Smoke and Shadows (11 page)

“I’ll have Olsen bring you back here. I don’t want you out of my sight again.”

“I have a meeting with Yeager.” She scanned the crowd. Some perpetrators were too egotistical not to enjoy their handiwork.
 

“Fuck Yeager,” Viktor whispered fiercely. “You haul your ass back here, right now.”

“Son of a bitch—”
 

“Marissa! God fucking—”

“It’s Ali.” A surge of adrenalin fired up her limbs as her eyes landed on the face of Yusuf Ali among the sea of spectators ogling the burning wreckage. He was staring at her in disbelief, and he was backing away from the crowd. She’d be damned before she let him slink away. “I’m going after him.”
 

She tossed the phone back to Olsen, ignoring the cursing that erupted over the line. “Feed Baran the information.”

“Where are you—”

Taking several tentative steps and ignoring the pain shooting through her body, Marissa heaved a deep breath and shot off after Ali.

*****

“You should have knocked her over the head, or better yet, tranq’d her,” Viktor yelled at Olsen. Handing Tim the phone, he ordered, “Talk to Olsen. Get their exact location and set up the grid. I want visuals on Ms. Cole ASAP.”

“But where—” Tim called out after him.

“I’m going in the field,” Viktor threw over his shoulder. “Send the feed to my phone and my car’s computer.”

He jogged up the dimly lit tunnels of AGS HQ, all the while seething between panic and anger. Damn Marissa for making him feel this way. Bottom line, he didn’t trust her enough to take care of herself. He hadn’t trained her the way he did Maia. If he had known the woman was going to twist him up in knots, he wouldn’t have started a relationship with her.
 

Relationship?
 

Shit. I’m fucked.

*****

If there was something Marissa was good at, it was running, and fortunately, she had put on boots this morning.
Although, stilettos wouldn’t have even stopped her. She’d simply take them off and sprint barefoot.
 

Ali turned the corner from T Street onto New Hampshire Avenue. His destination undoubtedly the center of Dupont Circle—traffic nightmare capital and a sure fire way to lose a pursuer. But not today.

She vaguely heard Agent Olsen call her name, but like all marathons, the finish line became the goal and all else faded into white noise. In this case, tackling Ali to the ground was the prime objective, much like a runaway bunny to her wolf.

Her senses went on full alert as she rounded the corner into Dupont Circle and saw her prey standing with both hands raised. Bystanders reading the paper, and pedestrians crossing the Circle slowly turned their attention on the unfolding drama.
 

So much for covert ops—realizing the impulsiveness of her actions and the cost to her cover.
 

Marissa’s hand went to the grip of her 9mm, not wanting to draw her firearm in such a public place. Besides, Ali was not visibly armed. She needed Olsen to take charge of the arrest, and she needed to fade into the background before anybody decided to make a video,
turning her into a YouTube sensation.
Wouldn’t that give Yeager heartburn?

“What’s going on here?” a Metropolitan police officer barked.

“This is official business, officer!” Marissa shouted, not taking her eyes off Ali. “Get on the ground, Ali!”
 

“Unless you present your badge, ma’am, you have no jurisdiction here and I suggest you remove your hand from your firearm.”

The CIA had no badge, dummy. That was the FBI or any of the other alphabet agencies, but never the CIA.
 

“Ms. Cole!” Olsen gasped from behind her.

Marissa should feel relief, but her instincts were screaming for her to hit the deck. This scene was wrong. Very wrong. Ali’s eyes shifted to a spot behind her.

Son of a bitch. It was a trap.

Marissa slammed into Olsen just as the first bullet struck the pavement. Thankful for the illegally parked car in front of them, she dragged the Guardian behind the vehicle while yelling for the MPD cop to take cover. Screaming ensued when spectators realized that someone was shooting at them.
 

“Shots fired at the corner of Dupont Circle and New Hampshire Avenue. I need backup now!” the officer said through his shoulder radio. Crouch walking to Marissa and Olsen, he demanded, “Who in Jesus Christ are you guys?”

“You don’t wanna know,” Marissa replied, wincing briefly when a shell casing struck her face. The car they were hiding behind was being raked by sniper bullets, and all they could do was wait it out. Low ground was a disadvantage and it would be suicide to return fire without knowing the location of your target.

Speaking of target, Marissa glanced around. Yusuf Ali was long gone.
 

“You’re bleeding, Ms. Cole,” Olsen reminded her to take a physical inventory of her injuries. Not that getting shot at after almost getting blown up was an everyday occurrence, but it did happen, more often than she liked.

“Flesh wound.” She glanced dispassionately at the rapidly soaking fabric of her jeans.

“The guy’s ballsy,” Marissa informed the cop. “Isn’t there a police station right across from us?”

“Damn right there is.”

A car screeched to a halt beside them.
 

Viktor. Nathan Stark was riding shotgun.

“Get in.” The AGS top man sounded pissed.

“You can’t leave,” the police officer protested.

“I’ll call you,” Marissa quipped as she dove into the back of the Charger, Olsen right behind her.

*****

Viktor resisted the urge to park the car, drag Marissa out, and blister her ass. Instead, he concentrated on navigating DC’s most notorious intersection. He’d not spoken a word to Marissa or Agent Olsen since they took refuge in his car, preferring to let Nathan deal with the women and handle the logistics of retrieving the AGS vehicle.

Marissa was bleeding, and she likely also had a concussion. There was nothing more that Viktor wanted to do than tend to her, but he was struggling even to get the words out, so he simply brooded.

“I double parked on T Street,” Olsen announced.

“I hope you locked the car,” Nathan muttered. “Ms. Cole, are you all right? Do we need to take you to the hospital?”
 

“I’ll live,” Marissa responded with a wince. Her eyes met Viktor’s in the rearview mirror. “I need to get to Langley.”

“Not happening.” Viktor spoke up for the first time.
 

“I need to report this.”

“Call it in.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Viktor, my phone got incinerated in the car bomb.”

Viktor clenched his jaw. He’d nearly lost her. Again. Twice. The enemy was not hiding now. They were sending a strong message that they meant business. He punched a number on his Sec-phone.

“Yeager? It’s Baran.”

“Viktor, what can I do for you this morning?’

“Marissa can’t make it to your meeting.”

There was a pause and then, “And the reason?”

“She nearly got blown up in her car and shot down by a sniper this morning. Reason enough?”

“Christ! Is she okay?”

“Ask her yourself.” Viktor handed the phone to Marissa. He had a bigger issue to tackle right now—getting through T Street, which was currently being blocked by fire trucks and police cruisers. He cursed and made an illegal U-turn to head back on 19
th
Street to cut through S Street and get to Swann. He pulled up by the abandoned AGS vehicle, which was in the process of being written up by a uniform for a parking violation. “Take care of that, Stark—Olsen.”

Marissa made a move to follow Olsen.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Viktor gripped her arm to hold her back.

“Langley. I’m sure you can spare Olsen for a few hours. I might be able to commission a vehicle and send her back sooner.”

Viktor glared at her. She glared right back.

“I need to talk to Yeager,” Marissa pressed stubbornly.

“Fine. But Olsen’s not taking you. I am.”

Marissa’s eyes widened in surprise. “I thought you were tied up at AGS?”

“I was. I still am. But someone can’t stay out of trouble.”

“I’m not your problem.”

“Think again, sweetheart. Now, shut up.”

Marissa’s eyes narrowed at him. Viktor smothered a grin and stepped out of the Charger to take a gander at the chaos happening a couple of blocks up, where Marissa’s vehicle had been burning. “Stark.”

Nathan turned to him.

“Take care of Ms. Cole’s vehicle. Use one of our official covers to tidy up the paper work on that car.”

Nathan nodded and took off at a jog.

Marissa exited the Charger, but visibly steadied herself, gripping the roof of the vehicle.
 

“That’s it,” Viktor muttered. “You need a doctor. Forget Langley.”

“Don’t be silly,” Marissa said weakly, her eyes glazed over. Viktor was already rounding the vehicle. “I got blood on your precious car,” she added inanely before she took a crash.

Viktor caught her before she hit the asphalt. She was barely conscious, if not a bit loopy.

“How did I end up down here?”

“Let me see. Concussion?” Viktor said. “Possible blood loss?”

“No need to be sarcastic,” Marissa grumbled, snuggling closer to him.
 

“Oh, my God, what happened?” Olsen asked when she noticed Viktor bundling Marissa into the front passenger seat.

“My guess? Her adrenalin wore off,” Viktor replied. “I’m taking her back to HQ and having Henderson take a look at her. You got this?”

Not waiting for Olsen to acknowledge his question, he got into the car and drove off.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Dwarves were pounding her skull with a pickaxe, as they maliciously refused to give her water. Marissa’s eyes popped open, thankful to discover that it was all a dream. But her mouth remained cottony and she found it a bit disconcerting that Dr. Henderson was peering down at her.

“How many fingers?”

“Three.” Marissa braced herself up on her elbows. “What’s the damage?”

“Surprisingly, inconsequential,” Henderson told her, ticking off boxes on a clipboard. “Considering what you’ve been through; a mild concussion, a few stitches, and bruising. You’re a lucky woman.”

Marissa could argue his opinion. Her joints felt out of whack. Her leg was burning where the bullet clipped her, and her hands felt raw.
 

“Few seconds more in your car, I could’ve been doing an autopsy on a charred body.”

“You’re a laugh a minute,” Marissa muttered and winced when she took in her attire—a hospital gown. “Um, is there something else I could wear?”

“Are you planning on going somewhere?”

“Yes. Back to work,” Marissa retorted.

“As your doctor, I strongly advise against it. But I’ve dealt with your kind long enough to know that you won’t listen anyway.” He handed her the clipboard. “Just sign under AMA.”

“Covering your bases, Doc?”

Henderson sighed. “I have to, especially with you clowns mucking around and acting like you’re invincible. Pierce is the worst offender, followed by Lockwood. Used to call them Disaster and Mayhem when they worked together.”

“I’m surprised Viktor didn’t top your list.”

Henderson paused. “Come to think of it, I don’t remember treating him.”

Marissa’s brow quirked up. “Ever?”

“You know,” Henderson said reflectively. “That man may truly be invincible.”

*****

Kyle Yeager regarded him through his reading glasses, giving the report at hand a purposeful flick of his wrist. Viktor informed the director of black ops that if he wanted to speak to Marissa, he’d have to come to AGS, because no way in hell was Viktor taking her to Langley in her condition.
 

“This report is troubling,” Yeager said. “It’s a clear and present danger. If Russian and North Korean elements manipulate the conflict in Syria, we have even bigger problems. You’re saying there’s a link to Operation Smokescreen and Shadowland?”

“Yes. That’s why they’re eliminating agents involved in both operations,” Viktor replied.

“Cole was not involved in Shadowland.”

“No. But she was in Smokescreen. Shadowland was a parallel op we were running that linked North Korea to the deployment of the chemical weapons in Syria,” Viktor said.

“Shadowland was the mission where we extracted Jiro Matsuda for cooperating with the CIA,” Yeager mused.

“He gave us Min Kwon, the head of the NKUF. Taking out Min crippled the organization.”

“Are you saying they’re in play again?”

“One of their men was involved in the McCord abduction. It appears they’re regrouping and planning something nefarious. I have reason to believe that Min Kwon’s son is the new leader.”

“Stuart Kwon is a respectable businessman on the board of Exetron Oil Company in Russia. He denounced his father’s involvement with NKUF when everything came to light.”

“Have you checked attachment C?” Viktor lifted his chin indicating the document that Yeager was holding.

“Petrech Labs—”

“—is a subsidiary owned by Kwon,” Viktor said. “It’s fronting as a manufacturer of petroleum additives, but my sources tell me that they manufacture chemical weapons.”

“You think they’re the source of Syria’s chem weapons?” Yeager asked.
 

The door to Viktor’s office opened without warning.
If it were any other person, he would have chewed their head off. But when Marissa stepped through, Viktor could only stare and wish that she was alone with him right now.
She was
garbed in AGS-issued cargos and shirt, looking pale, bruised, and pissed, yet still undeniably beautiful and vulnerable.

“I heard you guys started the meeting without me.”

“We weren’t expecting you to be up,” Yeager said. “How are you, Cole?”

“Been better,” Marissa replied. “What did I miss?”

“Have a seat, Ms. Cole,” Viktor said sternly. Marissa was worse than the energizer bunny. He handed her his copy of the report Yeager was holding. As she perused the information, he and Yeager exchanged some small talk about the Senate Intelligence Committee and how they’d been curtailing funding for CIA clandestine missions.