Double Vision (7 page)

With Forester, at this point, Kate expected any response. Any response except that one. “What?” Kate replied, shaking her head in disbelief. “That never occurred to me. It was just preattack banter. A stress-breaker. Nothing more than that.”

“Tell me, Captain.” He gave her a haughty look she’d love to knock off his face. “Did Douglas know that?”

“Of course he knew it. For pity’s sake, any normal male operative would know it. Douglas is Tactical. How could he not know it?”

“It isn’t out of the realm that a man would take you seriously.”

He was kidding, right? She looked into his solemn face. He wasn’t. Great. Maybe being married had twisted his memories of being a single operative, or maybe he’d never been a single operative. Or maybe he was just twisted. “Do you honestly believe it was personal interest? Is that what you’re saying, Major?”

He hiked his chin. “It’s possible.”

Amazing. Utterly amazing. She stroked her temple before putting syrup in her tone. “Fine. Then tell me, Major. When you want to get in touch with a woman—and it’s personal—do you always mail her a bag of sand?”

“Actually, no, I don’t. But this isn’t about me. It’s about
Douglas. And if you’re speaking hypothetically, I’m not a good example, Captain.”

“Why not? You’re a male operative. That’s all we’re talking about here, since I’d never before laid eyes on Douglas at the time these events occurred.”

The starch went out of Forester’s shoulders and then his voice. “Because I don’t get in touch with women for personal reasons, Captain.”

Kate again looked at his wedding ring, thinking the woman wearing the mate to it was pretty lucky, even if Forester did have a prickly disposition and probably twisted memories. But she couldn’t see herself praising him for not screwing around on his wife. Fidelity was part of the promise, after all. Still, plenty of men did it, and she was glad—more so than she should be, really—that Forester wasn’t one of them.

She looked past the mortar scars on the tent canvas to his cot, and then to a crate beside the bed that served as a table. A photo of a pretty redhead with a gentle smile sat on top. Kate assumed it was of his wife. The intricate silver frame was dented. “I’m sure Mrs. Forester appreciates that. But in the land of singles, a bag of sand to express interest is an abnormal dating ritual.”

“I doubt it,” he said baldly.

That set Kate back on her heels. “In your circles, sand is common?”

“No. No, I meant my wife, Emily. She wouldn’t appreciate it. The idea of me getting in touch with other women would never occur to her. That’s just not something I would do.”

Telling comment. The woman was secure in her marriage and certain Forester didn’t play around. Kate liked that, though she did so grudgingly, not wanting to like
anything about him. “So why is her photo frame dented?” she asked before catching herself. “Wait. Let me guess. You lost your sweet disposition and tossed it?”

“Never.” He looked over at the photo with longing and something in his eyes so tender that it softened his entire expression.

It left Kate breathless, filling her with pure envy. Alan had never looked at her that way. Every remnant of bitterness that had been etched into Forester’s face drained away, and what remained appealed, tugged at her.

Until that moment she hadn’t noticed that he was gorgeous in a compelling way. Not traditionally: his nose was too broad, his chin too strong, his cheekbones too sharp for the traditional. But packaged together in his specific bundle, they made for a gorgeous man.

How could a woman consider a man compelling, sexy, gorgeous
and
a pig? It made no sense.

“A few days before you arrived, the outpost was attacked by a small cell of insurgents.” He let his gaze rove the inside of the tent, over patches and small holes in through which sand slid inside. “As you can see, the mortar was pretty heavy. The photo frame deflected a bullet meant to kill me.”

“Would it have?” Kate couldn’t even think it. A world without Forester? Even a toothache would be missed. He was a pain, but he had a special mystique.

“Yes.” He swiveled his gaze from the photo back to Kate and tapped his chest. “Instead, I caught a flesh wound. Different angle and it would have penetrated my heart.”

Kate swallowed hard, her stomach turning flips. Why was she having such a strong reaction to him? The man was married, a senior officer, and for both reasons, totally off-limits.

“GRID?”

He shook his head. “Local insurgents that stumbled onto us.” He walked over to a squat table that served as a desk. A tall bottle of amber liquid sat atop it. “I need a drink. Do you want one?”

She turned her attention from the photo of his wife to him. “Yes, please.” God knew it’d been a long enough day. She’d like to just go for the bottle.

He poured a finger’s worth into a drinking glass and then passed it to her. “It’s rotgut, all the way. But it’s the best we’ve got at the moment and, believe it or not, we’re grateful for it.”

The outpost definitely wasn’t in Saudi, Kate thought, taking the glass. Not six months ago, her mouthwash and cough syrup had been confiscated on entering the country because they contained alcohol. She took a sip from her glass. It singed her tongue and burned all the way down her throat.
Definitely rotgut
. “Whoa, that’ll get your attention.” Her eyes were watering.

The corner of his mouth curved up, hinting at a smile. “You get used to it.”

She cleared her throat. “Would that be before or after it burns out the lining of your throat and stomach?”

“Just before.” He sat on the edge of his cot. “You have no idea why Douglas sent for you, do you?”

Recalling Colonel Drake’s “trust no one” warning had Kate stalling, but then Drake herself had brought Forester into the loop on this, which signaled he had the needed clearance to be told whatever proved necessary. “Not a clue.” She sat on a stool beside the cot. “Do you know?”

He rubbed at his nape—clearly a habit when mulling something over—and held her gaze for what seemed an eternity. “I think I might have most of it figured out.”

Progress. Progress was good. “Well, would you care to enlighten me?” By the skin of her teeth, she stopped short of reminding him they were on the same side.

Another hesitation, though shorter this time. “I can’t tell you where we are. That’s classified.”

“So is everything I’ve told you about GRID.”

“Yes, but you have authorization to tell me those things.” He drank from his glass, dabbed at his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t have authorization to tell you.”

“Fair enough.” She leaned forward, bracing her forearms on her knees.

“This region is mountainous,” he started, setting his glass down next to his wife’s photo. “Beneath the surface is a Swiss cheese maze of caves that extend out into the knuckles and toes of the water for miles.”

“I’m aware of that,” she reminded him. “I’ve spent three days exploring.”

“We’ve been here two months,” he said. “Exploring the caves.”

“What exactly are you looking for?” Kate felt confident she knew, at least in part, but she wasn’t at all certain if he would tell her, and if they were going to work together, she needed to know his boundaries.

“Terrorists, weapon caches and all relative intelligence.”

Pleased and more than a little surprised, she nodded.

“Douglas has been diving south of the outpost for two weeks.”

“And this is significant because…”

“It’s not,” Forester admitted. “What is significant is that he noted an oddity in some ships heading to port,” Forester said. He held up the whiskey bottle, silently asking if she wanted more. When she shook her head, he went on. “They
were weighted down and for all intents and purposes appeared to be full of cargo. Douglas deduced that explained why they rode lower than usual in the water.”

“The weapons arriving?”

“A three-mile stretch inland has been dredged for shallow watercraft. These ships were too heavy to make it through the channel.”

Kate was confused. Why was this significant? “So they off-loaded at the main port and didn’t move inland. What’s the challenge there?”

“Oh,” Forester’s eyes gleamed. “But they did move inland.”

“How? If the water was only deep enough for shallow craft, they couldn’t use it.”

“That’s what Douglas wanted to know.” Forester leaned forward, legs spread, hands laced between his knees. “He suspected the added weight was weapons, but he claimed his reasons for believing so were based on classified information he couldn’t share.” Forester straightened, stiffened, a knowing gleam in his eyes. “I’m guessing that classified information came from you.”

Kate nearly frowned. “Forget speculating that I breached security. I didn’t. All the tactical team on the ground during the compound raid in Iran knew GRID would sell weapons, technology and drugs for quick money.”

“GRID’s very successful. Why would it need quick money?”

“Because we’d taken out two compounds in short order. It takes a great deal of money to replace lost resources at that level.”

“GRID knows you’ve arrived here,” Forester speculated.

“Yes,” she confessed. “I was nearly captured.” And she’d lost the C-273 communications device. God, but she hoped it wasn’t in Thomas Kunz’s grubby, greedy hands. Hostiles would pay a fortune for it—and use it against them.

Forester’s solemn expression sobered even more. “Does GRID know this outpost exists?”

“I have no way of knowing that.”

“But you’re sure you didn’t compromise our position during your escape from them?”

“No, I’m sure.” She explained how she’d hidden in the grave and stayed there until darkness fell and then made her way back to the outpost. “However, it’s hard for me to believe that they’re operating in such close proximity and haven’t discovered you on their own.”

“If they have, then why haven’t they destroyed us?”

It was a reasonable question. Unfortunately it was one Kate lacked sufficient information to answer.
Damn it, she needed to talk with Douglas.
“Only GRID can answer that question.”

He smoothed his fatigues over his thigh with his hand. “I requested intervention on the ships.”

“You did?” Kate felt a crease form between her eyebrows. She’d have to report this to Home Base, and have Maggie relay it to Darcy. Nothing had come through from outside to intel sources—or if it had, Darcy hadn’t considered it worthy of mention. Now, in context of GRID being in the immediate vicinity, it could be an important key to finding weapons, and if they were here, the hostages.

Forester nodded. “The Navy intercepted and ran a topical search on three vessels, but they didn’t find any contraband. Nothing illegal.”

“Then there has to be another explanation.” The ships
couldn’t be carrying weapons. If they hadn’t put into port, and the Navy hadn’t observed the vessels off-loading cargo onto another ship, where the hell could it have gone?

“I’m not ready to consider that this isn’t the explanation. Neither is Douglas,” Forester said. “The vessels the Navy searched rode low in the water, obviously weighted down. Nothing illegal was found on the topical. Yet when they reached port and underwent a thorough search, all three of the ships were riding high, not low, in the water.”

“How did the captain explain the difference?”

“He couldn’t.”

“Played dumb?” That, unfortunately, often worked. Can’t get blood out of a stone.

“The naval inspectors weren’t sure he was playing.”

“Someone had to have a hypothesis.”

“They had no idea.” Forester shrugged. “The Navy didn’t have a 360-degree visual on the ships, but if anything was dumped off, divers didn’t spot it. What we know is that no cargo washed up on the shore.” He rubbed at his nape, pondering again, and his left eye started to flicker. “Douglas felt certain the crews were dumping and later retrieving weapons, anyway. Though he had no idea how they were doing it.”

Kate rolled this all over in her mind, waiting for the puzzle pieces to find their proper slots and fall into place. When they had, huge gaps still riddled the puzzle. “Did any proof surface later? Anything that could explain the oddity?”

“No.” Forester stood and began to pace. He’d apparently thought about this a great deal and that he couldn’t figure out what was happening frustrated him. “No hard evidence of anything we could attribute to any of the ships was located.”

“Then whatever they dumped had to be liquid.” Which raised some pretty scary possibilities. Some chemicals never break down. The water would be contaminated, killing anything in it and they could get into the saline conversion systems that refined the water to make it potable. Drinking water would be a thing of the past; they’d have to import it.

“I thought of that, too,” Forester said. “But we ran water samples and they came back normal.”

Kate breathed a sigh of relief. “Then Douglas had to be right—unless they released air.” Which could also be laced with deadly contaminants.

“Air samples were clean, too.” Forester paused near the center tent pole and looked back at her over his shoulder. “Douglas was monitoring another low-riding boat when he disappeared, Kate. I authorized it and signed the order.”

“Oh, boy.” She could’ve condemned him, but from the look in the major’s eyes, he was slamming himself more than enough for both of them. “Why?”

“Because of this classified information he had, Douglas considered it essential to the security of our troops. We have 150,000 men and women in theater, Kate. How could I refuse to authorize it?”

She stared at him, long and hard. “You couldn’t.”

He swallowed hard. “What if GRID does have him? After all you’ve told me about what they do, this doubling business…” He stopped and shook, before stuffing a tightly clenched fist into his pants pocket. “What have I done to him?”

Kate searched for the right words, but concluded there weren’t any. It was the burden of every senior officer who sends those under his command into harm’s way. Responsibility. Fear for their safety. Guilt. More guilt. And still more.