Читать книгу Breathless - Sharron McClellan - Страница 10

Jess shut the door to her apartment and leaned against the solid wood. There wasn’t much to personalize the small living space. The few decorations that graced the room were a reflection of her Apache heritage. A woven basket in the corner. A book on Native American art on the carved oak coffee table.

There was little else, since she normally lived aboard ship with the rest of her team, ready to effect search and rescue or infiltration at a moment’s notice.

She touched the written order she’d shoved into her pocket. She’d been leaving the hospital when the communication from Command was handed to her. She didn’t open it. She knew what it said.

Fuming inside, she crumpled the official embossed paper in her fist.

Pushing away from the door, she strode across the living room to her computer, tossing the paper into a wastepaper basket along the way.

She hesitated, part of her wanting to fish it out and get the waiting over with—like ripping off a Band-Aid or taking the first step into unfamiliar waters—but her hands shook at the thought, and she stuffed them into her jeans’ pockets. The letter could wait. It wasn’t as if her reading it an hour from now would make a difference anyway.

Marching to her desk, she sat in her black, high-back garage-sale office chair and turned on her computer. Her attention flickered back to the small wastepaper basket.

Wait, she told herself and looked away.

The computer hummed, coming to life, but before she could open up her e-mail, a knock sounded on her door. She punched the button on the monitor. The knocking continued, like a woodpecker’s persistent rapping. The screen darkened, and she went to find out who was stretching her last nerve.

Taylor leaned against the sill, his knock turning into a wave of hello when she opened the door. “You didn’t open it, did you?” he asked.

“The letter?” Turning on her heel, she walked into her living room, finding it annoying that he knew her so well. “I was getting to it.”

Taylor stood in the doorway a moment longer then strode past her, stopping to pick up the crumpled envelope before he took a seat in one of her mismatched chairs. He ripped open the end of the envelope and pulled out a piece of folded white parchment with an embossed seal on the top.

“Well?” she asked, watching as he read it.

“Standard. You can’t return to active duty until the investigation is complete.”

Jess buried her head in her hands, gripping her long black hair between her fingers. It was two days since Latham’s funeral, but she already itched to engage both her body and mind with something more than working out and running mental scenarios about what might have been. “But I have to do something,” she groaned.

“A trainee died under your command. You knew this was coming.”

She did. It was also why she had wanted to ignore the letter. She met his gray-eyed gaze. He glanced away, but not before she read him. She knew that expression. That guilty look meant he was withholding information. “Spill it,” she said. Sitting in her oversize reading chair, Jess kicked off her sandals, tucked her legs beneath her and pulled her hair over her shoulder so she didn’t lean against it.

He sighed and leaned back. “They’re looking at human error.”

“Of course.” Not that it would help, since this was far from a mistake on anyone’s part. However, once they got past the mundane they’d have to listen to her. Have to check out her claim of sabotage.

“I don’t think you understand,” Taylor insisted. “Your error. You and you alone.”

Her error? Fury bloomed beneath Jess’s skin, but she refused to let it show. She managed a tight shrug. “Fine.”

“That doesn’t bother you?” Taylor asked. His brows arched in surprise.

“It’s what I’d do,” Jess replied, sounding as unconcerned as possible despite the fact that her insides were twisted into a tight knot. “It’s standard procedure. Besides, it’s not like they’ll find anything.”

She would know. She’d gone over that evening in her mind countless times. The preparation. The maneuver. She’d done everything by the book.

She continued. “The only thing I’m concerned about is what happens after they discover it wasn’t a mistake. I want to make sure they find out what really happened.” She rose, pacing as she spoke, her bare feet quiet against the wooden floor.

“Someone did this on purpose, John. We were set up. I was set up. I want them to find the perpetrator. Not just a name to expedite closing the file.” She reached the far wall and leaned against it, her forehead pressed against the wood paneling. “I want this person found and brought to justice. I want them to pay for what they did.”

“I know, but there isn’t much to go on.”

“How about the limpet?” She returned to pacing, her frazzled nerves demanding movement. “Do you have good news? Any at all?”

Taylor rubbed the back of his neck. “They’re analyzing the little shrapnel that was left, but so far it doesn’t appear promising. No prints or anything.”

“Damn.” This just kept getting worse. “Tell them to check for the stripped screws.”

“I’ll tell them.”

Once again, she recognized Taylor’s expression of guilt. Her spirit sank. “What is it?” she asked. She didn’t want to know what else could go wrong, but not knowing was worse. “What else are you not telling me? And don’t bother to lie since you suck at it.”

He cleared his throat. “They have found some evidence.”

“That’s good news,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Geez, John. Quit freaking me out.”

“It’s not good news, Jess.” He stared at his feet. “The log where you signed for the mine shows that you didn’t check out a training mine. You checked out a live limpet with enough power to blow a hole in the Sushi.

“What?” Jess stopped midstep. An unnatural chill rolled through her.

Taylor continued, “It’s your signature, Jess. They had a handwriting analyst check it.”

She stared at her first-in-command in disbelief as she searched her memory. But she only found what she knew to be true—she’d checked out a training tool, not an actual, full-scale mine. “You know I would never be that careless.”

He didn’t contradict her, but his attention remained focused on his shoes. She knew what he was thinking. She saw the uncertainty in the way his shoulders slumped and the way he refused to meet her eyes.

He thought it was her fault.

She sat down in her chair, resting her head in her hands. “I know what I signed for. I checked it. This is all wrong.”

“Maybe you were in a hurry,” he offered.

“No,” she shot back. She did not need anyone to make excuses for her. Especially one of her best friends. “I was not in a hurry. I know what I signed for, and that wasn’t it.”

“I know. We all do.” Taylor sighed again, a man at a loss and caught between the differing sides of the stories. “Hang in there, cookie.”

She smiled despite the frustration and shock. He hadn’t called her “cookie” since her days as a new recruit when she was a newbie and he was her trainer. “Thanks,” she said, squeezing his hand. He was still her best friend. And if there was one thing she knew, he might have doubts—hell, she had to admit she would if their places were reversed—but he would stand by her no matter what happened.

That’s what people like Taylor did. They were rocks in a stormy sea. “You better go,” she said.

“Yeah, if they spot me here they’ll be asking questions.”

“With you so close to retirement, we can’t have that,” she said. “Catherine would never forgive me.” Jess loved Taylor’s wife but cheerfully admitted she was in awe of the petite redhead since anyone who could keep Taylor in line was a little scary.

Taylor paused in the doorway. “I’ll see what else I can find out. Don’t count me out yet.”

She met his steady gaze. “Never.”

When the door closed, Jess leaned over, hands on her knees, as she absorbed the reality of her predicament. If convicted of sheer idiocy, she’d receive a dishonorable discharge at best.

At worst—Leavenworth.

It wouldn’t come to that, she told herself. She’d make sure of it.

She straightened and returned to the computer. Once again, she tossed the letter in the wastebasket.

This time, it could remain there.

She turned the monitor back on and opened her e-mail program. There was the usual. Her parents. Something about buying land in Costa Rica. A notice requesting an alumni update at aa.gov—the Athena Academy Web site.

Athena Academy. Her high school alma mater and where she’d spent her teen years. Normally, the teenage time frame from twelve to eighteen was reserved for angst, indecision and drama. Instead, the Academy, and its intense curriculum and supportive teachers, had made it challenging, empowering.

It helped that while the school was an all-girls, private institution, entrance was based on merit. Not money. And there was no application for enrollment.

They sought out the best and the brightest and offered them a full scholarship. So all the girls who attended were smart. Inventive. Talented and unique.

She trailed her fingers down the screen, wondering what they would think of her if they knew her situation. Would they be disappointed? Worried?

Pissed and eager to help?

Damn, she missed them. Her friends. Her teachers. Even her much-loathed language classes.

She missed it all.

But above all, she missed the atmosphere. People believed in her. If Principal Evans was on the Inquiry Board—there would be no question as to the truth.

“Principal Evans isn’t here,” she said to herself. “It’s just you.”

She glanced down through the rest of her e-mail messages, coming to one from Nikki Bustillo, her best friend from the Academy and the one person she’d kept in touch with on a consistent basis.

I heard what happened. Call as soon as you get home and let me know you’re okay.

Jess wasn’t surprised that Nikki had gotten wind of the accident. A lieutenant in the Coast Guard, she always heard about ocean-related incidents.

And what had happened to Jess was definitely in that category.

Jess pulled out her cell phone.

There weren’t that many people Jess was close to. Her ability to breathe underwater made her wary of letting others in. But Nikki was an enhanced human, as well—though her gift was different. She smelled emotions.

Jess smiled. As best friends and schoolmates, Nikki’s gift was both a blessing and curse. When Jess had developed a schoolgirl crush on Johnny Depp, Nikki had figured it out by the scent. Said it smelled like socks after a soccer match.

And she’d teased Jess. A little.

However, Nikki had also known when Jess was homesick. Sad. Angry.

Known and been there.

Jess sighed. She could use Nikki’s counsel right now. Her support.

Before she hit the speed dial, another e-mail popped in with a familiar beep. Jess snapped the phone closed. No subject line, but the unique sound told her it was from Delphi—her contact at Oracle, the secret agency with a computer network that matched intel from all the U.S. agencies and assigned projects to people like her when needed.

The e-mail was dated prior to her accident.

Jess, a word of warning. We have reason to believe that you are being targeted by Arachne, an enemy of Athena Academy. We’re not sure what Arachne is planning but be watchful.

The chill she’d felt when Taylor told her about the limpet mine grew stronger with the solid confirmation that she’d been framed. Clicking the e-mail closed, Jess leaned back, gazing up at the ceiling and letting the reality sink in that if she had bothered to check her e-mail, the whole situation might have been prevented.

Charles might be alive.

She’d been in a hurry the day of the accident, and her computer had locked up. Instead of rebooting and checking messages, she’d turned it off and left.

Probably nothing but spam, she’d told herself.

“Not spam. A boy’s life.” She pressed her palms against her eyes, forcing herself not to cry. If she’d looked…if she’d taken the time… Her hands slid down to her mouth as she tried to come to grips with the news, her head telling her that it wasn’t her fault.

Her heart feeling otherwise.

The phone rang, jarring her. “Damn it.” Now wasn’t the time. She wiped her eyes, blew her breath out through tight lips and picked up the receiver.

“Good afternoon, Jess.” The voice was garbled, computer enhanced and changed. She couldn’t tell the gender of the caller but she knew who it was.

Delphi.

“Good afternoon,” she replied.

“Condolences on your loss,” Delphi said, the altered voice surprisingly warm.

“Thank you,” she replied. She always wondered what Delphi was. Male? Female? But it was comments like that, the moment of spoken compassion, that made her think Delphi was a woman.

“You read the previous e-mail?”

“Just now.”

Silence, but Jess waited.

“According to Oracle, you will be on leave for quite a while. Arachne is working to manipulate the outcome of the investigation.”

Always to the point. Jess swallowed, wondering how much more bad news she would have to endure. “Will I be court-martialed?”

“We will do what is needed to prevent your conviction.”

A typical quasi-evasive answer but still, Jess’s muscles relaxed a micron. If anyone could bring the saboteur, Chuck’s killer, to light, it was Delphi’s network of agents. Delphi continued, “In the meantime, we have an assignment for you.”

Jess perked up, grabbed a pad of paper and a pencil, relieved to focus on something besides images of Leavenworth. “I’m listening.”

“We have booked you a flight to Puerto Isla, an island located two hundred miles off the coast of Belize. Once there, we want you to rendezvous with Zach Holiday. He runs a salvage operation. A cocaine ship named Paradise Lost sank off the coast three years ago during the Puerto Isla Revolution, and we want you to locate it.”

Jess scribbled the information in her personal shorthand then stopped. “Three years?” She knew how the ocean worked, and three years was a long time. Objects moved. Or were buried by sand.

“We’ve collated the available data and have come up with a search grid,” Delphi said.

“Of course,” Jess said, knowing Delphi would think of everything. “How much does Zach know?”

“Minimal. That we’re looking for a specific ship but not why.”

“Didn’t he ask questions?” Jess asked.

“Yes, but I chose Zach and his crew because they have worked with the government before, and Zach is aware that he cannot be privy to all details.”

“What type of projects has he done?”

“Recovery of drug planes and cargo. Some data encryption. Even a recovery mission for the Marine Corps.”

Jess perked up at the information.

Delphi continued, “Still, I would prefer our information remain on a need-to-know basis. I’ll trust your judgment in that regard.”

“Thank you,” Jess replied.

Delphi continued. “We believe the ship contains equipment, a laptop that belonged to Arachne and data that might lead to her whereabouts.”

The hairs on Jess’s neck rose in response to the name. “The one who set me up? The one who killed Chuck?”

“Yes.”

She could have sworn she heard a smile in that singular, positive response. “Good.” Whoever this Arachne was, Jess wanted her dead.

“Jess, do not underestimate her,” Delphi warned. “Arachne’s vendetta against Athena Academy and her students goes back twenty-four years.”

“Twenty-four years?” The thought that a criminal had been around that long and had not been caught boggled Jess’s mind.

“Yes,” Delphi confirmed. “All the way back to Marion Gracelyn’s death.”

“She killed her?”

“Coordinated it, at least. Since that time, she’s threatened the Academy, tried to destroy it and now she’s showing an unusual interest in the special attendees.”

“Special? Like me?” Jess asked. She’d always wondered if there were others, girls with gifts. She and Nikki had discussed it before and had found they had something in common—they were both conceived using in vitro fertilization, IVF. Since that time, she’d met more than one IVF at the Academy and had watched her, looking for anything that made her different. She’d seen nothing but that didn’t stop her from watching and wondering.

“Yes, girls like you,” Delphi confirmed.

Interesting. Jess filed the information away for future reference then returned to the topic at hand. “Do you know why she wants us?” Jess asked.

“No. Perhaps breeding—”

Jess shuddered in disgust.

“—study, or just to hurt the Academy as much as possible. It’s hard to say. But she knows about your ability to breathe underwater and has obtained information on other women and girls conceived using IVF at one specific clinic in Zuni, New Mexico.”

Nikki.

“Don’t worry about your friends,” Delphi said, answering her unspoken worry.

Jess stared at the phone in surprise, unsettled that Delphi knew her so well.

Delphi continued, “We’ll make sure everyone else is safe. The best way for you to help is to obtain the laptop and anything else you deem useful,” Delphi said. “Delivery will be to Allison Gracelyn.”

Curiosity made Jess want to ask why Allison, but she held back her question. Allison Gracelyn was a member of the Athena Academy Board, and one did not question that kind of influence or importance. “When do I leave?”

“This afternoon. Check your e-mail. I have sent you directions for meeting with Zach, the search coordinates and an airline ticket.”

“Thank you,” Jess said. “I appreciate the opportunity.”

“Jess,” Delphi said, a cautionary tone evident despite the voice distortion. “Be careful. Do not let vengeance cloud your judgment and do not underestimate Arachne.”

“I won’t,” Jess replied. “I know the order of importance. If this brings us closer to catching Arachne, revenge is icing on the cake.”

“Understood.”

The line went dead, and Jess set the phone back in its cradle. Arachne’d had twenty-four years to plot revenge on Athena Academy and its students. Chuck never stood a chance. Neither had she. But now that she knew the enemy, maybe she could help bring her to justice.

“Arachne will pay for what she did, Chuck,” Jess whispered. “I promise.”

“An e-mail? You sent me an e-mail and expected that to be enough?” Nikki said as soon as Jess answered the call.

“Hello, to you, too,” Jess replied, a small smile curling the corners of her mouth as she held the receiver away from her ear. After her conversation with Delphi, she’d e-mailed Nikki the basic information about what she was doing. She wanted to call but e-mail was easier. Impersonal. And right now she needed the distance.

She should have known it wouldn’t work.

“Yeah. Well. Hi,” Nikki returned.

Nikki still sounded irritated. “I was going to call as soon as I packed,” Jess explained. “I’m just on a tight schedule right now.”

“Packed?” Nikki asked. “Where are you heading?”

“To the beach,” Jess said, cradling the cordless phone between her neck and ear. As much as she loathed hauling her personal dive gear—she didn’t need much other than a wet suit for protection against coral and fins for additional speed—it would look strange for her to use rental when she was a professional.

Besides, the thought of putting her mouth around a used snorkel and regulator was repulsive. “Since I have time on my hands, I thought I’d work on my tan.”

“They’re letting you leave? What about the accident?”

“It’s under investigation.” She tucked her fins in the bottom of her dive bag.

“You mean, you’re under investigation,” Nikki said, her voice terse.

“The situation is under investigation,” Jess corrected as she folded her full-body black wet suit and tucked it on top of the fins.

Through the receiver, she heard Nikki inhale. “I bet if I was there right now, I’d smell honey, wouldn’t I?” Nikki pressed, her voice terse.

Jess sighed. That was Nikki’s undercover way of calling her a liar. Trust her friend not to let her get away with anything. Even a fib. “Yes,” Jess admitted. To Nikki’s olfactory-based psi sense, spoken lies had always smelled a little too sweet. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” Nikki said, her tone finally softening. “Anything I can do to help?”

Find Arachne? Bring Chuck back to life? Jess wished she could tell Nikki what was happening and hated the fact that she couldn’t. If she did, then Nikki would want to know how Jess got her information, and getting into a discussion about being an Oracle agent—especially a discussion on an unsecured line—was as dumb as one got and would put them both at risk.

As much as she hated it, she’d have to trust that Nikki could take care of herself and that Delphi would stand by her word to keep Nikki safe.

“Not really,” Jess finally replied. “Unless you know of a way to speed up a Marine Tribunal.”

“Not likely.” Nikki chuckled.

“So don’t worry. Everything will be fine.” Jess tossed her dive knife and mask into the bag.

Outside, a car honked, and Jess peeked between the curtains to see her taxi. Nice timing.

“I gotta go,” she said, jamming the rest of her gear in. “Taxi’s here.”

“Have fun, and don’t worry about the investigation. You’ll be proven innocent.”

“Thanks,” she said. Nikki’s forceful assurance caused a true smile to broaden her mouth. “I’ll send you a postcard.”

She hesitated. “Nikki?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks, and be careful.”

“What?”

She heard the confusion in Nikki’s voice, but she’d already said too much. “Nothing. Just be careful.”

“I will.”

It wasn’t much of a warning but it would have to be enough. Jess hung up, grabbed a small backpack that contained her clothes and hoisted her heavier, much larger dive bag over her shoulder. At the taxi, the driver popped the trunk from the driver’s seat. Jess tossed her bags in then took the passenger side, sliding the seat belt over her lap.

She never sat in the back.

She glanced at the driver. Tall. Thin but muscular. Dark. Dreadlocked hair.

And off, somehow. She cast another quick look in his direction, trying not to stare, but couldn’t quite figure out what it was that bothered her. “I’m Israel,” he said with a heavy Caribbean accent as he pulled away from the curb.

Jess didn’t offer her name, not caring if it seemed rude. Something was making the hairs on her neck rise, and it wasn’t just that he was a caricature of a Jamaican.

“Where you heading?” her driver persisted, intent on chatting. “Vacation?”

“Something like that,” Jess said, watching the road as they entered the freeway.

“You a diver?”

Maybe he was just nosy, she told herself. And her nerves were overtense. Whose wouldn’t be, considering she’d been told that a criminal mastermind was gunning for her? “If you don’t mind,” she said, trying to relax and to stop seeing danger in every shadow, “I’ve had a long day and would like a bit of quiet.”

“Of course, mon” Israel said, “Of course.”

She breathed a sigh of relief and watched the pavement slide by—right up until Israel drove past the exit to the airport. Jess stiffened. “You passed the exit.”

“I know a shortcut,” Israel said. “Miss all the traffic and get you there faster.” He turned off at the next exit, then down a side road that led through a warehouse district.

Shortcut her fanny.

The car slowed.

“Where are we going?” she asked. “This isn’t a shortcut.”

Israel looked at her, all semblance of friendliness replaced by something dark and purposeful. Automatically, her hand went to a gun that wasn’t there—the one she’d had FedEx pick up a while ago.

“No, Miss Whitaker, it isn’t,” he said, reaching into his jacket.

That’s what was off, she realized in the split second his hand moved. The bulge in his jacket. It wasn’t a wallet. It was a shoulder holster.

Her driver was armed.

Even as her mind processed the information, her combat-trained body was in motion. Unbuckling her seat belt with one hand, she swiveled sideways, bringing her legs up and slamming them into Israel, pushing him against the door as his gun cleared the holster but before he could point it at her.

The car jerked sideways, and the gun fell to the floorboard with a dull thud. Jess grabbed the wheel, yanking it toward her and sending the vehicle skidding in the opposite direction. Israel pounded her hands with his fist, trying to make her let go.

He hit her again. It was like having her fingers smashed in a door, but Jess gritted her teeth and refused to loosen her grip. He was bigger. Stronger. And the moment she gave an inch, he would use it against her.

Changing tactics, he bent over, groping for the fallen gun. Like hell, Jess thought. Releasing one hand from the wheel, she undid his seat belt. Reaching across him, she popped open his door.

“Bitch!” Israel screamed, as he realized what she was doing. Forsaking the gun, he grabbed her hair.

Sharp pain reached through her scalp as he yanked her upward. Twisting in his grasp, she bit him until she tasted blood in her mouth.

Screaming, he let go, and she scrambled backward toward the passenger door. With her door at her back for leverage, Jess kicked out with both feet and all her strength.

Israel shot out the open door but at the last minute, managed to grab his flopping seat belt with one hand. Sliding into the driver’s seat, Jess punched the gas with one foot, not caring that she dragged her kidnapper wannabe along the asphalt. She reached for the door handle and yanked it inward, slamming her assailant between the driver’s door and the car frame until he let go and rolled away.

In the rearview mirror, she watched him come to a stop on the side of the road then stumble to his feet. He didn’t run after her, and she didn’t stop to make sure he’d live. Her heart pumping adrenaline through her system, she gunned the vehicle. The tension didn’t recede until Israel disappeared from sight, and she was back on the main road.

Jess took a deep breath, willing her pulse to slow. Delphi hadn’t been kidding. Arachne was ruthless. Determined. And apparently, she could strike anywhere.

Not that it mattered. Arachne might be determined but so was Jess. Plus, she had a purpose.

Retribution.