“I’m on it. Will get back to you on that ASAP. I need to prime the test.”
The DNA test itself would take twenty-four to forty-eight hours to complete. But results came up in layers. If any layer didn’t match, they’d know right away the creep
wasn’t Kunz. Actually, far sooner than they’d know if the DNA matched perfectly.
Kate tapped her fingers against her forehead. The blood flow must be slowing down; her panties were still dry against her fingertips. Priming the test would take a few minutes now. Amanda had to call up the honchos in the need-to-know loop and get them patched in on the secure call: their boss, Colonel Drake; her boss, General Shaw, the OSI Commander at the Pentagon; and likely his boss, Secretary of Defense Reynolds.
S.A.S.S. operatives were active-duty Air Force but the unit functioned outside it. Carrying presidential-endorsed autonomy, S.A.S.S. answered directly to the Secretary of Defense. Reynolds had assigned General Shaw as a liaison and point of immediate contact as a courtesy to Colonel Drake. Occasionally she wanted a sounding board that didn’t carry the burden of a heavily scheduled, full-fledge secretary.
An intuitive sense of knowing crept through Kate and she swallowed hard. She couldn’t explain it, but she innately knew it to be the ultimate truth.
The decision next made by her superior officers would, by mission’s end, determine her fate.
Determine if she lived or died.
B
eing the only woman at the small outpost had perks. Kate had a private tent. While waiting for Amanda to get back in touch, she lay stretched out on her cot, half dozing, half listening to the steady drone of wind and sand beating against the canvas. A storm had blown in, and it was a bad one.
“Captain Kane?”
Following the man’s voice, Kate turned to look toward the tent opening. She didn’t bother cursing, though she thought about it. Her backside was dragging. She needed rest. “Yes?”
“Could you step out here, please?” He’d elevated his voice to be heard over the racket Mother Nature had stirred up.
“We’re in the middle of a sandstorm,” she said, stating the obvious.
Step out?
The guy had to be joking.
Fearing he wasn’t, which meant he had to be a lunatic, she snagged her fatigue pants from the floor beside the cot, shoved her legs into them and tugged them up over her hips. “I’m decent. Come on in.” She tucked in the hem of her drab-green T-shirt and quickly fastened the button at her waist.
“Damn it!” He cranked up the volume and it had nothing to do with the noise outside; he was ticked. “Fall out, Captain.”
Only an idiot would miss the authority sharpening his tone. It startled her as much as his insistence to come outside. Whoever this guy was, he damn well better outrank her, shouting at her like an idiot. If he didn’t, by the time she got through ripping him a new backside for his lack of respect, he’d damn well wish he did.
She shoved back the tent flap. “What in hell is wrong with you?”
“Sir,” he added. Flying sand beat at his short black hair and the side of his angular face. His eyebrows knit in a skin-creasing frown. “And absolutely nothing is wrong with me, Captain. I need to speak with you.”
Oh, spit.
“Out here?” Okay, so he was a major and she’d have to eat the ass-chewing clogging her throat. But why stand out in the sandstorm to hear what he had to say? Sand swirled all around them like a thick cloud of choking dust, niggling at her throat, torturing her eyes. It could only be worse for him. Her back was to the wind. She cupped her hand to protect her eyes.
“I don’t go into women’s tents,” he said, blunt and unapologetic. “Personal policy.”
Ah, self-preservation. Making himself invulnerable to claims he’d compromised any female subordinates. Definitely a cover-your-ass policy. Having mixed emotions about that, Kate stepped further outside, and stiffened
against the pelting sand, her hands dangling at her sides. Finally able, she read the name tag sewn just above his left pocket.
Forester.
Douglas’s highly decorated, hard-ass commander.
“Major Nathan G. Forester, Captain. Outpost commander.”
“Katherine Kane, sir.” She extended a hand, but he didn’t shake it. She waited a moment, but when it became clear he had no intention of touching her, she withdrew it. “Feel free to call me Kate.”
He stretched his lips in a semblance of a smile. “A couple things to discuss with you.”
She waited.
“First, keep your damn clothes on.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t bother denying it.” He looked more disappointed than ticked, and he was plenty ticked. “And don’t ever again strut around my post in a towel.”
“I do not strut, Commander, and I was being considerate.” She sniffed. “There’s only one shower and there was a line six-deep waiting to use it.”
“I don’t care what the circumstances were, Kane. Spend the fifteen seconds to throw on your clothes. Got it?”
She nodded. “Is that it?”
“Sir,” he reminded her again. “I’ll let you know when you’re dismissed. Until then plant your ass right where you’re standing.”
She held her tongue and waited. It’d been far too long a day for this bullshit—and she’d address this rioting junk-yard dog as
sir
the very moment hell froze over and C-4 stopped exploding.
“General Shaw’s put me on alert and ordered me to assist you here.”
Oh, great. Fabulous. He’d slow her down and have her going nuts within an hour. And that innate feeling she’d had about her fate? She might as well put a bullet in her head right now. “I guess I’d better brief you then.”
“It isn’t necessary.” He shoved a hand into his pants pocket. It was fisted.
He clearly wasn’t happy about this order to assist her, either. “I’m afraid it is necessary, Major.”
“Your commander is Colonel Sally Drake, action officer and commander of S.A.S.S., correct?”
He’d already bitched about the shower strut to Colonel Drake. Even greater. More fabulous. Kate slumped. Maybe with a little luck, she’d get a chance to shoot him. “That is correct.”
“Then we’re covered, Captain Kane.” He changed topics without so much as a pause. “My men are disciplined. They conduct themselves with integrity and their focus needs to stay right where it is—on their mission. Your parading through the post more naked than dressed doesn’t do a…”
Kate tuned him out. After the day she’d had, she had one nerve left. It was raw and ragged, and Forester was strumming the damn thing. Worse, he was gorgeous, and looking at him—even when he stood ranting—stirred her in a way she didn’t want to be stirred by any man. For the first time since her split with Alan DeVane, a very talented surgeon who’d have to be neutered to be faithful, her hormones were in overdrive. Alan had been her one and only serious relationship ever, and it had been a mistake. Maybe she just needed a few more mistakes to numb her to reacting to men like this one.
She gave him a slow second look. No, that wouldn’t help. Forester had too much going for him: great build,
midnight-black hair, gorgeous blue eyes and a hard face that had known a lot of laughter and sorrow. He intrigued the hell out of her. Serious shame that he shattered the package’s appeal by having the temperament of a pig. Speaking strictly from a hormonal sense—a woman alone for more than a year couldn’t help but often speak strictly from a hormonal sense—Kate could overlook his oinker attitude but she couldn’t overlook the wedding band on his left finger. That kept rein on her hormones as nothing else could.
Gaining the appropriate distance, she turned her tone stiff and formal. “I appreciate your concern and your assistance.”
He frowned at her, clearly pissed and wanting her to say something, anything, to give him just cause to unload more on her. He wiped at his eyes with a forefinger, then flicked the sand onto the ground. “Conditions here are also tough enough without having half the brass in Washington crawling up my ass and down my throat. Next time you want help from me, Kane, leave your clout at home and just ask.”
“I didn’t pull an end run around you, Major. I was satellite linked during the entire phase of my operation.”
“In the future, link your ass to me. This is my operation and it’s critical. You come in here and screw things up, and you’re going to get a lot of good people killed. My people. If that happens, I’ll shoot you myself.”
With her pride pricked, Kate glared up at him, grains of sand stinging her ankles and knees through her pants. “I’m not a rookie, Major, and I’m damn good at my job.”
“Glad to hear it.” He shifted on his feet, turning his back to the brunt of the blowing sand. “Colonel Drake asked me to relay that the DNA on the prisoner didn’t match. He’s
a double.” A hand at his brow protecting his eyes, Forester scanned behind him, then looked back at her. “I take it you know what that means.”
“Unfortunately.” It meant Kunz was on the loose, which had to be sending shock waves throughout the system. Frustrated and frightened, Kate accepted that S.A.S.S. had already once believed they’d killed the man only to have him resurface. Then until today, they’d believed he was alive but neutralized, serving a life sentence in Leavenworth. Now, damn it, they discover the truth. Thomas Kunz was alive and well and running loose somewhere on the planet.
How many doubles did he have, anyway? And had it been one of them she’d encountered earlier while in the grave? Or was that Kunz the real McCoy? The voice seemed to match, but what if that, too, had been altered? It wouldn’t have to be perfect to fool the human ear. With Kunz’s surgical and medical teams, S.A.S.S. was learning the hard way that very little remained impossible for him.
And that news might just scare her most of all.
“Your operation has been upgraded to a Code Two,” Forester said, certain he’d left her to her thoughts long enough.
Kate nodded. A Code Two was one step out of a full-scale attack. A Code Two mission authorized operatives to function outside normal Homeland Security perimeters and channels. Restrictions imposed were minimal, and the operatives gained a lot of procedural latitude.
“Why?”
“Excuse me?” She looked up at Forester.
“What happened to warrant the upgrade?” The heat had left his tone and his eyes no longer sparked anger. Worry had replaced it.
“Have they put you inside the need-to-know loop?”
He nodded. “Don’t worry, Captain. My security clearance is higher than yours.”
Kate doubted it, but Colonel Drake had brought him into their circle, so Kate could tell him as much as she thought he needed to know. “Can we talk inside? My ankles are pitted.”
He looked down at swirl of sand. “No, but we will talk in my office at the command post. Grab a jacket and boots or the rest of you will be pitted, too. And what happened to your face? It looks like raw meat.”
Surely he wasn’t just now noticing the cuts, scrapes and bruises. Then again, it’s hard to see what’s in front of you when you’re looking at everything through an angry red haze. “Kissing rocks.”
His eyebrow crinkled, perplexed, then smoothed out again. “Never mind. You can explain later. Get your gear.”
Kate ducked into the tent, snagged a jacket and quickly fitted up in her combat boots. Then she went back outside. Surprised to see Forester waiting for her, she smiled.
“I, um, thought you might not know the way to the command post.”
He was embarrassed. How totally charming. “Thank you.”
Standing straight as a blade despite the sand shower, he nodded and then took off at a brisk clip. She followed him past the rows of tents to a large one near the center of the outpost.
Inside it, Kate noted five desks—all unoccupied—a ton of electronics. In its center, a clear-walled booth that surely had been designated for use by the commander. There, Forester could see all…and be seen by all.
She let her gaze drift from it to him. “Major, may I ask a question?”
He entered the booth and sat, then motioned for her to sit in the visitor’s chair opposite his desk. “Go ahead.”
“Has someone filed harassment charges against you or something?” Kate took her seat. “I couldn’t help but notice…The visibility…” She let her voice fade.
“Between that and my policy on not entering women’s tents, this is your conclusion?”
“I haven’t drawn a conclusion, Major,” she said, hiking her chin. “Just asked a question about something that strikes me as odd.”
“It is odd, isn’t it?” He didn’t smile, but amusement put a lilt in his voice.
Kate thought she might just love that. Add that twinkle in his eye and it was a combustible mix. “I think so.”
“No, no one has filed harassment charges against me, Captain Kane.”
“Kate. Please.” It was friendlier, and they were to be allies on this mission.
He nodded, acknowledging her, but she didn’t hold out hope that he’d actually call her by her given name, or explain his penchant for visibility.
“So why is a Code Two critical in this situation?” He poured a cup of coffee from a maker on a table beside his desk and slid it across the desktop to her. “The truth, please.”
Kate started to smile. S.A.S.S. had no choice but to fabricate plausible scenarios all too often. And it appeared that all the commanders knew it. “Are you familiar with GRID?”
“Yes,” he admitted, then elaborated. “Largest black market seller of U.S. intelligence and weapons in the world.”
He was definitely in the loop.
“That’s right,” Kate confirmed. “But there’s more to them.”
“Disclosure is authorized, Captain,” he said softly. “Colonel Drake informed me that you would brief me in detail.”
“You said it wasn’t necessary.” She frowned at him.
“I’ve changed my mind.”
Kate tilted her head, stared at him a moment. Amanda had relayed the authorization to rely on him. Kate couldn’t very well do so if he was assisting her from the dark. “What do you know about GRID operatives?”
“Covert. Experienced. Very highly skilled, and they’ll do anything to anyone for money.”
“Anything is right,” Kate said. “Some have undergone plastic surgery, mind-altering therapy sessions, and only God and Thomas Kunz knows what else, Major. They’re doubles for real, live counterparts currently holding classified, intelligence-heavy positions throughout the government.” She paused for a second to let that sink in. “Obviously we don’t know who is genuine and who isn’t.”
“That explains how he’s getting his intelligence.” Forester sipped from his own steaming cup. “What happens to the real employees? Does he kill them?”
“We have reason to believe he holds them permanent prisoner so they’re available to fill in any blanks that arise for the GRID doubles.” Actually, S.A.S.S. knew that for fact.
Surprise flashed through his eyes. “Just how well has Kunz done at this?”
“Very.” Kate frowned. “We know of thirty cases and we strongly suspect there are at least that many more. How many more is anyone’s guess.”
“He’s been at this awhile, then.”
Kate nodded. “The truth is, we don’t know exactly how long.”
“And these doubles are still functioning within our ranks?”
“Until we weed them out, yes,” Kate replied.
Forester set down his cup. It clanked against the gritty desktop. Sand got into everything here. “How the hell does he duplicate our people? That takes time—”
“He preys on loners, Major. People making permanent changes of station, so their co-workers are new and their habits unknown. He’s also been known to abduct them during remote tours where no one knows them, isolate them by feigned illness, and various other methods.”