Cliff Ryder - The Finish Line

Kate nodded. "I agree with that assessment. However, I think the last thing anyone, particularly them, expected was to find another strike team in the exact same location, going after the exact same people. We try to plan for ambushes, insurgents, just about anything that can go wrong. But considering what they came up against and how they acquitted themselves, I'm not ready to throw the book at them just yet."

"The fact that a team of hostiles was able to get to the target in the first place brings up other security and surveillance issues that I will address in my final report and recommendations. However, the more important question, in light of this new evidence, is whether we deactivate the team at this point and let a regular operative take over this investigation," Samantha said.

Kate steepled her fingers. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you the one who suggested keeping them activated in the first place?"

Another woman might have taken the comment as sarcastic, but Samantha just gave Kate a look that told the director that she knew she was being bullshitted. "Of course you're right, but that was before I saw how the op had gone down. If I'd had this information before, I would have advised pulling them immediately."

"Samantha, you know that I dislike switching teams in midop. One of our intelligence operatives would have to pick up the trail cold, and if they ran into this team, they would be at a distinct disadvantage."

"Yes, but a single operative that knows what he is going up against is more likely to be able to stay on the trail of this last subject without creating more complications. Besides…" Samantha hesitated.

"Go on."

"Let's face it, the Midnight Teams serve a useful yet limited function for the organization. Sending them after this lone woman is rather like using a flamethrower to light a candle, in my opinion."

Exactly what Jake was thinking in the limo, I'll bet, Kate thought. "Concerned about overkill, are you?"

"More like overspill. On this team's assignment, they shot up a house, chased a car through the streets of London — and I can't remember the last time that happened — which ended with the target vehicle blowing up in Kennington Park."

"All hazards, unlikely as they may seem, of the business," Kate replied.

"Nevertheless, for an agency that relies on staying behind the scenes to be effective, even when bringing in the bigger guns, as you say across the pond, our team certainly wasn't able to deliver, not on completing the entire mission, nor maintaining a low profile. I simply don't think this team is the best choice to send after this person."

"On the contrary, I believe that after this, they will be even more inclined to complete the next phase swiftly and well, to expunge the mistakes that were made previously. If a person knows that the confidence previously placed in them has decreased, they are more apt to try that much harder to regain that trust," Kate said.

"Which may lead them to take higher risks than normal. In an already high-risk situation, the results could be disastrous," Samantha said.

She's tenacious — I'll give her that, Kate thought. "If we pull them now, the psychological damage could be severe enough to hamper their performance for weeks, even months. Although I do appreciate your concerns, I still think that they are the right team for continuing this mission."

Samantha folded her arms. "It seems that we are bound to disagree on this matter. Of course, I will defer to you regarding this decision. However, I will have to note our discussion in my report."

"I wouldn't expect anything else, Samantha." Kate's e-mail monitor chirped. "Hold on a moment, will you?"

She opened the message. "Well, it looks like the team is already on the job." She put the attached pictures from the e-mail up on the large screen.

"Broadcast to all operatives on task. This is the subject we are looking for. Last seen in the vicinity of Wyvil Road, London, and is most likely attempting to leave the country. First Team, give me an identity report on her immediately. All other operatives, track her current location ASAP."

Kate switched off her channel and turned back to the other director. "I think this team may surprise you."

"Perhaps. I just pray the surprise isn't more of what they did last night. Let's hope we can pick up her trail before that other team does. I'll keep you informed of any progress on my end."

"Thank you, as will I," Kate said.

Samantha's avatar winked out, leaving Kate to pause for a moment and watch the renewed activity around her, now reenergized with the new evidence they had to work with. For all her defense of the Midnight Team, Kate knew she was taking a chance sticking with them. Just don't let me down, boys and girls — in this game, you're lucky to get a second chance, and there are no third chances.

The insistent clamor of her computer's alarm clock jolted Marlene's eyes open, and she yawned and stretched under the thin blanket in her small but acceptable hotel room, luxuriating in the threadbare cotton sheets for a moment before reality crashed down upon her, sweeping away her grogginess in a rush of stark memories. Ray falling down the staircase, blood blooming on the front of his shirt…the black-clad assassin standing over him, firing twice more…the terrifying journey down the clothes chute…the flight through the disgusting sewer darkness, her shoulder blades itching, expecting to feel a bullet punch through them at any moment…staring at the white-sheeted forms being carried out on the emergency carts…

It was anything but a dream. After seeing the deadly proof of the slaughter with her own eyes, Marlene had spent the rest of the night skulking through the London streets. While she had done her best to remain inconspicuous, it was almost impossible when every slammed door made her flinch, every raised voice jerked her head around to make sure the speaker wasn't coming after her. When she was absolutely sure that no one was following her, she had found a tiny hotel a few blocks away from her ultimate destination, her way out of London, and crashed after picking up a few more necessities in a twenty-four-hour supermarket.

Ray is dead…he's really dead, she thought. There wasn't any coming back this time, not like the blown hack in Philadelphia, when their hotel room had been raided and she squeezed through the tiny bathroom window and ran, dead certain the FBI had nabbed him, only to awaken and see him sitting in that ridiculous hardbacked chair at their safe hotel fifty miles away, covered in mud from the cattle truck he'd hitched a ride on. She couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard. She'd gotten up and tackled him to the floor in a bear hug.

I'll never wake up to see his face smiling down at me again. Drawing her legs up to her chest, Marlene wrapped her arms around them and sat very still, head bowed, tears streaming down her face.

After a few minutes, she wiped her eyes and made her way to the bathroom, sniffling with each step. She had paid extra for the privilege of a bathroom so small she was barely able to fit inside it along with a rust-streaked sink, toilet and minuscule shower, all crammed practically on top of one another. But she had things to do before she could go out in public again, and grimly, she set to them.

Forty-five minutes later, showered and dressed, her dark tresses and eyebrows had been transformed to platinum blond, and she had cut her hair even shorter, in case she had to hide it under a wig or scarf. Her clothes she couldn't do as much with, as she had to save her cash for the rest of her trip.

She paced the length of the tiny room. Two strides brought her right up to the musty, fading wallpaper, the pattern of linked roses long since faded to pale shadows of their former color. Marlene's gaze strayed to her laptop in the corner. She knew she needed to clear a path, to get out of the country and meet up with friends, but even with her skills, she knew who might be watching in cyberspace and how they might track her down. Still, it was the best way to go. She'd just have to be careful; that was all. As careful as Ray? her inner voice chided. Shaking her head, she grabbed the case and got moving, heading down the steps and out the back way to Midland Road, right next to the train station.