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Authors: Suzanne Brockmann

Flashpoint (38 page)

BOOK: Flashpoint
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It was so obvious that Tess was lying that several of them laughed out loud.

Sophia couldn’t read their stripes and pins—she didn’t have a clue who was officer and who was enlisted—but one of them was older than the others. He was ripped, with an upper body that looked as if he could bench-press this entire chopper. His eyes reminded Sophia a little of Decker. Not so much the color or even the shape, but the calm that lay within them.

Tess spoke directly to him.

Good choice, Sophia wanted to tell her. She moved closer so she could hear, too.

“Look, Senior Chief,” Tess shouted “Obviously Decker’s not that stupid. You know it and I know it. But whoever’s in command doesn’t necessarily know it.”

“That would be Admiral Crowley,” the SEAL with the freckles said. “His nickname is God. And he does know Deck. He probably knows you, too, ma’am.”

Tess ignored him, refusing to give up. “We can turn this thing around and create a diversion, and Decker and Nash’ll be out of there in ten minutes. I can call them, let them know—”

“You have working phones?” The senior chief cut himself off and sighed. “We cannot leave this helo,” he told her. “The risk of creating an international incident is already—” He swore. “As much as I would like to, ma’am, and I would . . .” He clearly felt Tess’s pain. “We can’t fire any weaponry. None at all. I don’t know what kind of diversion we could—”

“I do,” Sophia said. Deck had thrown his backpack onto the floor near her feet, and she picked it up now. She unzipped it, showing the contents—the stacks and stacks of money that Decker and Nash had taken from the safe in Sayid’s hotel room—to Tess. “It’s counterfeit, but it would fool
me
at first glance.”

Tess looked at the senior chief, who started to laugh.

He spoke into his microphone. “Turn this thing around.”

         

Decker felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and he pulled it out.

It was Tess. Nash clearly knew it, too, even before Decker spoke to her. Like Deck, he’d heard the chopper coming back.

“She better not be calling to tell you she talked them into letting her onto the ground,” Nash told Decker through gritted teeth.

“Where are you?” Tess said. He could hear the thrumming of the helo’s blades through the phone.

“Almost at the garage. We’ve got Will.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank God. Come out toward the back of the building, north side. Give us a couple minutes to get into range—lay low till then. I’ll buzz you when it’s clear for you to move across the open area and back behind the garage. Again, north side. There are no guards positioned back there. We’ll scoop you up as close to the building as possible.”

“Will do.” Decker pocketed his phone and got a better grip on Will Schroeder.

         

Jimmy couldn’t believe his eyes when they carried Will Schroeder out across the driveway toward the free-standing garage.

This part of the palace was usually heavily guarded—all those vehicles—but everyone had abandoned their posts and run to the front of the palace.

Where thousands of twenty-dollar bills were fluttering down from the open door of the chopper.

The pilot had that thing way up high, out of semiautomatic range. He was using evasive maneuvers, too, in case anyone got the idea to take a shot at them with a longer range rifle.

Not that any of the guards were paying any attention to their weapons. They were all dashing around, grabbing the cash.

Apparently, Padsha Bashir hadn’t paid his men all that well.

The chopper zoomed overhead, coming in low. Jimmy and Deck ran out to meet it, carrying Will, who’d opened his eyes, seen Jimmy, and muttered, “You better not fucking try to kiss me again.”

And there was Tess, helping him into the helicopter, holding him so tightly as they launched back into the sky.

Decker met his eyes across the chopper’s crowded cabin, and smiled. Dave was laughing and joking with the SEALs from Team Sixteen. Even Sophia didn’t seem quite so brittle. And Tess . . .

Tess loved him.

He looked down at her, still in his arms, as they sat down and buckled themselves in. She was exhausted, and she rested her head against his shoulder.

That was nice. It was very nice. A good fit.

Jimmy sat back, trying this odd feeling—was this actually happiness?—on for size.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-SIX

K
AISERSLAUTERN
, G
ERMANY

Sophia went into the hotel bar in Kaiserslautern, just outside of Ramstein Air Base.

“May I help you?” a young woman at the hostess station said in perfect, nearly accentless English.

Sophia hadn’t heard more than a few words of German since she’d arrived just a few days ago. And it was James Nash she’d heard speaking it. He and Decker had referred to Kaiserslautern as “McGermany,” and it wasn’t until she went out shopping for new clothes that she’d understood why.

There were so many Americans living in this part of the country—military personnel and their families—that everyone working in the shops and restaurants spoke fluent English.

Across the room, Decker had been watching for her. He was already on his feet.

“I’m meeting a friend,” Sophia told the hostess, who turned to glance at Decker.

Dressed in an oversized sports jacket and tie, he looked small and nondescript. Unremarkable. Not at all worthy of a second glance, which the hostess didn’t bother to give him.

But he smiled as Sophia came toward him. The transformation was instant.

“How are you? Nice haircut.” He didn’t try to air kiss her, he didn’t even reach out his hand for a shake. His no-contact rule was apparently still firmly in place.

“Thanks,” she said, self-consciously touching her short hair, recently returned to her natural shade of blond. She also wore makeup, lots of it, to cover her bruises. She wasn’t sure which was worse, looking battered or looking as if her face might crack. “May I?”

“Please.” He’d gotten a small table in the corner, and they now both sat.

The waitress was upon them immediately. “What can I get you?” she asked. Her English was even better than the hostess’s.

“I’ll have a Coke,” Decker said. He looked at Sophia. “Beer? Wine?”

“House wine, please.”

When the waitress left, he smiled at Sophia again. “Thanks for meeting me on such short notice.”

Like she was doing him some big favor. He’d only saved her life about two thousand times. And he’d been instrumental in expediting the paperwork for her new passport. Not to mention . . .

“Tom Paoletti called,” Sophia told him. “I’m heading for San Diego next week for a job interview.” She paused. “He told me you gave me a glowing recommendation.”

“Yeah, I did. You deserved it.” Deck took an envelope from his pocket, pushed it across the table. “That’s for you.”

She opened it. It was a check, made out to her. For fifty thousand dollars.

She pushed it away. “I know this is your money, and I don’t want it.”

“We made a deal,” he said.

“I changed my mind.”

“Change it back.” He pushed the envelope back toward her, leaned forward, and lowered his voice. “The client should have paid you, Sophia. Forget about what you did to help us get Tess out. The information you provided was instrumental in finding the laptop.”

“I don’t want your money, Deck. It feels too much like you’re paying me for . . .” Sophia took a deep breath and said it. “For going down on you.”

She hadn’t heard the waitress approach. The young woman put their drinks on the table and practically ran away. No doubt to tell her friends back in the kitchen what she’d overheard.

Decker sighed.

“Sorry,” Sophia said.

He briefly closed his eyes. “I’m the one who’s sorry. It never should have happened.”

She took a sip of wine. Cleared her throat. “Are you absolutely sure you want us to work out of the same office?”

“Yes,” he said, looking up at her. “I’m sure. Sophia, you’re good. I mean . . .” He laughed, embarrassed. “Jesus, this is hard—” He put his hand up right in front of his face, palm outward, as if to say
Stop
, and he closed his eyes again. “I’ll just stop talking now.”

Sophia laughed, and he glanced at her, chagrin in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you don’t think it’s funny, but . . .” She laughed again. She couldn’t help it.

“It’s nice to hear you laughing,” he told her. “I mean, really laughing—not that fake thing you do.”

She nodded. “I do that too much, I know.” She looked at the envelope on the table. “Do you think I could . . . borrow that money? Take it as a loan, until I find a job—”

“Tom is going to hire you, I know it.”

Sophia took another sip of wine. “I don’t think I’m going to have that interview. I think . . .” She shook her head. “It’s a bad idea.”

“No, it’s not,” he said. “Tom could use someone as . . . capable as you. There, see? That’s a good word. I can do this.”

Was it possible that he wanted to work with her, that he wanted her around?

Decker pushed the envelope with the check back over to her. “Take the interview, take the job, and take this as a loan. You can pay me back when you’re able.”

“With interest,” she said.

“Fair enough.” He pushed his chair out, opened his wallet, and put some bills on the table. “I’m sorry to run, but I have to catch a flight.”

“Thank you again.” Sophia held out her hand, and he only hesitated slightly before taking it. Fastest handshake in the West . . .

“I’ll see you back in the States,” Decker said. He gave her one last smile, and then he was gone.

Sophia sat and sipped her wine, thinking about how much Dimitri would have liked Lawrence Decker.

S
AN
D
IEGO
, C
ALIFORNIA

It was weird being back.

San Diego still looked like . . . San Diego. The land of eternal non-seasonal sameness.

And the office of Troubleshooters Inc. still looked like it needed a serious overhaul by Thom from
Queer Eye for the Straight Guy
.

Damn, what a dump.

Jimmy walked in, feeling exceptionally nervous.

He hadn’t seen Tess since the flight home two days ago. And before that, there’d been no time to talk. In fact, because of all of the debriefings and meetings and official business, they hadn’t said more than a few words in private since that last conversation in Bashir’s palace.

She’d been mysteriously absent last night. He’d expected her to be on the flight into San Diego, but she wasn’t. And she didn’t—or wouldn’t—answer her cell phone.

This morning, though, he was going to see her. She had to be here—they were having the very last of the debriefings.

There was a man who had the look of a Navy SEAL sitting at the front desk—tall and muscular, with a military-short haircut and pale eyes that made Jimmy think of a Siberian husky. He had one of those faces that looked as if it might crack if he smiled. And sure enough, he didn’t smile as Jimmy approached. He just waited.

“I’m here for the meeting,” Jimmy told him.

“Inside.”

The door opened behind him, and he turned to see Tess coming in. She was carrying a tray of Starbucks coffees, and Dave was beside her. She was laughing at whatever he had said, and didn’t see Jimmy. At first.

“James,” Dave greeted him. It seemed the jeans and rock-and-roll T-shirts weren’t just part of his disguise for travel to K-stan, but instead his whole new fashion statement. Today he was a walking advertisement for the Ramones.

Jimmy let himself look at Tess, and his heart actually skipped a beat as she met his gaze. “Hi.”

Her smile dimmed a few watts. “Hey. I didn’t expect to see
you
today.”

She didn’t? “Why not?”

She took the tray over to Dog-eye Man and gave him one of the coffees and a far sunnier smile than she’d given to Jimmy.

“Extra sugar, extra cream,” she said.

“Thanks,” Fido said, and smiled back at her.

His face didn’t crack. Far from it, in fact. When he smiled, the fucker looked like he belonged in the pages of a magazine.

“Have you met Cosmo?” Tess asked Jimmy.

Cosmo. God
damn
. Her hand was on freaking Cosmo’s freaking extra-broad shoulder.

“No, I haven’t.” Jimmy forced a smile. Held out his hand as Tess introduced them.

“Diego Nash, Cosmo Richter. Cosmo’s a chief with SEAL Team Sixteen.”

Of course he was.

Richter’s grip was firm and dry. He nodded, because speaking more than a single word was obviously just too taxing.

“Nice to meet you,” Jimmy lied. He turned his attention to Tess. “Why didn’t you think I’d be here?”

“This is a planning meeting as well as a debrief. You said—”

With another big smile at Cosmo, Jimmy pulled Tess back down the hall. “Forget what I said. Where’ve you been?”

She blinked at him. “I came out here early, to see my mother in San Francisco, but . . . Forget
which
part of what you said?”

“It’s crazy, I know,” Jimmy said, “but when you didn’t call me back, I got scared that you, I don’t know, went to Mexico or something.”

Tess didn’t laugh. She was silent, just looking up at him.

That was when he stopped being nervous and got good and scared. “You, um, planning any trips to Mexico?”

“Do you really want to keep seeing me?” she asked. “Because I was going to play our . . . time together like it was just a fling. You know, the assignment ended, so thanks, that was fun, see you around.”

“So . . . what are you saying?” he said. “You’re moving on to Cosmo Richter?”

She laughed. And then stopped, no doubt when she saw his face. “Are you actually jealous?”

“Shit, yeah.”

Her eyes were wide. “Really?”

He couldn’t bring himself to hold her gaze. “Yes.” God, he was pathetic. “Is that so hard to believe?”

She just stood there looking at him, arms folded, one hand up over her mouth.

That was when Dave poked his head out of the conference room. “Excuse me, we, uh, need to start? We’ve got Murphy online from Germany, via digital cam. He’s under doctor’s orders not to talk too long, so . . .”

“Thanks,” Tess said. “We better . . .” She gestured toward the door, forcing a smile that turned real as she went into the room and caught sight of Murphy on the video monitor. “Hey, Murphy, how’s the leg?”

“Much better, thanks.”

“I can’t believe it’s been only three days since we got back,” Tess said, sitting at the big table between Decker and Tom Paoletti. She’d already set up her laptop, and her jacket was on the back of her chair. “It feels more like three months.”

“That tends to happen,” Dave told her.

There were people in the room that Jimmy didn’t recognize. Still, it was clear from just the way they sat that they were more of Tom’s operators—even before the former SEAL rattled off introductions.

Jimmy took a seat along the wall, near the door, even though there were still empty ones at the table. Decker gave him a nod but didn’t ask him to move closer. He knew that meetings like this gave Jimmy a rash.

Even Cosmo Richter came in and sat down. Next to Jimmy. Of course.

They went through the entire mission, picking it apart. What worked. What didn’t work.

“Sat-com radios,” Tess kept saying. “Next time we need to make sure we pack enough sat-com radios.”

Tom Paoletti finally turned to him. “You haven’t said anything, Nash. Any suggestions for a smoother mission?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy said. “Stay the hell out of Kazbekistan.”

Everyone laughed. Except Cosmo Richter, who merely smiled. Obviously it took too much effort to laugh.

“I actually do have some questions,” Jimmy told Tom. “For you, and for Deck, too. Maybe we can talk after the meeting’s over.”

“Good,” Tom fired back at him. “Because I wanted to talk to you—about the possibility of your taking a team leader position.” He turned to the video monitor. “You, too, Murph. After you’re back, we’ll talk, okay?”

“With utmost respect, sir,” Dave said, “stay away from me. You can’t pay me enough to make me a team leader.”

Again, everyone laughed—everyone but Jimmy this time. He heard the words, the conversation continuing on around him as they all said their good-byes to Murphy, as the connection was cut.

Tom was talking to the entire group now about some kind of meeting next Wednesday morning—a chance to meet his second in command, a former Navy sharpshooter and FBI agent, Alyssa Locke.

Jimmy didn’t listen. He couldn’t listen. He’d been knocked out of his chair. Oh, he looked as if he were still sitting there, but in reality, he was on the floor with Tom Paoletti’s almost casual invitation to be one of his team leaders lying like a cinder block on his chest.

Everyone was talking—there were lots of individual conversations now. Plans for the weekend, the best way to fill out the expense reports in order to be reimbursed for incidental items, hey, anyone want to go grab some lunch?

Jimmy was still speechless. Tess was silent, too. She was just sitting there, gazing at him, everything she was thinking and feeling right there in her eyes, for the entire world to see.

“You okay?”

Jimmy looked up to see that Decker had come to stand beside him.

“Yeah,” he said, but then corrected himself. “No! I came here today to—” He laughed. “I didn’t expect him—Tom—to . . .”

The head of Troubleshooters, Incorporated was getting ready to leave the room.

“Excuse me, sir.” Jimmy stood up, blocking Tom’s route to the door. “I’m honored that you would want me to, um . . .” He laughed. “Actually, I’m totally blown away. I’m—” He had to clear his throat. “Thank you, sir. Thank you, but no, thank you. I appreciate your confidence in me, honestly, I . . . It means a lot. It does, and thank you, but Decker and I are a team.” He glanced at Deck, who had come to stand beside him. “And as long as he wants me, I’m going to be his XO. I, um, didn’t want to let you think there was actually a chance I might become a team leader. I know you’re actively recruiting, and . . . There’s no chance of me . . . No. Thank you.”

Tom nodded, looking from him to Decker and back. “I appreciate your letting me know.” He held out his hand for Jimmy to shake.

Jimmy met Tess’s gaze again. She’d misted up, and she wasn’t even trying to hide it.

As Tom went out the door, Decker shook Jimmy’s hand, too. “I’m glad you decided to stay,” he said.

BOOK: Flashpoint
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