Psychobyte (20 page)

Someone watching.

Instant paranoia rolled over me and mingled with the smell of coffee. One or maybe both made me feel ill all over again.

Someone watching me and Kurt, or me, Jules and Kurt. Who would be interested in two FBI agents meeting with an NCIS agent? Something to do with our case or something to do with Gerrard. Could Gerrard be involved in our case somehow?

Being watched gave me the willies. Just lately it felt like it happened a lot. I called Jules as Kurt drove.

“We were being watched from the third floor of a building across from the parking lot. Facing NCIS from the Barry, the building on our left.”

“You leaving?”

“No, parking out of sight.”

Kurt’s mouth turned up as I spoke. He pulled the car into a parking space behind the nearest building.

“Coming?” Kurt said, opening his door.

“Nah, you do it,” I replied, checking my weapon and laughing.

“Third floor?” Kurt asked, pointing to a building nearby. “It was that building?”

“Think so.” I climbed out of the car and shut my door.

Kurt opened the trunk and passed me a bulletproof vest. Once upon a time, I would’ve felt weird about wearing a vest in the Navy Yard. Times change. Nothing will ever be the same again.

Jules opened the door to the front entrance of the building as we got there.

“Anyone leave?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I called and had the building put on silent lockdown before we got here.”

“Good thinking.” No alarms. No scrambling around creating a scene. Just quiet locking of doors and arming of front-desk personnel. I looked toward the front desk. Two men in navy uniforms stood on either side of the civilians manning the desk.

“Access to the upper floors is via two elevators and two stairwells,” she said. “I’ve got three agents and a couple of marines inside.”

Liz waved from across the lobby where she stood talking to two marines and a couple of people in civilian clothes. I guessed they were the other two agents.

After brief introductions, Kurt and I took one stairwell, the marines the other, and the NCIS agents took the elevators. Halfway up the stairs, I questioned the wisdom of being in another stairwell. Distracting myself with potential scenarios once we reached our destination helped.

Kurt paused by the door to the third floor. “Okay?”

“Yes,” I replied with more confidence than I felt. “Let’s go.”

My phone beeped. I glanced at the screen as Kurt swung the fire door open. A map of the floor with a circle around the room Jules thought the glint came from. We took the left stairs. I counted rooms.

“Kurt, go right, it’s the tenth room on the left of the corridor.”

“Got it,” he said. We stepped into the well-lit corridor. At the other end of the hall, I heard an elevator ping followed by the sound of a heavy door closing. Seconds later I caught sight of marine uniforms walking toward our position.

Every room had large glass windows into the corridor. That would make a stealth approach tricky and potentially impossible.

Brazen it out then. We had one option, stroll on in and announce our presence.

NCIS, Marines, and us, converged on the room at the same time. I stepped back with Kurt to let Jules and Liz handle the entrance. Their jurisdiction, not ours. I could see through the large glass window. A male wearing civilian clothing ducked behind a partition near a workstation.

“He look familiar?” Kurt asked.

“I don’t know. Didn’t get a good enough look.”

The door opened. Marines and NCIS swept the room. Jules held up a rifle with a scope for me to see. A marine lifted a long black case off the floor and opened it. I could just make out the foam inside it. Moments fter a short scuffle, they lead a handcuffed male toward the door with a smirk on his face.

“How about now?” Kurt asked, holding his hand up for the procession to halt.

He did look familiar. My brain darted through memory drawers and files.

“Remember me, Conway?” he drawled, the smirk grew into a sinister smile.

Everything fell into place. My right hand closed into a fist and I punched him so hard his head snapped back.

Bet he didn’t expect that.

Pain shot up my hand into my arm. I shook my hand. Sharp stabbing pain zapped from my knuckles into my wrist and up my arm. Worth it.

Kurt grabbed my right arm before I could strike again. My left fist connected with the other side of the idiot’s face. His smile disappeared. He spat blood and a bit of tooth onto the floor.

“Yeah, I know you, asshole,” I said as Kurt pulled me away and a marine stepped in front of me.

“Conway?” Kurt said, pushing me against a wall as NCIS marched the bleeding man away.

Jules looked back at me. “We’ll talk.”

I said nothing.

“Let’s go,” Kurt said, taking my arm.

Blood trickled from the knuckles on my already swelling right hand. Not good. I looked at it closely. Grazed not cut. Good. But it hurt like a sonofabitch.

Damn.

I inspected my left hand. Bit grazed across the knuckles but otherwise unscathed. Kurt opened the fire door and ushered me down the stairs and out to the car. He opened the passenger door. I climbed in. Kurt went into the back and came out with his backpack. He dropped two cooling packs in my lap then nestled the backpack in the footwell by my legs.

My door closed. The driver’s door opened. Kurt settled into the seat then reached out and bent one of the cooling packs; it cracked and ice spread throughout the pack. He placed it on my right hand.

“Hold it there,” he said, reaching around me for the seatbelt. He clicked it into place. “We’re running out of time before we meet the plane. You need X-rays.”

“Let’s just go to the airport.”

“Conway, you’ve probably got a boxer’s fracture.”

My right eyebrow rose all by itself. More like a bar room fracture. My own stupid fault. I shouldn’t have hit him or I should’ve hit him with my elbow, not my fist.

“I’ll live. Airport.”

An awkward silence filled with unasked questions draped its arms around the car. The need to tell Kurt why I did what I did fought with my desire to block out the past and ignore what just happened.

He shouldn’t have been there anyway. Why was he there, watching? How the hell did he get a rifle into the building? And the target? Jules? Kurt? Me? Someone else?

Someone else.

My mind hummed.

I saw him by accident. That was his nest. He would’ve been set up to stay there as long as it took. He should’ve been more careful.

If one of us were his target, we’d already be dead. He was one helluva marksman. I fumbled for my phone, trying to get it out of my pocket. My right hand didn’t want to move and my left was too awkward. The vest didn’t help. I took Kurt’s phone from the console without asking and called a number I knew by heart at the CIA.

“Tierney,” I said as soon as the ringing stopped. “Did you know John Miller was in town?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Where did you see him?”

“Navy Yard. Any clue who his target is?”

“No.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you are not very trusting, Ellie.”

True.

“He’s one of yours and you didn’t know he was in town?”

A loud rumble and screech of metal accompanied thoughts a they jammed together and created a picture.

“Stay safe, Ellie, I have a meeting,” Tierney’s tone sounded dismissive.

“Call him off, Tierney. Or I’ll finish him.”

“I got notification NCIS arrested him. Not your call, Ellie.”

“You’ll have him out within the hour. You forget, Tierney, I know how it works.”

“You’ll never see him again.”

“Call him off.”

“He’s got a job to do. Just like you. I advise you to do yours and leave him to do his.”

“He should’ve been more careful. Now he’s on my radar.”

I can’t let him do his job now. Taking someone out on US soil. That’s not how the game is played.

My mind swung back to my last brush with a CIA operative. He went off the reservation big time and tried to take out Tierney.

“Tell me this isn’t anything like the last time I came across one of your operatives in D.C.”

“John Miller is on a sanctioned assignment.”

I looked at my watch. Fifteen minutes had passed since I smashed my fist into Miller’s face.

“He’s already free, isn’t he?” And I just bet he planted audio or GPS trackers on Jules or Liz. Whoever he wanted had to be tied to NCIS. My thoughts stampeded through my mouth. “The target. Miller’s only just picked up the scent. God. It’s not a coincidence that I’ve just started looking into Noel Gerrard’s disappearance and Miller turns up.”

“How’s your hand?” Tierney asked.

Yep, confirmation that Miller was free and had checked in.

“Better than his face,” I said. “Call him off.”

“He has a job to do.”

I hung up.

Kurt’s hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white but he remained focused on the road and traffic. I didn’t want to talk. He’d heard enough to worry him and make him think and there wasn’t much I could do about that. My thoughts radiated in many directions but each avenue pulled me back to Gerrard. Something was very wrong. He hadn’t disappeared. He’d gone to ground. The only trail Miller caught was mine as I tried to find Gerrard; he must’ve had Gerrard’s mother’s phone bugged. I wasn’t going to lead a killer to Gerrard. I called Sean.

“Hey, about Gerrard … pull back. He’ll find us if he needs to.”

“El?”

“Trust me. Don’t look for him.”

“Explain.”

I couldn’t. I had a gut feeling and a bit of circumstantial nonsense that said Gerrard was Miller’s target. Half a smile floated across my lips. I’d had less and done more with it. This time, I’d trodden on CIA toes with steel-capped boots and the potential for ugly backlash was extreme.

“Not on the phone. Trust me. Shut down any avenues you have open.”

“We need a face-to-face.”

“Yeah, we do. As soon as I get a minute.”

Take This Job And Shove It

I zipped my jacket against the freshening breeze. Kurt and I waited on the tarmac close to the FBI hangar.

“Keep your hand up by your shoulder,” Kurt instructed. “It’ll help reduce the swelling and the pain.”

I held my hand across my body and rested it on my collarbone as I watched the jet making its final approach. Mallory Stevens remained under guard in hospital, waiting to be released into our custody. Lee and Sam were on standby to grab her the minute the hospital gave them the green light. Sean had closed down all investigation into Gerrard’s disappearance. My hand ached like a bitch.

Today was going well.

I checked my phone. No messages.

“You want to tell me why you hit whatshisname?” Kurt said, watching the plane.

“I owed him.”

“I gathered you two had history.”

Not pretty history. He was part of the team I was seconded to.

Words spilled from me before I could check them. “Once upon a time in the sandbox, Miller was to be on the other end of a rifle. My backup. My eyes. Everything turned to custard. I was on the verge of proving that Dion was working both sides. All of a sudden, I had nothing. It looked like he was dead. Miller couldn’t confirm because he wasn’t in place. Jump forward to New Zealand eight months later and an explosion that took out some good people and then just eighteen months ago to a spate of deaths in Virginia of Conway women.”

“Miller?”

“Not directly, but because he wasn’t in place when I needed him, people died and people kept dying.” I looked at Kurt. “I owed him.”

Kurt nodded.

My phone rang. Unknown number. Something told me I needed to answer it. I planted my injured hand back on my collar bone and used the phone with my left, which was less awkward than it felt.

“Conway,” I said, watching the aircraft taxi toward us.

“I don’t have long,” said a familiar quiet voice. He shouldn’t have called but I listened in silence. “I screwed the pooch. When this is over, you’ll get a package. It will explain everything. Sanitize it before sharing with my mother.”

“Stay frosty, Oscar Mike.”

The phone beeped in my hand as Gerrard disconnected the call.

The aircraft taxied to the hangar.

Kurt coughed lightly attracting my attention. “Do I want to know who made that call?”

I moved in and whispered, “No.”

But he knew anyway. “He okay?”

My head shook. “I don’t know what’s going on and I can’t pull resources to find out.” I scrolled through a flurry of emails on my phone while the crew opened the door and let our guest alight. Kurt nudged me. I looked up in time to see Sasha Petrovovich walking toward us.

“He looks like Misha,” I said, turning to Kurt.

“Uncanny, isn’t it?” Kurt replied.

I let lightness wash over me and the concerns about Noel Gerrard float away. “Do all Russian men look like they’ve escaped from a romance novel?”

Kurt chuckled. “Maybe.”

I stepped into a small patch of sunlight and extended my busted hand to the tall man wearing a long leather coat. I pulled it back as soon as I realized what I’d done. His brow furrowed then smoothed as he smiled. Swooping in, he kissed both my cheeks. Charming.

“Agent Conway,” he said. “I am Sasha Petrovovich.”

“Thank you for coming,” I replied. “This is SSA Kurt Henderson.”

“Agent Henderson,” Petrovovich said with warmth as they shook.

“Kurt will do fine.”

Introductions over, we escorted our charge to the waiting car. Kurt gave him a bit of background regarding the case. I dragged on the seat belt with an uncooperative hand, not quite making it to the clip before it snapped back.

Jeez.

I reached across and used my good hand. Hoping to keep my silliness to myself.

Kurt’s mouth turned up at the edges. I ignored him.

“I saw something about the case on the news this morning, right before I left New York,” Petrovovich said. “It seems challenging.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” I replied, clicking the belt in place.