Kornev, with his teeth still clinched tightly, asked, “I don’t suppose you are going to tell me what you did to the missiles?”
“Not now,” Hail told him. “But we have your phone number, and we will text you that information if we feel it is something you need to know. And by the way, don’t tell Diambu about the missile modifications, or I will kill you. Do you understand?”
Kornev nodded begrudgingly.
“Get the missiles loaded and get going,” he told Kornev.
Kara surprised all of them by saying, “I’m going, too.”
“What?” Hail heard himself ask before he realized he’d spoken.
“I’m going, too,” Kara repeated herself, saying each word slow and loud, as if Hail was hard of hearing.
Hail wanted to tell her, “No, you’re not,” but he caught himself before stepping into that bear trap. Instead, he sucked in an exasperated breath and ended up asking Kara, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“It’s my job, Marshall. I’m an undercover agent, and no CIA agent worth one’s salt would turn down the opportunity to get on the inside of a terrorist group like Boko Haram. And when I mean, on the inside, I’m talking being in the leader’s home.”
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea. We only have limited reach and obviously can’t have a drone like Milky Way or U2 flying around his home to protect you without attracting attention.”
Kara said, “God only knows what type of intelligence I can get on the organization. Remember, there is so little known about Afua Diambu. Hell, we barely know how many people are in his family, let alone much about his organization’s strength and locations. It’s too good of an opportunity to pass up.”
Hail gave Renner a look, letting him know Hail wanted the opportunity to speak with Kara, privately.
“Please make sure that Kornev gets the missiles loaded,” he instructed Renner.
“Let’s go guys,” Renner said, handing the black case to Kornev. They began walking towards the cargo plane with U2 tagging behind them.
Hail looked at Kara, shook his head and bunched up his face.
“I don’t want you to go, Kara. And I know that sounds corny and probably chauvinistic, but I really don’t want you to go.” Hail didn’t know what else to say.
He understood if he told her not to go she would only dig her heels in further, and she would want to go even more. She was wired that way.
Kara placed her hand along Hail’s strong face. She stood up on her tiptoes and gave him a soft kiss on his lips.
“This is what I signed up for, Marshall. It’s what I do — at least it’s what I do for now. Maybe in the future, things will change, or I will change and outgrow this need to avenge my parents’ deaths. But for right now, it’s really all I can think about.”
Kara smiled and took Hail’s hands in hers.
“Hell, look at us Marshall. We are standing in the middle of a desert in nowhere Egypt because revenge is all either of us can think about. If anyone in the world can understand my motivations, it has to be you.”
Hail released Kara’s soft moist hands. He placed his hand on the back of her neck and drew her in. He leaned in and gave her a hard, long passionate kiss. Then he released her and then let her go.
Kara looked surprised by Hail’s kiss.
Hail looked at her, his blue eyes as serious as Kara had ever seen them.
Hail said, “If you are going with Kornev, you need to know what we did to the missiles.”
White House Rose Garden — Washington, D.C
Joanna Weston was sitting in the Rose Garden, which had been her favorite place to seek solace. But now, as she looked up at the hundreds of cloudy glass panels constructed over the top of the garden, she felt as if she were sitting in an expensive terrarium. Enclosed and on display like a turtle in a glass tank. In the back of her mind, she cursed Marshall Hail for his boisterous meeting with her, which not only freaked her out, but also sent her Secret Service team into a tizzy. They could not figure out a way to protect her from laser-shooting drones without putting some sort of top over the Rose Garden. The glass panels were irregular, which laser beams did not favor; thus, the engineers explained to her the beam would be scattered as it passed through the glass. It would be ineffectual as a data path.
The opaque glass would still allow light into the Rose Garden, and the roses would not suffer from the glass enclosure. It was apparent no one would suffer, except the president, who loved the warmth of the sun on her skin, the openness of the sky and everything one felt when outside.
Yes, it was Hail’s fault but, she understood he pointed out the security flaws that needed to be addressed. It could have been much worse. A drone flown by those meaning her harm could have breached the security protocol. She supposed it were best to learn a lesson with no fatalities, especially if that fatality happened to be hers.
Pepper had been escorted to the door leading to her sanctuary, and he stepped into the Rose Garden. He took a moment to disapprovingly look over the new tangle of glass and aluminum overhead.
As he approached the president, he gestured up at the new security implementation with a wave of his hand, “How do you feel about all of this, Madam President?”
“I hate it,” Joanna Weston told him flatly.
Still looking up, Pepper commiserated, “I can see why. Doesn’t really give one an outdoor feeling.”
Since Pepper had stated the obvious, the president didn’t feel she needed to expound upon his statement. Instead, she said, “Please sit down, Jarret. Tell me how Operation Hail Warning is going.”
Pepper pulled out a metal chair, and he sat at the glass table void of anything except for a single yellow rose in a clear glass vase.
“Would you care for something to eat or drink?” the president asked the head of the CIA.
“No, thank you. I need to return soon to stay abreast the mission.”
“Please provide me an update,” the president repeated, leaning back in her chair. She was dressed in a pink blouse with a white scarf tied around the collar like a short tie, and a pair of pleated white dress slacks. As usual, Pepper wore a gray suit.
Pepper said, “Everything is going as planned — at least as far as I have planned it. Victor Kornev was approached by my agent, Kara Ramey, who made it very clear to the Russian he had no other option other than to work for us.”
“Very impressive,” the president said.
“But shortly after her little pep talk, we discovered Kornev was still trying to sell shoulder-fired, surface-to-air missiles to the African Boko Haram terrorist organization.”
The president glanced at Pepper, shocked.
Pepper continued, “So we interdicted the missile shipment.”
“Oh, very good,” the president said. “And what did Marshall Hail’s team contribute toward this mission?”
“Not very much,” Pepper said, looking up at the glass ceiling above them again. Choosing not to look the president in her eyes, he added, “Hail is mostly providing logistical support — providing transportation to move people and parts around — that sort of thing.”
“It sounds like something we could have done on our own,” the president said. It was partly a statement and partly a question, allowing Pepper the opportunity to elaborate.
“Well, Hail has the advantage in having lots of business assets in areas where we have very little resources.”
The president absorbed the information. She then asked Pepper, “Have we lived up to our part of the bargain with Mr. Hail? Have we told him where he can find the next person on our Top Ten Terrorists list?”