Dark Deceptions (5 page)

“So what happened?” Hannah asked.

“She jumped ship in the middle of a mission,” Nash said, fighting against his anger and the memories. “Fucking disappeared.
And I damn near died because of it.”

“Maybe something happened to her,” Emmett offered. “I mean, our line of work doesn’t exactly lead to winning popularity contests.”

“That’s what I thought at first,” Nash said, his tone laced with bitterness. “And believe me when I say that I explored every
possibility. But everything I managed to discover only underscored the idea that her disappearance was planned. Annie was
always good at details.”

“Sometimes there are good reasons to jump ship,” Drake said, eyes narrowed, “but that doesn’t excuse her leaving you to die.
What the hell happened?”

“Long story.” Nash shook his head. “But the short version is that we got cornered in a building in Lebanon. Saida. My last
mission before leaving to join A-Tac. Anyway, Annie and I got separated and I got pinned down in the firefight. There was
an explosion and half my shoulder got ripped off. I was trapped, but she never came back. Just left me there to die.”

“But you made it out okay,” Tyler said, her eyes dark with anger.

“Yeah, I did. No thanks to Annie.”

“She betrayed your trust,” Emmett said.

“Which shouldn’t be all that surprising. Hell, it’s part and parcel of the gig.” Drake grimaced. “They train us to doubt everything
we see and hear. Trust nothing and no one.”

“Except your partner. If you can’t trust him or her, you might as well pack it in.” Lara frowned, shooting a look in Jason’s
direction.

“Maybe I just picked the wrong person,” Nash sighed, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. Whatever the hell kind of relationship
he’d had with Annie, it had imploded in Lebanon. Along with any loyalty he might owe her. “So, Avery, what have you got that
makes you think it’s her?”

“Intel picked up three separate references to Titian while picking through the chatter,” Avery said. “Two of them directly
referencing what we believe to be plans for the assassination.”

“Titian as in the painter?” Jason asked, typing furiously on his laptop.

“Indirectly.” Avery nodded. “Annie has red hair. Titian was her code name.”

“Bit of a blinding glimpse of the obvious.” Drake frowned.

“Sometimes the best way to hide is in plain sight.” Emmett shrugged.

“Yeah, but in this case it doesn’t make sense. Annie’s disappearance was without sanction. That means that she’s persona non
grata as far as the CIA is concerned. So surfacing now using an old CIA code name would set off all kinds of alarm bells.”
Nash shook his head, frustration cresting. “I think it’s far more likely that someone’s playing us. Trying to make us believe
it’s Annie, when, in fact, it’s not.”

“The possibility occurred to me, too,” Avery said, his expression, as usual, masking any emotion. “But there’s more.” He picked
up a remote and pressed a button, the screen behind him filling with the photograph of a man entering a small hotel. “This
picture was taken yesterday afternoon in D.C. The man is Emanuel Rivon, a Bolivian national with known terrorist ties. He
operates a coffee conglomerate and uses it to cover travel in and out of questionable countries. Including Pakistan.”

“Has he been specifically linked to Ashad?” Lara asked.

“Not specifically, no.” Avery shook his head. “But intel can establish that he does business with people who do have ties
to the group.”

“Guilt by association,” Drake said to no one in particular.

“Sometimes it’s all we’ve got. But in this case we can verify that Rivon met recently with two suspected Ashad sympathizers.
Both Pakistani and both alleged to have strong ties with radical Islam. This photo was taken about sixteen hours after that
meeting.”

“I assume you have something connecting Rivon to Annie?” Lara asked.

Avery nodded, hitting the remote again. The screen filled with another photograph, same hotel, but this time the camera had
captured the image of a woman. Nash struggled to breathe, long-sequestered emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Despite
the passing years, Annie looked just the same. The fall of her hair, the slant of her eyes, even the small scar that bisected
her left eyebrow—a souvenir from a particularly incendiary operation—nothing had changed.

“This photo was taken fifteen minutes after Rivon entered the building. If we hadn’t been watching him, we’d probably never
have seen this.”

“It could be coincidence,” Nash started, trailing off as he realized just how delusional he sounded. Annie was clearly a part
of something big. And the fact that she’d fucked him over eight years ago only gave credence to the idea.

“In our business there’s no such thing,” Drake said, his expression hard, as he stared at the photograph.

“Is there anything more?” Tyler asked.

“More chatter. This time a veiled reference to a meeting between Titian and El Halcón.”

“The Falcon,” Emmett repeated. “Rivon’s code name?”

“Exactly.” Avery nodded, his expression harsh.

“And if you play connect the dots,” Drake said, “you end up with Rivon hiring Annie to do Ashad’s dirty work.”

“Makes sense.” Hannah shrugged. “With security what it is, it’s a hell of a lot easier to hire someone already in country.
Especially if said person is a professional assassin.”

The label hung in the air, no one willing to look at Nash.

“So you think Annie’s turned mercenary?” Nash said, his jaw clenching as he fought his anger. It was a reasonable assumption,
but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

“She wouldn’t be the first.” Jason shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he said, frowning as he tried to sort through the facts. “Don’t you think it’s a little suspect that she’s
showing her hand after all these years? Usually when people fall off the grid, they go out of their way to stay that way.
Meeting with a known terrorist in the middle of D.C. is like waving a red flag.”

“Or maybe she’s just lost her edge,” Lara said. “It’s been a long time.”

“You don’t know Annie.” Nash shook his head, anger mixing with frustration.

“But you do,” Avery replied, his tone brooking no argument. “Which is exactly why the boys in Virginia dropped this in our
backyard. They want you to spearhead the effort to bring Annie Gallagher down.”

Annie paced in front of the hotel window, the traffic below indicating that it was rush hour in Baltimore. Time had lost all
meaning, her every waking moment occupied with thoughts of finding her son. It had been almost thirty-seven hours since Adam
had disappeared.

Less than two days. But it felt like years. The kidnappers had made their instructions clear. A phone call that had sent her
across the country to D.C. and a meeting with a man named Emanuel Rivon.

It was dangerous coming out into the open after so many years, but she hadn’t had a choice. The kidnappers had made it clear
that there would be no negotiation. And that they were watching. Any attempt to contact the authorities, particularly the
CIA, would result in Adam’s death.

Not that she was tempted to go that route. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe anyone from her old life would step in to
help her now. For all practical purposes, black ops agents operated off the radar. And once they’d ceased to be useful, they
ceased to exist, all ties with the past severed irrevocably. In return for her safety and her freedom, she’d agreed to a cover
story that painted her a deserter.

It was for the greater good. At least that’s what she’d been told. But now, standing here waiting for Rivon’s call, she wondered
if she hadn’t made a bargain with the devil. In trying to save her son, she’d opened the door to a far more hideous danger.

So far they hadn’t allowed her to speak with Adam. The only proof she had that he was still alive was a grainy photograph
Rivon had given her. She picked up the picture for something like the thousandth time, studying every angle, looking for something—anything—that
would give her some idea where they were holding him.

But the generic room gave nothing away.

She clenched her fists and stared at the PDA on the nightstand, willing it to ring or signal an incoming text message. Rivon
had given her the phone at their meeting. Untraceable, it was no doubt rigged to track her movements as well. Although she
hated the idea, she couldn’t ditch it. It was her only link with Adam’s kidnappers. Rivon had said they’d call her when everything
was finalized.

He’d also promised a video call from Adam.

But so far… nothing.

She blew out a breath and leaned her forehead against the cold glass of the window. Life below her went on without so much
as a pause. It was as if the universe were completely unaware of the nightmare she’d been thrown into.

Rivon hadn’t exactly been a font of information. He hadn’t even told her who it was he was working for. But clearly it was
someone who knew who she was. Who she’d been. Someone who knew that taking Adam was the only way to pull her back into the
game.

She fought against a sob, knowing that this was no time for emotion. She had to keep a clear head. Figure out where they were
holding her son and find a way to get him out. And failing that, she’d have to follow through with their demands.

It meant crossing a line, but the choice was an easy one. Adam was her son. And if necessary she’d sacrifice her life for
him. Or someone else’s. Rivon had made that much perfectly clear.

She sighed, a shiver working its way up her spine.

It wasn’t as if she’d never killed anyone. But in the past, she’d always believed she was working on the side of right. Fighting
against corruption and evil. Making the world a safer place for children like Adam.

Maybe it had all been bullshit. Maybe there was no right or wrong. At least not in any absolute kind of way. The world was
a dangerous place. And her involvement with the darker side of espionage was the only reason she was standing in a seedy hotel
room praying for word from her son. All she knew for certain was that she’d do whatever it took to make sure that Adam was
freed. Securing his release was the only thing that mattered.

She still had no idea who the target would be. Someone of great importance, Rivon had said. A major player. A roadblock in
the continuing battle to bring America to its knees.

She sank down on the end of the bed, desperation threatening all rational thought. Nothing had changed. It was the same war.
Different opponents maybe. But still the same fight. And her son was caught in the middle of it.

Beside her the phone rang, and heart pounding, she snatched it off the bed, fumbling with the buttons in her rush to answer.

“Hello?” She held her breath, waiting. “Adam, is that you?”

“No, Ms. Gallagher. I’m afraid it’s not your son.”

“Rivon.” The word came out more a curse than a name. “I want to speak to Adam.”

“In good time. But there are a few things we need to discuss first.”

She wondered if it was possible to hate anyone as much as she did this man. “So speak.”

“It’s almost time for you to make your move. And so I’ve been instructed to reveal the target.”

“Aren’t you worried that I’ll tell someone?”

“Not particularly,” he said, his tone smug. “You’re more than aware of what would happen if you were to try to bring in outside
help.”

She sighed, knowing there was little point in arguing. Better to play along and keep alert. She needed to talk to Adam. “So
who is it you want me to take out?”

“Spoken like a consummate professional.” He laughed. “The target is an official with the U.N. Blake Dominico.”

“The U.S. ambassador?” She tried but couldn’t keep the dismay out of her voice. Not only was the man a patriot, he was probably,
thanks to his often extreme views on eradicating the country’s enemies, one of the most protected men in the country. “You’re
asking the impossible.”

“That’s why we have you. Your reputation precedes you.”

“I haven’t been a part of that world in years. And even then I wasn’t operating on my own. I don’t have the resources to pull
something like this off by myself.”

“I think you’re underestimating your abilities, Ms. Gallagher. And besides, you’ve got more resources than you realize. Which
is why I want you to go to New York and survey the situation. Then when you’ve come up with a plan, we’ll see that you get
whatever it is you need to make it happen.”

“I’m not sure you have access to the kinds of resources that might be necessary. Blueprints, surveillance equipment, entrance
codes, not to mention weaponry. Since 9/11, access to U.N. diplomats has become increasingly difficult. Particularly at the
Secretariat.”

“Yes, but Dominico doesn’t spend every waking hour at the General Assembly. You’ll find a way, Ms. Gallagher. After all, we
have Adam. And it would be a shame for his life to end so soon. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Blind rage threatened to overtake all rational thought, but she clenched the phone until the plastic cut into her fingers,
the sharp bite of pain pulling her back from the edge. “I won’t do anything more until I see my son. I need to know that he’s
okay.” She paused, sucking in a breath of air, as her mind considered the unthinkable. “That he’s still alive.”

“You’re not really in any position to be making demands,” Rivon said. “But as it happens, we’re prepared for you to speak
with your son as soon as we’ve finished here.”

“So what else do I need to know? You’ve made your objective crystal clear.”

“I’ll be texting a file with information and final instructions within the hour,” he said, ignoring her open hostility.

“What about transportation? It’ll be difficult to stay under the radar if I have to use my credit cards.”

“All of that has been arranged. You’ll receive everything you need.”

“And if I don’t? How can I contact you?” It was worth a try. A phone number would be the quickest route to tracking him down.

“You can’t. At least not by any direct method. But again, arrangements have been made, and as I just said, you’ll be apprised
of the details very soon.”