at him, his face impassive. “Blake thought Viper had done them both.”
Damon remained silent, listening. Michael watched him in grudging admiration. The man wasn't betraying a single thought, even though it was clear this was all news to him.
“Forensics on both sets of bullets showed that they were fired from the same gun,” Michael continued, “but two factors eliminated Viper. One, the bullets in the parking garage did not match the others, and we're pretty damn sure it was Viper who shot out the cameras in the parking garage. Two, I am Viper's alibi for Jason.”
“Ah.” Damon's lips twitched. “You know, then.”
“Yes,” Michael said shortly, anger swelling inside him again.
Damon watched Michael's eyes turn a stormy, glittering green and suddenly had some sympathy for him. He understood completely what Michael was feeling. They were both furious at the same woman.
“Well, I know who shot Jason,” Hawk told him, deciding to give him something to take his mind off of how Alina had lied to him. It was Michael's turn to be surprised.
“Who?” he demanded.
“Frankie Solitto had him popped,” Damon informed him with a grin.
Michael stared at him.
“Frankie...as in Jersey mob Frankie Solitto?” he demanded. Damon nodded. “What the hell does the Jersey Mob have to with any of this??” Michael roared and Damon couldn't contain his laugh.
“I told you, nothing is ever simple with Viper.”
Michael got up and took a turn around the room again, muttering under his breath while Damon watched, his shoulders still shaking with inward laughter.
“I'm sure that once you explain it to me, it'll make perfect sense.” Michael finally returned to his seat. “So tell me.”
“Viper told Solitto that he had a leak to the Feds, and she advised him to find it,” Damon explained, his eyes dancing.
Michael blinked.
“She told...she advised...a mob boss...to clean house??” he sputtered.
“Once you get to know Viper, you'll learn it's all part of her charm,” Damon advised him.
Michael ran his hand over his hair, staring at Damon in disbelief.
“You're serious, aren't you?”
“Yes.”
Michael continued to stare at Damon for a long moment in silence. Hawk glanced back at his laptop as a message flashed up and, while Michael was mulling over the random and unwelcome entrance of the Jersey mob into his life, Damon answered the message quickly before closing the laptop.
“So what you're saying is, Jason was Frankie's leak,” Michael said.
“Yes.”
“What was he doing in my house?” Michael demanded.
The laughter faded from Damon's blue eyes.
“He was paid, along with the others, to break in and beat the daylights out of you,” he said. “Viper believes Regina ordered it to get your laptop. She thinks Regina was getting worried about your research on The Engineer.”
“Of course.” Michael nodded shortly. “That makes sense, but are you saying it was just coincidence that Jason was there?”
“Absolutely not.” Damon shook his head. “I fought with Jason. He was as good a man as you could ever want to meet,” he said quietly. “He wouldn't have worked for Solitto unless he thought he was doing something else.”
“He wasn't working for Solitto.” Michael suddenly understood. “He was working for Regina. Regina put him in Solitto's employment as a spy.”
“And a leak back to the government,” Damon finished. “My guess is that she inserted Jason up there around the same time that Johann came into the States. She would have wanted to have an extra set of ears and eyes up there. Johann was using a member of the Solitto family in his network, so that's where she put him.”
“So Frankie found out about Jason. How did he know he was going to be at my house that night?”
Michael got up and went over to the sideboard and the coffeemaker there. He poured himself a cup of coffee, stifling a yawn. His long flight was catching up with him and he couldn't seem to wrap his mind around all this.
“Billy,” Damon answered.
Michael drank some coffee and came back to the table.
“Ok, but then why did Solitto kill Billy?”
“You have me there,” Damon replied. “I didn't know Billy was dead until you told me. Where's this external hard-drive?”
“No one knows,” Michael answered, sipping the coffee. “There was no hard-drive in the apartment. Blake found a compartment at the back of the closet where he thinks it was kept, but the compartment was empty and no one's been able to find it.”
“Of course not,” Damon murmured, his lips curving into a soft smile. Michael saw it and nodded reluctantly.
“Billy must have kept a record of all his dealings with Regina,” he said. “If Viper somehow got that hard-drive, she probably has all the evidence she's looking for against Regina Cummings.”
“And everything she needs to justify making her a target,” Damon murmured. “That's my girl.”
Michael looked at him sharply but Damon's face was already impassive again. If Michael thought he had glimpsed a soft look of admiration in Damon's cold eyes, he must have been mistaken. Damon was as cold and distant as he had been for most of their short acquaintance.
“Regina must have seen the file,” Michael said suddenly. “Viper's file was released yesterday. Against my advice, my agency jumped to the conclusion that the bullets that killed both Jason and Billy were all fired by Viper. Given the pressure, your agency finally released her file. They released it to me, my boss, and my boss's boss.”
“The same boss's boss that sent you here?” Damon pointed out softly.
Michael nodded, his eyes meeting Damon's.
“Art must have shown Regina the file. It's the only way she could have known to look for you,” Michael said thoughtfully.
“Oh, she was looking for me before that file got released,” Damon muttered, “but I know Regina has seen the file.”
“Your codename was in the file, and your picture was in the evidence from Three Mile Island three months ago,” Michael continued. “Even if she put two and two together before now, the file would have confirmed it.”
Damon was silent, waiting for the full ramifications of that thought to hit Michael. He didn't have long to wait.
“Dammit! That means Art was feeding her information all along!” Michael exploded, his eyes flashing green again. “I've been taking orders from them!”
“Yep.” Damon stood up and stretched, his own eyes narrowing slightly. “What else was in that file?”
“They blacked most of it out,” Michael answered. “A couple of code-names, yours included, and the locations of her safe houses were in there. Dates and locations of missions, but no details. Nothing really that useful, actually,” he added thoughtfully.
“Safe houses?” Damon glanced at him sharply. “What safe houses?”
Michael looked at him, frowning slightly at the sharp tone in Damon's voice.
“All of them,” he answered simply.
Damon swore softly and Michael was filled with a sense of foreboding.
“Tell me Viper isn't in one of them,” he said.
“No,” Damon told him, turning back to his laptop and flipping it open, “but Stephanie Walker and her partner are!”
Alina sipped her coffee and raised her military binoculars to her eyes. She was ensconced on a rooftop diagonal from Regina's townhouse. The sun had set about an hour ago, and a warm evening breeze blew gently against her face. Regina had returned from her office carrying a cardboard file box and hadn't left the house since. Alina watched her now through the living room window. She was on the phone, pacing around the couch. Lowering the binoculars, Alina frowned and sipped her coffee again.
Cardboard boxes never boded well.
This morning, her target had gone to a press conference and stood in the back, watching as Ludmere fielded questions from the press. She left the press conference and accompanied the Vice President back to his house, where she had brunch before heading back to her townhouse. Regina was, at that point, what appeared to be her normal, hurried self. When she arrived home, she showered, changed into slacks, and settled in front of the TV to watch the press conference again, making notes as she watched. She received a phone call in the middle of it and whatever was said had made Regina very happy. She was all smiles when she hung up the phone.
And then Art arrived.
Viper recognized Michael's superior from his statement to the agencies, addressing the very serious issue of the 'rogue agent running amok' in DC. Her Egyptian contact sent her the clip, including an audio snippet of Werewolves of London with the link, and Viper had watched it early that morning. She had been humming the song ever since, her sense of humor tickled. When Art arrived on Regina's doorstep, Viper saw in person the man who was causing her so much discomfort with his witch hunt. She had studied him, and was unimpressed. Art had the seal of the town in which he worked stamped all over him, and Viper had never been in awe of the power in Washington.
But something Art said upset Regina terribly. Viper had watched as as Regina threw a fit in the living room after he left. She broke two glass bowls and a vase of roses before she was finished. Reggie had a temper, and Viper had a pretty good idea what had brought it to the surface.
Alina lifted the binoculars again and slowly scanned the street in front of the townhouse, stopping when she picked out the black Dodge Challenger parked half a block away. She zoomed in and watched as the man settled behind the wheel unwrapped a burger and bit into it.
Blake Hanover.
She saw him for the first time this morning. He had been at the press conference, not far from Regina. Regina smiled at him as she was entering and Blake nodded briefly in acknowledgement. He caught Viper's attention again when the press conference was ending and he answered his phone as he turned to leave. He was turning towards Alina and his voice rose slightly before he remembered where he was and lowered it quickly. She watched curiously as he hung up and pushed through the media throng, disappearing into the crowds. When she spotted him again a few hours later, parked outside Regina's office, Viper knew she had another player. On her way to New Jersey, she ran his picture through the databases on her laptop. By the time she pulled into the parking garage for the casino in Atlantic City, she knew all about Blake Hanover.
Viper watched him for a moment thoughtfully. Michael had disappeared, and now here was Blake. The two were former Marine buddies, and Blake was heading the FBI portion of the investigation into Stephanie's car and Michael's dead Navy SEAL. He was also the Agent in Charge of Billy Conners' murder. But what had led Blake to Regina? Who had tipped him off?
For Blake had clearly been tipped off. He had been stuck to Regina like glue all afternoon and evening. When Viper left to go to Danny's Place at four, Blake was parked down the street from Regina's office in the black Challenger. When she came back from her meeting with Frankie, the Challenger was still parked in the same spot. Now, here he was again. Blake was watching Regina as intently as she was herself. Now why was that? If he was investigating Billy Conners' death, then he had to have discovered that there was a missing hard-drive. Had there been something else on his laptop? Something to lead Blake to Regina?
Alina hadn't bothered wiping Billy's laptop or trying to hide the compartment in the bedroom. She left Billy alive and had all expectations that he would tell Regina what was in Viper's hands. She wanted Regina to know. Viper wanted her to know that she was coming for her, but Billy had apparently been shot before he could pass on the message.
Now, however, Viper was confident that she had been warned by Art. He was too involved with the mess to not be getting daily updates from both his own people and the Feds. He would have heard about the hard-drive by now, if Blake did indeed know about its existence. If he didn't, the empty compartment in the closet would have alerted any Federal agent worth his salt that something was missing. Even if they didn't know what it was, they would know something had been taken. Regina wouldn't be able to take the chance that whatever was missing would not incriminate her.
The very fact that Blake was seated in a car now, watching Regina, told Viper that he knew she was guilty of something. But HOW? Had Michael figured it out? Had he found the money trail? Had the phone call Blake took at the press conference been from Michael?
Alina shook her head with a slight frown. The only thing she knew for sure was that Blake was a Federal agent and he was watching Regina. That could only mean one thing: he was watching her with a view to apprehend her.
Viper moved her binoculars back to the living room window where Regina was still pacing around the room, her phone still stuck to her ear. Her eyes narrowed slightly and she lowered the binoculars, lifting her coffee to her lips again.
She had no intention of allowing Blake, or anyone else, to apprehend her.
Regina Cummings was hers.
Michael glanced at Damon as they left the city of Lima behind them and bounced over a pothole in the middle of the barely-paved road, the mountains looming above them in the distance. They were headed into the country and the buildings fell away behind them as the road snaked around rugged hills. The air was fresh out here, and the sky was transitioning from blinding blue to a stunning mauve as the sun began to set. Michael took a deep breath, looking out over the craggy landscape and enjoying his first view of the Peruvian countryside.
Damon hadn't been very talkative since they left the hotel. The speed with which he arranged for them to leave Peru and get back to the States should have surprised Michael, but he was beyond surprise at this point. He had offered his government contacts, but Damon laughed briefly and otherwise ignored him. When pressed with the reminder that Michael was a federal agent and Damon was his temporary charge, Hawk informed him bluntly that he would get them back to the States his way, or Michael would go alone. Michael had no doubt that he meant it and, still torn between his job and his personal opinions, he caved. Until this was sorted out one way or another, he had to stay with Damon.
Damon had their departure arranged within twenty minutes of turning to his laptop. Michael hadn't asked what those arrangements were, sensing that it would be a fruitless exercise. After closing his laptop, Damon produced an extra duffel bag and tossed it to him, saying that his carry-on made him look like a tourist. He hadn't said much since.
Michael grabbed the roll-bar of the old Jeep as Damon veered off the road and onto little more than a goat track that snaked up the side of a very steep, vertical incline. Damon glanced at him and, for the first time since leaving the hotel, a grin creased his face.
“Getting worried yet?” he asked, shifting gears and pressing the gas. Michael grinned back.
“Should I be?” he retorted.
Damon guided the topless, door-less Jeep up the side of the mountain incline. He was surprised at how much he liked Viper's gunny. Michael O'Reilly had turned out to be an intelligent and rugged military man, earning Hawk's grudging respect in the few short hours that he'd been with him. Not only was he willing to compromise to get what he wanted, evident in the fact that Damon was driving them to his private exit point in Peru instead of the international airport, but Michael was genuinely concerned about the many ramifications of this whole mess. He wasn't just another ex-military suit who had landed in Washington and was working his way through agency life. He was still a Marine. He still thought like a Marine, he still acted like a Marine, and he still believed in what had made him a Marine. Damon couldn't help but respect that.
Hawk followed the track as fast as he knew the old Jeep could take it while Michael hung on next to him. With every mile that separated them from the city, he wondered again why he was doing this. The Fearless Feds could take care of themselves. They were federal agents. If they couldn't take care of themselves, that was certainly not his responsibility. Viper had taken that upon herself.
Viper.
Damon clenched his jaw. He was doing this for her. He knew she was focused on Regina and wouldn't, couldn't, know that she had put the Fearless Feds in danger. They were sitting ducks. Regina would send her minions to the safe house's closest to DC, hoping to find Viper. When she found them instead, it would be nice and tidy clean-up. He couldn't let that happen, not if he had the ability to protect them. Hawk had promised to help Viper any way he could, no questions asked, and if that meant protecting her friends, then so be it. He couldn't just walk away from her, even if she had walked away from him first.
Anger washed over him anew.
Alina drugged him, kidnapped him, and dumped him in Lima, leaving him there while she went back to Washington to fight a losing battle. It didn't make any difference to him that she did it for his safety. He didn't care. She walked away from him purposefully, leaving him on a different continent while she faced the biggest enemy she had ever faced yet. Alone.
How dare she?
Hawk punched the Jeep over the rise and they bounced onto flat land again. After everything they had been through, she just up and left. Worse, she drugged him, dumped him in a different country, and then up and left. How could she do it?
Damon's eyes narrowed slightly. He knew with a sinking sense of doom inside him that he would never be able to walk away from Viper like that.
Dammit. He loved her.
With that admission to himself, Hawk felt as if he'd been sucker-punched right in the gut. He stared through the windshield across the craggy plateau, stunned. Alina was complicated, independent and intimidating on her best day, and on all days, she was controlling. What she couldn't control, she shot. She was so completely her own person that Damon couldn't even begin to imagine her as a partner, even though he had been actively pursuing just that for three months now. She was a rock, and an enigma. She was just beyond reach.
Yet, three months ago, he caught glimpses of the Jersey girl. Alina was still a woman, fused deep within Viper's armor, and he was in love with that woman. When had that happened? How had it happened? And what on earth was he going to do about it?
“Should I be getting worried now?” Michael interrupted Damon's thoughts.
He glanced at him, brought back to earth suddenly. Michael nodded ahead of them and Damon slowed the Jeep, his eyes taking in the three local men standing in the middle of the goat track. Their hair was long and unkempt and they were dressed in work clothes, military-style boots on their feet. They had rifles slung over their shoulders and were blocking their progress. Hawk smiled slightly.
“Are you rethinking traveling with me now?” he asked, glancing at Michael again.
Michael's eyes met his and Damon saw the glint of amusement in them.
“I give us two to one odds,” Michael retorted.
Damon let out a short bark of laughter and slowed to a stop before the armed locals. He left the engine running and studied them for a moment before standing up in the Jeep.
“You picked a bad time to block the road,” he called out in Spanish. “I'm in a hurry.”
The men looked at each other and back to him. One of them stepped forward and a wide grin split his face, exposing several gaps in his teeth. He fingered his rifle suggestively.
“In a hurry to leave our beautiful country?” he called back before spitting on the ground. “You just got here, Señor Peterson.”
“Friends of yours?” Michael asked.
Hawk glanced down at him, his eyes glinting.
“Two to one, huh?” he replied. “What do we win?”
“I like beer,” Michael suggested with a shrug. “I prefer to keep it simple with new acquaintances. I haven't seen you in action yet.”
“Don't want to commit to a steak dinner just yet?” Damon asked, his lips twitching. Michael grinned.
“No offense.”
“Hey! Señores!” Toothless yelled, growing impatient. “Get out of the car. We have guns! See?”
He waved his rifle in the air and Damon sighed.
“We don't really have time for this,” he muttered, leaving the engine running and jumping out.
Michael climbed out of the Jeep grinning and met Damon in front of the hood as the three locals advanced on them, rifles in hand.
“Care to explain this at all?” he asked him. Hawk shrugged.
“I have a price on my head.”
“You could have told me that sooner,” Michael muttered. Hawk grinned.
“Where's the fun in that?” he demanded.
“Hey! We still have guns,” Toothless snapped in Spanish. “Stop talking.”
“He keeps mentioning the guns,” Michael said in Spanish, raising his voice slightly. “Is that some kind of cultural thing?”
The men had moved close enough now for Hawk to reach out and grab the barrel of Toothless's rifle and wrench it upwards, hitting him sharply in the face with his own gun. It happened so fast that no one saw it coming. Toothless let out a howl of instant rage and pain as his nose cracked and blood started pouring down his face. Within seconds, both Michael and Damon were armed with rifles, which they used as weapons without ever having to fire a shot. Michael got one of the men around the neck with his rifle, using him as a shield to prevent the third from firing. While that local was yelling threats in Spanish, Damon hit Toothless with a debilitating jab to his kidneys, followed by a blow to his temple that knocked him out. Once he fell to the ground, Hawk turned and kicked the back of the legs of the third man, bringing him to his knees with a cry. A second later, he was also unconscious on the ground. Michael released his prisoner, spinning him around and cracking him on the side of the head with the rifle.
Less than a minute after the fight had begun, the last man was sinking to the ground silently.
“Bring the guns,” Hawk said, grabbing the extra rounds of ammunition off Toothless. “We might need them.”
“Will there be more of them?” Michael asked, grabbing the third man's rifle and turning back to the Jeep. Hawk followed.
“You never know,” he answered, tossing his rifle and the ammunition into the back of the Jeep before climbing in. Michael tossed the other two rifles in and got back into the passenger's seat.
“Ok then.” Michael grabbed the roll bar again as Damon put the Jeep in gear and drove around the pile of men left in the middle of the goat track. “Are you always this boring?”
“Only when I'm forced to deal with Marines,” Hawk retorted with a quick grin, drawing a laugh from Michael.
Damon maneuvered the Jeep up another incline, this one even steeper than the last. The fight hadn't even been a fight according to Hawk's standards, but he felt a hundred times better nonetheless. Some of his simmering frustration and anger had disappeared with the satisfying crack of the unknown assailant's nose. One or two more scuffles like that before he laid eyes on Viper again and he might not be tempted to wring her bloody neck.
“Do you think we'll make it back in time?” Michael asked, breaking the silence a few moments later, his mind on Stephanie Walker and her partner.
“I don't know,” Damon answered after a short silence.
“Blake is watching Regina,” Michael told him, glancing at him, “but she might send someone else to Baltimore.”
“Oh, she won't go herself,” Hawk said derisively. “She won't face Viper. She prefers to hide behind her cousin.”
“I still can't wrap my mind around it all,” Michael muttered, more to himself than to his companion. “What was Ludmere meeting with Johann about in Cairo?” Damon glanced at Michael, and Michael caught the considering look. “You know!” he exclaimed. “You know what the meeting was about!”
“That's Viper's story to tell,” Hawk said after a short silence. “You'll know when she wants you to know.”
“What if she doesn't get the chance?” Michael demanded.
Damon ignored the lurch in his gut at the agent's words.
“Then I'll re-evaluate,” he said shortly, indicating that the conversation was over.
Michael lapsed into silence as they rounded a bend in the goat track, turning past a copse of trees at the base of another incline. As they rounded the trees, a huge flat clearing came into view, and settled in the center was a black helicopter. Damon stopped the Jeep and switched off the engine, hopping out as a tall man separated himself from the chopper.
“I was getting worried!” he called in Spanish. Damon waved as he grabbed one of the rifles and his duffel bag from the back. “I heard there is a price for your head.”
“When has that ever stopped me, Pietro?” Hawk demanded, striding up to him and holding his hand out with a grin. Pietro gripped it, his face creasing in an answering smile.
“That is because you are half-insane!” he exclaimed. He turned his head as Michael strode up, carrying his bag and a second rifle. “This is the American? He's big. He looks like a Marine.”
“He also speaks Spanish,” Michael said dryly.
Damon chuckled and Pietro continued to grin unabashedly.
“Then there's hope for you yet!” he retorted. “But enough talk. You have to leave now to get to Columbia on time.” Pietro turned back to Damon. “Everything you need is in the chopper. I will take the car back to Santiago.”
Damon nodded and handed him the keys.
“Thank you, my friend,” he said, holding out his hand again. “Give Santiago my thanks, for both the message he sent and the use of the Jeep.”
“Of course. You are always welcome, Hawk. You know that,” Pietro told him with a nod.
Damon smiled and clapped him on the shoulder before turning and heading towards the chopper.
“There's a rifle in the back, should you need it,” he called over his shoulder.
Pietro waved and jogged toward the Jeep while Michael followed Damon up to the helicopter. He climbed in after him, wondering what on earth he had gotten himself into.
