Deadly Dance (3 page)

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

Across the way, she could see Harrison, and at intervals, Annie, as she moved to get the best angle on each shot. Spanning the gap between the buildings was an old wooden ladder, the ends precariously planted on each building’s edge.

“You can do this,” Harrison’s voice coaxed in her ear. “It’ll be a piece of cake. Just like a—”

“Walk in the park?” Hannah finished for him. “You’re out of your mind.” She sucked in a breath and climbed up on the ledge. Behind her she could hear footsteps, and a bullet smashed into the masonry at her feet.

“Come on, Hannah. I’ve seen you deal with worse.” Harrison held out a hand, and Hannah stepped onto the ladder, the wood bowing downward with her weight.

“Son of a bitch,” she mumbled under her breath as she teetered five floors above the street. She took a hesitant step and then, eyes locked on Harrison and the safety of the other rooftop, she dashed across the groaning ladder. She’d almost made it to the other side when the ladder suddenly shimmied, and a low rumble behind her sent the hairs on her neck into the locked and upright position.

Then all hell broke loose, the office building exploding, the ensuing roar engulfing the night. Behind her, all she could see was a wave of fire coming right at her, and then suddenly the ladder dropped. Panic laced through her as she reached up to grab a rung, the still-cognizant part of her brain registering the fact that somehow the ladder was still attached to the other building.

It was only when she looked up that she realized it
was Harrison, holding the ladder in place through sheer strength of will. “Climb, Hannah,” Harrison ordered, the words coming through gritted teeth.

Instinct kicked in, and she scrambled upward, his hand closing around her wrist when she reached the top. Annie appeared over the edge as well. She shot Hannah a quick reassuring look, then shifted her focus up again as a second explosion ripped through the night. Hannah could feel bits of the building as they cut through the fabric of her jacket and skirt.

“I’m going to drop the ladder now,” Harrison was saying, his voice barely audible over the din, even with the comlink in her ear. “But you’ve got to let go first. Then I can pull you up. All right?”

Hannah nodded. The whole world seemed to be shaking with the fury of the blast, but even so, she could feel the ladder shimmying beneath her again. Her heart hammered so loudly it echoed through her head, threatening to swamp all rational thought.

But she’d be damned if she lost the battle now. So, summoning every ounce of willpower she could muster, she let go of the ladder. Harrison’s grip tightened as he jerked her upward, the ladder spiraling downward toward the street. In one fluid motion, he pulled her up and over the building’s edge to safety.

“You all right?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.

“I’m okay.” She nodded, not quite believing the words. “I’m really okay.”

“Then we need to get going,” Harrison said, helping her to her feet, his arm strong around her waist when her knees threatened to buckle. “Annie?”

“We’re safe,” Annie said, lowering the rifle as she
waved toward the office building now completely engulfed in flames. “No one could have lived through that.”

In the distance, Hannah heard the wail of sirens. “Avery and Simon?” she asked, still leaning against Harrison. “Are they…” she trailed off, unable to say the words.

“They’re fine,” Harrison assured her. “Both in one piece.”

She nodded, relief making her giddy. “But I don’t understand. Why would the Consortium destroy the building? Kill their own men?”

“Evidence,” Annie said. “They wanted to erase any trace of what really happened here.”

“DuBois’s death?”

“And, conceivably, ours,” Annie added, her tone grim. “The magnitude of the blasts and the resulting fire will destroy any chance we might have had to track the source. So it looks like they’ve won again.”

“Except that we’re still standing,” Harrison said. “That’s got to count for something.”

Sunderland College, NY

I
t’s important to understand that gender is different from sexuality,” Hannah said, as her gaze swept across her students. “Sexuality concerns the physical and biological differences that distinguish men from women. Cultures construct differences in gender.”

“Like in Afghanistan or Iraq?” Ginny Walker asked.

“Yes.” Hannah smiled. “But even advanced cultures like ours define genders differently and as a result inequalities are created.”

“Like the glass ceiling,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, but thanks to women like Hillary Clinton, there are cracks,” Mia Robertson said, her tone hopeful. Hannah never failed to be amazed by college kids and their idealism.

“Only cracks,” Herb Jackson shrugged. “But thanks to Obama the ceiling stayed intact.”

The girls turned to frown at Herb, while most of the guys smirked.

“I hardly think you can lay gender inequality at President Obama’s feet,” Hannah said, her gaze encompassing her students. “He had his own battles to fight. But I do think the 2008 election is a good jumping-off point for our discussion. That and the two essays you’ll find in your syllabus.” Everyone groaned, and Hannah suppressed a second smile. “Just read them. And we’ll talk tomorrow. I think you’ll find the material provocative. At least I hope so.” She let her gaze settle on Herb. “Remember we’re supposed to be one of the enlightened cultures.”

The students pushed out of their seats, stuffing books into bags as they headed to their next class. Hannah closed the file holding her notes and blew out a long breath. Every muscle in her body ached. She’d explained away the cuts and bruises with a fall off her bike, determined not to miss a class. Still, the idea of a hot bath and a cold beer appealed on more levels than she cared to admit. But first she had a meeting with her TA and then a debrief with the team beneath the Aaron Thomas Academic Center.

Founded over fifteen years ago by the CIA, the American Tactical Intelligence Command used Sunderland College as a cover, its elite team trained both as academicians and as covert operatives. And quite fittingly, their headquarters were located in a secret command center beneath the building that shared their acronym.

Put simply, yesterday Hannah had been a superspy with the bruises to show for it, and today she was back to arguing with students over gender equality. The best of both worlds as it were. So much for professors who only teach.

Smiling, she walked out of the Fischer Building and
headed across the courtyard to the quad and the social sciences building at the far edge of the campus. The leaves were swirling in the wind, colors still brilliant but fading fast, the crisp smell of autumn filling the air. Hannah hoisted her messenger bag higher on her shoulder and nodded to passing students, her mind turning away from academia to espionage. Or rather the lack thereof.

The Consortium had managed to undermine A-Tac’s efforts to uncover them yet again. DuBois was dead, and for all she knew, a bunch of innocents as well, although Harrison had indicated that the building had been more or less empty as she’d walked in. At least that was something. Still, it seemed it was always one step forward and two steps back, but her frantic expedition to the roof had only made her more determined to expose the Consortium and bring it down. For Jason.

She stopped for a moment at the foot of the curving steps that led up to the Snodgrass Building. Named for some forgotten donor, no one actually called it that. Instead, most referred to it as the social sciences building. The three-story brick building had been built in the mid-1800s. Its timeless beauty made it one of the centerpieces of the campus.

But for Hannah, it would always be the place where Emmett had died. She couldn’t walk by his office without shuddering. Thinking of what he’d done to Jason—to all of them really. Betrayal was the worst human offense because it came at such high price. Trust broken, possibly forever.

She shook her head and headed up the steps and into the front hallway, angry at herself for letting her thoughts grow maudlin. Better to keep looking forward. Never
back. She turned past the great staircase and headed for her office in the back of the building. There were larger offices both upstairs and toward the front, but she’d always preferred the quiet of the back rooms. Less traffic. More peace.

She turned the last corner, grateful to see light spilling into the hallway from her office, the evenings already grown short, and she welcomed the warmth as she walked through the doorway. Her assistant, Tina Richards, was engrossed in a large stack of test papers.

“How was class?” Tina asked, pushing back a strand of red hair as she looked up from her work.

“Split along gender lines as expected,” Hannah laughed. “But that should lead to some vigorous discussion.” She winced as she dropped her book bag.

“You all right?” Tina asked, her forehead wrinkling with concern. “I heard you had a run-in with your bike.”

There was no such thing as a secret at Sunderland. Word traveled quickly. Hannah had always marveled that they’d been able to keep A-Tac so completely under wraps. Although there’d been a couple of close calls over the years.

“I’m fine,” she shrugged, negating the gesture with another wince. “Or at least I will be. No real damage. Except maybe to my pride.”

“Well, if it helps,” Tina said, breaking into a smile, “I brought you some coffee. And not the sludge they serve over at the cafeteria either. This is the real thing. Java Joe’s.”

“A latte?” Hannah asked, already reaching for the large cup Tina was holding.

“Two shots with foam.”

“You’re a life saver.” Hannah sank into her chair and took a sip, sighing as the warm toasty beverage slid down her throat. “Heaven in a cup. I’ve no idea what Jasmine’s secret is. But she makes a damn good cup of coffee.”

Jasmine Washington was a past student who’d never been able to bring herself to leave. So instead, she’d created Java Joe just at the edge of campus. And between her coffee and her scones, she’d changed Hannah’s life, along with the rest of the Sunderland population’s, for the better.

“I’ll say. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve started and ended a day with a caramel macchiato.” Tina held up her cup in testament. “It’s the only way to get through some of these tests.”

“I’m sorry I had to leave them all to you. But I couldn’t turn down the opportunity in Montreal.”

“No worries. That’s what you pay me the big bucks for,” Tina said with a laugh.

“Well, maybe not the big bucks.” Hannah smiled. “But at least enough for the coffees.”

They both sat in silence for a moment, Tina finishing up the paper she’d been working on and Hannah just allowing herself to unwind. Teaching always left her keyed up, but considering that she’d almost taken a full-gainer off a five-story building less than twenty-four hours ago, she figured she deserved a moment to just “be.”

“Actually,” Tina said, pushing away the stack of papers, “there is something I wanted to talk to you about. It’s probably nothing but…”

“What?” Hannah sat forward, her calm evaporating as something in Tina’s voice set off inner alarms. “What is it?”

“It’s a video I found on my phone. In my email account. It’s kind of creepy.” She picked up her cell and handed it to Hannah. “It’s already cued up, just hit play.”

Hannah hit the button, and at first it was almost impossible to make out anything, as the room was so sparsely lit. But after a moment, she began to make sense of the scene. A woman lay on a bed, struggling against the ropes that bound her arms to the headboard. Shadows obscured her face, making it impossible to ID her, but even without being able to fully see her, Hannah could sense her fear.

Seconds ticked by and then someone—a man—brandishing a knife walked into the room, and Hannah could almost feel the woman tensing. There was no sound, but it almost wasn’t necessary, the man’s actions screaming off the tiny screen, each cut more vile than the last. Bile rose in Hannah’s throat, the horror threatening to engulf her. Forcing her finger to work, she hit stop, her attention jerking back to reality. To Tina.

“Who sent this to you?”

“I’ve no idea.” Tina shook her head, eyes wide, clearly as revolted as Hannah had been. “It was just there in my email. At first I thought it was from Princeton. You remember I applied for the Ph.D. program there.” She blew out a slow breath, clearly still shaken. “The header said it was from Anderson Wells. He’s the recruiter that first talked to me about the program. I figured he had some news. But instead I found,” she paused, looking down at the phone again, “
that.
”

“But you don’t think it’s from him.”

“No way. He’s a great guy. He’d never send me something like this.”

“It’s easy enough to hijack an email address.” Harrison did it all the time.

“So do you think it’s real?” Tina asked, her eyes still on the cell’s screen. “I mean, maybe it’s just for show.” She actually sounded hopeful. “I’ve heard about people making movies like that.”

“I don’t know.” Hannah shook her head, suppressing a shiver. “It certainly seemed real enough. Do you recognize the woman?”