Cindy Dees – Captain's Call of Duty (страница 4)
“We’re supposed to be pulling an all-nighter working on a set of questions. Unless you want to sit in the office the rest of night, I thought we’d use the back door.”
“But you said it would take an hour to get through its security.”
“From the outside. From inside the building it’s a two-minute job to disable the thing. Our only problems are Parker and the cleaning crew. I’ll take point.”
And just like that, she strode off down the hall, leaving him to follow behind. Memories of a dark, rocky valley flashed through his head. Another woman taking point. His misgivings about letting her do it, the rolled eyes of the other guys on the op, his determination to let her prove herself to the unit …
He shook his head and scowled at Alex’s attempt to play toy soldier. She didn’t get it at all. She had no idea how dangerous it was in the field and wasn’t the slightest bit equipped to handle it, physically or emotionally.
She surprised him by hand-signaling a retreat, Special Forces style. His many years of training kicked in and he obeyed, not questioning the order. He turned, raced down the hall they currently were in, and ducked into the next available side hall. She joined him a second later. They froze in the shadowed alcove, shoulder to shoulder, as a janitor rolled a cleaning cart past them. The guy never saw them. A door opened and the cart creaked inside.
Alex glided out to the main hallway, peeked around the corner, and signaled him to proceed. Amusement flared in his gut. She had all the moves, he’d grant her that. But nobody was shooting at them or hunting them with the intent to kill. And that made all the difference between a real field op and this little pretend game of hers. But who was he to puncture her balloon? He dutifully followed her to the service exit and stood lookout while she disabled the door alarm.
She hadn’t lied. In under two minutes they slipped out into the cool Washington night. He unclipped his badge and passed it to her to hand in to the security guard in the morning. They walked around the corner to his car. He drove away slowly enough not to draw any attention to himself; they were just another pair of weary staffers going home after burning the midnight oil.
But when they were safely a few blocks away, Jim pulled the car over and asked, “When can you have the senator’s computer bugged?”
“Noon tomorrow.”
“How so soon?” he demanded.
“I’ll send the senator a virus in an email. It’ll freeze up his system. He’ll panic and call me into his office to fix it. I’ll take apart the computer, wire the transmitter to the motherboard, and then erase the virus. No sweat.”
Ballsy, to plant a bug right under her boss’s nose. Jim nodded tersely. “I want to know everything. How involved is this guy in Lana’s kidnapping? Who’s he working with? Who did those emails come from? Particularly the one that told him to lean on my old man. If Chandler’s just a pawn in this thing, I want to know who the king is.”
“I’m going to need somewhere to set up the shadow computer. Somewhere close. Like an office or an apartment.”
“I’ll take care of it first thing in the morning,” he replied tersely.
“What about a search warrant for Chet’s computer?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. You were right. We don’t want to spook Chandler. I’ll run the paperwork for your bug through military channels. The people who had me put you in Chandler’s office can green-light us. And they won’t leak anything.”
She glanced over at him sharply, but then looked away hastily. Why had she gone skittish on him all of a sudden? “What?” he demanded.
“Us?” she mumbled. “Are you coming on board my op, then?”
“This scumbucket can lead me to Lana’s kidnappers—or he might even be one of them. Hell, yes, I’m in.” He added grimly, “Call me when the bug’s in place.”
She nodded.
“You need a ride to your place?” he offered.
“It’s too far out of your way,” she protested.
“I’m wide awake and too pissed off at Chandler to go back to sleep any time soon.”
“Fine. Then head south on I-395 to the Beltway.”
He followed her directions to a nondescript apartment complex in suburban Virginia that looked like every other apartment complex around it. She reached for her door handle to jump out, and he stopped her with a hand on her left forearm.
“Hey, Al. Thanks. You did good tonight.”
She nodded and then all but fell out of his car. He grinned. That girl was a mess. He drove home thoughtfully. Why on earth was Chet Chandler mixed up in something as dangerous and potentially career-ending as kidnapping?
Jim’s gut said that Chet Chandler’s strings were being pulled by the same person or persons the kidnappers had worked for. His father believed the Raven’s Head Society was behind Lana’s kidnapping. According to Hank, the Ravens included some of the richest, most powerful, most influential people on the planet. But then, according to Hank, the Ravens also had a plan to rule the world in secret.
Who was the unseen player pulling Chet Chandler’s strings? All the signs pointed to there being one. Who in this town had the raw power to force United States senators to dance for them? What had Mendez stumbled into the middle of?
It was a strange feeling planting a bug in a man’s computer while he stood over her, watching. Not to mention the man being grateful to have her do it.
“What would I do without you, Alex?” Senator Chandler commented as he sat down at his now-functioning computer.
She laughed. “You’d be on a first-name basis with the Congressional I.T. support guys.”
“You’re way better than those idiots,” Chandler declared. “And faster.”
She shrugged modestly.
She backed out of Chandler’s office. It was likely he wouldn’t notice her existence again until the next time his computer had a problem. She was good at being invisible. Of course, it was easy enough to do with everyone bustling around here as if the world would stop spinning if their current personal crisis didn’t get solved in the next two minutes.
Come to think of it, she’d been pretty invisible on the ranch, too. She’d been just one of the passel of kids and puppies who’d run all over the place in the summers. She and Lana had been the only girls. But nobody had ever doubted that Lana was all girl. She wore pretty clothes and didn’t like snakes or worms or touching fish, and she’d refused to rough-house with her brothers. Alex had been willing to do any of that stuff if it meant she got to spend time with Jim Kelley. And then there was her dad, of course. After the accident, he’d never been the same …
“Thanks for working your magic, Alex,” her supervisor in Chandler’s office said warmly. “I owe you one.”
Alex smiled. “Speaking of which, I’ve got a dentist appointment this afternoon. Will it be a problem for me to take a long lunch?”
The harassed chief-of-staff, Trevor McKinley, replied, “Are you kidding? You saved my life getting the boss’s computer up and running again so fast. Take the rest of the day off.”
Alex smiled and slipped out of the office. When she stepped onto the sidewalk, she pulled out her cell phone and called Jim’s office extension.
“Captain Kelley,” he answered shortly.
“Hi, it’s me. I’m done.”
“Perfect. Can I pick you up somewhere?”
She blinked, startled. He wanted to come get her? Vividly aware of not wanting to talk about sensitive information over an unsecured phone, she replied lightly, “How about I meet you?”
“Kirby’s. Noon. Lunch,” he bit out.
A lunch date with Jim Kelley? Holy cow. “Uhh, okay. See ya there.” She disconnected the call in minor shock. It was just work, but still. She was having lunch with him! She glanced down at her clothes in dismay. She looked like a prison guard in these severe gray pants and white Oxford shirt. No help for it. She didn’t have time to go home and make it back downtown before noon. So much for acting more like Lana Kelley. Abandoning the Beast in its outrageously expensive spot in the parking garage around the corner, she opted to grab the Metro to the other end of the Mall and Kirby’s Diner.
When she walked into the crowded joint at five minutes till twelve, Jim was already there. She was thankful that he subscribed religiously to the army theory that if you weren’t five minutes early, you were late. He spotted her and waved. Somehow, he’d managed to snag a postage-stamp-sized table that optimistically was supposed to seat two. She made her way through the noisy crush to join him.
She sat down and gulped as her knee promptly banged into his. She levered herself sideways to avoid physical contact with him. No way could she eat a messy hamburger while rubbing knees with the man. She’d choke to death for sure. She picked up the glass of ice water he’d already ordered for her and took a sip.
“How was your morning?” he asked.
“Productive. Yours?” she replied more breathlessly than she liked.
“The same.” Grinning, he reached into his pocket and fished out a set of keys. “Here.”