“You got off easy.”
“And now I’m lookin’ at a long flight to France. By myself.” His thick eyebrows lifted. “Want me to bring you back something? Girls like stuff from France, right?”
A warning buzz hummed at the base of Anika’s spine. “You’re going to France? Alone?”
“Yeah, some town called ‘lion.’” Mac pronounced the word like the animal.
“You mean
Lyon
?” The buzz shot up her spine.
“Yeah, that’s it.” He shrugged. “Get this. The goops in Camo gotta make me look Brazilian. That’ll be some trick, huh?”
What the hell is going on? Has Mac somehow gotten my solo?
Anika started to brush past him. She had to find Gianni.
Mac put out his hand. His grip was gentler than the hug, but it stopped her just the same.
“Maybe when I get back we could go grab a beer?” She looked up in surprise. “At that bar up the street, Amnesia.” He grinned down at her. “Hell, you can even bring Gianni if you want.”
Anika stared into eyes that couldn’t have seen more than nineteen years of life, most of them filled with the ugliness and violence of gang warfare, prison, and missions. When he grinned, she could almost see past his hard exterior, imagine how with a little coaching he might even be good at sweetheart missions. The ones that called for tough guy charm.
“Mac,” she began, then stopped. He wouldn’t ever be assigned one of those missions now. She wanted to warn him, tell him to start running and never stop. Her brows drew together. “Watch your back.”
Mac loosened his hold, his grin fading.
Minutes later, she stood in the hallway outside Gianni’s empty office and debated what to do. Her handheld vibrated. The briefing was about to start. Maybe Gianni was already there.
But when she entered the conference room, the only person inside was U.N.I.T.’s ace ops technician. Evan sat working a handheld, her sea green eyes locked on its miniature screen. Small patches of fiery fuchsia and acid green sprinkled the sides and top of her cropped brunette hair.
“Ooh, nice one,” she muttered in her exquisite British public school accent.
“Do you know where Gianni is?” Anika’s heart pounded as if she had just finished a hundred-meter sprint.
“Good day to you, too.” Evan didn’t take her eyes from the screen.
“Evan, for God’s sake.” Anika resisted grabbing the handheld.
“He left a few minutes ago. Rush mission. Command briefed him herself.”
The information blasted through Anika. She sank into a chair, her legs turned to rubber.
“Got you, you tricky bastard.” Evan shouted at the handheld and gave the screen a final jab. She glanced over at Anika. “You’re looking a bit pale this morning. Must have been some bender.”
“What?” Anika asked.
If Gianni had left, if Mac were going to Lyon …
“Bender,” Evan said. “You know, what one does at places like Amnesia. You do remember our little talk from yesterday?”
The day before, Anika had confided that she needed to borrow money for some major downtime. Evan, who understood the critical importance of memory-impairing drinking sprees, had agreed to the loan. She had transferred five thousand world currency notes into an account in Anika’s name by tapping secret funds skimmed from terrorist and drug raids.
“I remember,” Anika said. “Couldn’t get there last night.”
En route to the agency that morning, she had stopped at a banking kiosk to collect the money. Contingency funds in case the solo didn’t go exactly as planned. Like Gianni being called away right before the official briefing. Like Mac going to Lyon disguised as a Brazilian.
“Maybe tonight, then,” Evan said. “We could both go. Do some serious damage to our brain cells.”
“Maybe,” Anika said. “If I get back from the mission in time.”
If I get back at all.
“Who’s doing the briefing?”
“Second. Cheer up, my sweet. Gianni will be back soon. Before he left, he gave me a message for you.”
“A message?” A jolt shot through her stomach.
“And I quote, ‘Bar. Truck stop. Later.’ Man of few words, isn’t he?”
What the hell kind of message is that?
“The Truck Stop’s that new place on Melrose, isn’t it? Very posh.” Evan’s eyes flicked a glance at the room’s entrance. “Looks like the fun’s about to start.”
Three operatives entered the room and took seats around the curved table. Anika nodded a greeting to Salazar. She had gone through training with him.
Wiry, medium-build, he had a scar that ran from the middle of his left cheek to the corner of his mouth. Clinic could easily have removed it, but Salazar believed it enhanced his reputation as a scary son-of-a-bitch.
“I heard the Seattle mission went well,” she said. “That was your first as team lead, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, the first of many,” Salazar boasted, lounging in his chair.
Salazar’s elevated opinion of himself and his abilities wasn’t shared by most other operatives. Except for Lo, who grinned and bobbed his head in agreement.
Kiss ass
. Kent kept silent. A newer recruit, she had already earned a reputation for doing good work while keeping a low profile. Anika liked that about her.
“I may even be up for a promotion,” Salazar said.
“Is that so?” Anika drummed her fingers on the table.
“Yeah.” Salazar leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table. “Because I don’t miss
my
target.”
Anika’s fingers stilled.
“Blowhard,” Evan said.
“Kiss my — ”
Second stalked into the room on stilettos the shade of matador-cape red.
Salazar straightened in his chair.
“Good morning.” Every strand of Second’s hair lay in perfect order. “Monitor on.” A world map dominating the front wall dissolved into the image of a multi-building compound. “The former Midway Airport, outside of Chicago … ”
Anika tried to focus on the words even as her mind continued to swirl with questions.
Why was Gianni called away? Is this new mission a solo, too?
“Jackson Palmer.” Second identified the man with silver-gray hair and an arrogant expression on his surgically enhanced face. “Self-made businessman holding interests in a variety of activities, some legitimate, some not. His ties to the terrorist organization New Day are well known by the Chicago authorities. But because of his philanthropy and his political connections, they won’t touch him … or his prized asset.” Second called for the next image and a blueprint appeared. “Their weapons production takes place here, in what used to be Concourse G. Go in, collect the evidence, plant the explosives, get out. Questions?”
Anika’s mind raced with ones she couldn’t ask. Where was Gianni? Did he know about this switch?
At the group’s silence, Second nodded. “Salazar is team lead.”
He and Anika exchanged a look.
His said,
I told you so.
Just like the teenage boys at the orphanage. She half expected him to follow up with a punch to her shoulder.
Salazar pointed out each operative’s ingress points and locations for setting the explosives.
Anika studied the map. “Where are the egress points?”
“We all backtrack the way we go in.”
“I have the longest route. How many minutes before detonation?”
“Ten.”
“It looks tight. You’re sure that’s enough time?”
“I’m sure. Especially with those long legs of yours.” Salazar’s scar dimpled as he curled his upper lip. Lo smirked into his fist.
Second stared at Salazar with eyes like ice chips. When Salazar noticed, he sat up straighter and neutralized his expression. Lo and Kent shifted in their seats. Only Evan seemed to be unaffected by the tension, leaning back, thumbs tucked into her front pockets.
“Image off.” The blueprint faded and the map reappeared. “Transport leaves at oh-eight-thirty hours. We’re done here.”
As soon as the words were out of Second’s mouth, Anika bolted from the room and ducked into a deserted office.
“Lights off,” she hissed as the sensors brought up the lights. She pulled out her handheld and punched in Gianni’s private code. Pacing, she stared at the lit screen.
Come on, come on.
She and Gianni had never been to the Truck Stop, never talked about going there. What did his message mean?
She pressed more buttons and listened to the restaurant’s automated greeting and promise to return all calls later that afternoon. Visual confirmed its location on Melrose, as Evan had said.
Had Gianni left something for her at the bar? It was too far to get there and back before the mission went live. He had to know that. Should she risk it anyway?
Maybe it was his way of warning her away from this mission. But if she didn’t learn anything more at the restaurant, how would she explain her behavior? If she didn’t report to Transport on time, it would be another mark against her.
She needed a solo to win her freedom. If it wasn’t the one in Lyon, there would be another. There had to be.
• • •
One kilometer from the airport, Anika stood with the rest of the team in a tight cluster down an embankment, out of sight from the main road. The noon sun blazed overhead as Salazar took them through a final review.
“New intel just in. There’s been a change in your egress, Anika. Twenty-five meters further down from where you’ll plant your explosives. That’s your new exit.”
The hair on the back of her neck stood up. “Let me see.” She reached for the handheld strapped to Salazar’s waist.
“Back off.” He clamped his hand over the device. “You’re not going to fuck up this mission like you did your last one. Not while I’m team lead.”
Underneath the anger in his voice, Anika heard the fear.
“You’ll rendezvous with the rest of us at the truck stop ten kilometers south of the terminal,” Salazar said. “Transport will wait for us there.”
“Truck stop?” The words throbbed in her head.
“Yeah. Now move out.”
Had Gianni meant an actual truck stop? Had he known it would be the rendezvous point?
She eyed Salazar, who had advanced four meters to her right. His scar glowed bright purple in the sunlight.
You may be team lead, but I’m going to make damn sure my new egress is where you said it is. Before I activate the detonator.
They walked in silence, scanning left and right. Thirty meters from the building, the team separated. Anika found her assigned ingress and waited for the go-ahead to enter.
“Security system disabled.” Evan’s clipped tones came through her ear comm.
Anika acknowledged, pushed open the heavy door and stepped across the threshold into a dusky interior. The door clicked shut and an eerie silence shrouded her. The questions that had raced through her mind since Salazar mentioned the truck stop quieted. She focused on the task ahead.
Verifying the new egress meant she would have to pass the explosive location point and then backtrack to it before setting the detonator. A padded case containing the saucer-sized bomb lay against her back, its thick strap heavy across her neck and chest.
With one hand on her laser, she moved to her assigned location. If Salazar were right, then her egress would be twenty-five meters further along. She peered down the corridor. Instinct told her no door existed, but she had to be sure.
She took another step. A high note beeped inside the case and her heart leapt into her throat. She swung the case around, lifted the flap and pulled out an inch-thick disk. The timer read two minutes fifty-seven seconds. The explosive had been remotely activated.
God, no.
She set the explosive down and sprinted for the egress. At twenty-five meters, she stopped. No exit.
“Salazar.” The deserted space swallowed her voice. “Salazar. There’s no egress. Repeat, no egress. Do you copy?” She switched channels and tried again. “Salazar, Evan, I need an exit. Repeat. I need an exit.” No response.
She dropped the case. It thudded on the concrete.
There wasn’t enough time to get back to the ingress, but she wasn’t going to stand here and wait to be blown to dust. She wasn’t going to die like that.
She charged back the way she had come, legs pumping like pistons. The timer faceplate ticked down. 2:12. She flinched from the numbers as if they had scalded her eyes.
The sign on the opposite side grabbed her attention. Not a gate sign. Most of the letters were broken, but the final three were still in place. B-A-R. Hope exploded in her chest. 1:53.
She raced toward the counter and leapt on a barstool. It wobbled under her weight. She slammed down on her wrist and a jolt of pain surged up her arm. She bit back a cry, tucked her legs in, and rolled over the counter top. Something sharp sliced through her leg.
She landed in a crouch on the other side. A wet stickiness oozed from her upper thigh.
Focus.
There, by her right foot, a dull metal glint. She grabbed the circular ring and pulled. Nothing.
She gulped back fear and ran her hand over the floor. The security door had to be there. Her fingers dipped into indented grooves that surrounded the ring.
Yes.
She pulled the ring again. Still nothing.
Swearing, she swiveled her head and searched. A green reflective knob stuck out from a shelf. She punched the knob with her fist.
Click
. She pulled on the ring again and the door swung open.
A dark circular tunnel with a steel ladder attached to one wall ran straight down.
She hopped on her good leg down the first few ladder rungs and started to pull the door shut behind her. Then stopped.
Shit.
She couldn’t take anything that could be traced back to U.N.I.T. Her laser and transmitter had to be destroyed in the blast.
She hauled herself back up with her good arm, yanked out the black earpiece and threw it and the laser over the counter.
She grabbed for the door again and pulled it shut. Wrapped her arms and legs around the outside of the ladder and slid into pitch darkness. Whatever risks waited below couldn’t be any worse than the threats above.