Danielle’s eyes turned cold and hard. “I believe he killed my informant. I think it was, in some way, my fault. My director wanted some edgy copy. I gave them the story about the potential CIA link to the terrorist group, to the fact that our government possibly had a hand in the political unrest in Bucharest.” She paused to swallow. Her left eye twitched. “I didn’t warn my source. When I couldn’t get hold of him, I went to the hotel where I’d put him up. I was the one who found his body.”
“I’m sorry,” Goose said.
“I checked him into that hotel, you see,” Danielle said. “So it was my fault. My company credit card was easily traced. I was reporting on rogue American CIA efforts, right? I should have known they could easily trace the cards I was using.”
“You think the CIA killed him.”
“Yeah.” Danielle nodded. “The terrorists would have made a bigger deal of it. They’d have killed my source and thrown his body into a public area with a note pinned to his chest with a knife.”
“But the CIA—”
“They wanted things kept quiet. The execution was clean. The Romanian police—” Danielle shrugged—“the government does a lot of business with the United States. Movies. Tourism. And they didn’t want terrorists there anyway. The murder was kept quiet. Even the network I worked for treated the story strictly hands-off. My source was a footnote. Nothing.” Her voice tightened. “And I got him killed.”
Goose looked away from the woman and focused on the hotel. “You think that man in there—”
“He was there.” Danielle’s voice was firm. “He was there, Goose. I know that. I saw him. Once. But I saw him.”
Switching his gaze back to her, Goose said, “If you only saw him once—”
Her eyes held his. “I’m sure, Goose. It was him. Before the events were over in Romania, he and his team left a trail of bodies behind them. I never found the witnesses or the kind of proof that I needed to go on the air with the story, but I know it was them.” She drew in a ragged breath. “If this guy is here now, he’s not here to help the military. No matter what he says. He’s following someone else’s orders.”
“Whose?” Goose asked.
“Fitzhugh’s, maybe. There are a lot of rumors around that the American president’s hands are dirty in international politics. Or someone else.” Danielle bit her lower lip. “Maybe not. Maybe it was just independent action. Some of these CIA guys? They’re powers unto themselves. The American government doesn’t want to know every dirty little trick those agents play to get the job done.”
Goose remembered some of the horror stories he’d heard from the old guard about Vietnam. The CIA had been responsible for a considerable amount of carnage in that war.
“And if a president does want to know,” Danielle continued, “you can bet that he doesn’t want anyone else to. Not everyone in the agency is like this guy. Only a few of the black ops field guys. But I’m telling you now that this is one of those guys you don’t want to trust. No matter what he offers you.”
Goose kicked that around in his head. Cody had obviously gone to Remington to retrieve his captured agent. Remington had refused.
Both of them, he was sure, were after Icarus. But his mind seized on another important fact that he didn’t think Danielle Vinchenzo had yet acknowledged.
“This guy knows you,” Goose said.
Danielle started to disagree.
Goose cut her off. “If he killed your source in Romania, he knows you. If he thinks you’re a risk to him, things could go badly for you. And if he was following your credit card, like you say he was, it might even be you he wanted back in Romania. I’d watch your back.”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “Okay.”
“Don’t let him see you as a threat,” Goose advised. “You’re a reporter. Here. Doing a story on the Syrian push into Turkey.”
Danielle didn’t say anything.
“Stay away from him, Miss Vinchenzo,” Goose said. “Stay away from him until we figure out what to do.”
Raising an eyebrow, Danielle asked, “We?”
Goose sighed. He was getting drawn into a lot more than he wanted. There were too many sides being drawn inside the city, and the Syrian army stood just outside the walls waiting for an opportunity to kill them all. Keeping straight the alliances he had made was going to be hard.
“We, ma’am,” Goose told her. “On this issue, I’m with you to a limited extent. And the first time you cross me up, I’m gone and you’re on your own.”
She returned his gaze full measure, then gave a nod. “Fair enough, First Sergeant. But that threat’s a two-way street. I trusted you enough to warn you. I don’t like being wrong.” Without another word, she placed a hand on the Hummer’s side and heaved herself from the vehicle.
Surprised, and maybe feeling a little threatened, Goose watched her go. She never turned back, never looked over her shoulder. He sat back in his seat and called for his driver.
United States of America
Fort Benning, Georgia
Local Time 2255 Hours
“Jenny! Hey, Jenny!”
Holding the saucepan with both hands as she poured chicken noodle soup into the olive-drab thermos standing on the kitchen counter, Jenny looked over her shoulder but managed to keep an eye on the pouring at the same time. The soup smelled great, and she hoped Megan was in good enough spirits to appreciate it.
“What?” she asked.
Casey Schmidt held the cordless phone up. “Phone. For you.”
Teenagers clustered around the kitchen table still playing Monopoly. The game had progressed quickly. Motels sprang up everywhere around the board.
“Gimme a sec.” Jenny finished pouring and put the saucepan in the sink on top of the mountain of dirty dishes that never seemed to go away despite her best efforts. She and the dishwasher were barely able to keep up with
