grenade blasts, the shots, the screams. He… wanted that man dead.’
‘Don’t we all?’ the Director said. Then he leaned forward: ‘But only after we capture the fucker and wring him dry and find out everything we can about him. Do you get that?’
The NRO woman nodded. The Director said, ‘I want this Simon character released from service, and sent back to the Marine Corps with our thanks. By tomorrow. All right?’
The NRO woman nodded again. Adrianna felt sorry for her. It was the only thing the poor woman could do.
But her feelings of sympathy quickly evaporated as the Director narrowed his gaze, focused on her and said, ‘Adrianna? You’re up.’
Adrianna activated a program from her laptop as she stood up. ‘Thank you, sir.’
When Adrianna first started, she was so tired that she fumbled some of the words and, once, a PowerPoint slide was triggered too early. But as she continued talking she found that she gathered strength and confidence, and she laid out her presentation for Final Winter. She talked about the intelligence findings, the interpretation of these findings, and the recommendations from the other members of her team. She would pause occasionally to see if anyone was interested in asking any questions, but the only response she got from the Director was, ‘Go on, please.’
So she did, right up to the very end. She stood still, her legs not quivering at all, a tiny victory but one she was pleased to have.
The Director said, ‘Anybody have any questions?’
Silence.
‘I have a couple, though,’ he said.
‘Certainly, sir.’
‘General Bocks. Do you think you’ll have any problem bringing him on board?’
‘No, sir, I don’t,’ Adrianna said. ‘I know of his past participation in Agency missions. I’m sure he can be convinced to take part in this one.’
‘And you’re calling it Final Winter?’
‘Yes, sir.’
A slight smile. ‘Seems fairly ominous.’
‘The whole matter is ominous, sir.’
The Director scratched at his chin, looked up at the nearest plasma screen. ‘And you’ll be ready to deploy in just under a month?’
‘That’s correct, sir.’
Another scratch of the chin. ‘And I want to be sure that this is understood, because if word gets out over what’s being attempted, there’ll be merry hell to pay…you understand that, right?’
Adrianna nodded. ‘That was the focus of many, many hours of discussion, sir.’
‘I’m sure.’
She waited, the trembling still not there. Would it end now? Would it?
‘But there’s one more question I have, Adrianna, before you’ll get my approval.’
She couldn’t speak. She just waited.
‘This…bacterial agent that you’re proposing to disperse from these aircraft: it’s completely safe, am I right?’
Adrianna took a breath. ‘Absolutely, sir. It’s been field-tested in many other areas, over the years, by private medical personnel and biowarfare defense units of our military. As I mentioned in the briefing, it’s a variant of the
The Director looked right at her, like he was trying to psych her out or something, and she stared right back at him. Bring it on, she thought, bring it on. I’ve got everything in place. Everything.
He said, ‘When are you planning to see General Bocks?’
‘Two days, maybe three.’
He said, ‘Good. You look tired. Take tomorrow off. And Final Winter…Adrianna, it’s approved.’
She could barely speak. ‘Thank you, sir. Thank you.’
Adrianna sat down, her legs quivering now like she had just run a marathon, and the screaming inside her mind started, victory, victory, holy victory. She was startled when a man at her right — Gideon, a Tiger Team leader stationed in Los Angeles — leaned over and said, ‘That was something funny you said just then, Adrianna.’
‘What was that?’ she replied, barely focusing on what he was saying.
‘The Director asked about an anthrax attack, and you said, “when we’re attacked”. You’re that certain — that it’s going to be when, not if?’
Adrianna turned and gave Gideon her best smile. ‘Absolutely. It’s going to be when. Not if.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Several hours after the meeting of the Tiger Team leaders, the members of Tiger Team Seven followed their own leader’s instructions and took the day off. Each one of the members did something that day that partially revealed who they were and where they came from, though each would seriously challenge anyone who tried to analyze their activities. It was just a day off, a jewel to be cherished, that was all, and trying to read anything into it was so much bullshit.
Which was true for all the Tiger Team members, save one.
In the small garage in Monty Zane’s rental home outside Greenbelt — he had never owned property in his entire life, though that was going to change once he became a civilian -Monty lovingly polished the bright red gas tank of his Harley Davidson Road King motorcycle. Every piece of chrome and exposed metalwork was bright and reflective, and even the fat tires of his hog had been polished with Armor All. He wiped his fingers on the rag and stepped back, admiring the look of the beast, bad-ass and powerful, all that energy just tied up and bundled in that lovely Twin Cam 88 engine of pure Pennsylvania energy.
The door of the house opened and Charlene stepped out, frowning, her blonde hair freshly washed, just barely touching her shoulders, a towel wrapped around her lovely midriff. ‘Are you going to ride that damn thing or just drool over it?’
Monty laughed, wiped his hands again. ‘You know, babe, sometimes drooling comes from riding things… as you know.’
Charlene smiled and then stuck out her tongue at him. ‘You should be so lucky — which you will be, if you get your muscular ass back here before two o’clock, ‘fore the kids get home. Deal?’
‘Deal, love.’
‘Good,’ she said, walking back into the kitchen, flipping up the towel to show off her shapely butt. ‘Now have a good ride and don’t get killed.’
Monty kept on smiling as he toggled the garage door opener. When the way was clear he straddled the bike and switched on the ignition, gave the start-up lever a good pop. The Harley roared into life with a satisfying
