Payback (12 page)

The shame had mixed with guilt over not being there for Lyndi, causing Faith to veer dangerously close to clinical depression. Only the support of her grandma and friends like Siobahn, combined with productive sessions with an experienced psychologist had kept her functioning and eventually helped her regain her perspective.

“The whole ordeal also made me question why it was easier for me to investigate events overseas than to deal with family issues,” Faith admitted. “So I decided to give up my career and do what Lyndi had always wanted me to do. I settled down and put family first.”

Sometimes she wondered if Lyndi would be angry that it took her death to make Faith finally stay home.

“At first I stayed in my hometown, but after Gramma died there were too many memories. Too many people who wanted to talk about Lyndi and no one that I cared deeply about to hold me there. So I moved to a small town in Maryland not far from D.C. I teach journalism at the local college and run the high school newspaper. I try to make sure my students understand that the press has a responsibility to behave with sensitivity toward individuals. That the truth shouldn’t come at the expense of trampling people’s dignity and privacy into the ground.”

Mark gave a small snort. “That’s the difference between our professions. People are just pawns in the intelligence game. Yes, we claim that our ultimate goal is to make the world safe for the ordinary citizen, but that’s not really why successful agents continue to do this work. We like manipulating. Like working within the protection of the shadows and not having to follow the rules that constrain the rest of society.”

“That sounds cold. And lonely.”

“No. It’s a power rush when you outmaneuver an enemy and gain the information he’d worked so hard to hide. A rush that I suspect is as addictive as cocaine. I’ve lived most of my life working to get the next rush. The more dangerous the mission, the stronger the rush.”

She couldn’t stop herself from asking, “But don’t you ever get lonely?”

Mark put his fingers against her cheek and turned her face so that he could look into her eyes. “No. I’ve never been a particularly social man. Most people hold little interest for me beyond what they have to offer in respect to my job. I’ve never had problems finding female companions and have never wanted more than a shallow, physical relationship with them.”

Faith’s stupid heart sank.

“Until you.”

Joy. A brilliant smile threatened to split Faith’s face. She kissed him and that led to more loving, which this time felt deeper. Richer. She might have fallen too hard, too fast, but damn if she wasn’t going to hold on to Mark for as long as she could.

Chapter Eight

One Week Later

“A
bernathy,” Mark called to the guard who’d recently been assigned to Kerberos.

“Sir?”

At first glance, the man appeared the same as any other guard. Military short haircut. Clean shaven. Erect posture. But his eyes when they met yours were a little too wary. Too much like a puppy waiting to be kicked. And he moved gingerly, as if he couldn’t quite control the faster movements of his body.

The man supposedly had been put through a new program by Dr. Kaufmann. This one wasn’t meant to bulk men up and turn them into powerful, nearly indestructible soldiers. Instead, the new program aimed to create a faster, more intelligent spy and assassin. Mark knew that Dr. Nevsky had originally been tasked by the CIA to produce super spies and assassins, just as the DOD had wanted Nevsky to give them super soldiers. Apparently Kaufmann had decided to add the spies to his program against Jamieson’s wishes, although Mark’s boss had agreed to give the newly enhanced men a try.

Thus Abernathy’s assignment to the administrative side of Kerberos. “Touchdown Tiger Rose,” Mark said.

Abernathy straightened and a blank look came over his face. “Ready for orders, sir.”

“You have a key to Jamieson’s office?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Mark swallowed the bitterness at the back of his mouth. “I want you to go into Jamieson’s office and bring me a copy of the contents of the folder labeled
Test Subjects
that is in the bottom right desk drawer.” While he suspected that during their last meeting Jamieson had placed the folder in the drawer as a test to see if Mark would try to access the contents, he couldn’t pass up this opportunity. It was the first hard proof he’d seen that tied Jamieson to Kaufmann.

He handed Abernathy a camera. “Take pictures of the documents inside the folder with this. I am particularly interested in a list of names I believe you will find there. Also, I want copies of any other files relating to Kerberos and Kaufmann’s lab. You will not speak about my request or otherwise give any indication to another person regarding what I have asked you to do. Understood?”

Abernathy’s eyes held the unfocused look of a dreamer, making Mark’s stomach churn as the man saluted. “Yes, sir!”

“Very good. Jamieson is out of the building right now, along with his personal guards. Work as fast as you can, then return to me when you have completed your task.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mark watched the man speed walk down the hall, before returning to his desk. Jamieson had requested that he put together a list of potential clients who might be interested in purchasing the enhanced men to supplement their roster of personal bodyguards or to bulk up their private armies. Mark used his knowledge of the underworld of Russia and Eastern Europe to make a start on the list, but he couldn’t fully focus due to uncharacteristic nerves.

His unease wasn’t because this was his best chance to find out if Jamieson had authorized Toby’s abduction. Rather, he didn’t want to let Faith down. And at this point, his key priorities included passing on any information that would help the SSU locate and destroy Kaufmann’s lab.

When a knock came on his door ten minutes later, Mark flinched even though he’d been expecting it. “You’re back faster than I estimated,” he said as he ushered Abernathy inside, then closed the door behind him.

Abernathy handed over a new file folder containing still warm photocopies of the requested documents. He placed the camera on Mark’s desk. “I used the personal copy machine inside the office,” he said by way of explanation.

“Thank you.” Mark hadn’t realized that the enhanced spies and assassins retained their capacity for independent thought, but on further reflection, that made sense. Spying and assassination required subtlety and an ability to think quickly on your feet. Which meant this new category of enhanced men posed a greater threat than the overly muscular, violent soldiers Kaufmann turned out. A side effect of the military side of the program resulted in the altered soldiers thinking at a child’s level, unable to independently process and follow through on complex ideas without receiving commands directly from their handlers.

“Abernathy!” The bellow of the chief of security filtered through even the thick door of Mark’s office.

Abernathy turned ice white. “Hide me. Please!” He clutched at Mark’s arm. “You don’t know what he’ll do to me if he finds out that I obeyed an order from someone else.”

“You had no choice.”

The guard shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. He can’t find out! Please. Help me.” His eyes pleaded with Mark, his terror evident.

Mark hesitated. His mission was greater than one man. In the cutthroat intelligence game, sometimes individuals needed to be sacrificed in order to achieve results that would benefit all of society.

But he was no longer a man who could turn a blind eye to Abernathy’s fear. What if this had been Toby? How would he explain to Faith that he hadn’t done everything in his power to help protect the man?

Mark took a deep breath, realizing that this decision might destroy all his hard work toward getting revenge on Jamieson. “There’s a back door out of my office into a secure stairwell,” he said, indicating for Abernathy to follow him.

“Thank you!” The overwhelming gratitude and relief on the man’s face made Mark uncomfortable.

Abernathy reached for the door handle.

Mark slapped his hand on top of Abernathy’s. “Touchdown Tiger Rose,” he snapped.

Abernathy went still.

“You will forget you met with me,” Mark ordered. “You will forget everything that happened since I called your name. You will take the hidden staircase to the exterior, at which point you will leave this facility and its grounds and never speak of our encounter again.”

“Yes, sir.” Abernathy’s wooden tone caused Mark’s nascent conscience to wince, but he ignored it.

“Good luck.” Mark lifted his hand and let Abernathy open the door. Once the man had disappeared into the dimly lit stairwell, Mark shut and locked the door, then forced himself to return to his desk and resume work as normal.

He snuck a quick peek at the names in the report Abernathy had retrieved. Toby Andrews was listed under the heading of most recent acquisitions to Kaufmann’s program. Mark stared at the name for a moment and his heart knocked against his chest. Then he closed the file and tucked it and the other copies Abernathy had made safely away in his desk drawer.

When the second knock he’d been expecting sounded on his door, Mark schooled his features into his usual arrogant disdain. “Yes?”

“We’re looking for a missing guard,” the head of security announced as he stepped into the office, his gaze darting around the cramped space.

“As you can see,” Mark replied coldly, letting annoyance seep into his tone, “there is no one here but me.” He held his breath, but the man finished his survey without lingering on the spot where Abernathy had exited.

“Thank you, sir. Please let us know if you see this man.” The security chief handed Mark a photograph. “He may have become unstable.”

Mark lifted one of his brows and gave a curt nod. After one more visual check of the office, the man left.

Mark slowly blew out his breath. So, the security chief didn’t know about the hidden door. Interesting. His temporary office was one of three offices hastily partitioned out of a secure conference room. Apparently, no one had realized that the original room had an escape route, or that his office had ended up with the door. Good to know.

Hoping that Abernathy had made it outside without being spotted, Mark continued working until his normal quitting time several hours later. When he finally shut down his computer and headed toward the elevators, he ended up behind a group of administrative staff.

“Did you hear?” one of them whispered loudly to her friend. “Abernathy failed his assignment. They decided he wasn’t stable enough to handle being a guard here. They sent him back to his training facility.”

A chill raced through Mark.

“Such a shame. He was a hottie.”

The first woman giggled. “Yeah. Weird, but definitely fantasy material.”

The women turned down a corridor, leaving Mark with a couple of the security staff. “Heartless bitches,” a man Mark had seen a few times muttered. “The guy’s dead.”

“Excuse me,” Mark said. “Did you say that Abernathy is dead? How? When? The chief of security said he’d gone missing.”

The man hesitated, as if uncertain what he was allowed to reveal.

“It’s okay, George,” a second man said. “He’s Mark Tonelli, remember? The one who’s been working directly with Jamieson.”

“Ah. Right.” He raised a brow. “You mean you haven’t heard?”

Mark wondered if Jamieson had become aware of his use of Abernathy and decided to withhold information on the man’s death. No. His boss would flaunt it. “I didn’t see any alert go out,” he replied.

“Wasn’t an alert. We just heard about it because one of our buddies was there.” The man glanced around to make certain they weren’t in danger of being overheard. “They caught Abernathy trying to escape into the woods. Since his behavior was suspicious and against protocol, they decided to send him back to the training compound where he came from. My friend said he was terrified. He fought the men assigned to escort him to the transportation. Just went totally berserk and attacked his guards. In the ensuing struggle, he was shot and killed.” The man shook his head. “My friend thinks Abernathy was so scared of his punishment that he chose suicide by guard instead.”

An unfamiliar, icy horror seeped through Mark’s veins.
My fault. If I hadn’t ordered him to get the file for me, Abernathy would still be alive.
Unused to feeling regret at the loss of life, he tamped down his uncharacteristic feelings. “That’s a pity,” Mark said, wishing he could say so much more. “I didn’t know him, but he seemed to be a decent fellow. I’m sorry for your loss.” The words tasted like ashes as they passed his lips.

The man nodded. “Thanks. He might have been one of the freaks, but he was a good guy. Didn’t always get our jokes, but he really tried to fit in.”

For some reason, that comment made Mark’s throat tighten. Needing to be alone in order to process these strange reactions, he bid his companions good-bye and took the stairs to the parking garage.

Faith. He needed to see Faith. To hold her and have her warmth thaw this insidious cold taking over his body. Not that he deserved her compassion. Right now he hated himself.

What have I become?

F
aith knew something was terribly wrong when Mark let himself into the safe house. There was a bleak, dazed look of shock in his eyes that made her want to pull him into her arms and offer him the comfort of a hug. Yet the tight set of his mouth and the way his normally perfect hair showed furrows where his fingers had run through it, warned her that he was holding on to his control by a hairsbreadth. Instead, she accepted his brief kiss, then pushed him gently toward the couch while she headed for the kitchen.

She pulled down a bottle of vodka and poured a hefty dose into a tumbler, then set both glass and bottle next to him on the end table. He’d already torn off his necktie and loosened the first few buttons on his dress shirt. Grabbing the glass with the desperation of a drowning man latching onto a life preserver, he tossed the drink back with such force she wondered that he didn’t give himself whiplash.

Not knowing what else to do, she curled beside Mark on the couch, letting him know silently that he wasn’t alone. Only after his second drink did she venture to speak. “Can you talk about it?”