Blindsided (23 page)

The lift slowed and jerked to a halt—guess maintenance hadn’t yet ironed out that glitch—and the doors sprang open. He stalked down the hall, his heels ringing on the pristine-white, ceramic-tile floor. No sneaking on this level. Not that he was sneaking. He didn’t give a shit if Whitesman knew he was coming. This confrontation would be head-on.

Teigan made the half circuit of the outside hall, turned down the central corridor, another half lap around the inner spiral—got to slow down any undesirables, you didn’t find yourself here unless you’d been summoned, invited or you were looking to lose your head —and finally came to the inner sanctum of the head director’s office door.

Teigan folded his arms and waited. The sensors would’ve already registered his presence and notified the head director.

The com beeped and Whitesman’s voice echoed soundly in the hall. “Come in.”

The door opened to reveal the head director sitting in his chair, elbows on his desk, head in his hands as he stared blankly down at the offline desk-panel. The lights in the room were dimmed, as if the occupant couldn’t bare the stark fluorescence of reality.

Teigan stepped in. Whitesman lifted his head. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot, his pupils fixed and dead, there were new worry lines around his mouth and pinched skin stretched over a flushed complexion. Teigan had never seen his boss looking so disheveled.

“I wondered if you’d show up, wondered if you’d have the balls.”

Teigan ignored the implications of the comment. The fact that he hadn’t been arrested at the front door said Whitesman didn’t have enough to prove criminal intent on his part. “Bad day?”
 

Whitesman sighed, pushing off the desk to lean back in the ergonomic chair. “She’s not talking. Says she’ll only talk to you.”

So she was awake, at least. Teigan’s heart thudded with the possibility of seeing her, of maybe getting the chance to tell her he hadn’t been the one to betray her. He carefully swallowed his excitement, keeping his tone level and even. “Where is she?”

“Sub-level E, room 507.”
 

E, there was only one level below E… F. F for seriously fucked. Teigan spun around to leave, but Whitesman’s sharp tone brought him up short.

“Teigan.”

He turned back to face Whitesman. The head director had regained his composure and looked as uncompromising and authoritative as ever.

“We’ll be talking about your performance in this matter later.”

“I made a deal with my source,” Teigan replied, working hard not to grind the words out. He was in the right as far as the rules were concerned, though he knew Whitesman didn’t see it that way. “One my position allows me to make. I’m allowed to protect my sources identity if I deem the success of the mission is dependent on the information.”

Whitesman slammed a fist on the arm of his chair. “And you know that’s bullshit given the circumstances!”
 

Teigan’s anger flared, would’ve spilled out over on Whitesman except for the fact that the man dropped his eyes and racked a hand through his hair, as if truly harried by all of this.
 

“This is a mess.” Whitesman sounded overwhelmed. “Right now I need her cooperation, unless she wants that cell to become her permanent home. Make it happen. I’ve cleared you to sub-level E.”

Teigan took a deep breath, keeping his words low and evenly spaced. “You converged on her like she was a danger to society, a woman with a hard earned criminal record. You shot her full of sedative even though she did not resist. I wouldn’t talk to you either.”

Whitesman’s hand cut through the air, waving off Teigan’s statement as irrelevant. “You know what she is, the potential problems that could have arisen.”

Teigan couldn’t hide his anger and frustration this time. “What she is, is scared and blind. She’s done nothing, absolutely fucking nothing to deserve such treatment.”

Whitesman’s pupils narrowed to pinpoints, his nostrils flared, lips thinned. “We’ll discuss this later.”

“You better as hell believe we will,” Teigan said and exited through the open door.

Chapter Fifteen

Sub-level E. Cold, cavernous, concrete, yet lit up brighter than the National Christmas tree and its 56 counterparts on the Ellipse every winter. Unlike the above ground levels, there wasn’t much activity down here. The tunnel-like halls stood devoid of another presence, but Teigan knew that disembodied eyes followed his progress. Nothing went unseen down here.

The corridor curved, a continuous circuit with doors springing at regular intervals on his left and nothing on his right. All the sublevels were set up this way, a mile long loop with doors or corridors fanning out and no access to the interior. He’d always wondered if there was anything on the inside of the circle or if it was just solid foundation beneath the upper stories of the Agency.

Teigan knew he’d found Aria’s room when a pair of guards came into view. Dressed in military fatigues, they stood with feet planted wide, weapons crossed across their chests and eyes alert. They weren’t taking their babysitting job lightly. Because they knew who and what she was? Or because Whitesman had put the fear of God into them?
 

He drew near. The closer of the two guards turned to face him. Teigan immediately recognized the Black-op soldier. Commonplace brown hair and brown eyes over unremarkable features couldn’t hide the two-inch-long scar that ran from the side of his mouth toward his ear. Some of the tension slid from Teigan’s shoulders. He’d worked with Steven on more than a few missions and knew that for him, his current stance
was
relaxed.
Now if only the other guard was as calm
.
 

When Teigan was a half dozen steps away, the second guard turned and raised the butt of his Heringer Z510, pointing the muzzle in Teigan’s direction. No rolling out of the welcome mat from that one. Teigan prudently halted.
 

“Agent Evans,” Steven said in greeting, effectively letting the second guard know that Teigan was a known entity and safe. Guard two dismissed him and went back to his alert stance on the far side of Aria’s cell door.

“Steven,” Teigan closed the remaining distance and offered his hand, “good to see you.”

One corner of Steven’s mouth pulled up, the other remained stretched out in a flat line toward the scar, making the half-smile appear eerily mocking. He grasped Teigan’s hand, giving a firm shake as he lowered his voice and leaned in closer to Teigan. “Word is you’re working undercover with the V-10 now. That true?”

“Is nothing secret around here?” Teigan asked, his current frustrations easing into his voice.

“Touchy. Must be per Whitesman’s orders then.” Steven gave him a friendly wink. “Good. Gotta say I was a bit insulted that you would think they could get the job done better than me and my men.”

Teigan wasn’t so sure of that, but gave Steven a clap of camaraderie on his arm. “Your team is the best, Steven.”

“Damn straight.” Steven jerked his head toward the door. “Now I bet you’re going to tell me that the pretty little thing in here has something to do with your current assignment.”

Teigan grunted. If what Willis said was true, the team that brought Aria in used unnecessary force. Steven was a minimalist in the field: minimal force, minimal casualties. “Were you part of the team that brought her in?”
 

“No, we were called to play guard when she was brought down here.”
 

“Grunts.” The second guard provided, speaking for the first time. “Not authorized down to this level.”

Teigan wasn’t surprised. Whitesman would’ve wanted to get Aria in the building and down into the basement with minimal explanation. He was betting the grunts who brought her in were all in deprogramming as they spoke. Teigan was also betting on the fact that Whitesmen hadn’t told Steven or his buddy about Aria’s special talents. The Black-ops teams were trustworthy, as far as it went, but general rules of secrecy stated that the less who knew, the better. They didn’t need to know what she was to stand outside her cell…they only had to pull the trigger if she tried to leave.

“Whitesman didn’t seem to be too happy with her when he left,” Steven told Teigan. “Thought he was going to blow his top.”

Teigan knew Steven was fishing. Since Teigan didn’t want Steven’s mind heading down certain pathways, he decided to give him a small bone. “Hacker. She can break down the walls of a secure system like they were put together with toothpicks. Whitesman thinks she might have stumbled across some information vital to my current mission.”

“Ah, and of course she wouldn’t want to admit that, given how Uncle Sam frowns on hacking into their systems as a hobby.” Steven’s eyes twinkled. “I take it you get to play good cop to Whitesman’s bad?”

Teigan nodded. Worked for him.

Steven laughed, slapping him on the shoulder. “Lucky bastard. Well, enjoy yourself. After dealing with Whitesman, she should be all but salivating for a bit of kindness.” He jerked his head toward the security panel. “Go ahead and key in, palm and voice. Guess Whitesman was worried we’d try to pay the pretty lady a visit; we’re not authorized.”

More like Whitesman was worried they’d open the cell door and Aria would pull a V-10 and somehow escape. Teigan palmed the panel and spoke his name, waited for the lock to click off, cracked open the six-inch thick slab of concrete and steel, and slipped in. The door closed with a resounding thud and a heavy snick as the locks reengaged.
 

The room was brightly lit, harshly illuminating the woman handcuffed to the table and chair. Dark hair hung in limp, tangled clumps around wax-like features, her body slumped in defeat.

“Aria…” he took a step forward, hesitated when she flinched. “I’m so sorry. Willis said…” that they sedated her, that they’d dragged her away and put another man in the hospital in the process. He bit back down on the fury that tried to roar out of him.
 

“Are you all right?” he asked, then silently cursed himself. Even if she bore no physical injuries from her encounter, there were obviously emotional ones.

She didn’t answer, her fragile hands twisting the mug on the metal table in front of her around and around. He could imagine how intimidating this bland room had been for her. It would’ve been bad enough for someone who could see and was faced with cold, gray walls and the substantial door. She was completely cut off, the hard, metal chair, and chains on her wrists and ankles the only tether to reality. Anyone else could look up at the door, the mirror, and know the real world was just on the other side. Not Aria.

She drew a deep breath, shoulders squaring as her face lifted in a small gesture of defiance. “Agent Evans. So good of you to visit. How do you like my new home? As you can see, I haven’t settled in yet, so I have nothing to offer you, other than…coffee?”
 

She picked up the mug in front of her, lifted it as far as the handcuffs locked to a hook in the middle of the table would allow. Three inches. Three fucking measly inches. To actually have drunk any of the coffee, she would’ve had to bend down awkwardly, dribbling the contents into her mouth at an angle that would most likely have spilled the liquid all over her and the table.
 

There was no containing the rage this time. It ripped through his body like a tsunami hitting shore, uprooting his façade of calm and tearing at his loyalties. Whitesman and John were both going to pay.

Anger propelled him back to the door where he coded it open again.

“Give me the key to the cuffs,” he said to Steven, his voice whipping like a lash over the faultless soldier.
 

Steven gave him a considering look, the first sign of wariness crossing his face. “Whitesman said—”

“Whitesman wants answers, and she’s not going to want to answer anything while trussed up like a criminal,” Teigan reasoned, working hard to keep the pounding fury out of his voice. “Come on, Steven, are you really concerned that one small woman has any hope of making it out of this locked room and through a building full of soldiers and agents?”

For a moment they stared each other down, finally Steven nodded and handed Teigan the key. “This is on your ass if Whitesman comes down on us.”

“Understood.”

He snatched the key and let the door close and lock behind him. Moving quickly, he bent and unlocked Aria’s shackles and handcuffs. Taking first one arm, then the other, he began to rub them vigorously, restoring the circulation.

Aria sat stiffly, her face turned away from his, her brow furrowed as if confused. “Why did you do that?”

“You’re not a criminal and don’t deserve to be treated like one.”

“Your boss thinks I am. Or at least a danger. It’s good for me he doesn’t know how much of a danger, otherwise he would realize basic handcuffs won’t stop a Viadal child.”

Teigan hesitated, letting the implications of her words sink in. Maybe she wasn’t as helpless as she appeared, but that didn’t mean the act of chaining her had been any less cruel. “Whitesman would know. Part of it was a test, I’m sure.”

“Well, did I pass? Is he going to let me get back to my life now?” Her voice hitched and he watched in dismay as her shoulders started to shake, the first tear trailing down her porcelain face.