An Unlikely Hero (1) (7 page)

It was true. Chase Hunter was the golden boy at Enigma, the secretive operational force under the protection of Home Land Security. Cloaked in mystery, only the president and Secretary Tobias Stewart, head of Home Land Security, knew the full extent of their operations. They filled a gap of missing intelligence desperately needed after 911.

Teetering on misuse of the law, Enigma had been able to gather vital intelligence from not only within the U.S. but the world. Having the uncanny ability to fit almost any profile and assimilate into any population, Chase was the poster child of Enigma. The president’s complete trust in Chase’s operational force never wavered and gave him free reign when it came to national security. Only Tobias Stewart kept Chase from turning the law and intelligence gathering into a legal nightmare. The way to keep Chase in check was to put Benjamin Clark as his superior, the one man that Chase respected as much as the president.

Vernon shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his ragged jeans. Although some said Vernon Kemp was probably the smartest man in the world when it came to computer technology and artificial intelligence, his appearance implied he was an over aged skateboarder who had dropped by to bum a few bucks from his friends. His hair, red and unruly, fell past his ears. Boyish freckles were evident across his small nose and rosy cheeks. His lopsided smile revealed a bottom row of crooked teeth. Although well into his twenties, Vernon looked like he just graduated from high school. The black glasses he occasionally pushed up on his nose gave Vernon a somewhat geeky look. It wasn’t until you looked into his hazel colored eyes that evidence of a shrewd, almost devilish manipulator materialized. The innocent gamer transformed into a storm trooper with a keyboard.

With a Ph.D. from MIT in computer analysis and design at the age of twenty one, Vernon quickly came to the attention of the defense department. They hired him immediately to further their work in artificial intelligence. After developing software which would revolutionize the computer industry, Vernon’s work mysteriously disappeared at the Pentagon. Vernon quit his job and became an underground conspiracy theorist. Some of the power moguls were so angry at his leaving the Pentagon that a picture of Vernon in the crosshairs of one of their AK47s materialized on one of the conspiracy networks that Vernon liked to frequent.

Just after President Buck Austin took office he instructed Benjamin Clark to recruit Vernon Kemp for his new secret agency, Enigma. A man like that needed to channel his talent toward helping the good guys especially if he had the Pentagon big shots in a stew. Vernon only came on board after meeting Chase Hunter and being told he could do whatever he wanted as long as it didn’t interfere with national security.

“What’s the problem?” Vernon glanced down at the grim faced Serbian. The man in black, as usual, made him a little uneasy.

When a rare smile broke across his thin, narrow face, Vernon’s eyebrows arched. “Chase got bested by a girl!” Nicholas Zoric chuckled.

Vernon’s eyes widened. “By who?” The Serbian nodded toward the pitiful, ragged woman handcuffed to the chair across the room. Vernon saw the puny figure slouched in the chair with ripped clothing and dirty hair. Her face smudged with blood and sweat, she looked more like a discarded kitten than a saber toothed tiger that could best the great Captain Hunter. He looked around but saw no one else. “Her?”

Nicholas Zoric nodded as he stood and continued to smile. “She’s my hero.”

Vernon snickered his usual weasel laugh drawing Tessa’s angry glare. “Introduce me!” Usually Vernon became tongue tied around women. His shyness was legendary. His smooth operator persona evaporated into an awkward stutter when females tried to approach.

Nicholas pushed Vernon toward the subdued prisoner. “Watch yourself. Her bark is definitely not as bad as her bite.”

Benjamin Clark paced before Chase Hunter, livid at the day’s events. Two men down at the scene, a house shot up by unknown terrorists, a nuclear device at large, a cleanup near the Yuba River, and now a seemingly innocent woman involved.

Chase started to stand. His back ached from the earlier attack by Tessa Scott.

“Sit down!” Benjamin demanded with the tone of a base drum. Benjamin rarely raised his voice. His hawk-like eyes, narrow nose and stern expression commanded attention whenever he spoke. His soft, firm voice drew more respect than shouting. Chase eased himself back down into his wooded armchair, surprised at the anger his boss displayed. It wasn’t often that Benjamin could be read so easily.

“Can you explain to me how a soccer mom came into possession of a nuclear device created by some obscure terrorist outfit, then managed to knock one unconscious so the two of you could escape?” Chase started to open his mouth when Benjamin held up a large leathery hand for silence. “Then there’s the little, tiny fact,” he held up his index finger and thumb measuring about an inch, “that she managed to trick, and overcome you so she could escape our holding cell!” Chase flinched at the pain he’d felt when Tessa had rammed her knee into his groin. “And dare I forget” he growled, “that she nearly killed one of your men with no more than a broomstick!”

“How is he?” Chase interrupted with genuine concern.

Benjamin stopped his pacing and leaned against his desk as he loosened his paisley tie. “Has a concussion. If he hadn’t been wearing his helmet the doctor said he’d be dead!” Benjamin crossed his arms and glared up at the ceiling as if searching for words. “Secretary Stewart wants some answers and fast!”

Chase let the steam escape from Benjamin’s anger. He knew a cool head would prevail after the shock of the day’s events began to be absorbed. The rise and fall of Benjamin’s chest slowed to a steady rhythm as the silence of the room began to smother the fire of his temper. When Benjamin sighed, Chase knew it was safe to speak.

“The doc fixed Jamaal up. He’s waiting downstairs to be interrogated.” Grasping the arm of the chair, Chase pushed himself up. A stiffness began to attack his bones. It had been a hell of a morning. The adrenalin rush prevented pain earlier, but now that order had returned to his world, Chase felt his age. “I’ll take Zoric with me.”

Zoric and Chase shared a history neither talked about to others. Each knew the other had their back. Chase regretted that the men helping earlier in the day nearly lost their lives at the hands of the terrorists, but was grateful that Zoric had not been available for the job. Few got Chase’s respect and trust. Nicholas Zoric was one of them.

Taking Zoric into an interrogation situation usually proved successful. His dark hollow looks made him seem more like a vampire than an American agent with Enigma. His cold bloodshot eyes showed no emotion. The scars across his cheek and neck hinted at a dangerous past. A thick, black mustache peppered with gray spoke of middle age unlike his straight black hair he pulled back into a ponytail that rested on his lean neck. Zoric wasn’t a big man, only five foot eleven compared to Chase’s six foot one frame.

He had been an accomplished artist in Sarajevo before the war. Young, optimistic and talented, Nicholas Zoric married his childhood sweetheart and quickly started a family. The war took everything; his family, his talent, his reason to live. He became a cold blooded killer in the name of justice. Zoric became one of the walking dead of Serbia. Now, when he wasn’t on mission, he taught art classes at the university. His ability to inflict pain on the deserving proved a great asset to Enigma and they took advantage of that talent whenever it suited them.

Nicholas Zoric marveled at how Vernon Kemp had suddenly emerged from his shy, awkward self into a babbling idiot as the pretty lady handcuffed to the chair drew him into a normal conversation. He’d never seen Vernon so relaxed around a woman. Zoric admitted even though Mrs. Scott was disheveled, the bruises, smudges and ripped clothing failed to hide a pretty woman. Those blue eyes swallowed a man’s common sense. Their intense attention to Vernon’s voice swayed even him, a lost soul.

Zoric nudged Vernon’s shoulder with a fist. “Boss waitin’. Better come,” he said moving toward the glass wall where Benjamin and Chase watched with sour looks. “Now, Vernon.”

Vernon said one more thing to Mrs. Scott. It sounded like some kind of promise. He passed Zoric as he shoved his hands back into his jean pockets. His whistling drowned out Zoric’s warning, but Vernon ambled into the glass office carefree and smiling.

“What the hell were you doing?” Chase’s low controlled voice sent a disgruntled message.

“Nothin’.” Vernon suddenly looked confused. Chase gave a side long glance at Mrs. Scott then back to him. “Oh. Tessa and I were just...”

“Tessa?” Benjamin Clark interrupted as his strange grey eyes focused on Vernon with a kind of liquid fire consistency. “Tessa! Who gave you permission to fraternize with the prisoner?”

Vernon blinked rapidly. “You’re right. I shouldn’t let people who humiliate us know we’re human.” Vernon’s habit of trivializing a reprimand annoyed Benjamin Clark’s ‘total control’ attitude. Just as Benjamin straightened to his full height and pulled back his shoulders, Chase stepped in front of Vernon.

“Until we get this straightened out its best not to talk to Mrs. Scott.”

Vernon shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and rolled his eyes disrespectfully. “Whatever, dude.” The pleasure he got from irritating Benjamin Clark would be put on hold. The thought of angering Chase was another matter entirely.

The discussion quickly moved to strategy for extracting more information from Jamaal, the remaining terrorist. The four men had showed up at the Scott house to retrieve a bomb. Clearly they were not aware the vessel found in the backyard was a decoy. How had they known to look there? If that wasn’t the bomb where was it? Why had their equipment failed and given a false positive for radioactive matter?

“The equipment didn’t fail. Just came from the lab. The readout rang true.” Vernon took out his glasses from his shirt pocket and began twirling them in his left hand. “Which means…?”

“The bomb is still at her house.” Benjamin groaned as he ran his hand through his short grey hair. He had never looked more like an angry American eagle than at this moment. “Maybe Mrs. Scott can recap the last twenty four hours for us.”

“I doubt it,” Zoric said in his gravelly voice he’d acquired from years of smoking.

Benjamin straightened as if being challenged. He didn’t really trust Nicholas Zoric. Too dark. Too everything suspicious and creepy. “And why not?” he snapped.

Zoric nodded to the spot where he’d left the innocent housewife. “Because she’s gone.”

All eyes turned to the outside office where an empty chair sat with only a pair of handcuffs dangling down one side.

Chapter 6

The park ranger moved with stealthy silence through the trees until she reached the crystal blue lake. One hundred yards to the north she could see a large cabin bustling with activity. Kids skipped rocks across the waters that gently ebbed to shore. A rather good looking man in a red baseball cap sat nearby in a lawn chair with his hands locked behind his head. Sunglasses blocked the direction of where his eyes rested but the ranger guessed it focused on the children. From time to time he would smile and appeared to make a comment about their rock skips.

The little girl began to cry when the oldest boy let loose his rock too quickly and it flew back, hitting her. The man jumped from his chair and quickly scooped up the child as if he’d just saved her from stepping on a landmine. Dads could be so dramatic when it came to their little girls.

“There, there, Heather. Let Daddy see,” Robert coaxed as he tried to remove her chubby hands from the large red spot above her right eye. His pulse quickened at seeing the trickle of blood.

“Dad, I’m sorry!” Sean Patrick looked horrified and gently patted his sister’s leg. “Sorry, Pookie!” He often called his sister silly names that made her smile. She angrily pushed his hand away. “Let Daddy see, Heather. Please,” Sean Patrick begged.

Daniel joined them, concern showing on his young face. “Better get something on that, Dad.”

Robert frowned down at his sons. “You need to be more careful around your sister. She’s little!”

“Am not!” Heather protested as she pushed against Robert’s chest with both hands. “I’m a big girl!” she insisted.

“She sure is,” came an unknown feminine voice a few feet away.

Robert slightly flinched at the surprise intrusion. A park ranger dressed in a green uniform carried a faded camouflaged backpack which she slung down to rest on a tree stump. Her wide brimmed hat shaded her oval face, revealing only a hint of soft tan features. Light brown hair, the color of a baby fawn, strayed from her ponytail and framed her cheeks. Robert couldn’t help but notice in that instant that the top two buttons on her snug fitting shirt had been undone. The ranger nonchalantly wiped perspiration from her neck with a man’s handkerchief, and then stuffed it in her pants pocket.

“Let’s have a look, shall we?” The ranger squatted as Robert lowered Heather to the ground.

Heather pushed out her lower lip and wiped the last of the tears away before jerking up her chin in a show of bravery. She looked like her mother in that moment, Robert thought warmly. Tessa always put on a brave show when she became worried, frightened or confused. The world thought she was a rock. Robert knew, however, his Tessa was the best con artist in the west. Just now Heather showed signs of that determination to overcome the situation with bravery and strength. He was glad Tessa had passed that trait on to his precious daughter.

“Us girls are a lot tougher than men realize.” The voice of the ranger carried a slight Irish accent adding to her comforting appeal. “Can I see your injury?”

Heather cocked her head slightly. “What’s injury?” She said batting her eyes and unconsciously lifting her fingers to the spot where the rock had connected.

The ranger smiled, revealing teeth that had been whitened. She pointed to the spot on Heather’s forehead. A small round bump had begun to rise. “There. Can I see? Looks like these guys don’t have a clue on how we girls need to be treated.”