Читать книгу Her Hidden Truth - Debra Webb - Страница 9

Vincent Ferrelli rarely went looking for trouble, but somehow it always found him. Maybe it was the Harley he rode or maybe it was just the handsome face God had blessed or, depending upon the way one looked at it, cursed him with. Whatever the case, Vince never backed down from a challenge, personal or professional.

Never.

Those damned flyboys from Langley Air Force Base didn’t know who they were messing with. Not one of the three—or all three together, for that matter—stood a chance in hell against an Italian boy born and street schooled in Trenton, New Jersey.

Oh, well, Vince mused, it was their funeral.

“Maybe you’d like to step outside and put your money where your mouth is,” the tallest of the three, and the one who appeared to be the leader, suggested.

There was no way to know the guy’s rank since he was dressed in civvies. But judging by his age, twenty-two or twenty-three, and the “wings” he’d boasted about, a first lieutenant maybe. Had probably just gotten those wings and thought he could rule the world. The other two were most likely from the same class. Fresh out of fighter-pilot training and ready to play the Air Force version of Top Gun.

But not tonight.

“It’d be my pleasure,” Vince said, barely restraining a grin as adrenaline raced through his veins. This would be a piece of cake. Casey would have his ass come morning, but tonight Vince was going to show these guys that you didn’t need wings or a buzz cut to be bad.

On more than one occasion Vince had been told that he was bad…bad to the bone. And why not? He’d earned it. A former U.S. Navy SEAL and now a Specialist in the most highly covert government agency.

Hell, yeah, he was bad.

And in the mood to blow off a little steam.

Vince followed the three outside the Lady Liberty Lounge. A blast of rock music tagged along but was quickly muffled by the door closing behind them. The still, sticky air hung in the July night like a shimmering ghost.

There were two things a guy could count on after dark during a D.C. summer, thickening humidity and restlessness. This part of the city literally vibrated at night—came to life in a way that was both alluring and dangerous. His own boredom had drawn Vince out to this sleazebag joint tonight. The need to do anything but watch another episode of some sitcom. The primal urge to discover the secrets the night held.

He should have stayed home.

If he had stayed home he wouldn’t be about to trade punches with these lightweights. There was nothing Vince hated more than waiting for his next mission. This time was going to prove no exception. And this time the trouble he usually attempted to avoid had found him.

The dim streetlights barely cut through the darkness, lending just enough illumination to get a readout on the facial expressions and body language of his opponents. The parking lot was jam-packed with the cars of patrons, but completely empty of people. They were all inside, gyrating to classic rock music, staking claims and pumping up the sexual tension. There would be no one to witness the lesson he was about to teach these still-wet-behind-the-ears gentlemen.

That was probably a good thing.

The biggest and beefiest of the three stepped forward. The way his nose crooked to the left, it was pretty clear that he was no stranger to barroom brawls.

“I tell you what, old man,” he said smugly, “just to even up the odds, why don’t you and I go one-on-one and the winner can take it from there.”

Okay, so he’d seen thirty his last birthday. That didn’t make him old by any stretch of the imagination. Vince shrugged in response, not even bothering to justify the ridiculous comment. Instead he took a moment to survey the spiffy, well-polished group. He’d bet a big, sweet slice of his mom’s cherry pie that every part of their wardrobe, down to the skivvies, sported designer labels purchased straight from the Post Exchange. These guys were green in every sense of the word.

When Vince had looked his fill, he said, “Makes no difference to me, boys.”

Fury claimed the beefy guy’s expression. “I’m gonna enjoy wiping that grin off your face,” he threatened.

“Take your best shot,” Vince offered as he motioned with both hands for the guy to come and get him. Might as well get this over with so he could get back to the beer he’d left at the bar, along with the sexy blonde who’d deserted these flyboys in favor of Vince, which was the whole reason this little war had started. Just another reason Vince should have stayed home tonight. He’d been dwelling on the past again…a sure sign he wasn’t thinking straight.

Before the muscled gorilla could make his first move a car skidded to a stop right behind Vince. Careful to keep most of his attention on the threesome ready to take off his head, Vince glanced over his shoulder. The sight of a long, black limousine confused him at first, then a window powered down.

His boss. Director Thomas Casey.

Great. Just great.

“Get in the car,” Casey ordered. He did not look happy.

“We have unfinished business with him,” the beefy guy bellowed, impatient, belligerent. “He’s not going no place until we’re through.”

The three started to close in on Vince. He was just about to tell Casey he’d only be a minute when the sound of Lucas Camp’s voice stopped him.

“Back off,” Lucas commanded. “I’d hate to have to use this.”

Fully expecting to find Lucas wielding a weapon, Vince looked across the top of the automobile at his direct supervisor, the Deputy Director of Mission Recovery. To his surprise Lucas held a mere cellular phone in his right hand.

“I’m sure General Fielding would be less than pleased to be awakened at this time of night for such a petty nuisance. And since he’s a personal friend of mine, I’m even more certain he’d be happy to see that you gentlemen were immediately transferred to Minot.”

Silence ruled the night for about five seconds.

“We’re all through here, sir,” the tallest man said quickly, obviously not willing to risk being shipped to the middle of nowhere in North Dakota. He pushed in front of his brawny friend and shook his head at the guy. “We have an early call to formation in the morning.”

Vince blew out an exasperated breath as the three men headed back into the bar without so much as a fleeting glance in his direction. “Two minutes tops,” he griped to Lucas. “That’s all I needed. You couldn’t wait two minutes.”

“Get in the car, Ferrelli,” Lucas growled.

His annoyance rising as the adrenaline receded, Vince reluctantly obeyed the order. He knew better than to push it. “What’s up?” he asked as soon as he’d settled into the seat across from the top brass of Mission Recovery. The limo rolled into forward motion without preamble. Vince would have to come back for his Harley when the impromptu meeting was over. Anticipation kicked in. It had to be important for them to look him up this time of night.

“We have a mission for you,” Casey explained. “You’ll need to leave first thing in the morning.”

Since it was practically morning already, Vince decided that was fine with him. At least he wouldn’t have to pace the floors of his tiny apartment any longer. He had a mission. About time.

“I’m ready. What’s the job?”

“The CIA has an operative in trouble,” Lucas told him. “She’s been under deep cover for one month now. She’s infiltrated a small group of extremists who think they’re working for the World Security Agency.”

Vince frowned, searching for any recognition. He found none. “The World Security Agency?”

“Doesn’t exist,” Lucas explained.

Casey took over from there. “The CIA has been tracking the so-called WSA for almost a year now. They recruit young people across the nation to support their cause by assuring them that they’re doing their patriotic duty. So far WSA has been successful twice.”

“The bombing at LAX six months ago,” Lucas interjected, “and the attempt on the United Nations building just two months ago. Four or five are usually recruited and all of them die when the mission is completed, successful or not.”

“How did the CIA manage to get someone inside?” Vince wanted to know. If all leads wound up dead ends, the CIA had done a pretty good trick by getting someone inside.

“One guy survived the UN attack,” Lucas went on. “Philip Yu. The CIA has been tracking him since. We don’t know why he was allowed to live and the others were killed, but it was a lucky break.”

“So the CIA sent someone in to get close to Yu?” Vince suggested.

“Right. Yu had already recruited three others before the CIA’s operative. If the same modus operandi prevails, we believe they’ll attempt something soon. We don’t have much time.”

“And you’re going to let it play out in hopes of nabbing the brains behind the operation,” Vince finished for him. It wasn’t a question. Sounded like his kind of mission.

Lucas nodded. “We’ll never stop them if we don’t cut off the head of the organization.”

“Cool.” Vince considered the one thing that didn’t add up. “Why isn’t the FBI running lead on this?” The whole scenario spelled Bureau jurisdiction to him.

“They were,” Casey said. “Until intelligence pointed to a David Kovner as one of the top echelon of WSA.”

“Israeli?”

Casey nodded affirmatively to Vince’s question. “The CIA took over from there. As well as being dangerous, this guy is a huge embarrassment to our Israeli friends. They want him stopped, but they need our help to finish the job.”

“So who am I and where am I going?”

Lucas and Casey exchanged a look. The tension started in Vince’s gut, but swiftly worked its way up his back to his shoulders. He didn’t like that look. It could only mean trouble right up front.

In this business, starting off on the wrong foot or one step behind could be a very bad thing.

“Port Charlotte, Virginia,” Lucas said in answer to his second question. “It’s a college town off Highway 1 between Woodbridge and Fredericksburg. Yu and his team share a large rental house there. Three of the group are enrolled in the university. In their spare time they’ve been training in the art of surgical demolitions. We know how Yu is getting his orders. We just can’t catch Kovner in the act. We need to tie him to WSA.”

Vince wasn’t the top demo expert in Mission Recovery but he was pretty damned good. There had to be some other reason he’d been chosen. His director’s next words told him the question was written on his face.

“We selected you for this mission,” Casey told him in answer to his unspoken inquiry, “because we need your particular multilingual skills in the event it becomes an issue and we need someone who can handle the demo aspect of the assignment.”

Vince was fluent in seven languages. But he knew that wasn’t the only reason he’d been chosen. All Specialists were multilingual. The tension radiating between the two men seated across from him was too intense for it to be so simple.

“The CIA operative involved is the first to field test a new memory implant,” Lucas went on. “The purpose of the implant is to keep an operative out of trouble if the cover is in jeopardy. When the implant is activated the operative’s own memory is suppressed and effectively replaced by the cover profile in the implant. Nothing, not drugs or torture, will induce the operative into confessing, since he or she becomes the cover profile.”

“That’s a new one.” Vince was familiar with the CIA’s reputation for experimental projects. “So when the implant is activated, the Company knows the operative is in jeopardy?” Vince also knew that CIA operatives were closely monitored. They’d been using tracking devices for years now.

Lucas nodded. “Since this is the first time they’ve even had a lead on this so-called World Security Agency, they don’t want to lose this operative. If the mission is salvageable, they want it completed. But if it’s not, your job is to try to get the operative out safely. The implant, if functioning properly, is only temporary. Time is very short.”

Vince nodded his understanding. “Sounds easy enough. Tell me about the operative.”

“Katrina Moore. Age twenty-seven.” Lucas ticked off the details. “She’s been with the Company since being rejected by the SEALs four years ago.”

Kat. Things went very quiet inside Vince as the memories from four years ago came flooding back on a tidal wave. Conflicting emotions tugged at him…renewed the regret that never really went away.

“The two of you have a history?” Casey said, no doubt reading Vince’s startled expression or somehow having prior knowledge. But that was impossible. No one knew…

Hesitant to admit something so intensely private, Vince finally nodded once. “Yeah, kind of. I was one of her instructors in BUDS.” Both men knew that BUDS—Basic Underwater Demolition SEALs—was the most rigorous personnel training outfit in the Navy.

“Which she failed,” Lucas remarked.

Failed wasn’t the right word. Kat had been doomed from the word go. The elite Navy SEALs didn’t want women among their ranks. No matter if she was good enough. Kat was as good as any of the men, better than some, but that fact hadn’t changed the bottom line. The powers that be had drummed up an acceptable reason to performance drop her and it was done. She’d felt betrayed when she hadn’t made the cut.

She’d felt betrayed by Vince.

And rightly so. Though his vote alone wouldn’t have made any real difference in the end, he’d caved and followed the antiquated rules. He’d voted against her…despite what he thought…despite what they’d shared.

“Yeah,” he said in answer to Lucas’s prodding. “But it wasn’t because she wasn’t good enough,” he clarified quickly. “She was a woman. That was the only reason.”

“Do you think she holds that failure against you?” Casey asked.

“Not entirely,” he admitted after a tense moment. “She knows it was not my decision alone.” He looked Casey straight in the eye. “But she has other reasons to resent me that are far more personal than that.”

Lucas laughed, but the sound held no humor. “The two of you had a thing going during training and you betrayed her?” He shook his head. “Son, haven’t you ever heard of the term ‘fraternization’? They could have hung you for that. She could have ruined your career.”

But she hadn’t. The cold reality of that truth sank all the way to Vince’s bones. She could have had her revenge. What he’d done had been wrong in more ways than one. He’d disgraced himself, whether anyone else ever knew it or not—had allowed a weakness. For that reason he had walked away from his hard-earned career. Because he hadn’t been worthy of it any longer.

A full year later Lucas Camp had knocked on his door and offered him a way to redeem himself professionally. But nothing had assuaged his conscience where Kat was concerned. There had been no way to make that right.

Until now…maybe.

“That’s right,” he snapped. “I screwed her over and she hated me for it.” He swallowed, the effort difficult. Those demons haunted him…made him regret a great deal more than either of their failed career moves. “I can’t say that I blame her, but it’s done. I can’t change it now. And she didn’t have to end my career. I made an unforgivable mistake. I resigned because of it.”

“So your personal reasons for leaving your military career were more personal than you led us to believe. This should make things interesting,” Lucas said as he flipped through what was probably Kat’s file.

“Maybe you’d better pick someone else for this assignment,” Vince suggested tightly. “Not that I don’t want to do it, but Kat—Miss Moore—might be more receptive to someone else. My presence might actually put her in more jeopardy. I don’t want that.” He wouldn’t do anything that might hurt her. No way.

“That’s not possible,” Lucas said succinctly.

The tension in Vince’s gut ratcheted up another notch or two. “Why not?” he asked—demanded actually. “Sending me in could be a big mistake.”

“There’s a back door built into the implant,” Lucas explained grimly. “For this very scenario. To facilitate a retrieval, the implant was designed with what the Company calls a Romeo option. All you have to do is say the code phrase and Katrina will instantly recognize you as the lover with whom she’s still involved.”

Vince held out both hands stop-sign fashion. “Wait just a minute.” He dropped his hands and exhaled a heavy breath. “I’m telling you the woman hates me. I don’t think any implant is going to change that deeply ingrained emotion. The second she sees my face, the mission will be blown all to hell.”

Lucas pointed a no-arguments look in Vince’s direction. “Maybe she does hate you. But that’s neither here nor there, Ferrelli. The fact of the matter is that she used you for her Romeo profile. You’re the only man for this mission. If Katrina Moore was willing to bet her life on you, then who are we to dispute the issue?”

Vince felt stunned.

Lucas leaned forward slightly when Vince remained speechless. “She described you down to the very last detail.” He lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “I think maybe her memory was a little dim in some areas.”

Vince didn’t find any of it amusing. His concern for Kat’s safety mushroomed in tandem with his dread, but he didn’t ask a single question while Lucas rattled off the rest of the details of the mission. The whole thing felt like a dream…not necessarily a bad dream, but one that made him extremely uneasy.

Payback, Vince decided. It couldn’t be anything else. A second or two later his mind had wrapped fully around the concept. It was the perfect chance for Kat to get even with him. A part of him wanted to think otherwise, but he knew better. He’d hurt her too badly. He would never forget the look in those big green eyes when she learned that she’d been performance dropped from the graduating class for no real reason.

She’d left and he hadn’t seen her since. But he’d thought about her now and then…and every moment in between.

He’d thought about her every day for four years, but he’d stopped trying to keep tabs on her after she joined the Company, the revered CIA.

One way or another he wouldn’t let her down this time.

NEARLY AN HOUR LATER the limo braked to a stop next to Vince’s Harley in the parking lot of the Lady Liberty Lounge. The place was still jumping, the lot still overflowing and the music thumping all the louder through the thin exterior walls. Vince wondered vaguely if the blonde had made up with her flyboys.

In the last fifty minutes they’d discussed one-by-one the team members with whom Kat was involved. Vince now had a clear mental picture of each. Only one, Philip Yu himself, worried Vince.

“Any questions?” Lucas asked, studying Vince closely.

The guy was way too smart and read people far too easily. Lucas recognized that Vince had a real problem with this mission, but he’d do what he had to.

Retrieving Kat was priority one. Though, technically, salvaging the mission was supposed to be his first goal, this one was personal. Even Casey had to see that. They couldn’t expect anything else under the circumstances. Casey didn’t have to say it and he wouldn’t. Thomas Casey was a man of few words. No one really knew him, except maybe Lucas.

“I think I’ve got it.” Vince reached for the door handle. He’d pack and get on the road before dawn. He wanted to see firsthand as soon as possible that Kat was safe.

“Don’t try to intercept the target until she’s alone,” Casey suggested. “We have no way of knowing her status. She may fully believe she’s the enemy she was assigned to infiltrate. That would be the best case scenario. If,” he went on grimly, “the implant has malfunctioned and the code doesn’t trigger the right response, you could be putting yourself in serious jeopardy.”

Vince met that intense blue gaze. “I won’t approach while she’s with the others unless there’s no other window of opportunity.”

Casey dipped his head in acknowledgment. “If too much risk is involved, back off. We’ll send in an entire team. The CIA won’t like it, but they’ll live with it.”

“Yes, sir.” Vince nodded to Lucas then climbed out of the vehicle. Before turning away he tapped on the closed window, then waited for it to power down to reveal Lucas’s expectant expression. “Who’s got my back on this one?” Vince asked, just now remembering that he should. Of course, the information would be in the mission profile.

“Callahan.”

Perfect. Blue Callahan was the best sharp shooter in the bunch—even if she was a girl. Vince couldn’t help smiling at the irony of the situation.

“That’s great,” he said to Lucas.

“Glad you approve.” Lucas started to power up the window but hesitated. “Not that it would have made any difference,” he added pointedly before sending the darkly tinted window the rest of the way up.

Vince watched as the limousine disappeared down the next block. Lucas Camp was easy to work for. He was straight up and in your face. The director was another story. Vince would never understand Thomas Casey. Just when he thought he had the guy figured out, he goes and says something totally out of character. As though he really cared about the people who worked for him or something.

Maybe he did. Then again, maybe he just didn’t want to look bad to the Company hotshots breathing down his neck on this one.

Shaking his head, Vince straddled his Harley. He inserted the key and gave it a quick flick. The perfectly tuned engine roared to life. He could spend a lifetime studying a guy like Casey and never understand what made him tick. But right now he had something much more important to do.

He had to get close to Kat. Had to keep her safe. Even if she didn’t want him to.

If she did accept him, it would only be the implant, not the real Kat, he reminded himself. The real Kat had most likely forgotten all about him long ago.

Vince released the clutch and rocketed toward the street. She might have forgotten, but he would never forget.