Point of No Return (4 page)

“The connection?”

“Global is offering hefty salaries plus perks to retired officers to keep the company out of the trouble other contractors have gotten themselves into.”

“You mean militia for hire.”

Moore shook his head and sighed. “Yes, Major. I mean militia for hire. Saunders is nearing retirement and expressed interest in a consulting position.”

“Ramsey?”

“No. Ramsey is assigned to a committee to consider private spy contracts. Global wants to enter the spy-for-hire business.”

The private spy business was an up-and-coming contract enterprise relatively new to the intelligence scene. Spying in countries that prohibited the CIA and military from operating was being outsourced. She didn’t like the idea. She’d already come up against a few of the so-called agents and they were bastards. Save one. She’d come up against him quite nicely.

“There’s another connection. Captain Rebecca O’Brien was your predecessor in this job.”

Apprehension marched through her. Her lover’s name was O’Brien. Moore swiveled the chair and went quiet, taking in the view outside his window. The break in eye contact was deliberate. Designed to prevent her from knowing when he was lying.

“Three months ago Captain O’Brien was assigned to the routine review of Global Solutions procedures.”

“Does she have a daughter?” Honey interrupted.

“Yes.”

“Was her daughter taken?” Honey leaned on the desk.

“No. The officer and her husband were murdered in their home.”

Honey snapped up straight. “I didn’t hear of an officer being murdered.” The Corps was a relatively small military organization. News of a murder would have circulated and that name would have drawn her attention.

“The deaths were reported as a car accident. Her husband, Lee, was an analyst and attorney with the Multiple Threat Alert Center.”

“MTAC? How . . .”

He swiveled back, a dark expression on his face. “No more questions until I finish.”

Honey dialed back her excitement.

“So far, the O’Brien deaths and the taking of the girls can’t be pinned on Global. But the coincidence is there. In this business we know there are—”

“No coincidences,” Honey finished.

“Your job is to fill in the blanks. Connect the dots. If Global is in any way responsible for the events with these officers, we want to know. While the officers are our first concern, it isn’t the only one.” He stopped.

“Yes,” Honey said impatiently.

“If Global is dirty they have to be kept out of the private spy business and their private militia contracts with the government ended. Millions of dollars are involved, not to mention the security of the country.” He paused. “Major, I repeat, this is dangerous.”

She started to speak. He held up the stop sign hand.

“I know you’ve been in dangerous situations many times. This is different. You’re solo here. No team, no backup. Understand.”

“Yes. No team, no backup. Sir. I have questions.”

“Such as?” He gave her a wary look.

“Will I have written orders?”

He paused then glanced to a folder on the corner of his desk. “Yes. From DIA.”

Defense Intelligence Agency orders.
It was all she could do to sit still.

“Is this considered a covert operation? A title 50?”

Moore gave her a wry smile, like a teacher would to a bright student. “No. It
will be
as close to a title 50 as you can get.” He picked up the pen and massaged it vigorously. “Are you accepting?”

She shook her head. “Not until I know who you suspect at Global.”

Moore seemed surprised by the question. “If we knew that you wouldn’t be sitting here. It could be anyone from the owner and CEO, David Bristol, to the janitor. All of them.”

She shook her head. “With respect to you, sir, you have a target, and it isn’t the janitor.”

Moore looked uncomfortable and took longer than he should have to answer. “The owner, David Bristol, is the primary. Now can we—?”

“Two more questions.”

He waved a hand and leaned back in his chair with an exasperated sigh.

“You keep saying
we
. Who are the
we
?”

Moore washed a hand over his face, his eyes once again darting around the room. “Staff generals, dinosaurs, who are concerned about outsourcing the military.”

Honey repressed a smile. On occasion, dinosaurs could be a good thing.

“And?”

“What do the
we
think Global is doing?”

“I’m not answering that unless you are officially interested.”

“Yes. Officially, I’m interested.”

“You’re accepting the offer?”

“I’m declining.” She stood. “If I can’t be trusted with details up front I don’t think I’m the right person for this assignment.”

“Selling arms technology.” The words rode out on a long sigh.

Flaming fish balls
. Honey sat.

“You understand this same assignment may have gotten Captain O’Brien killed.”

“Yes.”

“Based on what details I’ve given you, Major Thornton, I’m asking if you accept the job. Do you want this assignment?”

She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. He couldn’t get her out of this with a direct hit from an RPG. “
Yes.
Sir.”

“When I say use everything you have, you understand I’m saying . . .”

The fine hair on the back of her neck and arms stood up. She understood this would be the event that guaranteed her eventual promotion to general, open avenues to speak out and prevent companies like Global from operating. More important, it would help erase the images of an emaciated Kelly and tortured Jenna from her dreams. “You’re saying use any means necessary to enhance the possibility of success.”

He tightened his fingers on the pen.

“While reviewing Global Solutions I suspect no one will be unhappy if I push boundaries or use my X chromosome talents.” She paused, savoring the taunting. “Maybe climbing between the sheets . . .”

The pen bent. “This isn’t a spy flick. No one
expects y
ou to go to bed with the man.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir.”

“Enough.” Anger sparked in his flint eyes. “Don’t pull any crap about being used because you’re a woman. Your . . .” He pointed the pen at her. “Your intuitions and ability to read a situation make you one of the best intelligence officers around. We all use what we have to get the job done. In this case,
you’re
what
we
have. You take this job, that’s how it is. Understood?”

“Thank you for the compliment, sir. I believe you misunderstood. I am clear about using people to get a job done.” Honey tucked in her chin and gave him a searing look from beneath half-closed lids. “General, in that area I had a very good teacher.”

The cheap plastic government pen snapped.

Chapter 3

Honey went to the side table and refilled her cup as she went through Moore’s possible motives for offering her the assignment.

A, and most obvious, was that he wanted her to take the risks, find the answers, and then he’d take the glory.

B, the lust angle. He was using a high-value assignment to draw her into his bed. She’d heard a rumor he was ready to ditch his wife, a socialite who spread her legs for any powerful man in DC.

C, and the most unlikely choice, he genuinely wanted to make amends.

It sure as hell wasn’t getting justice for those girls or the O’Brien family. Whatever his reasons, she was in. She’d walk the line. Show him she was a team player. Be respectful but stand her ground and make it clear they wouldn’t be playing any bedroom games.
Ever.

He held out his cup. She ignored it and returned to her seat. He sighed, rose, and poured his own. She stayed quiet.

“Let’s get to this,” he said, settling into the chair. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”

“When do I start?”

“The review begins Tuesday. You have two weeks. With the Memorial Day holiday, there’s some leeway to tack on a couple more days. Go through these personnel folders. You’ll have to do it here.” Moore pushed the stack to her. “They can’t leave the building.”

Her clearance was as high as it went. She could easily sign out the folders or been given the files on a secure flash drive. It was highly unlikely they contained anything to threaten national security. She knew he was lying. He knew she knew and he didn’t give a damn. She stood and unbuttoned her jacket. The intercom buzzed, and keeping his gaze on her, he pressed a key on his desk phone. Geesus. He watched her shrug out of the jacket like she was on the pole.

“Your order is here,” his aide’s voice said over the speaker.

“Bring it in, Dan.”

She folded her uniform, the marksman medals clanking as she placed it over the back of the empty chair. Honey sat and retrieved the top folder. The lieutenant carried in a pastry box, placed it next to the folders and propped open the lid. Honey lifted her head to look. Sambusak, the Middle Eastern sweets she loved.

“Thank you,
Dan
.” She gave him a wide smile, as if the sweets were his idea, and turned to Moore, giving him the remains of the smile and wondering if this thoughtfulness fell into the lust or the make-amends column.

Moore looked pleased and gestured to the box. “Go ahead.”

She chose a pastry and nibbled the almond-filled turnover. Moore remained oddly silent, even when she rose and moved around the room examining his ego wall. Plaques, awards, pictures of him, men and women he’d served with. A few with the brass, one with the commandant of the Marine Corps presenting him a certificate. There wasn’t a single one taken in Cairo. She leaned in to get a close look at the photo of him standing between former presidents Clinton and the first Bush and broke the silence. “I have to think Global and its employees have been researched. Background checks gone over and the minutia of their lives documented.” She turned. “Why do you think my going above and beyond is going to uncover anything when other investigating agencies have come up with zip?”

“To date, it’s been a given Global is clean. No one has considered they’re selling arms or technology. No one is looking at what could be going on in plain sight.”

“Isn’t that what O’Brien was going to do?”

“No. She was doing the scheduled DoD review.”

“Where did the intel come from?”

Moore hesitated. “I’m not privy to that. Read the files.” He tipped his head in the direction of the pile. “Then we’ll get to the rest.”

Honey returned to her chair. “I don’t care what’s in those folders, or what MTAC, Langley, or any of the other agencies say, tell me what
you
think is going on.”

“Major.”

“General,” she marched over his words, “you invited me to this party, either you cut through all the bullshit and tell me exactly what you want me to do or—”

He slapped the desk. “Or what, Major?”

Honey gave him a brief smile then nailed him with her eyes. “
Or,
I take the option you offered and I walk.” No threat. Her tone was casual, conversational.

Moore shoved to his feet and went to the window. “I
think
there’s a connection with O’Brien’s death, and the girls. I
think
we can’t ignore the intel Global is selling arms. I
think
I’m sending in a damn good intelligence officer to get proof.” He turned. “Take a look at the files.” Paper ruffling became the only sound in the room as Honey paged through the folder.

“So you know, almost everything there can be found on the net,” he said.

“You’ve got to be shitting me. Really?”

Moore said nothing as he returned to his chair.

“Bristol’s great-aunt dies months after taking home three million in the lottery. He inherits, uses the money to start Global, and gets millions in government contracts. How can this . . . ? How can he . . . ?” The folder landed on the desk with force. “For real?”

He nodded.

She flicked the folder. “This is out there.”

Moore spread his arms out over the desk, his hands palms up. “Yes, it is.”

Honey took another pastry and filled her mouth, wondering how this could get any more bizarre. She tossed Bristol’s folder on the desk and picked up the captain’s folder. Rebecca O’Brien was a dark beauty and according to the file an exemplary Marine. Her heart pinged at the thought of the child losing both of her parents at the same time.

Honey moved on to the husband’s file, Lee O’Brien. It took every bit of control to keep her expression neutral and her body still. Inside was the photo of a man she was
involved
with.
A contract spy she knew as
Jack
O’Brien.

“Not much there,” Moore said.

Playing it as cool as one who’d just taken a knife to the heart could, she checked the file deets. Right age. No scars or birthmark. She’d touched every centimeter of his body and knew this to be true. Everything matched but first name,
and wife and child
. She’d believed him when he said he wasn’t married.
Wasn’t she just the fucking brilliant intelligence officer?
Her muscles were being replaced with wet cement and each intake of breath caused them to harden and go numb. She’d broken her rules with this man. Given in to lust and fucked where she worked. It was difficult to accept he was dead or that she could have been that wrong about him. Especially with Moore staring her down. She read the bio again. This man, Lee, was an analyst here in DC. He didn’t work the field. He went home every day to his family. She ran a finger over the glossy photo. This man was not Jack. The pictures were a mix-up. A family member, a . . .

“The brother, Jack, has even less.” He leaned and pushed another folder to her.
The. Brother. Jack
. The words settled her acrobatic stomach.

A relieved cough ejected the wet cement and feeling returned to her limbs. He was alive. She lifted the folder,
Jack’s folder
, and opened it. She shot Moore a questioning look. There was no photo inside and not enough details to fill a single page.