The Finish Line

Next to her, Samantha looked flawless, as usual. Kate resisted the urge to sneak disdainful looks at her out of the corner of her eye—the unflappable Brit wouldn’t even notice, and it would only make her feel more unkempt. Damn jet lag, she thought. I should have known catching the red-eye over the pond wouldn’t help me all that much.

Even worse, the man sitting across from her also looked disturbingly bright-eyed and alert at this late hour. Still clad in the tuxedo he had worn to the party, Jacob Marrs was her Room 59–assigned bodyguard. He kept an eye on her pretty much anytime she left the house. At first, Kate had protested the very idea, stating that since the agency she worked for was so ultrasecret, who would even know that she worked for them or what she did? The board members of the IIA had insisted, however, and now she could hardly imagine a time when Jake’s solid, imposing presence hadn’t been nearby. Even now, with the gorgeous Samantha hardly an arm’s length away, he gave her no more attention than he would any other person who wasn’t a threat on his radar. He had checked their driver’s identity six ways from Sunday, scanned the limousine for bugs, bombs and anything else out of the ordinary, and only when he had been satisfied had he let the two women get in and made the signal for them to be on their way. Once on the relatively quiet city streets, his alertness hadn’t wavered for an instant, as he constantly surveyed the areas they passed through, watching for the slightest anomaly or anything that seemed out of place.

Without looking up from her PDA, Kate decided to test him. “How did marking Mr. Weatherby’s car go?”

“The car was marked within ten minutes of your giving me the signal, and an operative is watching his every move as we speak. If there is no overt activity on his part that is out of the ordinary in the next twenty-four hours, standard operating procedure will reduce surveillance to intermittent unless otherwise ordered.” His eyes flicked to hers for a second before resuming his sweep. “I would have searched his car more thoroughly, but I had to make sure to keep you in sight before you left the party.”

Samantha nodded in approval. “You weren’t kidding when you said he was good.”

“Better than good.” Kate met his gaze and flashed a brief smile.

Jake didn’t stop his study of their surroundings as he spoke. “Don’t get the chance to do a lot of fieldwork, other than making sure Kate can do her job without interference, so it’s a nice change of pace to stretch my legs and get my hands dirty, so to speak. Besides, while I can’t speak for her, six months of accompanying either Kate or Mindy on shopping trips or runs to the grocery store can make a person long for something a bit more—exciting—to break the routine.”

“Spoken like a true man of action.” Samantha leaned forward. “I’ve perused your dossier, Mr. Marrs—it’s quite impressive. If there’s time while you’re here—and with Kate’s permission, of course—I wouldn’t mind utilizing your extensive training with some of my field agents. I’d imagine you would have a lot to teach them, particularly in the area of executive protection.”

Jake rubbed his chin. “Well, the Room 59 training is pretty extensive, but I might be able give them a few specialized pointers. Let me know if you had any specific areas in mind, and once we’re settled into the op base—and if I’m not needed elsewhere—I’ll see what I can do.”

The chirp of a satellite phone interrupted the conversation, and Samantha reached for hers and flipped it open. “Excuse me. Hello?”

She listened for a moment. “Yes…yes, I had been informed of the situation as of two hours ago…. Actually, our agency director from the States is sitting next to me at the moment…. Yes, I think that would be best…. Let me conference my phone to her computer, and you can brief us all directly. If I may?” Samantha nodded at Kate’s slim laptop.

“Of course, I’ve already activated the Bluetooth program, so you shouldn’t have any problem,” Kate said.

Samantha plugged in, and moments later, she, Kate and Jacob all heard the ambient noises and breathing from the caller. Samantha cleared her throat. “Go ahead, M-One.”

The man on the other end wasted no time. “Thank you, Directors. Initial surveillance on target for Operation Firewall commenced at 1620 hours, using the data gained by our operative who had infiltrated the group. Subjects were observed and logged for the next six hours and ten minutes, noting numbers, unusual activity, et cetera. The file of surveillance activity is being uploaded to our network for review as I speak. At 2030 hours, Team Two members noticed a pair of unfamiliar men entering the back of the house, and soon afterward, gunfire was seen in the location through thermal imaging. After attempting to alert the operative inside, both teams converged on the location and engaged the hostiles to attempt to draw them away from terminating the subjects. Although my team performed their objective with exemplary ability, killing two of the hostiles, all but one of the subjects were killed before the teams were able to get to them. Remaining hostiles were sighted on the roof, and the teams were ordered to pursue if possible. One member, at considerable risk to himself, tried to stop the hostiles, and learned that they were still searching for the surviving subject, who had apparently escaped the house through unknown means. After recovering one of the hostile’s bodies, we pursued the survivors through the city, but lost them at Kennington Park. However, they were on foot when they escaped. We have also recovered a surveillance device that the hostiles used, and are analyzing it for data. That file has also been uploaded for analysis.”

“What was your impression of the hostile force?” Kate asked.

“A professional group, they assaulted the location from two areas to maximize surprise, and were able to do it practically under our very noses. Their operation was quick, well-timed and ruthless. We did not have any advance notice, even from our inside operative, so whatever surveillance they had done on the location had been prior to our watch. They were definitely ex-military, and they were well armed with state-of-the-art submachine guns, flash-bang grenades and optical technology that almost rivaled our own. We’ll provide a full report once we’ve had the chance to examine the body before forensics.”

“Why did you decide to pursue the unknown hostiles when they left the target area?” Samantha’s tone wasn’t accusatory, just inquiring.

“The presence of the hostiles, along with their tactics and armament, suggested that they were either a unit from another intelligence agency or a private group hired to eliminate the subjects for a yet-unknown reason. I made the decision to attempt to follow and apprehend to learn what their true motives were, and if possible, whom they worked for if they were a government unit, or who hired them if they were private operators.”

“So one subject is still alive and somewhere in the city, correct?” Kate asked.

“To the best of our knowledge, that is correct. However, we cannot confirm that information at this time.”

Kate had already brought up a London street map on her laptop. “Perhaps when we reach the site, we’ll be able to discern what might have happened. Based on your observations, why do you think the other team was there?” she asked.

“While it may have been a simple sweep and termination, M-Two overheard two of the hostiles talking, and believes that they need to recover something from the surviving subject. What that is, however, we do not know at this time. What are your orders?”

Kate exchanged glances with Samantha. “We’ll need to alert all operatives in the city and surrounding area to be on the lookout for this subject, as soon as we figure out exactly who it is. Matching the bodies with the live count should give us a face, if not a name,” Kate said.

The beautiful Brit nodded. “If we’re going to be going up against another strike team, it may be wise to keep the Midnight Team on active status for the time being. Since they’ve already come up against these people, they would know what to expect and be better prepared to stop them if they’re encountered again,” Samantha said.

Kate noticed Jake’s raised eyebrow at this idea, but didn’t address it. “M-One.”

“Ma’am?”

“Take your team to the nearest safehouse and prepare your report. Once there, contact Primary, and a forensic team will meet you there and go over what you’ve collected.”

“Affirmative. M-Team out.” The spec-ops leader cut the connection.

Samantha took her phone back. “And excellent timing, since we’ve just arrived.”

Kate glanced out the window to see a London street a few blocks from the Thames that ordinarily would have looked like any other lane, except for the profusion of police cars and other unmarked cars she figured were from MI-5, the government department pledged to protect the United Kingdom from external threats. A few onlookers still milled around, but there didn’t seem to be much of a crowd now, which was just the way Kate liked it. A few diehard media vans were parked down the street, and she made a note to keep an eye on them in case they decided to come too close.

Samantha had the limousine drop them off about two blocks away, and Kate drew up alongside the other woman as they walked down the sidewalk toward the house on Wyvil Road. “How much trouble do you think we’ll have getting on-site?”

“It depends—this will be under MI-5 jurisdiction, and while I have good relations with anyone in the field, it has been a while. Let’s see who’s in charge and what the situation is.”

This is always the tricky part, Kate mused as they approached the crime scene. Room 59 had incredibly broad jurisdictional powers, granted by a consortium of allied nations around the planet to fight any and all threats to the free world. At the same time, however, they had been created to operate behind the scenes, taking care of matters deemed too sensitive for the public intelligence agencies to handle. As such, there were many times when Room 59 operatives would be operating in a country without even advising the home agencies, not only for plausible deniability, but also due to the fact that negotiating every layer of bureaucratic oversight and permission took time, often a luxury the operative didn’t have. Because of this, it was always best to work below the radar whenever possible—except when a team found itself in the middle of a high-profile firefight, like earlier this evening. Then Room 59 operatives did what Kate and Samantha were about to do—walk in and see what they could find out. But before that…

“Jake?” Kate asked.

“Yes?”

“Why don’t you hang back even farther and see if you can find out anything around the back. Above all—”

“Don’t get caught. Yes, I do remember the drill, thanks. Page me if you need anything.” The tall, ex-army man slowed down, his black tuxedo jacket helping him fade into the shadows between the streetlights. When Kate glanced back a moment later, he had disappeared.

Kate adjusted her earpiece just as Samantha got the attention of the ranking MI-5 agent in charge, a craggy-faced, brown-bearded bear of a man in a tailored suit.

“I’m Officer Kryden. Can I help you?”

Samantha showed her cover identification. “Samantha Rhys-Jones, consultant with MI-6. I understand that you might have information concerning a known terrorist suspect involved in the incident here?”

“We’re still sorting through everything to make sense of what happened. What’s the sister service’s interest, if I may?” Kryden asked, employing the casual name for MI-6.

“One of the tenants living here was involved in a smuggling ring that may have trafficked in biological weapons, including bringing them inside the country.”

Instead of replying, his searching gaze fell on Kate. “And you are?”

Kate quickly produced her own identification. “Donna Massen, U.S. State Department. I’m here primarily in an observer capacity. However, we believe that one or two of the tenants may have been U.S. citizens.” Kate touched a hand to the back of her head, thankful she had decided to maintain her disguise for the time being.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but as of right now, this scene has been classified for authorized personnel only. If this is part of an ongoing investigation with the sister service, then once I’ve verified it, I can discuss particulars with Ms. Rhys-Jones here only.”

“Of course, Officer. I appreciate your candor and understand the need for confidentiality. If you don’t mind, Ms. Rhys-Jones, I’ll just wait by the corner.” Just then an officer brought a piece of evidence to Kryden, who turned away to examine it. Kate caught Samantha’s arm and brushed her wig back, revealing the earpiece. Samantha nodded and unpinned her own hair, letting it fall and cover her ears—and her own inserted earpiece.

Kate turned and headed up the street, walking slowly, scanning the front of the house, which looked like a war zone amid what should have been the normally placid street. The left front window had been shattered, though there was little glass on the ground, indicating that someone had come in from outside. The main door, centered in the middle of the building, had also taken heavy damage, with several bullet holes in it. Adjusting her glasses, Kate took several pictures of the building, using the tiny camera built into her spectacles. She also got a picture of the MI-5 officer in charge. After all, one never could tell when it might come in handy. As she worked, Kate also kept an ear cocked on Samantha and Kryden a few yards away.

The wireless earpieces that the Room 59 directors wore had been modified by agency technicians to transmit over short distances without the aid of a designated cell phone, although adding one could extend the range significantly. With the appropriate hairstyle, they made excellent eavesdropping devices. Even so, Kate held her breath as she saw Kryden on his cell, talking and nodding. He hung up and turned back to Samantha, his voice as clear as if he was standing right next to Kate.

“Sorry about that. However, everything seems to be in order. Here’s what we know at present—”

Kate listened to the officer’s succinct presentation of what they figured had happened, which pretty much matched what the Midnight Team leader had told them—two separate teams of shooters converging on the house, killing everyone they’d found inside. A blood trail led out the back door to an alley down the street, where the police had found three .45-caliber shell casings, but no evidence of anyone being injured there. The department was tying this in to a car chase that terminated in Kennington Park, where one vehicle was destroyed, along with the groundskeeper’s lodge it had smashed into.

The MI-5 officers were looking at camera footage from various points around the area to get any kind of description of the parties or the vehicle that escaped released to the public. They also had the body of one of the shooters, and would be examining it as well. Kryden figured that the terror alert might be raised, since they had discovered what looked like biological weapons inside. “It’s a miracle none got released, what with all the destruction that went on in there—bloody war zone, looks like.”

“So it doesn’t look like any of the bioweapons were taken?” Samantha asked.

“Not that we can tell. Of course, it’s not like they left an itemized inventory sheet. But the room where they were storing it looked relatively untouched, compared to the rest of the place.”

“Would you happen to have pictures of the victims, both the tenants and the shooters? It’s possible that they may have connections outside the country, especially if biological warfare is involved. We’d like to cross-check any identification you find against our files, and see what we come up with.”

“Right, I can e-mail you photos of the faces and names, if that helps.”

“That would be splendid. Please keep me informed as to what you discover, and I’ll be sure to do the same.”

“Sure. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish getting the scene processed,” Kryden said.

“Of course, thank you very much for your time, Officer. I’ll be in touch,” Samantha said. She shook his hand, then turned and walked back to Kate. “I assume you got all of that?”

Kate nodded. “So if the second team wasn’t after the bioterror weapons, why did they assault the place and kill everybody in the first place? And what part does our mysterious missing person play in all of this?”

“Good questions all. Come on, it’s a bit chilly to be standing around out here when we could be discussing this in the car. Where’s your shadow?”

Kate scanned the street, but didn’t see any sign of her bodyguard. “I sent him off to poke around out back, see what he might come up with. No doubt he was still able to keep an eye on me at the same time.”

“You’re absolutely right.” Jake materialized out of an alley next to them. “I didn’t find much. Your boys had both entryways sealed up tight—I expect they aren’t going to miss much.”

Samantha smiled. “I expect they won’t.”

“However, I’m afraid they aren’t going to find this.” He brought out a small, handkerchief-wrapped bundle from underneath his jacket. “I overheard one of the techs say the vehicle that had been parked in the alley had turned right onto Wandsworth, so I ambled down to see what I could find, and came up with this in a pile of garbage near the curb.”

He unwrapped enough of the object to reveal the slide and muzzle of a semiautomatic pistol. “It’s a Walther P-99, DAO model. At least two shells fired.”

“Well, let’s get it back to Primary and see if we can trace it.” Kate dialed a number on her cell as she got into the limousine. “I’ll rouse the troops and have them take a look at the London city surveillance system, particularly in this area. Time for everybody to go to work.”

6

Anthony Savage felt the weight of his surname pressing down on him as he led the remaining members of his team through the London streets, always making sure to keep them moving away from the cock-up that had occurred in Wyvil Road earlier that evening. Along the way, he barely resisted the overpowering urge to punch someone or something.

Who the fuck were those guys? They busted in like they owned the place and were there to kick everybody’s ass, no matter who you were. And that sniper? If Tommy hadn’t spotted him—and immediately become his primary target—they’d all be lying on that rooftop beside him. Our own surveillance didn’t spot dick. Where did they come from? And where the hell did Mags disappear to? She had to be inside when we came in—we saw her go in the door.

“Boss, we need to take a breather—his leg has started up again.” Behind him, the surviving two members of his team followed, Charlie’s face pale as he leaned on Liam, his free hand clamped on his thigh.

“Right, just let me procure transportation.” Anthony had already commandeered one car, driven them all several miles, then ditched it, not wanting to keep a stolen vehicle for any longer than necessary.

“Yeah, and try to make sure it’s a four-door this time, will ya? I thought we were gonna kill him getting in the last one,” Liam said.

“You just keep your goddamn eyes open.” Their team leader scanned the street, looking for an opportunity. He found it in a tan, five-year-old Volkswagon Eurovan with no alarm. Less than a minute later, they were cruising down the street toward their safehouse on the outskirts of the city.

Once they had pulled up to the curb of the small semidetached house on the south edge of Chelsea, Anthony dispatched Liam to get rid of the van, and helped his wounded teammate into the house.

“How you doin’?”

“I’ve been fuckin’ better, that’s for sure.” Charlie McCaplan groaned as he maneuvered himself across the step and into the tiny foyer. “I’ve been trying to figure out who the hell kicked us in the bollocks over there, ya know—keep my mind off the pain.”

Anthony helped him down the hallway to one of the small bedrooms. “Yeah? Come up with anything?”

“Fuck, no. They weren’t Brit intelligence—they would have announced themselves before bustin’ caps all over our asses. These guys were on the same mission we were—search and destroy. Lucky we came in when we did, or the whole mission would have been shot to hell even quicker. As it was, I expect we were lucky to come out of it with only the losses we did take. By rights, it could have been all of us.”

Anthony only partially suppressed his shudder at the thought—not at dying, but at the idea of not completing his mission. Since he’d started with the company four years earlier, he had gone out in the field at least a dozen times, and always had accomplished whatever had been asked of him. This was the first time that a mission he’d led had been a complete, unqualified failure, and that idea was already starting to gnaw on his innards. Anthony Savage hated failure, no matter what the reason for it, but he had bigger fish to fry instead of concentrating on what had gone wrong. There’d be time for mission evaluation later.

“Friction can be overcome through a variety of methods,” he muttered under his breath as he helped make Charlie comfortable and checked the hastily applied pressure bandage on his thigh.

“Eh…whazzat?”

“Nothing, mate. You just lie back and relax, and the extraction team’ll get you out of here and into a comfy private hospital bed quicker than you can blink. You need another hit?”

“Naw, I’ll be fine. You just requisition me a couple o’ pretty nurses while I take it easy, and everythin’ll be…just fine.”

“That’s my boy. Stay cool, and we’ll take care of you.” Anthony did care about the men under his command, and wanted to see them come out of each mission in one piece, and with no new holes, either. He strode out to the living room, taking out his cell phone. He went to the sofa and grabbed a large aluminum briefcase from the floor at its side and set it on the table. He hit speed dial, then concentrated on the case, flipping up its catches and opening it, revealing a small monitor, keypad and several switches and LED readouts. As the phone rang, he powered the unit up, waiting for it to run through its self-diagnostic.

“Yes?” The voice on the other end was male and otherwise toneless. Anthony had never met his handler; the company preferred it that way. He knew why—if they ever hung him out in the wind, they thought he’d never be able to find and kill the guy who had given the orders. Anthony knew they were wrong—anyone could be found—but he let them go on believing that. So far, so good, but he was aware that this could change when the right opportunity came up—or the wrong one, like this mission so far.

“This is Precision Team One. There’s been a problem,” Anthony said.

“Explain,” his handler said.

“Executed on target as planned, but encountered another team of spooks on-site. Completed tertiary and half of the secondary mission. However, one of the targets escaped.”

“How?”

“That has not been ascertained yet, sir.”

“And the primary objective?”

“Has not been obtained at this time.”

“Casualties?”

“Two down, one wounded but mobile. We were unable to extract the bodies.”

“Understood. Do you have a vector on the primary target?”

Anthony’s eyes flicked to the screen, which showed a bird’s-eye view of London. Underneath was a small action bar that was three-quarters full, indicating the long-range tracker was almost finished with its initial sweep of the area. “We’re working on it now.”

“I’m sending a BOLO general directive to all field agents in the area. If one of them gets to her first, then that’s that.”

“I understand.” More competition, is what it is. His handler was sending a Be On the Look Out alert to all agents in the city. If anyone else happened to spot her first and bring her in, then Anthony’s team would be out of luck—no hazardous-duty pay, and no overtime for the entire job. And the boys—those who were still alive—wouldn’t be too thrilled about that.