Authors: Paige Tyler
that to the fact that he and his team had only caught an occasional catnap during the week it had taken to
reach Qari’s hideout, and he was flat-out exhausted. He was pretty sure he smelled, too. On top of that, he
was pissed off.
He found it difficult to believe he’d been ripped away from his team, pulled out of the warzone, flown
nonstop back to the States, and still didn’t have a clue what the hell was going on. He didn’t care what the
report date on the orders in his pocket said—what kind of jackass actually wrote
immediately
on a set of
reassignment orders, anyway?—he was going to find a place to stop, take a shower, and get some rest.
Great plan, but there was a man dressed in a dark suit with
Captain
L. Donovan
written out on a piece
of cardboard waiting for him the moment he exited the secured part of the airport concourse. He ground his
jaw. Since when did the military send someone in civvies to pick up a new arrival at the airport?
Landon hiked his duffel bag higher up on his shoulder and walked over to the man.
“Captain Donovan?” he asked. “I have a car waiting outside. If you’ll follow me?”
Did he have a choice?
The vehicle was a standard four-door sedan with generic-looking plates. No decals, no markings, no
nothing. The guy helped Landon toss his bags in the back, then didn’t say another word the entire drive
except to answer the question about where they were going with a cryptic, “You’ll be briefed on that soon.”
Figuring he wasn’t going to get anything useful out of the man, Landon stared out the window. He’d
only been to DC twice to attend conferences, but he didn’t remember going this way to get to the Pentagon.
Landon’s brows drew together as the man pulled into a parking garage underneath the offices of the
Environmental Protection Agency. What the hell?
“I’m being assigned to the frigging EPA?” Landon asked as he got out of the car and shut the door.
The man gave him a smile. “Not exactly. They’ll brief you on everything inside.”
Yeah, well someone damn well better brief him. And they’d better do it soon.
Landon followed the man through a set of unmarked, glass double doors and into a huge lobby. He
hoped there’d be some official looking emblem on the wall to clue him in on what the place was, but no
such luck. There wasn’t anything but some framed black-and-white photos of the various monuments in
the DC area, and they weren’t very helpful.
The man led him to the U-shaped reception desk. “This is Captain Donovan, Vivian.”
The blonde looked up from her computer to give him a warm smile. “Captain, we’ve been expecting
you. Let me show you to the conference room.”
Vivian was pretty, with a curvy body that looked damn good in the sleeveless blouse and tight skirt she
was wearing. Something he would have appreciated if he wasn’t so irritated.
He did a quick recon of the place as she escorted him to the conference room. The people working there
wore nothing that indicated they were in the army, or even with the Department of Defense. There were a
few people in black uniforms similar to the Army Combat Uniform he had on, but they didn’t have any
rank on them, which meant they probably weren’t military. At least no military he was familiar with.
“Can I get you some coffee?” Vivian asked when they got to the conference room.
He shook his head. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Are you sure?” She smiled. “I make a mean pot.”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay.” She seemed so bummed, he almost changed his mind and said he’d take a cup, but she hurried
on. “Well, someone will be with you shortly. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable,” she said, then
closed the door behind her.
Landon almost laughed. Make himself comfortable. Right. He scanned the room, once again looking for
something that would tell him where he was, but except for the immense television screen at the front of the
room, the walls were bare. He didn’t like the feeling he was getting. Special Forces qualified as black ops,
sure, but an organization hidden in the garage of the EPA? That was another thing altogether. This had CIA
written all over it and that wasn’t going to work for him. He was a warrior, not a spook. And he was going
to tell that to whoever was in charge when he or she walked in. Which could be a while, so he might as well
try to make himself comfortable while he waited.
Pulling out one of the chairs, he sat down and prepared to settle in, but the door opened as soon as he
did. He immediately got up, wanting to be on equal footing with whoever walked in.
Landon did a quick assessment of the man who entered. Average height, salt-and-pepper hair, expensive
suit, wire-rimmed glasses. He looked like he should be teaching at an Ivy-League school somewhere.
He held out his hand. “Captain Donovan, I’m John Loughlin. Have a seat.”
Landon did, then immediately went on the attack. “You in charge here?”
If Loughlin was taken aback by the direct approach, he didn’t let it show. “I’m the director, yes.”
Director. Well, that just screamed CIA, didn’t it?
“What the hell is this place?”
Loughlin leaned back in his chair. “First, let me tell what it isn’t. It’s not the army or any other branch of
the military. Nor is it the NSA, the FBI, or the CIA Special Activities Division. It’s called the Department of
Covert Operations. DCO for short.”
“Never heard of it.”
Landon’s frustration made him speak harsher than he normally would, but he didn’t care. Loughlin
didn’t seem to mind.
“Very few people have heard of it, and we like to keep it that way. We were created after 9/11.
Technically, we’re a special organization within Homeland Security.”
“That’s great,” Landon said. “But what if I don’t want to work for the DCO?”
The man smiled. “We can discuss that later.”
Which was code for saying it wasn’t the kind of assignment he could turn down. Landon swore silently.
This sucked. It was hard enough to get a good-looking evaluation report in the Special Forces since almost
everything he did was classified and redacted. He couldn’t imagine what they’d look like now. If he even
got an evaluation report. It would be damn hard to get the Army Promotion Board to recognize a
performance review when he wasn’t assigned to a branch of the Department of Defense.
When he mentioned it to Loughlin, the man waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about that. Your
records will indicate you’ve been transferred to the Department of Homeland Security. All performance
areas on your evaluations will still be redacted, of course, but your service will be properly recognized.”
Yeah, he was screwed big time.
“How long is the assignment?” Landon asked.
“There’s no formal length of duty with the DCO. It really depends on your performance. Let’s just call it
indefinite right now.”
Bend over, here it comes again
, Landon thought. So much for ever making major. Anybody reviewing
his records for promotion would figure he’d screwed up and been transferred into some rear echelon job to
keep him out of the field.
“So, how did I get selected for this assignment? If I may ask.” Then, because this guy was his new boss,
he added, “Sir.”
“We’re not as formal here as they are in the army, Landon. Call me John. And to answer your question,
the DCO keeps an eye out for people with your unique skill set. You were handpicked from a long list of
candidates to serve in one of the toughest and most important assignments in the world. The DCO takes
only the best and brightest.”
He was really in trouble if the guy had to lay it on that thick.
“Unlike standard agents with the Department of Homeland Security, you’ll have worldwide
responsibilities,” John continued. “You’ll be paired with another agent who is just as highly trained as you
are, only with a different set of talents.”
Landon frowned. “I’ll be on a two-person team? Doesn’t that drastically limit the types of missions we
can perform?”
“Not at all. We’ve learned from experience that a two-person team can perform more efficiently when it
comes to the type of work you’ll be doing.”
“Exactly what kind of work is that? You still haven’t said.”
“We’ll get into more detail later,” John said. “But your primary job will be to cover your partner’s back
while they apply their special talents.”
That was vague. What kind of special talents did this partner of his have? “That’s it? You yanked me out
of a warzone to pull babysitting duty?”
“That’s not all you’ll be doing, no. You’ll be involved in direct action as well, but many times oversight
will be a large part of your job, yes.”
Landon sensed a “but” coming.
“However,” John said, right on cue, “you do have one additional task. In fact, it’s one of the most
critical functions you can be asked to perform. Consider it the first general order for the DCO. It’s
something of a formality, but I have to discuss it with you. In the event your team is compromised and it
appears likely your partner is about to be captured, it will be your task to eliminate them.”
What the hell? John did not just say what Landon thought he did. “I think I must have misunderstood.
By them, I assume you mean the enemy we’re up against?”
“No, Landon, you didn’t misunderstand me. One of the most valuable services the DCO provides to the
leadership of the United States is plausible deniability. Your partner possesses certain attributes that could
prove embarrassing for our county if they were exposed. Therefore, it’s critical that your partner never be
captured. Part of your selection involved an assessment of your ability to follow out this particular job
requirement.”
Landon didn’t think much of any assessment process that could determine he’d be okay with executing
his teammate. What the hell had these assholes seen to make them think that? One of the founding
principles of the Special Forces—the army in general—was that no one got left behind. There wasn’t an
army unit out there that wouldn’t risk every single member in it to go back into enemy territory and rescue
one of their people. It was the cog that made everything else work.
The idea that he’d be asked to kill his own partner was beyond distasteful. It was flat-out repugnant.
Just what kind of attributes did his partner have that would make this person an embarrassment to the
United States anyway?
He didn’t care if he could turn down the assignment or not. Let them court-martial his ass. He was
walking out of here right now. Landon started to get to his feet, but John held up his hand.
“I see this particular issue is difficult for you,” he said. “Let me assure you we don’t take this lightly,
Landon. The requirement has been evaluated at the very highest levels of authority, and it’s been
determined to be reasonable and required. That said, it isn’t a common occurrence at the DCO. In fact, it’s
never happened, and we hope it never does. If it helps, you can look at it another way. It’s your
responsibility to make sure your partner is never put into a position where you have to kill them.”
That wasn’t much better, but Landon could live with it, especially since he sure as hell wasn’t going to
let any teammate of his get compromised.
“Is my partner aware of this order?” he asked.
John nodded. “Yes. All EVAs are fully aware of this stipulation and have signed the necessary
documents to acknowledge and accept the consequence of their capture.”
Landon had no idea what the hell an EVA was, but they must be seriously committed if they could work
for an organization that would execute them.
John picked up the phone on the table and pressed one of the buttons. “Olivia, please have Todd and
Kendra come in.”
Since there were two of them, neither one was probably his new partner. Another team, maybe? He was
about to ask John when the door opened.
The man and woman who walked in weren’t dressed in the black uniforms Landon had seen earlier, so
they probably weren’t operatives. The business casual look they were rocking didn’t give much of a hint as
to what jobs they did. Neither did the clipboards in their hands.
John stood, so Landon did the same.
“Landon, this is Todd Newman and Kendra Carlsen,” John said. “They’ll be your training officers as
well as be your handlers after you and your partner are certified for fieldwork.”
Landon studied the man and woman closer as he shook their hands. Todd looked like he could have
played linebacker when he was in college, but he was a little too soft in the middle to be lighting up guys on
the field anymore. Kendra was cute, blond hair pulled back in a messy bun, reading glasses perched on her
head, a spray of freckles across her cheeks.
He glanced at John. “What if my partner and I don’t successfully complete the certification course?”
“You’ll be debriefed and sent back to your unit.” John smiled. “But something tells me you won’t have
to worry about that.”