“I want those birds out of sight and out of mind as quickly as possible,” said General Gordon. “We have another mission brewing in the region that might necessitate their use.”
“Strategic Airlift Command has two C-17 Globemasters waiting at Diego Garcia to fly your birds stateside. You’ll have your helicopters within the next forty-eight hours,” said Glass.
Beverly Stark shook her head. “I still can’t believe we let the Russians see those helicopters.”
Neither could Shelby, but he wasn’t about to share that sentiment. The entire mission had been a compromise-turned-joint-effort between the United States and the Russian Federation. The Russians had precious, timely intelligence on a top-tier threat to both countries and the United States had the delivery platforms to pull off the raid. U.S. Special Operations Command offered to execute the mission on behalf of the Russians, but Moscow wanted confirmation that Reznikov had been terminated, not assurances, and that meant Russian boots on the ground during the mission.
“Trust but verify,” they’d said. He didn’t blame them for throwing Reagan’s words back in their faces.
“Their interaction with the helicopters was minimal, as agreed,” said Gordon. “On load. Off load. There’s not much for them to see inside the helicopter, or outside for that matter.”
“But now the Russians know we have them,” said Stark. “Which means everyone will know soon enough. Seems like the Russians came out ahead on this one.”
Gordon shrugged, blatantly offering the same sentiment Shelby fought to conceal. They’d been through this over and over again. The Russians hadn’t faked the intelligence and gone through the motions of putting their own commandos in harm’s way just to gain access to their latest generation stealth helicopters. Beverly Stark couldn’t seem to get this particular conspiracy theory out of her head.
“So… where does this leave us with Reznikov?” asked the president.
“Back to square one if the trail goes cold,” said Shelby. “The Solntsevskaya Bratva has proven to be adept at hiding Reznikov.”
“Then I guess we better offer Moscow our support in the matter,” said President Crane. “Frederick, make the necessary arrangements with the National Reconnaissance Office to coordinate a real-time package.”
“Understood, Mr. President. I’ll coordinate with them immediately.”
“Is there anything else?” asked President Crane, scanning the faces in the room.
Shelby gave him a quick shake of his head when their gazes met, taking his cue from the rest of the room.
“Then that’s it for now.”
The room cleared, leaving Shelby alone with General Gordon, who appeared to linger. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with Gordon right now.
“Look at the bright side. At least the Russians didn’t hijack one of the helicopters or purposely disable one,” said Gordon.
The last part of his statement was a clear reminder of the failed operation to grab Sanderson two years ago. The only shot fired during the clandestine raid, a strategically placed .50-caliber sniper rifle bullet, shredded the tail rotor assembly of a Black Hawk helicopter that had landed inside Sanderson’s compound, forcing the assault team to leave it behind on Argentinian soil. A fact used by Sanderson to buy a blanket immunity deal for the Black Flag organization. All sins of his past and present wiped away with a single bullet. The whole thing was a setup, and Shelby had provided the intelligence that led Gordon’s people and the White House right down the primrose path. At least the general had waited until the president and his cronies had departed.
“You win some and you lose some in this game,” said Shelby. “You’ve been around long enough to know that.”
“So far you’re batting zero when it comes to invading other countries,” replied Gordon.
“I just provide the intelligence. You can always say no.”
Gordon considered him for a moment, his caustic glare easing imperceptibly. “Not with people like Reznikov on the loose,” said the general, leaving the room.
Shelby cracked a faint smile. “Especially not with people like Reznikov on the loose.”
Chapter 5
Jessica Petrovich stirred under the soft silk sheets, a warm breeze caressing her face. Her eyes opened to a red-orange sky beyond a wide, floor-to-ceiling glass sliding door. A scattered band of puffy, dark purple clouds floated above the red ocean, outlined by the fiery sunlight moments from breaching the horizon. She’d never get used to this view, or the life that came with it.
She yawned, stretching her hands above her head until they touched the headboard. Holding that stretch for a few seconds, she glanced at Daniel lying next to her. He appeared undisturbed by her movement or the light pouring into the room, but she knew better. Her husband woke to the slightest change in his sleeping environment; a survival instinct drilled so deeply into his psyche that she doubted it would ever slip away.
He’d probably been awake for several minutes now, waiting for her to rise naturally. Possibly all night with the balcony door open. If the intermittent breezes didn’t keep him awake, the fact that an exterior door just a few dozen feet from their bed was wide open to intruders most certainly doomed his night of sleep. The pristine ocean air carried into the room by the calm late evening winds had lured her into bed with the best intentions of getting up and closing it a few minutes later. She vaguely remembered Daniel joining her in bed a little while later, nestling his warm body against hers. Nothing after that.
“You awake?” she whispered.
“Yep,” he said immediately, keeping his eyes closed.
“Sorry. I should have shut the slider.”
He met her glance with weary, half-open eyes and a warm smile. “I could have shut it before I lay down.”
She playfully raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you?”
“Because I love you,” he replied, broadening his smile. “And I’m not afraid of the boogeyman.”
Jessica kissed his lips and pressed her forehead against his. “It’s not about being afraid. It’s about being smart about our security.”
“I know how much you enjoy the fresh air.”
“And I love you even more for that,” she said. “But it’s not like I can enjoy it after I fall asleep.”
“You were up at least three times last night, breathing in the ocean air,” he said, kissing her.
“It is kind of nice,” she admitted.
“By this point, I should be able to leave a door open and not worry about someone sneaking in and slitting my throat,” said Daniel.
Jessica wasn’t sure how to respond. The fact that he’d so bluntly brought it up was a significant step down a path she wanted him to follow. On the surface, Daniel always looked unaffected, rock solid to a fault, but nothing could be further from the truth. He had an exceptionally difficult time letting go of old habits. He was just far better at concealing and suppressing his emotions; a talent she’d never really mastered.
Unfortunately, Daniel’s façade took a severe toll on both of them, hindering the kind of joint emotional progress needed to put enough distance between the past and present to escape or, at the very least, keep them from regressing.
They’d been close to escaping before, living a slightly forced version of the American dream in Maine, until General Sanderson crashed the party. Within the short span of twenty-four hours, the general had erased every gain they’d made after disappearing from Belgrade. Five years of healing, rebuilding, reprograming, forgetting, all flushed down the Black Flag toilet. They needed to make a clean break from the past this time, or they’d never break free. For the first time in a long while, she sensed that Daniel wanted it just as badly. The sooner they made their move, the better.