“You talked to Evan?”
“I overheard her give the command to abort. She wasn’t happy about it.”
“She didn’t get in trouble, did she? Because of my miss?” Anxiety darted through her. Evan was the only person in her life who came close to being a friend.
“No. But like all of us, she hates to fail.” Gianni cut more slices of cheese. “Where will you go?”
Back on script, Anika laid out her plans for hiding until the baby was born, then placing it in a home. “A
real
home,” she added, “with a real family.”
“How are you going to arrange that?”
“I’ve done the research. There are still places in this world that offer private adoptions.”
“Is it so easy for you to give the child up?” Gianni’s eyes cooled like winter frost.
“If you came with me, I wouldn’t have to.” Her breath braked to a stop. She couldn’t believe she had just said that. It came from a place deep inside. So deep it scared her, like a hole had opened in her heart and her most secret desire had rushed out.
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Why not? Because the agency would either toss you back in prison or exile you if they ever found us?”
“I owe U.N.I.T. more than my freedom. More than my life.”
“What could be more important than those?”
“My soul.”
“Your … what?”
“I didn’t choose U.N.I.T. over prison to regain my freedom. Or to escape the hell of solitary in
Regina Coeli
. I chose it because it gave me something to live for. To die for, if I have to. I don’t always approve of our methods, but I believe in our cause.”
Anika sat back, stunned. All those times she had tried to convince Gianni to run away with her and create a new life together, he had never shared this reason for staying.
“Why haven’t you told me this before now?”
“There was no need. The dangers of escaping from the agency were enough of a deterrent.”
A deep crack split open between them.
“I don’t share your belief about U.N.I.T.’s cause.” Her voice gathered heat. “I can’t accept an organization that monitors federal orphans for recruiting purposes. Prevents the most clever ones from being adopted. Then shows up on the day they’re to be released and suckers them into signing up for life.”
“I understand your feelings. That’s another reason why I haven’t revealed mine before now.” Gianni rearranged the food on the tray, avoiding her eyes. “But why give the child up?”
Anika couldn’t tell him about her profile. How it proved she didn’t know the first thing about creating a family. It was like a defect inside of her, too shameful to say out loud.
“We both know I’ll be running and hiding the rest of my life. From U.N.I.T. From its enemies. I won’t subject a baby … a child … to that kind of existence. Would you?”
The familiar and unpleasant gurgling in her stomach started up.
“Where will you go? Afterward?”
“I’ll keep my freedom for as long as I can.”
“Would you come back in? Once you knew the child was safe?”
Anika looked at him, her brows drawing together. “How could I, if I’ve been given a solo?”
“I’ll devise a scenario.”
“I’ll take my chances outside.” She pressed a hand to her stomach.
Settle down
.
He tracked her movement, then lifted his eyes to meet hers. “Is there nothing good inside the agency? Nothing worth returning for?”
She searched for the words that would bridge the chasm between them.
His handheld buzzed, with the signature tone reserved for calls from the agency. The tone that meant he had to stop whatever he was doing — eating, sleeping, bathing, lovemaking — and answer.
“Yes.” Gianni turned away from her. A pause while U.N.I.T.’s voice recognition system verified his identity. “I’ll be there.”
“Tell Evan her timing is lousy.”
“It was Jewel. There’s a new mission. I have to go.”
Anika swore she could smell the scent of orange blossom fouling the air. Her stomach roiled in protest.
“Won’t you reconsider coming back inside?” He reached for her hands.
She couldn’t compete with his reasons for wanting to stay with the agency. His soul. And Jewel. They were too big to fight, even for her.
“Things are different now. If I survive the solo, I can’t come back.”
“You’ll survive.”
“Does that mean you’ll help me?”
He stared at her with somber eyes.
Her mind asked him to agree, but her heart begged him to refuse.
He leaned forward and touched his lips to her forehead. “I’ll speak with Command, then work up an escape plan.”
She fisted her hands in her lap to keep from pulling him close and spilling the truth. The click of the door signaling his departure sounded as loud and final as a shot from a P-16.
Her stomach back-flipped. She lurched from the couch and stumbled into the bathroom. The cheese and bread rushed out in a violent spasm.
What have I done? Marked him for exile? No, no. Command said he would only lose his promotion. He’s too good an operative. U.N.I.T. wouldn’t …
She clutched the metal rim of the toilet bowl. Sweat smeared her forehead and dripped into her eyes.
He’ll be better off without me. Free to start a family. And I’ll be free to live the kind of life I want. But why does it have to be this way?
Thirty-six hours later, Anika strode past the final sensor checkpoint of sub-level 2. The corridor opened and spread out in multiple directions. A male operative she had run a mission with several months ago hurried by with a brief nod. She tried to recall his name. Green … something. Greenburg? No. That wasn’t right. Greenburg had been killed in Barcelona.
Would someone think that about her in a few days? That she had died in a solo in … wherever it was set to take place. Gianni had called her in ahead of the official briefing to lay out a scenario for helping her survive it.
She turned left, then right through another long passageway. Like the rest of the complex, the sub-level was designed for utility rather than luxury. It had been built when the western world established a supranational black ops agency in response to the 9/11 attacks on the U.S. World Trade Center and the Pentagon. United Nations Intelligence Trust, or U.N.I.T., was funded by member nations to counter terrorist activities around the world. The agency’s loosely affiliated individual units bid on missions too geographically widespread or too politically sensitive to be handled by a single country. U.N.I.T. 605, based in New Angeles, took special pride in wrangling the toughest assignments.
Her pulse quickened as she rapped on the door of Gianni’s office and heard his command to enter.
He sat at his desk, eyes skimming the screen of his handheld. An oversized rosary, its brown beads the size of a child’s fist, splayed across a large section of wall behind him. Anika had always admired his bold display of an object from his life before U.N.I.T. As much as it tried to crush individuality, the agency hadn’t managed to sever every connection to his past.
“Begin recording,” Gianni said, a warning to her that private conversation was out. All business, he didn’t even glance at her before activating the wall monitor.
Though his aloofness stung, Anika took it without reacting. She closed off her feelings and sat down.
Image followed image while Gianni explained her assignment. She would pose as the representative of a Brazilian arms trading network in a secret meeting to finalize a partnership with a neighboring Argentinean group. The meeting would take place in neutral territory at a deserted warehouse near the city of Lyon.
Anika had always wanted to visit France. But any excitement she might have felt about the trip was extinguished by the knowledge of what it signified.
The warehouse was the site of her solo. Where she would “die” in order to begin a life on the outside. A life without Gianni. She shoved the thought deep inside her. No time for that now.
“Get the intel from the Argentinean representative and transmit it back to us.” Gianni’s voice was flat, neutered of any emotion. “Remember,” he added, “you’re to wait for our confirmation of transmission before exiting the warehouse.”
He pressed some keys on his computer and activated the privacy function.
Now she understood why they were meeting in here rather than in one of the mission briefing rooms.
At last, he looked at her. Fatigue etched grooves around his mouth and shadowed his eyes.
Her chest constricted. Those lines and shadows were because of her. She hadn’t slept much either since their last meeting.
“There will be a delay in the confirmation,” he said. “We’ll tell you to stand by
and to stay in the warehouse.
Allow the Argentinean representative to leave. Once he’s clear, U.N.I.T. will bomb the building.”
“With me still inside?” A chill sliced through her.
“That’s the ‘solo’ part of the mission,” Gianni confirmed. “When their representative fails to return to Sao Paolo, the Brazilians will blame the Argentineans. Especially when the two index fingers of the Brazilian representative arrive in a package postmarked from France.” At the mention of severed digits, Anika’s fingers curled inward. “That will put an end to the proposed partnership.”
“And me? How do I survive the blast?”
“As soon as you start transmitting the intel, exit the warehouse and go down to the river. Transport will be waiting for you with a remote for acknowledging U.N.I.T.’s confirmation. Get as far downstream as you can before using it. You’ll have three minutes.”
“Three minutes? Not much time.”
“It will have to be enough.”
“And my tracking chip?” She touched the back of her neck where the electronic device that tethered her to the agency was embedded.
“As soon as the bomb detonates, I’ll deactivate it.”
“You can do that?”
“Your chip will stop transmitting.” Gianni spoke as if he hadn’t heard her. “That will indicate the successful completion of the mission.”
“You mean, that I’ve died.”
“You’ll have what you want.” Gianni’s accent thickened and his eyes drilled into hers. “Your freedom.”
Her pulse jittered and she drew in a breath to steady it before turning back to the images on the screen. “Aren’t they expecting a man?”
“Each side has never met the other’s representative, but they have provided DNA. Testing will be done on-site to verify identification. Camouflage will attach patches filled with the real rep’s blood to your fingers. And toes.”
“Toes?”
“Added precaution.”
Anika caught a shift in his tone. Not flat, but not angry either. As if his mind had switched subjects.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“It seems … too easy.”
“Not to me.”
“I’ve checked the intel and logistics myself. They synch up. But planning a solo this fast is not typical.” He studied her face as if seeking the answer to a mystery.
“I guess I’m just lucky.” She shrugged and tried to brush off his unease. And her own.
“Do you really believe that?” His stare darkened.
Anger or worry?
She shifted in her seat and looked away.
He punched more buttons on his computer. Privacy ended.
The beep of a lock decoding sounded at the door. Jewel leaned in. “Am I interrupting?” Her voice grated like crushed glass against Anika’s skin.
How does
she
know the code to his office?
“Not at all.” Anika jumped to her feet. “Briefing’s in ten?”
“Sub-level one.” Gianni’s look and tone were back to neutral.
She hoped she seemed equally calm, even though her insides churned with frustration at Jewel’s presence and despair at the thought that this would be her last time alone with Gianni.
She brushed past the petite operative and bypassed the elevator in favor of the stairs. The physical activity would help focus her thoughts before the official briefing got underway. She pounded up the metal steps, hit the corridor at a run, swerved around a corner and …
wham!
A chest as hard as steel stopped her cold.
John Mackey, a field operative six months out of training, took advantage of the contact and pulled her into a vise-like hug.
Her muscles tensed and she almost gagged. Egyptian musk cologne.
Ugh
.
“M-m-m.” Mac rested his chin on her head. “This is an unexpected treat, sweetface.”
“You have three seconds, Mac.”
“What’s the matter? Haven’t you missed me, Anika?” He mispronounced her name. As usual. Short “a” instead of “ah.” It scraped against her nerves.
“Three.” She threw back her head and jabbed her knuckle into his windpipe.
Mac fell back, coughing, and shielded the tender spot with his beefy hand.
Like Gianni, Mac was a “lifer.” U.N.I.T. had recruited him from Michigan Reformatory where he was serving multiple life sentences for gang-related murders. He still wore the markings of his former life, tattooed Gospel quotations up and down his arms and a monk-like fringe of black hair.
Anika started to step around him.
“Christ, I was just screwin’ off,” he croaked. “Can’t anybody around here take a joke?”
“I’m headed for a briefing.” She crossed her arms. “That usually kills my sense of humor.”
“Just finished with mine.” He rubbed his throat.
“I thought you were on probation.”
Mac’s brute strength and fearlessness had contributed to several successful missions, but his record was uneven. That didn’t bode well for his long-term survival in the agency.
“Got out yesterday. Sweet-talked Command into giving me another chance. Wanna know what it is?”
“You know that’s against the rules.”
“Yeah, you’re a real stickler for rules.” Mac’s lips curled into a sneer. “You and Gianni.”
Anika stiffened, but she kept her face expressionless. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Heard things about you two — ”
“Things aren’t often what they seem in here.” Her voice carved icicles between them.
“Wait a nano. Don’t go,” Mac pleaded. “I think it’s great that you two … okay, okay, forget it,” he said as Anika’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You know how long it’s been since I even talked to anyone? Spent a month on probation stuck in front of a monitor eighteen hours a day.”