A possibility that she found hard to believe, even in her most private thoughts.
She was falling in love with him.
And that could not be tolerated.
At the open door, leading to the cabin, a male flight attendant smiled and checked her boarding pass.
‘Welcome aboard,’ he said.
‘Thank you,’ Adrianna replied, thinking that those were probably the two most honest words she had uttered today.
Brian Doyle looked again at his hands. Soiled red, turning brown as the blood dried.
‘Fuck,’ he said.
He looked up at the street, saw headlights approach. A car passed. And then another.
A third car passed, then made a U-turn.
Could it be?
Blue lights started flashing from the radiator grille.
Luck, he thought, luck of the Irish…
The car stopped and a beam of light came out from a side searchlight, illuminating him and his rental car. He held out his hands and two Cincinnati cops came towards him, flanking him on either side, holding out their flashlights.
One called out, ‘What’s the problem?’
He said, ‘The name’s Doyle. I’m on the Job. I just got jumped and I think I’ve been knifed. Could you get some EMTs over here?’
One of the cops started talking into a portable radio as the other approached, cautious, one hand holding up the flashlight, the other hand on his service weapon. Smart. Don’t trust anybody you don’t know on the street. Anybody.
The second cop said, ‘You got identification, Doyle?’
‘I do. But just so you know, I’m carrying. Nine-millimeter, rear right of my waistband.’
‘All right,’ the second cop said. ‘You just keep your hands where I can see them, and don’t make any sudden moves.’
‘You got it. All right if I bleed?’
‘Bleed away,’ the cop said. ‘Just don’t reach for anything.’
‘Yeah.’
The second cop now joined the first one, and after a brief talk the first cop said, ‘My partner’s going over to see you, to check your weapon and ID. EMTs are on the way. You just stay still. All right?’
Brian said, ‘It’d be easier for him if I stand.’
‘Go ahead. Stand. But that’s it.’
So he stood, feeling dizzy, and then the cop was there, pulling out Brian’s gun and then his wallet and his other thin ID holder, and another confab was underway. Then the first cop whistled and said, ‘You’re with the Feds, then, huh?’
‘On temporary duty.’
The cop’s partner said, ‘I guess. Says here you’re a detective from New York City.’
The sound of an approaching siren grew louder. ‘That’s right.’
The first cop said, ‘Man, you are so far the fuck away from home.’
Brian said, ‘Truest thing you’re going to say tonight.’
After getting home from Dulles Airport, Adrianna Scott collapsed on the living-room couch in her condo, stretched out her legs and closed her eyes, refusing to think about anything for a while. Anything at all. Just keep everything blank. It had been one long day in a series of very long days, and her feet were throbbing. She had them resting on a small pillow, elevated up on the end of the couch. More long days ahead, that was for damn sure… and right now there were decisions to be made, choices to be analyzed, and phone calls to complete.
She looked at her watch. Nearly midnight. Still… it would be nice to take care of this one chore. She went to her soft leather briefcase, pulled out her PDA, looked to the cellar door. She should go downstairs to her homemade bubble, make the phone call by using the stolen CIA laptop.
That would be the safest thing to do, to ensure that maximum security was maintained.
Still… damn it, she was so damn tired.
Back to the couch. She sat down, looked at the phone. Just one phone call. That was all. And what were the possibilities of something untoward happening?
Very, very slight.
And she was so tired. The thought of going down to the cellar, manhandling that huge piece of furniture away from the hiding place underneath the staircase, powering up the laptop, setting up the phone-calling software… ugh.
Adrianna keyed in her PDA, found the number she was looking for, grabbed her cellphone and dialed away.
It rang three times and a woman’s voice answered. ‘CDC, operator two, may I help you?’
Adrianna gave her a four-number extension. Waited.
‘You have reached the Alpha Directory,’ the automated voice said. ‘Please enter the subsequent extension.’
Which she did, entering six more numerals. Then, with a practiced touch, she raised the cellphone slightly from her ear so that the low-pitched and then high-pitched squealing of the encryption devices coordinating their signals didn’t burst an eardrum. The squealing stopped and then a man’s voice answered.
‘McCartney.’
She took a breath. ‘This is Adrianna Scott calling. I’m the director of Foreign Operations and Intelligence Liaison Team Number Seven. Also known as Tiger Team Seven.’
‘Yes.’
She looked to her PDA. ‘You have a shipment ready to be made to the Memphis Airport, under a protocol called Final Winter.’
‘Yes.’
‘My authorization is Bravo Tango Zulu Zulu twelve.’
‘Mark. Repeating, Bravo Tango Zulu Zulu twelve. Go ahead.’
‘That shipment is to be canceled. Stand down and do not deliver. Please repeat.’
‘Message repeat. Shipment is canceled. Stand down and do not deliver packages.’
‘Very good. Scott signing off.’
She powered down her cellphone, felt a tingling in her chest. There. Nothing leaving from the CDC to Memphis. No, ma’am. But oh, there was going to be a delivery there, no doubt about it, and a very special delivery at that.
Adrianna yawned. Time to go to bed. Tomorrow was going to be another busy one.
Something woke up Vladimir Zhukov, and he wasn’t sure what. It was night, somewhere in South Dakota. Or maybe Iowa. He rubbed at his eyes and looked over at Imad. From the glow of the dashboard dials he could see that the Arab boy’s expression was concerned, and he knew what had awoken him. The Arab had the habit of muttering when something wasn’t going right, and Vladimir was sure that was what his subconscious had heard.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘There is a police cruiser following us.’
‘So?’
‘It’s been following us for the last several kilometers.’
Vladimir rubbed at his eyes again. ‘Are you speeding?’
‘Just a little,’ he said. ‘Only a few miles over the limit. But not enough to— shit!’
Vladimir looked at the sideview mirror, saw what had gotten Imad’s attention. Blue flashing lights from the cruiser. Damnation.
