“What about Kulick and his partner?”

  “I destroyed Kulick’s career with a phone call, and the American Morrison was never a problem.”

  She regarded him for a moment, deciding if he was telling her the truth. It all made sense, but there was something missing, something her enraged emotional mind couldn’t put a finger on. “You found everyone quite easily.”

  “Because I’ve kept track of them all over the years, just in case.”

  She bit her lip. “You used me.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “Your plan. It was so convoluted. So unnecessarily difficult.”

  He crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. “What do you mean?”

  “Nerve agents. Bombings. Helicopters. Sniper rifles. Why? You had the means all along to kill them all. Why have me use these methods?”

  “I told you, to confuse them. With that American on the ground now a Director at the CIA, I had to assume he might know more than he should. By having you use the Novichok, I gave you access to kill Minkin, and I had everyone thinking the government was behind the attack in England, and not you. I was trying to help.”

  She shook her head. “No, you were trying to help yourself. Some people I’ve met explained it to me, their theory at least. And you already admitted enough for me to know they were right.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You said your ambitions now included power. You were trying to destabilize the government in the hopes of taking over.”

  He shifted in his seat. “Nonsense.”

  “Everything you do is for your benefit. You used me to clean up your mess from back then, and you used me to try and gain power today.” She shoved the photo across the table, a photo she had only ever seen on her uncle’s desk, a photo that had always brought a smile to her face when she visited him. “And you tried to kill me.”

  His eyes filled with tears, but none escaped. Nor did any words of defense.

  “I can’t believe you would do that. You would kill me, the closest thing you have to a daughter, just to protect yourself? What kind of pathetic man are you?”

  A tear finally did escape. “One who lost his way long ago, my child.”

  She stared at him, her fingers tracing the outline of the buckle on the belt the American had given her before the meeting had been arranged, the Russians relieved to find out she was still alive, so they’d have someone to parade in front of the cameras for the international press. “What do you mean?”

  He stared at her, the tears flowing freely now, her resolve weakening. “I’ve carried a terrible burden all these years, one that I must tell you before I go to my grave.”

  Her chest tightened and her stomach churned. “What?” She gripped the belt buckle. “It involves Father, doesn’t it?”

  He nodded. “I lied to you.”

  “About what?”

  He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “About everything.”

  Her heart hammered. “What do you mean?”

  “I told you I was in charge, and I was. That’s true. But your father didn’t want any part of it. I convinced him to take part. I practically had to force him. He hated me for that, and it ended our friendship after the operation failed.”

  Her chest swelled with pride at the revelation her father wasn’t a monster like the creature that sat before her. He was a good man, a man who wouldn’t willingly take part in something so evil. She eyed her uncle. “If it ended your friendship, then why have you been so involved in my life all these years?” She gasped as the missing piece, the piece she hadn’t been able to figure out, suddenly slid into place. “If you were in charge, then why did he kill himself? Why did he fear for us if the only other person who knew was you?”

  Aristov’s shoulders heaved as tears erupted anew. “I’m so sorry, little one, I didn’t mean for it to happen, but I couldn’t help it.”

  Natasha rose slowly from her chair. “What did you do? Tell me!”

  He stared up at her with bloodshot eyes, his cheeks stained, his nose running. “I’m so sorry, little one, I didn’t mean for any of it to happen.”

  “Tell me!”

  “Your father, he didn’t kill himself.”

  Her jaw dropped and she collapsed into her chair, gripping the arms. “Wh-what do you mean?”

  “He didn’t commit suicide. I-I killed him.”

  White hot rage engulfed her, her eyes flaring as she nearly tore the arms off the chair.

  And he recognized the look, scrambling to find excuses for his inexcusable act. “It wasn’t my fault. He was racked with guilt from the moment the operation failed. He felt we had betrayed our country, our profession, and dishonored ourselves. He felt guilty that the young officer, Dimitri Golov, had been executed, along with his American partner, for no reason. He wanted to come forward, to reveal the truth and face the consequences, no matter what they may be.” He leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of him, pleading to her. “It would have destroyed us all! I was already positioning myself to take advantage of the fall, and if your father talked, it would mean either imprisonment in a labor camp for the rest of our lives, or death. We were both still reasonably young, we had so much of our lives left, but there was no reasoning with him. I had to do it! It was his fault, not mine! If he had only kept his mouth shut, he’d be alive today.”

  Through clenched teeth, she asked her final question. “So, you murdered him, then made it look like a suicide.” He nodded. “His letter to me. It wasn’t even written by him, was it?”

  Aristov collapsed on the table. “No, I wrote it.” He looked up at her. “I’m so sorry, little one.”

  “So am I.” She pulled the two small blades hidden in the belt buckle and leaped forward, embedding them into her uncle’s temples then twisted, killing him instantly before the guards could enter the room to stop her. She spun on them, raising her hands, but not dropping the daggers. “American, if you’re listening, there’s one thing you should know. My uncle is dead, but this isn’t over. I put a contract on Morrison. It can’t be stopped. I’m sorry.”

  Then she charged the guards, her arms swinging with the daggers, then gasped as her body was rocked with shot after shot, ending thirty years of misery swiftly and without mercy.

  Just as she had always wanted, but never had the courage to do herself.

  39 |

  Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters Langley, Virginia

  “What’s his location?”

  Leroux spun toward Sonya, snapping his fingers, her reply to Kane’s question immediate.

  “He’s heading home. I’m contacting his security detail now.”

  Leroux glanced at Child, pointing at the screen without saying anything, his well-trained team knowing exactly what he needed, no time wasted with verbal communication. A map appeared of the area, a red dot showing Director Morrison’s car, several camera shots appearing moments later showing his mini-motorcade consisting of his vehicle and two escort vehicles.

  “I’ve got them, Dylan. Everything looks good. What’s going on?”

  “Natasha just killed her uncle, and before she was shot by security, she said that she put a contract out on the Chief that can’t be stopped.”

  Leroux cursed, stepping closer to the displays. “So, payment has already been made or arranged, and there’s no communication with the team.”

  “That’s my interpretation. We need to get him secured and fast.”

  Leroux watched as the motorcade came to a stop at a red light. He turned to Sonya. “What’s going on? Why aren’t they going through?”

  She shook her head, slamming a fist into her console. “I can’t reach them.”

  He spun toward Child. “Check for any type of jamming in the area.”

  Child attacked his keyboard then pointed at the screen. “There’s a cellular dead zone right where the Chief is. Somebody’s jamming the signals.”

  “But we don’t use cellular with our teams.”

  Child shook his head. “They’re probably jamming everything, not just cellular. It’s just that it’s the easiest for me to detect. By the time I figure it out—”

  Kane interrupted. “It’ll be too late.” He cursed. “We have to get a warning to them. Wait. Where’s Sherrie and Fang? I thought they were supposed to be watching him too.”

  Leroux frowned. “Morrison relieved them once everyone was in custody. Nobody knew about the contract.”

  Child pointed at the screen then hammered at his keyboard. “I’ve got an idea!”

  “What?”

  “No time to explain.”

  Leroux turned to the screen, the light changing green, the motorcade advancing through the intersection when Child threw up his arms in victory.

  “Done!”

  40 |

  Downtown Langley, Virginia

  Morrison sat in the back of his chauffeured car, his eyes closed as he tried to relieve the burn. It had been a hectic week, and he thanked God every day of it that he had people like Kane and Leroux that he could rely upon. With those behind the attacks identified and in custody, the threat was over, and he could now rest easy and only worry about the dozens of other threats to his life that came in daily.

  I can’t wait to see Cheryl.

  He had told his wife to stay at her sister’s until things were settled and was looking forward to her return.

  In fact…

  He fished his cellphone out and dialed her number. He frowned at the lack of a signal.

  That’s odd.

  “Sir, you should see this.”

  Morrison leaned forward between the seats to see what his driver, Tony, was pointing at, and his eyes widened at the sight of a video billboard with a flashing message.

  WA42 CODE RED ALPHA.

  He cursed. “We’re about to be hit.”

  “Buckle up, sir.”

  Tony hammered on the gas, grabbing his mike as he did so. “Red Alpha, repeat, Red Alpha!” But there was no response. He tried again then tossed the mike aside in frustration. “We’re being jammed, sir.” He activated their lights and siren and accelerated, rushing past the lead vehicle, the other well-trained drivers picking up on the situation, both escort vehicles jumping into action. “Sir, Langley or your home?”

  “Which is closer?”

  “About the same.”

  “Langley.”

  Tony honked on the horn three times then cranked the wheel, hopping over the median as Morrison clicked his seatbelt in place. The escorts followed then suddenly Tony hammered on the brakes. “Get down!”

  Sherrie White fished out her phone and swiped her thumb. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Sherrie, it’s Dylan. Please tell me you’re close to the Chief.”

  “He stood us down as soon as you sealed the deal in Russia. Why?”

  “There’s a hit on him, and we can’t reach his car.”

  Sherrie put the call on speaker so Fang, driving, could hear. “I’m with Fang right now. Where’s the Chief?”

  “Chris, send the tracking information to her phone.”

  “Right away.”

  Sherrie’s phone vibrated and she tapped the message that popped up, a secure tracking application appearing showing their location and the Chief’s, with a recommended route. “We’re less than five minutes away.”

  “Are you armed?” asked Kane.

  “Of course.”

  Fang leaned closer to the phone. “She’s armed. It’s a crime for me to be armed.” She winked at Sherrie, patting the Glock tucked into her waist.

  “Get there, see what—”

  Leroux interrupted. “It’s going down now!”

  Sherrie cursed then shoved her phone in the dash mounted holder before climbing over the seat and into the back. Fang hammered on the gas, strategically using her horn and her advanced training to get them into the action before it was too late, while Sherrie accessed the trunk through the back seat, yanking the duffel bag carrying their small arsenal forward.

  “Weapons check!”

  Fang pulled her weapon and handed it back. Sherrie quickly made sure it was loaded then returned it. “You’re good.” Fang put it back in her belt before blindly holding out her hand. Sherrie slapped three magazines in it then checked her own sidearm before prepping the two MP5s.

  I have a feeling we’re going to need these.

  “Three minutes!”

  “Copy that!”

  She clipped two flashbangs to her belt then pushed the MP5 submachine guns into the front seat before climbing back up front. She tapped her chest, the knock of her vest reassuring. “Sure am glad we’re not very trusting.”

  Fang flashed her a grin. “You have no idea how excited I am right now.”

  Sherrie laughed. “I can see why Dylan likes you.”

  “He loves her! And if you get her killed, he’s coming after you!”

  They both laughed at Kane’s voice through the phone then grew silent as evidence of what was happening ahead appeared. Cars traveling in the opposite direction were speeding, their drivers panicked, their passengers staring out the rear windows. Police sirens pierced the air, and hints of flashing lights ahead were visible.

  “We’re about to engage. Wish us luck.”

  “Be careful,” replied Kane, the signal breaking up as if someone was jamming it. “And kick some ass for me.”

  Morrison sat in the back seat, hunched over as four men steadily approached, pouring heavy fire on the vehicle’s windows, their weakest points, the bullet-resistant glass slowly splintering, their failure inevitable and imminent. His support teams were both pinned inside their vehicles by two more groups of four men doing the same, the occupants unable to even open their doors to engage.

  They were all going to die, it was just a matter of time.

  Unless you open your door.

  They were here for him, not his security detail. If he allowed himself to be killed, they would leave, saving the nine men and women protecting him. His eyes burned as he thought of his wife and children, but they would understand. They knew his job, they knew the type of man he was, and they knew he could never stand by and let others die uselessly just to save his own life.

  Their defeat was assured, and only he could prevent the slaughter that would ensue should the ballistic defenses of the escort vehicles fail first.

  “I’m going out there.”

  Tony spun in his seat, staring back at him. “Are you nuts, sir?”

  “It’s the only way I can save your life and the others. They’re here for me, not you.”

  “With all due respect, sir, we’re here to protect you, and are willing to die to do that.”

  Morrison smiled at him. “And I appreciate and understand that, Tony, but not when the outcome is guaranteed. I’m not getting out of this. Support is too—”

  The pattern of the gunfire changed briefly, and he poked his head up to see that two of their assailants had turned, redirecting their fire on an arriving local police car, the officers shredded the moment they arrived.

  And it settled things in his mind.

  “I’m going.” He choked up at the words he was about to say. “Tell my wife and kids I love them, and that I’m sorry.”

  Tony stared at him, the man having served him for years, and clearly affected by the sacrifice about to be made. “Sir, you don’t have to do this.”

  Morrison reached out and squeezed the man’s shoulder. “Yes, I do.”

  He reached for the door and pulled the handle.

  “Oh my God!”

  Leroux wasn’t sure who had cried out, but it didn’t matter. They were all sharing that tortured soul’s horror as they watched the assault unfold from various angles captured by traffic and security cameras. A dozen men were unloading on the three vehicles of the motorcade, the security detail trapped inside their vehicles, it only a matter of time before the windows failed and the deadly lead penetrated the interior, ending the lives of all involved.

  “What’s he doing?” cried Sonya, pointing at one of the images. Leroux’s eyes shot wide and he rushed toward the displays as the rear door of Morrison’s vehicle slowly opened.

  He gasped as he realized what was happening, and his respect for the man grew beyond anything he could have imagined as he dropped to the floor, clasping his head in his hands. “He’s sacrificing himself to save the others.”

  The room fell silent as everyone watched what was to be the end of the man who had affected so many of their careers, not the least of which was Leroux’s. Morrison had recognized his abilities early on, had given him tougher and tougher assignments, then finally put him to the ultimate test with a honeypot trap that was Sherrie.

  That one thing had changed his life, Sherrie falling in love with her target, the two of them now a couple with a real future.

  All thanks to the man about to die on the screens in front of him.

  He forced himself to look, to watch the murder, not out of morbid curiosity, but out of respect for the man who had changed his life so much, who had made him the man he was today by forcing him to take chances and go beyond his comfort zone.

  His shoulders heaved as his chest ached.

  Goodbye, sir.

  Fang hammered on the brakes then threw open her door, taking the MP5 handed her by Sherrie and shoving the spare clips in her pocket. She quickly assessed the situation, her experience level far greater than her companion’s, and cursed as she saw the door to the limousine open. She looked over the roof at Sherrie. “You take right, I’ll take left. Shoot center of mass, keep advancing. Use the vehicles as cover. Got it?”

  “Got it!”

  “Take out the guys assaulting the lead vehicle, then advance. That should allow the security team to help. Execute in three, two, one, execute!”

  Fang squeezed the trigger, single-shot selected, and the first assailant went down, then the second, Sherrie’s weapon belching lead, her own targets dropping as they both rushed forward. The doors of the lead escort vehicle were thrown open as they charged past, the four members of the security detail pouring out. Fang took out two more on her side that were assaulting Morrison’s vehicle, but the others on Sherrie’s side had picked up on what was going on before they were taken out.

 

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