Authors: Connie Suttle
"One last thing," Dr. Shaw said before draining his
coffee cup. I'd gotten up and made coffee for both of us in my kitchen, while
we talked. I liked having our session there, instead of going to Dr. Shaw's
office downstairs.
"There's a last thing?" I asked.
"The President named a new Secretary of State."
"It's Cutter, isn't it?" I mumbled, staring at my
fuzzy slippers.
"It's Cutter. I'm surprised you know about him."
"You can't turn on the television and not know," I
muttered. "He's a nightmare. Please tell me he won't be in charge of the
Program."
"I can't tell you that."
"Dr. Shaw, the virus has been introduced. Be ready for
the consequences," I said.
"What do you mean? He's charged with preserving national
security."
"In his mind, that has nothing whatsoever to do with what
we are," I snapped.
* * *
"Corinne?" August walked in after barely tapping on
the door outside the kitchen. He and Ilya/Rafe found Shaw and me at the kitchen
island, having our debate about General Cutter, asshole extraordinaire. Cutter
was army, so Shaw was doing his best to defend him.
I wasn't buying the load of excrement the good doctor thought
to sell.
"Corinne, I wanted to introduce—properly—Rafe Black, the
newest addition to the Program," August announced.
"Any more coffee?" Rafe asked immediately.
"Look, I figure you got enough in the cafeteria, but if
you think it's necessary to break the ice, then sure, we have coffee. Caf?
Decaf? I don't have anything that went through an animal first, so if that's
what you want, you're on your own."
"There's something you should know," August nodded
toward a barstool, silently telling Rafe to sit. "Corinne, here, writes
the Sarah Fox mysteries. If you don't behave, she'll kill you at least twice in
her next book."
"How did you escape your handler?" I ignored August
and pointed my question directly at Rafe.
"Why do you want to know?" he asked, his voice cool,
his face expressionless. That probably came in handy in the spy business when
dealing with difficult people. I figured all the women in the Mansion were
already signing up for nights with Rafe. He was attractive in a rough sort of
way—tall, with dark hair, darker eyes and an air of command about him.
"Looking for pointers," I replied, setting a cup of
full-caf in front of the former Soviet spy. "Want cream and/or
sugar?"
"Neither. I don't intend to drink much," he
shrugged.
"I thought so."
"Tell me," he said, "what do you think of the Five?
Does it irritate you that they call themselves the Five instead of the Six?"
"Really?" I huffed. "Why would I want to be
associated with that bunch of prejudiced jerks? Why do you want to know? Have
they excluded you already, too?"
"Corinne," August warned. "Shaw and I are here,
remember, and others may be listening."
"Really?" I said again. "Like I don't know
already that every moment of every day is under microscopic scrutiny?"
"I," Rafe cleared his throat, "just wanted to
drop by and apologize, for earlier and for later."
"Later what?" I narrowed my eyes at him.
"For when I knock you to the floor on multiple occasions
during your lessons."
"Oh, for cripes' sake," I tossed up a hand and slid
off my barstool. "Auggie, did you hear that? He's going to kill me. Look,
why can't we not do this, and just say we did?"
"Auggie?" Shaw seemed interested, suddenly.
"We're not buying monogrammed towels," I snapped at
Shaw. "If I call him Auggie, it's because he deserves to be
irritated."
"You really write the Sarah Fox mysteries?" Rafe
asked.
"What? That was five minutes ago. Are you slow or something?"
I asked, shaking my head at him.
* * *
Ilya
Truthfully, I expected someone who'd hide in a corner the
moment I reappeared. I certainly didn't expect what I found. After speaking
with her for only a few minutes, I learned she was just as adept at assessing others
as I was. I found it disconcerting, too, that she could read me just as easily.
"Is this talent you have for reading people part of your
writing ability?" I asked. Yes, I'd read Sarah Fox's novels.
All of
them
. I wasn't going to divulge that information. Let her think I
disapproved of her talent. That would keep her unbalanced and easier to
unsettle. Vulnerable people could be manipulated.
"You're not a spy, here," she pointed out. For the
first time, I blinked first. "Auggie, did you show him any pictures of the
guy who killed the Russian Ambassador?"
I turned quickly in Colonel Hunter's direction. I hadn't
gotten that news. "He's dead?" I asked.
"Here." Colonel Hunter drew out his cell and
scrolled through photographs before settling on one. "This one killed the
Ambassador. Know who he is?"
* * *
Corinne
He knew
. I know he knew. He shook his head anyway.
August pocketed his cell with a sigh. "Just wanted to check," he
said. "Thanks."
"No trouble," Rafe replied. Yes, he could lie with
the best of them. I wasn't fooled for a minute. "Is he dead, too? The one
in the photograph?"
"Yeah."
"Too bad you didn't get information from him,
first."
"What makes you think we didn't?" August asked.
"He's fishing," I said. "Now he knows for
sure."
"Cori," August warned.
"Yeah." I slumped in my chair.
* * *
Ilya
I was beginning to see already what it had taken them more
than five years to find—Corinne Watson was dangerous. I'd perfected the craft
of reading people and situations after years of practice. She had it naturally.
To me, that meant it could be the least of her talents. That concerned me. Did
they not see that she was concealing what she was?
While I considered keeping my mystery to myself, I began to
worry that I might not unravel hers and I really wanted to solve that riddle.
"When do you have breakfast—or coffee?" I asked her.
"Usually around seven-thirty," she replied. I cut
her off before she could ask what my schedule was. "I'll see you
then," I said. "We'll avoid future surprises that way."
"Wait," she said as I waved and walked toward the
door. Colonel Hunter watched me go, a deep frown on his face.
* * *
Corinne
The asshole didn't even wait for me to tell him that I wanted
quiet time for myself in the mornings, to consider what I wanted to write
during the day. He intended to interrupt. Likely, he knew it would unsettle
me—that was his game plan, after all.
Ilya Kuznetsov
, I thought at him,
you're a real jerk
.
* * *
Ilya
I heard her—as plainly as if I'd been standing next to her,
and began my mental list of what it was, exactly, that Corinne Watson was
capable of doing.
* * *
Notes—Colonel Hunter
I'd only known Rafe for a few hours and disliked him already.
His handler, too, was an unknown to me. It made me wonder if General Cutter was
making his presence known already.
"James, get me everything you can find on Dalton Parrish,"
I said the moment I walked into my office.
"Right away, sir."
Fifteen minutes later, James was back and setting a flash
drive on my desk.
"Tell me," I said, fingering the tiny file.
"Worked as General Cutter's assistant in the past,"
James reported.
"Corinne was right," I muttered. "The virus has
been introduced."
"Corinne is starting to scare me," James said.
"That makes two of us."
* * *
"We can't barge into the President's office and tell her she
made a mistake," Shaw said.
We'd chosen a familiar haunt away from the Mansion to have our
discussion—a small, nearby park devoid of bugs and listening devices.
Thankfully, the Hound was still at the Mansion, or he might have heard what we
said.
"Look, we both know Cutter was one of her picks for the Vice
President's position when he ran for the presidency—as a conciliatory move
after she won the nod at the primaries. The polls showed Flint was a better
fit, so Cutter backed out. He's been kissing presidential ass for a
while," I shook my head. "He's been retired from the military for
eight years, in case he got the nod for Secretary of Defense. He was just
waiting for this to come along so he could continue to rub us the wrong way."
"How long did Parrish act as his assistant?"
"Four years. The information I have says he's in Cutter's
pocket, all the way, although he's been working in other departments for the
military."
"Captain Dalton Parrish, here to spy on everything,"
Shaw sighed. "Everything will go right back to Cutter."
"What has the President told him already?" I
snorted. "We'll be lucky if we're not shipped to Alaska."
"Or shoved onto a submarine," Shaw agreed. "I
hate those things."
"What about the President's upcoming conference at Camp
David?" I said. "She'll want Maye and Nick there, for sure."
"I hear she may take all of them," Shaw said.
"If that's the case, she'll ask for Corinne, too. And the
Russian."
"I hate Camp David," Shaw muttered.
* * *
"We have information."
"What information?" Dmitri lifted an eyebrow. He was
acting as the Soviet Ambassador until someone else was appointed.
"Just a conversation," the informant shrugged.
"But
the Russian
was mentioned. I believe you know what that could
mean."
"I'll make contact immediately," Dmitri said and
nodded his dismissal.
* * *
Corinne
"You won't be smiling if I lose my coffee all over
you," I said.
Rafe/Ilya was still grinning (
the bastard
) as he stared
down at me. I was flat on my back, with his arm pressed against my throat. At
least I wasn't gasping for breath, and I would have been if he'd pushed harder.
"You think I haven't gotten worse than that?" he
said before leaning back and letting me up.
"I hope it was unpleasant every time," I said,
struggling to rise. He didn't offer a hand.
Just as I'd feared, all five of the Five had shown up to watch
my beating. I had no physical defense against this man.
He
knew it.
They
knew it.
I
knew it. "I'll bet you beat up kittens in your spare
time," I rubbed my left hip—I'd landed on it after the last attack.
"I like cats," he responded, stepping back.
"That doesn't mean I'll like you any better," I
snapped, "just because we both like cats."
"I expect you to go through those exercises we did
earlier every morning. I don't care how sore you are," he said.
"We're done today."
"Thank God," I muttered and walked stiffly toward
the door.
"God had nothing to do with it. You should thank
me," he said. I heard the Five laughing as I left the gym.
* * *
"I can't walk. That's how my lessons went," I said.
Dr. Shaw arrived shortly after I got out of the shower, just to see how my
beating had gone.
"We need to discuss the list," he said, taking a
seat at my kitchen island and nodding when I offered coffee.
"You know how I feel about that," I said. Moving my
arms felt like moving lead weights as I dropped a coffee pod into the brewer
and hit the button. I figured I wouldn't be able to move anything later in the
day, but didn't point that out to Dr. Shaw. I'd take ibuprofen and hope to get
through it.
"Corinne, we know sex can relieve stress, as well as
offering other benefits. You've ignored this as long as you've been in the
Program. I think it's time you did something about it."
"Who's asking now?" I huffed, handing the fresh cup
of coffee to him. I noticed my hand wasn't particularly steady as I did so.
"Dalton Parrish has added his name to the list. You know
just about any male with breath in his body here at the Mansion is on that
list."
"I don't want Dalton Parrish. That should be clear enough.
If I don't take any of them, then none of them can be offended. Right?" I
stuffed another pod into the brewer and shoved a thumb against the button.
"Corinne, if somebody you do want isn't on that list, you
can add your name to their list," he said.
"Nope. Not going there, either." I figured part of
Becker's animosity toward me had to do with the fact that I'd ignored his name,
just like all the others. The sad truth? We were only allowed to get close to
somebody associated with the Program. If we wanted somebody from outside, that
was considered a security breach. Dr. Shaw saw the need for intimate contact
among the survivors of Cloud Dust, and had no trouble hooking the others up.
I was the one who balked.
I had my reasons.
"Dr. Shaw," I said, "I want to go to bed with
somebody who cares about me, and not some warm-blooded dildo. We've had this
discussion before. I hope we don't have it again."
Chapter 5
Corinne
The first meeting with all seven of us present came three days
later. General Safer arrived to deliver the news.
"The President's meeting at Camp David is next week. All
of you will go. Your handlers will advise you of your assignments before
then."
"I hope my assignment is writing in my bungalow," I
sighed.
"Cori," August warned.
"Yeah."
* * *
"You will run with the rest of them, instead of on that
pathetic treadmill," August informed me as we walked toward my suite after
the meeting.
"That's outside," I said.
"Along the perimeter of the wall. They run at least five.
I'm willing to let you do the usual three," he said.
"There are insects out there," I complained.
"And fresh air."
"In this town? Seriously?"
"You don't get enough sunlight. Dr. Shaw commented on it
recently."
"I'm sure he did." At that moment, I was hoping he
hadn't discussed my sex life—or lack of same—with August. "I can build a
sunroom onto my suite," I suggested.
"It's spring," August pointed out, ignoring me. "The
air is warmer. Get new running clothes if you need them; you've only ordered
groceries since you got here."
"You know I'll need them," I grumped. I ran in old
sweats. Totally unattractive ones, too.
"Get them ordered today. And ask Ginny to order a
suitable wardrobe for next week."
"I'm not wearing dresses."
"You will if you have dinners with the President."
"Please say I won't have dinners with the
President."
"Dr. Shaw says you refused Dalton Parrish. You know we
could use information," August began.
I slapped a hand over my eyes. Shaw did discuss my sex life
with Auggie. "I'm not prostituting myself for anyone," I hissed.
"Get the hell away from me." I ran toward my door, leaving Colonel
August Hunter stewing behind me.
* * *
Notes—Colonel Hunter
"I told you not to say anything," Shaw said,
slapping the saltshaker onto the cafeteria table.
"We have an opportunity to find out what that asshole
knows, and she balks," I stuttered.
"He put his name on Maye's list, too. Maybe Cutter wants
the same thing."
"Good luck on getting anything from either one of
them," I said. "What did Maye say?"
"That she'd break his neck before she'd have sex with
him."
"I tend to believe her when she says that," I
agreed. "Anything new on the Russian?"
"Nothing unusual. We talked about his time in prison. He
had an easier time of it than some of the others—privileges and such. Still
wasn't getting medical care, though. They wanted him dead."
"Tough bastard."
"No doubt. The Five showed up for the first three Krav
Maga lessons with Corinne. That's been whittled down to two."
"The bullies?"
"Of course."
"You think they'll lose interest? Corinne has bruises
everywhere. She won't even look at Rafe when they're not sparring."
"Is he still showing up for breakfast?"
"As far as I know. Dalton said she wasn't talking then,
either."
* * *
Corinne
I sat at the kitchen island, preparing to eat a quick bowl of
chicken noodle soup for lunch while I considered the prospect of having my
future breakfasts in the cafeteria. He walked in. I hadn't spoken to him in
days.
"I wanted lunch," he said, taking the seat next to
mine and pulling my bowl of soup toward him.
"Oh, dear God," I sighed and dropped my head on the
island. I listened, my eyes shut, while I heard sounds of a spoon clinking
against the bowl and slurping noises. I waited until he was finished before
rising from my seat and elbowing him in the ribs.
He'd taught me the move—I just hadn't used it until then.
While he got his breath back, I made myself another bowl of
soup.
"You're still here?" I asked as I set the bowl on
the island and took my seat.
"Thinking about taking that bowl, too."
"You think so?"
"I could."
"I know." I allowed my shoulders to sag.
"I won't take your lunch. Eat," he nodded toward my
bowl. "I'll find crackers for you." He rose and shuffled toward the
cabinets. In a few seconds, I had a sleeve of crackers and a glass of orange
juice in front of me.
"You're going to run with the rest of us tomorrow
morning. At six."
"Six is too early," I moaned, leaning my head back
and closing my eyes.
"If you didn't stay up until two working on that goddamn
computer, you'd get up earlier."
"It's easier to write then," I said, opening my eyes
and staring into his. They were quite dark.
I'll bet you're responsible for
quite a lot of panty moisture throughout the Mansion
, I thought at him. He
chose that moment to turn his head away.
"Your health is suffering for it," he said.
"Staying up so late."
"Really? Got a medical degree, too?" I sniped.
"I've done some reading."
"I'm sure you have."
"Natural remedies are available to help you sleep. You
don't need those drugs that Shaw offers."
"I don't take those drugs that Shaw offers."
"Colonel Hunter said you didn't."
"You've increased my intake of ibuprofen."
"I know. You could go to the whirlpool. That would
help."
"The whole Mansion shows up there."
"And that is a problem because?"
"I'm an introvert."
He laughed. It wasn't a horrible sound. "Do you own a
swimsuit?" he asked when he stopped chuckling.
"It's five years old and I've never worn it. Moths may
have eaten it; I haven't checked."
"You could go in naked."
"While everybody in the Mansion has probably seen me naked,
I don't want it to be voluntary," I said.
"You make me laugh," he said.
"Sure. Every time you toss me to the floor, you're
grinning."
"Get your swimsuit, lightweight. We'll go to the
spa."
"Where's your suit?" I demanded.
"I'm wearing it under my jeans."
"Of course you are."
"You should call me Rafe," he added.
"Of course I should."
* * *
Complete proof that everybody listened to everything going on in
the Mansion waited for us when we arrived at the huge hot tub connected to the
gym. Even James was there, grinning like a fool and scooting over so I could
sit next to him.
Rafe the rat sat between us.
"You stopped in the middle of a paragraph," James
said, forcing me to lean around the mountain sitting next to me so I could
reply.
"I stopped for lunch. Which he ate," I poked Rafe in
the ribs.
"You had more. I wouldn't have eaten all your tinned
soup." He took my fingers from his ribs and set them in my lap.
"Really?" I made a face at Rafe. At least six women
lined the other side of the spa, and all of them ogled him. James, who was fit
enough, looked like a ninety-pound-weakling next to Rafe.
All six of those
women will serve you soup—at the same time
, I thought in his direction.
At least hot, bubbling water hid my hand as I poked him in the
ribs a second time. He covered it by turning to James and asking how he might
get access to my books as I wrote them. James offered to send him what he had.
I slapped a wet hand against my forehead. Rafe laughed.
* * *
Running three miles at six in the morning was bad enough. What
made it worse was that a light rain fell as I ran. Becker lapped me twice, just
to prove he could. The last time he passed me, one of his hands snaked out and
shoved me. Waving my arms helplessly when he knocked me off balance, I fell in
rain-soaked grass and mud with a splash and a grunted
oof
. Muttering
obscenities, I struggled to rise while Rafe ran right past, his steady stride slurping
up mud and flinging wet droplets about him. I watched him run for a moment
before pulling myself from the slop I'd landed in.
* * *
Ilya
I ran at a steady pace behind Becker, content to let him have
the lead. He was happiest thinking he was in charge of every situation. I
allowed him his fantasies—until he shoved Corinne into the mud.
That's when I caught up with him.
Waiting for an opportunity, I held back until he was prepared
to pass one of the brothers, then burst between them, making sure Becker went
down. I smiled as he shouted names in my direction.
* * *
Corinne
"Are you packed?" Rafe drank coffee as I walked into
the kitchen. I was still sore, but the whirlpool sessions helped. Today was the
day we were heading to Camp David. I didn't want to go. At least I wasn't
expected to run or have a Krav Maga lesson.
"Yes," I grumbled.
"You're not dressed to go."
"It's a Freudian slip."
"Looks like a bathrobe to me."
"You're so funny," I mocked. "I want coffee
first, so I can be wide awake and miserable, instead of half-asleep and
miserable."
"Corinne?"
August had arrived.
"Auggie, please sit, have coffee and tell me everything
that I'm doing wrong today," I waved toward a barstool at the island.
"You, Rafe and the others will attend the meetings with
the President. Rafe will be within four feet always, while you will be nearby,
watching the others and taking notes."
"Physically taking notes?"
"That's what Cutter said."
"Cutter. Joy."
"Cori."
"Yeah."
"Rafe?" Dalton Parrish walked through the door
connecting Rafe's quarters with my kitchen.
"Dalton." Rafe sipped coffee and didn't look up.
Dalton repeated August's words to Rafe, and then to me. His eyes wandered over
me, too, as if he'd never seen a rumpled woman in her bathrobe before.
"Coffee?" Dalton asked. I made coffee for August,
Dalton and me. I drank in silence while the others talked—we'd be flying in
helicopters to Camp David. The choppers would arrive shortly, so I didn't have
a lot of time to get ready.
"Corinne, get in the shower," August said when I'd
finished half my coffee.
"Fine." Taking my cup with me, I wandered toward the
door leading into my suite. I took my time, too. That's why the chopper blew up
before we left the Mansion, instead of after we were inside it.
* * *
Notes—Colonel Hunter
Burning debris was strewn across the yard and guards were
everywhere, with more on the way. It took a while to determine that the pilot
was involved—he'd taken off running seconds before the chopper exploded.
He sat in an interrogation room inside the Mansion while
another chopper was ordered for us—the President was waiting, although she'd
been briefed. James stood with us as we watched a fire crew put the last of the
fires out—singed and blackened grass littered the lawn in front of us and the unpleasant
scent of burned fuel, rubber and metal hung about the Mansion.
"Colonel?" James said, nodding toward the back entrance,
near the helipad. He wanted to talk.
"Let's go," I said and followed him toward the
Mansion.
"Do you think Corinne," he began before I held up a
hand. He and I both knew—Corinne was never late. She'd dragged her feet today.
"We'll have this conversation later," I said.
"What's the ETA on the second chopper? Do we have an inspection crew
ready?"
"Yes, sir. And we have experts coming to examine the
wreckage."
"Good. I want to be informed if they find anything."
"I'll keep you in the loop. Who would do this?" he
added.
"That's what I want to know."
* * *
"Our first attempt failed. We will try again."
"See that you do," the voice crackled over the
secure line. "This problem must be eliminated."
"Agreed."
* * *
Ilya
This looked familiar—I'd seen others die the same way. Dmitri
could be behind this. How had he found the information? Had someone discussed
me while Dmitri's watchdogs were listening?
It angered me that they'd killed Ambassador Bespalov; he'd
secretly arranged to get me out of prison. I wouldn't reveal that
information—his wife still lived in Novosibirsk. I was likely involved in her
husband's death; I didn't want trouble to visit her, too.
More than anything, I wanted to know what the pilot had to
say, but held back from asking. Dalton stood nearby, watching closely, keys
clicking sharply on his cell phone as he tapped a message. My guess was that
General Cutter would receive the message.
Corinne wasn't far away, so I turned toward her. She was pale,
but not as frightened as one might think. Did she see this coming?
I wouldn't be surprised
.
* * *
Notes—Colonel Hunter
After the second chopper was gone over twice and declared free
of explosives, the pilot was searched carefully for weapons. We loaded in four
hours late. I had texts from one of the President's aides, telling me the
meeting scheduled that morning was postponed.
Madam President really wanted Corinne and Rafe there for some
reason. Corinne didn't like flying in a helicopter; that was easy enough to see
when she sat between Rafe and James. Dalton reached over to help buckle her in
when he saw her hands shaking, but she managed to get it fastened on her own.
Rafe helped her adjust the headset so she wouldn't be deafened by the noise.
That's when I learned Rafe had my phone number.
She's not
used to this
, he texted.
Then she'd better damn well get used to it
, I texted
back.
Lose my number or I'll get your phone privileges revoked
.
They all had special issue phones for this trip, but only for
use within the group. All other numbers were blocked. I thought Corinne was the
only one with my number. Obviously, I was wrong.