Chastity Flame (21 page)

Grudgingly, she had agreed to visit
all three if necessary, but privately she was wholly convinced that
this was the right place. Everything about it according to the
aerial surveillance photos they were able to retrieve fit the
images she had in her head from the vision. Her only fear was that
they were too late. What if Wesenlund's patience had run out
already?

The pilot signaled that they had
reached the set down point. Chastity had not wanted them to come
too close to the warehouse in the 'copter. They were far enough to
be out of visual notice, but not necessarily technological
surveillance. They could only hope that there wasn't much need to
monitor the surrounding environs too closely. Chastity put some
hope in Wesenlund's arrogance; he was probably congratulating
himself on her failure to be able to follow him.

At the door, Chastity reminded them,
"Less than a mile, north northwest. Avoid making any sight or sound
until we've had a chance locate our missing op. Silence any
opposition and put them out of sight. Avoid contact unless
absolutely necessary," she added, tapping her own headpiece. "We
need not engage apart from the extraction. Speed is of the essence.
Questions?"

There were none, so they set off out
the side door, ducking low to clear the spinning blades as they
scurried out toward the direction indicated by Chastity's GPS unit.
The rain, although not heavy, seemed to slice through any bits of
exposed flesh and she regretted not wearing a balaclava for
additional protection. At a steady trot, they closed the distance
to the cluster of buildings that lay ahead. It was hard running so
exposed, but there didn't seem to be any signs of life, which made
Chastity feel a twinge of worry, but she quashed it and
concentrated on watchful attention.

As they got closer, she nodded to the
others and they began to spread out away from each other. As they
reached the largest building, the four had dispersed far enough to
seek different entrances. Chastity pressed on a door latch and
found it open. Ducking inside it, she saw no signs of any activity.
Several possible corridors lay ahead of her. She closed her eyes
and listened intently. There was a drip of water somewhere nearby
and she could hear a murmur of conversation. The pungent aroma of
sulphur suffused the building. This had to be right, Chastity
thought.

On the balls of her feet, she eased
forward slowly toward the sounds. With luck at least one of the
others ought to have entered the building by now and be making
their way toward the same room if they had paid attention to the
cues. They were a good team; she assumed they did as they were
trained to do. The voices grew more audible as she crept closer.
She could distinguish two voices, which didn't necessarily mean
there were only two present, but it gave her some hope. Listening
intently, she discerned that they were speaking Norwegian. While
she didn't have any training in that language, she knew Swedish and
it was enough to begin to make sense of what they were
saying.

They were talking about how to get rid
of the body.

Chastity felt an eruption in her chest
of such malevolence that it surprised her. With an effort, she
cleared her clouded vision and calmed her jangling nerves. Later,
she told herself fiercely. There's no time for that now. She
continued forward and was gratified to see Baker coming down the
corridor from the opposite direction. They exchanged hand signals
and each drew out their gun of choice as they approached the wide
doorway of the room where they voices originated.

Chastity crouched down, back against
the wall, listening carefully before she risked ducking her face
around the edge for a quick reconnaissance. She signaled to Baker:
two men, armed. She did not signal the other sight: Damien's body
slumped and tied to the chair. Her heart tried to climb up her
throat, but she refused to allow it. A curt nod to Baker and then
the two of them leapt around the doorway and dropped the two men
with a clean shot through the head each. They had been caught
unaware enough that they barely had time to register surprise
before they were down. Chastity and Baer wheeled around to cover
all corners, but there was no one present.

Chastity ran forward to kneel beside
Damien. Ripping off her glove and shoving two fingers to his neck,
she was cheered to find a thready pulse. Whipping out her Ka-Bar,
she sliced through the nylon ropes that held him and he fell
forward. She managed to catch him before he collapsed
completely.

"Get clothes for him," she barked at
Baker. He immediately began to strip one of the fallen men, and the
two of them got some pants and a sweater over Damien with a great
deal of difficulty while he moaned in pain. Chastity slipped the
anorak onto him as gently as possible, wincing as he groaned in
distress. It felt as if his arm was broken and she feared some
ribs, too.

But he was alive! She could feel her
heart sing with relief. If anger had choked her thoughts before,
now she was giddy with the reprieve her heart had been given.
Alive, he was alive—and she was going to get him out of this place
and back where he belonged.

"Tell the others: target achieved,
withdraw," Chastity told Baker as they raised Damien to his feet.
He was too injured to walk or even help them drag him. He would
have to be carried which would slow them down considerably, but
there was nothing to be done.

Just then, they heard shots nearby.
Damn, thought Chastity, we couldn't just get away clean, could we?
She nodded to Baker, who grabbed Damien under the armpits while
Chastity grabbed his feet. They made their way to the door way and
Chastity looked cautiously out. Nothing to be seen, but they could
hear more shots erupting somewhere outside. Seeing no immediate
threat, Chastity turned them back in the direction she had come,
angling for the closest egress.

At the door out they paused again. No
shots echoed at present, which could be good or bad. But there was
no time to worry about that. Chastity kicked the door open and they
stepped outside, flattening against the wall in the hissing rain,
checking the perimeter for signs of danger. There was vulnerable
space ahead, but they would have to risk it. She got the GPS in
hand while she contacted the others. A quick response told her that
Abel and Delta were still around, though she had no idea of their
location yet.

"Cover us, if you can," she told them,
then nodding to Baker, the two took their awkward burden between
them and headed off across the blasted landscape. Behind her,
Chastity heard more gunfire and shout. There were more people in
the compound than they had seen. Clearly they had expected little
in the way of trouble, which was just as well for them. She thanked
her lucky stars and Wesenlund's arrogance.

The two of them covered the ground as
quickly as they could. Chastity could feel herself weary as they
drew within sight of the 'copter. Damien did not seem to have come
around to full consciousness. Doubtless he was feeling a good deal
of pain, which their awkward carry probably did not help. She tried
to avoid glancing toward his face to see if she could distinguish a
flicker of recognition. There wasn't time for it anyway, but the
little voice in her head wanted to begin chattering with
worry.

The pilot wrenched the door open and
they completed the last few steps with a kind of stagger, the pilot
helping to lift Damien onto the waiting stretcher. Chastity let
Baker take care of strapping him in while she turned to regard the
landscape for the rest of the team. It was time to break the
silence. Safety no longer depended upon secrecy. "Abel, Delta:
status?" For a moment she heard nothing at all. Her eyes sought to
penetrate the darkness of the murky day.

All at once she heard a welcome
crackle. "Heading to rendezvous," came Delta's reply, her voice
ragged with effort. "Slight damage, but no casualty. Out." Chastity
smiled grimly. Well done, team. She kept her eye on the horizon
until she saw the two zigzagging across the terrain. They were
coming at a good clip, but Chastity didn't take her eyes off them
until they were jumping on the 'copter.

"Up," Chastity confirmed to the pilot
and they were aloft immediately. As she looked down at the
distancing surface, she saw a knot of figures headed in their
direction, but sufficiently distant not to be a threat to their
safety. Chastity grinned. Enjoy your evening, Mr. Wesenlund, she
thought.

Turning back to the too still body on
the stretcher, the grin disappeared. Damien's beautiful face bore
the marks of their brutality and lolled unconscious yet. "How is
he?" she asked Abel, who was the only one with advanced medical
training. He had been assessing Damien's state since unloading his
own small arsenal.

"Broken arm, couple of cracked ribs,
serious contusions, possible concussion—we should probably elevate
his head." Chastity nodded and they shifted the stretcher to put
Damien at a 45 degree angle.

"Nothing life-threatening?"

"Not that I can see. It's probably the
head injury that's making him groggy."

Chastity squatted down beside the
stretcher. "Hey, Damien." She touched the less injured cheek and he
stirred. It was awful to see what they had done to him. Even with
the organization's access to brilliant physicians, the cut on his
chin was likely to scar. Not that it wouldn't look good—a little
extra character on his handsome face. But the evident pain on his
face was hard for her to see. "Hey, are you in there
still?"

His eye fluttered a little, then she
saw it roll around in search of the source of the voice. Chastity
saw his lips move, but no sound came out. She grabbed a water
bottle from the pocket of her pack, poured a little into her hand,
then dribbled it between his lips. He swallowed, then his tongue
ventured out to test the surface of his lips. A small smile
twitched at his lips. "Twelfty," he said at last, barely
audible.

Ignoring the others (who were doing a
good job of pretending they saw nothing at all) Chastity took his
hand in hers and squeezed it gently. "You're going to be fine.
We'll get you back to town and you'll be well taken care of." She
stopped short, her breath catching in something like a
sob.

"I knew you would come," Damien
rasped. "Couldn't bear to let me get away from you."

"Ha, just my job," Chastity said with
a grin. "I figured you'd get lost without me. Hate to leave loose
ends. You might be happy trotting off to Iceland for a weekend.
Some of us have work to do." She couldn't describe the painful
feeling in her chest and would not have recognized it for love
anyway.

Back in London, Monitor did not allow
her to visit Damien in the hospital, instead keeping her busy with
Wesenlund's project, which was quickly coming into difficulties.
The hacker had paid off well. But Monitor was concerned about
something else.

"I don't like these migraines,"
Monitor told her frankly. "We need to have a specialist take a look
at your head, give it an MRI and other scans. We need to know
what's going on."

"It's a common medical condition,"
Chastity said with a shrug. "All kinds of people suffer from them.
It's no big deal. I researched it on the internet." Monitor rolled
her eyes, but it was true. She had assiduously pursued information
on all kinds of medical sites, comparing the information with other
sites, feeling as if she had a reasonable picture of the situation
for a novice. They offered vocabulary for all the phenomena she
experienced and learned that there were common triggers. Oddly
enough, caffeine, chocolate and red wine were frequent culprits.
Surprise, surprise.

There was nothing about visions
accompanying them, however.

That was a difficult point between
them. "It could be evidence of a tumor," Monitor had insisted.
"Auditory and visual hallucinations often are." Chastity did not
argue about the accuracy of these 'hallucinations' but submitted
grudgingly to the necessary tests that Monitor demanded, emerging
with a clean bill of health and the compliments of the
physician.

"I'm fine, you see," she had reported
to Monitor. "Can I get back to work now?"

So she had, coordinating with Kevin
and Madcap, who had reasserted his handle because no one knew the
truth of his name anyway.

"I've been Madcap longer than I've
been Roger," he told Chastity with a hint of a blush. "No one calls
me that but my mum." His work had made it possible to trace
Wesenlund's network back to its source—conveniently distant from
anything connected with his business interests—and unravel the plan
like a poorly knit jumper. Chastity could practically hear his
teeth grinding over the distance, wherever he might be located
then. Surveillance had tracked him from Iceland back to Norway and
then across to Switzerland before returning to Norway. Chastity had
no doubt he would not take this latest disappointment without
retribution, but it was unclear just how he might attempt to carry
that out. As livid as he may be, she did not doubt that he would
move to revenge with cool precision.

When she heard that Damien had been
returned home, Chastity asked permission to have one final visit
with him. "I know you won't allow us to continue," she said
quietly, "but I need to be able to say good-bye. I need…
closure."