Drake eyed him hard. If he was lying, he was doing a pretty good job.
But it was more than that. The image of Anya on that photograph, with her haunting blue eyes, remained burned into his mind.
The answer came almost before he realised it.
‘I’ll talk to her.’
Chapter 29
ANYA SAT ALONE
in the holding cell with her hands on the table, savouring the quiet darkness and the novelty of being safe. She was in a clean, comfortable, heated room that contained no threats or dangers. If she wanted food or drink, she had only to ask and it would be brought to her.
She had showered – a long, hot, luxurious shower that she could have spent hours standing under – and changed into clean clothes. With her long blonde hair smelling of shampoo for the first time in years and her skin scrubbed clean, she was actually starting to feel human again.
Not long before, she had eaten her first hot meal in four years. Roast beef, potatoes, steamed vegetables, bread, butter, fruit and chocolate. Simple food, but more delicious than anything she could remember.
She shifted position a little, getting comfortable. She knew she was being watched constantly by video cameras and by people on the other side of the viewing mirror, but she didn’t care. Let them watch.
For the first time in a long time, she didn’t have to be on constant alert. She didn’t have to worry about survival. No guards were going to come storming in. No ominous thumps, no slamming doors, no heavy footsteps announced another visit from Bastard.
She smiled inwardly, thinking about the violent, brutal
death
she had inflicted on him. It was unprofessional to lose control like that, but she didn’t really care. It had pleased her beyond measure to watch him die at her hands.
Her only regret was that she hadn’t made it last longer, made him suffer more. She didn’t normally take pleasure in needless cruelty, but for him she would have made an exception. Sadly there hadn’t been time for it; it was more important to ensure he died.
The question now was what was going to happen to her. She wasn’t afraid of what the future held – she had come too far, endured too much to feel fear now – but she was curious why Cain had gone to all this trouble after four long years of doing nothing.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the harsh buzz of the cell door. She looked up as the door swung open, and felt a moment of surprise as Drake walked into the room.
He had changed clothes since the last time she saw him, discarding the black paramilitary fatigues, webbing and body armour in favour of plain blue jeans, walking boots, a black T-shirt and a grey zipped jumper open at the neck. His dark brown hair was damp and dishevelled; he’d either showered recently or been outside in the rain.
Rain. She hadn’t felt rain on her skin in four years.
For the first time, she really looked at him, seeing him not as a fellow soldier, a source of information or a potential threat, but as a man.
He was tall, she realised. Taller than herself, perhaps an inch or two above 6 foot, and well made. Not bulked up and barrel chested, but possessing instead an efficient, athletic physique that balanced both strength and agility.
It was obvious from the way he carried himself that he was a man accustomed to physical danger, to trusting
his
life in his own hands. He didn’t strut or swagger, but there was an easy confidence in his manner that came from living an eventful and self-reliant life.
She should know.
His age wasn’t easy to guess. He wasn’t old and weathered, but neither was he young and boyish. His face was lean and tanned, the features hard and definite, with a certain intensity that only came with age and experience. His nose was straight and narrow, his jaw firm and determined, tapering down to a well-defined chin.
His eyes, vividly green she noticed, were focused on her, filled with an odd mixture of wariness, curiosity and most of all, surprise.
Surprise wasn’t the word for it. Drake was astonished by the change that had come over the woman.
Gone were the grimy bloodstained clothes, the ingrained dirt and filth. Her skin, though still pale from years of darkness, was scrubbed clean and glowed with renewed vigour. Her long thick blonde hair, once greasy, matted and tangled, had been thoroughly washed and combed, and was tied back in a simple ponytail.
The plain white T-shirt she wore left her arms bare, exposing pale skin and lean sinewy muscle. Yet her gender was clearly evidenced by the curve of breasts beneath the T-shirt, the sensual fullness of her lips, the finely sculpted cheekbones and the clean, graceful line of her jaw. Despite everything she had endured, she remained a strikingly attractive woman.
He pushed these thoughts aside, feeling almost guilty for allowing them in. He was here to debrief her, not to gawk at her.
‘Hello, Anya,’ he said, taking a seat without asking permission.
It was her turn to look surprised, though her reaction
was
quickly masked. ‘It has been a long time since I heard that name.’
Drake shrugged. ‘Cain was good enough to fill me in on the details.’
Anya’s expression didn’t change. Only her eyes betrayed her feelings, and Drake was perceptive enough to spot it.
She said nothing for the next several seconds, and neither did he, content to let the silence stretch out. He had watched a replay of Franklin’s clumsy attempt to debrief her, and recognised a few of her tactics. She was a soldier, trained to find her enemy’s weakness and exploit it. Poor Dan had been easy prey.
‘What do you want, Drake?’ she finally asked, a slight edge of irritation creeping into her voice.
‘What do I want?’ he repeated. ‘What I
want
is to go home and do my best to forget this mess. But we don’t always get what we want, do we? I came to give you a message.’
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a folded piece of paper and slid it across the table. Frowning, she unfolded it and read, her icy blue eyes quickly darting across the page.
‘Let me save you the trouble. It’s a signed Presidential pardon, granting you full immunity from prosecution, and a guarantee that you’ll be freed when this is over. It’s already been confirmed by the Attorney General. You can start a new life, buy a house and a dog … whatever you want.’
Her eyes were on him again in an instant. Were her hands trembling?
‘There are conditions, I assume?’
He nodded. ‘The Agency wants your help.’
‘With what?’
Drake leaned back in his chair. This was the critical
moment
. ‘Does the name Dominic Munro mean anything to you?’
The flash of recognition in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. Still, she remained stubbornly silent for several seconds.
When it became obvious that Drake wasn’t going to move on without an answer, she at last nodded. ‘He was a student of mine. Our relationship ended badly.’
‘So I heard,’ Drake remarked. ‘Apparently our friend Dominic likes to hold grudges. He escaped from prison, and three days ago he hijacked a Predator drone and used it to kill a lot of innocent civilians in Iraq. Now he’s holding us to ransom unless we deliver you to him.’
One corner of her mouth lifted in a crooked smile. ‘I see. You broke me out of prison only to hand me over to a terrorist? A Presidential pardon isn’t much use if you are not alive to collect it.’
‘They want your help in finding him, that’s all. They don’t expect you to hand yourself over,’ Drake explained. ‘You taught Munro everything he knows, according to Cain. You can out-think him.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Of course, if you’re not up to it …’
The look in her eyes even gave him pause for thought, and it was a few moments before the look of anger and indignation abated. ‘If you were in my position, would you agree to this?’
‘I don’t give a shit what you do. I’m just here to deliver the message,’ he remarked bluntly. ‘But for what it’s worth, we risked our lives to break you out of that place. It would be a shame if that was all for nothing.’
He leaned back in his chair, watching her reactions and saying nothing further. As shitty a deal as it might have been, it wasn’t as if she had other options. She just needed time to come to that realisation.
It didn’t take long.
‘If I do this, I have some conditions of my own,’ Anya decided.
‘Such as?’
The woman leaned forward, staring straight into his eyes. ‘I want back in. I want to be part of the Agency again. I want my old unit re-formed, under my command. I want my full security clearance restored. I want my life back.’
‘That’s not going to happen.’
She shrugged and leaned back. ‘Then I am not going anywhere.’
She was raising the stakes. He had little option but to call her bluff. ‘Anya, twenty-four hours ago you were freezing your arse off in a Russian jail. Now you have a chance to start over. Do you really want to fuck that up by asking for something they can’t give? That part of your life is over, but you can still make the most of what you have left. Isn’t that enough?’
The woman remained silent. He had no idea what was going on behind that cold exterior and those icy blue eyes, but somehow he sensed his words had struck a chord.
Deciding to press his advantage, he pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘Anyway, consider the message delivered. See you around.’
He was just approaching the door when she spoke again.
‘Do you believe him?’
He stopped and turned around to look at her. She was leaning forward, staring right at him, her eyes wide, almost hopeful.
‘Do you believe Cain will honour this agreement?’
There was no answer to give but the truth. ‘I don’t
know
. But I believe he cares about you. And that he’s sorry for what happened.’
She let out a faint sigh and leaned back in her chair. And for a brief moment, he caught that strange look of vulnerability and longing that he’d seen on the flight back from Russia.
‘If I agree to your offer, what happens next?’
‘You’ll be flown back to Langley. Then we wait for further instructions from Munro.’
She nodded thoughtfully. ‘Then I accept. But I want you to come with me.’
Drake blinked in surprise. ‘You don’t need me.’
‘I don’t need anyone,’ she assured him. ‘But I want you there.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re the only one who hasn’t lied to me.’ She folded her arms, making it plain she wouldn’t budge on this issue. ‘That is my condition. If you agree to it, I will help you. If not … then as you say, see you around.’
Saying nothing, Drake turned and banged on the door three times. As it buzzed open, he gave Anya one last look before leaving the room.
Part Two
Deception
Regard your soldiers as your children, and they will follow you into the deepest valleys; look on them as your own beloved sons, and they will stand by you even unto death
.
Sun Tzu’s
The Art of War
Chapter 30
DRAKE STRETCHED AND
rubbed his eyes as the seat-belt light pinged, announcing that they had begun their descent towards Andrews Air Force Base in Washington. It had been a ten-hour flight from Anchorage, with a refuelling stop in Colorado to add to the fun.
He never slept well on aircraft. There was something about the warm, dry air and the cramped confines of the seats that set him on edge.
Beside him, Anya was wide awake, sitting with her eyes glued to the television screen in front of her. It was tuned to CNN.
The handcuffs around her wrists didn’t seem to trouble her at all. Drake was left with the disconcerting impression that she could slip out of them any time she wished, and was merely going through the motions to humour him.
‘Good morning,’ she said without glancing over.
‘Don’t you ever sleep?’
He ran a hand through his hair, sticking up at all angles from his restless efforts at falling asleep. He didn’t need a mirror to tell him he looked like shit. His eyes felt dry and gritty, his skin greasy and unpleasant.
She gave him a sharp look. ‘I have been gone four years, Drake. I have a lot of catching up to do.’
His irritation vanished in a flash. Looking at her now, it was almost possible to forget what she’d been through.
‘How are things looking so far?’ he couldn’t help asking.
‘A mess,’ she replied, visibly angry, as if she had entrusted the fate of the world to someone else in her absence, and they had dropped the ball. ‘We are still stuck in Afghanistan.’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘Twenty years ago I told them we would be back there one day, and here we are, fighting a war we can never win.’
‘What makes you so sure?’
‘The Mujahideen were the bravest soldiers I ever met. Not very disciplined, but completely without fear. You can’t beat an enemy like that. The Red Army tried and failed. What chance do you think we have?’
Drake stared at her. The Afghan freedom fighters were legendary for the tenacious guerrilla war they had fought against the mighty Soviet army. Their humiliating withdrawal after ten years of fruitless conflict had signalled the beginning of the end for the Soviet Union.
‘
You
fought with the Mujahideen? During the Russian occupation?’
‘In another life.’ She shrugged, dismissing the old memories as if they were of no consequence. ‘Now … it is a different world.’
He was silent for a time, weighing up his next question. In the end, he couldn’t help himself. ‘Mind if I ask you something?’
She held up her manacled hands. ‘It seems I’m in no position to refuse,’ she remarked with a wry smile.
‘Why did you turn rogue?’
The smile vanished as quickly as it had come. ‘Is that what Cain told you?’ His silence told her everything she needed to know, and she gave a resigned shrug. It was the weary, pained acceptance of an old injustice.
When she looked at him again, her gaze had
hardened
. ‘Let me ask
you
something, Ryan Drake. Do you believe in what you do? Do you think you serve a just cause?’