"I'm just saying."
"Yeah, I know. Sorry." He spoke into his microphone. "Lamont, where's that fucking chopper?"
"Weather's clearing at Bagram. They're just lifting off. Hang in there, amigo."
It was coming on dark when they heard the beat of rotors.
"Selena." Nick bent down and whispered. "Stay with me. The chopper's here."
Then he said, "Don't leave me."
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Lucas Monroe watched Hood pour two glasses of Talisker single malt. Neat, no ice. The glasses were heavy Waterford crystal. The DCNS came back and handed Monroe one of the glasses. He sat down.
"You did well in Italy," Hood said.
"Thank you, sir. A bit messy."
"The Italians are ballistic, but they can't prove anything. I've got a new assignment for you. You've earned it."
"What's my new job?"
"You'll work directly under me. I want you to liaise with another agency here in Washington."
Monroe waited. He knew better than to ask why. Hood would tell him.
"You know about the Project. You met two of their operatives in San Diego."
"The President's unit? They've made problems for us in the past."
"Yes, they have. They have the President's ear. It hasn't helped that they've been right more often than not. We've gotten too big, Lucas, too arrogant."
Monroe noted Hood's use of his first name and the criticism. A shot across the bow at the DCI. Hood was feeling him out. But was it a trick? A test of loyalty?
"I'm a career officer, sir. I do what I'm told. Sometimes I've wondered why, but I didn't think it was my place to question."
"You've kept your thoughts to yourself."
"Always. People talk to me because they know I never repeat what they say. Been like that since before I joined the Company."
"And a black man in America. That must have forced you to learn discretion. An unfortunate part of our less than enlightened society."
Monroe kept his thoughts to himself. Hood knew nothing about what it was like to be black in America.
"Your record is exemplary, Lucas. You would have moved up before now, but field agents of your caliber are hard to find."
Monroe said nothing. He sipped his drink. Lots of flattery. Where was this going?
"You know about the assassinations. The Shia killers."
"Everyone does, Director."
"The Project has just eliminated their home base. Everyone and his brother was looking for those bastards and the Project found them, or at least the intel that led to them. Then they went in and took them out. Three of them, for Christ's sake. It should have taken two Seal assault teams.
"They are mobile in a way we are not. They are dedicated, smart and tough. I want to know what makes them so damned efficient when we can't find our ass with our own two hands."
Monroe nodded. Now he understood. "You want me to observe and assess." Spook speak for spy.
"Exactly. I knew you'd see it. In the spirit of cooperation, the President has informed them of his desire to have you work with them. They're expecting you."
Hood drained his whiskey. "I'm upgrading your clearance to Alpha."
Lucas was surprised. That was second only to the Directorate, which had Alpha Black clearance.
"There's something you need to know." Hood paused. "There's a six kiloton nuke out there in the hands of the terrorists. The Project told us it might be in Seattle. It was, until this assassin group took it away from al-Qaeda for their own purposes."
Lucas kept his face expressionless. Inside, he was stunned. "And we don't know where it is." It wasn't a question.
"Get settled in your new office. I'm giving you a desk on the sixth floor." Hood handed Monroe a coded entry card and an updated ID. "Tomorrow, go over to the Project. Report to me alone. Keep me informed of their thinking. I want you to evaluate their methods and personnel. They found the assassins. Maybe they can find whoever has that damned bomb."
CHAPTER SIXTY
She drifted in a world of movement without meaning. It was hard to breathe. There was noise, vibration. Hot and cold air. Voices in the distance. Once, she thought she heard Nick say he was leaving. She decided she was dreaming. But why was she being bumped and carried? Why couldn't they, whoever they were, just leave her alone? She was so tired. She just wanted to rest….
Selena opened her eyes. The room was bright with fluorescent light. The air smelled of disinfectant. The walls were light blue. She stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out what had happened. She remembered being in the snow, her MP-5 hot in her gloved hands, people shouting, the sound of small arms fire. Then something slammed into her. Then nothing.
She came awake. She was in a hospital bed. A drip of something was laced into her arm. A drip of something else was stuck into the back of her hand. Her chest hurt. She turned her head and pain shot though her spine. Nick sat in a chair by the bed, asleep, his face creased with fatigue and worry.
He needs a shave, she thought.
She remembered the angry, turbaned man who'd leveled his AK at her and realized what had happened. She'd been shot. Why wasn't she dead? The armor, she thought, the armor saved me. But how did she get here?
Nick opened his eyes. They were red. He looked at her.
"Selena. Thank God."
She tried to speak, coughed. Her voice came out as a raspy croak. "What happened?"
"You got shot. The vest saved you. We got you to the LZ and you're at Bagram in the hospital. You've got four cracked ribs. The impact collapsed one of your lungs, but it's okay now. You were out for hours." He smiled. "You also have some spectacular bruises."
"What bruises?"
"Let's just say your breasts look like eggplants."
"Always elegant, Nick. Nobody's got a way with words like you."
"That's my Irish heritage," he said. "I can't help it."
"I remember. The man who shot me. What happened to him?"
"He won't be shooting anyone else."
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Monroe had a hard time believing what these people had done. Taking out the assassin base was just the latest in a long string of difficult missions. Lucas knew Nick and Selena, but he'd never met the others.
Stephanie's office looked like a hospital ward for the walking wounded. The brother, Cameron, had his arm locked into a stiff cast sticking out at an odd angle. Selena was clearly in pain, though Lucas had to admit she hid it well. Carter looked like he could use about six months sleep. He moved like he had a rod up his ass. Lucas guessed it was his back. The only one who seemed whole was the Indian. There was probably something wrong with him, too.
"Now you've met everyone." Stephanie looked at Monroe. "Why don't you tell us why you're here?"
Monroe had no illusions. If he were in their shoes, he'd be as suspicious as if someone had just offered to sell him Arlington Cemetery.
"Director Hood is impressed with your results. My job is simple. At least I think so. Hood wants me to study how you work, how you get to these conclusions. For example, how did you know Bausari was headed for Seattle, or where those terrorists were in Mali, or where they went? We've got the same satellite data as you do and a hell of a lot more computing power, not to mention a building full of analysts. But we missed it."
"That's true, you missed it. Lucas…may I call you Lucas?"
"Please."
"Lucas, our relations with Langley have been lousy. Worse. The President is stressing cooperation but we both know that's not what's behind this. You want us to work with you, you need to fill us in."
Right to the point, no bullshit or polite beating around the bush. Monroe knew the previous director was recovering from being shot in the head. He hadn't failed to notice that Stephanie carried a Glock. Even in her own office behind massive security. Hell, security here was as good or better than Langley's. All of these people were hands on, like he was. He wanted to like them. He decided to opt for the truth, at least most of it.