Cliff Ryder - Aim And Fire

Instead of a harried, rumpled, middle-aged Washington bureaucrat, she faced a trim, well-dressed woman she estimated was in her late thirties. Her platinum-blond hair was cut stylishly short, closely framing her face and making her appear even younger. As she looked up, her eyes seemed to shift from gold to green, unsettling Tracy even more. Dressed in a navy blue suit that accentuated her short frame, the woman rose and extended her hand. Her FBI badge, with its matching blue letters against a white background and the woman’s picture in the lower half underneath her signature, was clipped to her lapel.

“Ms. Wentworth? Nice to meet you. I’m Stephanie Cassell, with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, National Security Branch, Weapons of Mass Destruction Directo-rate. Yes, it’s quite a mouthful. I’m sorry to have to interrupt your workday like this.”

Tracy disguised her momentary surprise at the other woman’s politeness and humor, and shook her head. “Not at all. I’m happy to assist the FBI in whatever way I can.”

“And we appreciate that.” Stephanie checked her watch.

“Have you been briefed as to the subject of this meeting?”

Oh, great. Tracy hated these kinds of questions. If she said she hadn’t been briefed, and it got back to her boss, she’d be in even more trouble than she was now. If she said she was briefed, and couldn’t tell any pertinent details, then she’d look like a fool in front of the analyst. Just another intelligence catch-22.

“I haven’t been informed as to any recent details, ma’am,” she bluffed.

“That’s fine. Your superior seems like the type that doesn’t give up any more information than necessary.”

Tracy made a noncommittal noise in her throat, neither confirming nor denying the statement.

Agent Cassell fixed her with those peculiar eyes. “I mean, he seems to be the type that if you shoved a lump of coal up you-know-where, you’d have a diamond in a month,” she said with a laugh.

Tracy was startled, but recovered quickly. “I’d never quite thought of it in those terms, ma’am.”

“Please, call me Stephanie.” The FBI agent checked her watch. “This is going to seem a bit strange, but my schedule has gotten a bit jammed, and I’m supposed to be heading to the station to catch my train. Would you mind coming with me? I can drop you wherever you like, within reason.”

Tracy stared at the women in disbelief. Had she stumbled upon the Holy Grail—a government agent who didn’t have a stick up her ass? Would she actually take her to the school? She could catch a ride back with Paul—

Blinking, she wrenched herself back to reality. The federal government didn’t run a taxi service—at least, not for GS-10 personnel. “Ma’am—Stephanie—as I’m sure you know, classified, top-secret or eyes-only materials cannot be discussed off the premises in nonsecure loca-tions,” she said, relieved she hadn’t fallen into the trap.

“Don’t worry, Tracy, my ride is probably more secure than this building. Come on, let’s go.” With that she rose and picked up her soft-sided leather attaché case, which, Tracy realized, she had never opened. She was planning to leave the entire time, she thought. Who is this person?

They headed out of the office, with both Mark and Gilliam giving them puzzled looks. Tracy responded with one of her own and a shrug. With Stephanie leading the way, the two women passed through security and out the main doors, where a black Navigator with tinted windows awaited them, its engine purring softly.

“Let’s talk in the back, shall we?” Stephanie walked around to the far side, leaving Tracy to climb into the rear passenger seat. As soon as she was settled, she fastened her seat belt and looked up at the driver, a tall man with military-issue hair and a stone-serious demeanor. He screamed ex–elite forces and was obviously a bodyguard, which jangled Tracy’s senses even more. Although his eyes were hidden by mirrored sunglasses, she had the feeling he had glanced at her and assessed her threat capability in an instant. Even through the silvered lenses, she had felt the dispassionate coldness of his gaze before he turned to check the street all around them. Compared to him, I’m probably no threat at all, she thought.

“Let’s go. Shields up.” Stephanie smiled as the SUV pulled away from the curb. “I love saying that.” She waited a few moments until the driver nodded at her. “Okay, you may now talk freely in here. Also, he is cleared for all security ratings, just like I am, so pay him no attention. One more thing before we begin—where did you want to be dropped off?”

“I can catch a ride back from the station.” A part of Tracy’s mind screamed at her to take up the other woman’s offer and head to the school before it was too late, but she didn’t.

“Very well. The reason I’m here today is that we believe there is a high probability of a nuclear device having been smuggled across the Mexican border into the United States, and that it will be used against our country in the next few days.”

Tracy frowned. “How did you—did you get a copy of my report?”

“Among other things. You do good work, by the way.”

Stephanie pulled out a thick envelope and rested it on her lap. “We’d like you to go down to El Paso and investigate this incident.”

“Me? Excuse me for asking, but wouldn’t this be better suited for the domestic nuclear detection office?”

Stephanie’s expression turned, if not sour, then definitely not approving, either. “We’re coordinating the investigation with them, as well. However, they’re not equipped to handle a field investigation at this time, and are handling things on the research and theoretical-response side of things.”

A bit of hostility there, Tracy thought. Apparently the interdepartmental cooperation only went so far.

“Since a Border Patrol agent initiated the message that started all of this rolling, we feel that pairing that agent on scene with an outside analyst is the best course of action at this time. And after reading your report on the subject and the potential threat, we believe you are the best-qualified person to carry out the assignment, rather than starting someone cold. That is, if you accept. It is, of course, strictly voluntary.” Stephanie held out the large envelope. “Everything you’d need right now is in here, in hard copy and also on a flash drive.”

Tracy automatically reached out and took it while trying to parse what had just happened. Of all the various possibilities that could have come up, this one was not among those she’d anticipated. “So you’re treating this as real— that al-Kharzi isn’t dead?”

“If we weren’t, I wouldn’t be sitting here. Al-Kharzi was supposedly killed attempting to use a WMD against the U.S., and we have every reason to believe that, if he is back, he’ll try again.”

Tracy drummed her fingers against the envelope. “If I accept, when would I leave?”

“We’d need you on a plane tomorrow morning. That’s one of the issues, the time frame we’re up against. If the agent down there is correct, and a device is in play in the U.S., then it may be a matter of weeks or even a few days, depending on how they intend to use it.”

Tracy nodded as she weighed the package in her hand. “This is all so sudden—I mean, I’m an analyst, not a field agent.”

“Some of the best work for our country has been done by analysts working in the field. Often, people like yourself bring a new perspective to an operation, looking at things from a new angle or finding what others have missed.”

Stephanie leaned forward. “I understand if you need to think about this. However, we need an answer from you as soon as possible.”