Kate Donovan - Exit Strategy

“Close the blinds and I’ll make up with you right here, right now,” she challenged playfully. Then with a glance through the glass wall to make sure no one was looking, she brushed her lips across McGregor’s.

“Speaking of make-up sex,” she added mischievously. “Can you imagine the sparks that will fly when Ray sees Miranda again?”

“Unless it was all an act. A way to cement her loyalty, and to put you off track.” McGregor gave a rueful smile. “I guess we’ll find out. Meanwhile, we’ve got our own sparks to worry about. Right?” He tilted his head toward the door, suggesting, “Let’s go.”

“Okay.” She followed him out of the office, trying to look forward to their unscheduled interlude, but for the first time, a warning bell was going off in her head.

He’s a dropout. A head case. He almost got us killed, remember? He ruined Miranda Cutler’s career. Maybe even her life.

McGregor’s assessment had been harsh, but also true. That was exactly what had happened the last time Miranda got mixed up with Ray Ortega.

And now, because of Kristie, she was about to get mixed up with him again.

The more Miranda read about Jonathan Kell and the Brigade, the more excited she became over this new assignment. The file told an amazing story of a young research scientist working for a drug company in South America, investigating the efficacy and potential of various remedies used by the natives of the rain forests. Then a drug lord who styled himself as a revolutionary had kidnapped the scientist, demanding a ransom from the employer and also seeking information from young Kell about his experiments. The drug company refused to pay, leaving Kell to die in a filthy cage in Benito Carerra’s jungle hideaway. But not before Carerra tortured Kell mercilessly.

Into this drama had come Ray Ortega, an operative unaware of Kell’s plight, sent by the CIA to assassinate Carerra. Ortega seduced Carerra’s wife to learn the location of the husband’s secret headquarters. Unfortunately, a CIA mole tipped off Carerra, who was ready for Ortega and threw him into a cell with Kell. For two weeks, the men were alternately tortured, starved and neglected. According to Ortega’s debrief transcript, Kell had confided that he had been searching for a cure for phobias because Kell himself was riddled with them. Those irrational fears, coupled with the rational ones associated with kidnapping and torture, made the ordeal even worse for Kell. Ortega did his best to help the man stay strong. Stay alive.

And Kell helped Ortega, too, teaching him some relaxation techniques he had developed to help with the phobias. Ortega insisted neither of them would have survived the torture without those skills.

Finally Ortega managed to overpower a guard and confiscate a pistol and crossbow. The two detainees had just reached the vehicle that would take them to safety when a furious Benito Carerra had confronted them, guns blazing. Still cool, even after his ordeal, Ortega had calmly drawn the crossbow, sending an arrow that caught Carerra through the neck, pinning his body to a tree. At the sight of their leader’s ghastly fate, the other guards had fled, and Ortega had rushed Kell to a hospital for treatment.

Kell had pledged undying gratitude to Ortega. But he knew his country hadn’t sent the operative after Carerra on his account, and he cursed the United States for not intervening sooner. As for the drug company? Kell sued it, claiming that it had abandoned him, despite the existence of an insurance policy that would have paid his ransom, because the executives had hoped he’d be killed and the company could appropriate Kell’s valuable research. A court agreed, and Kell was awarded millions, which he used to buy a fortress in the Swiss Alps, where he declared he was no longer an American, and would now conduct and fund his own experiments. Thereafter, he reportedly lived like a virtual hermit, terrified of the world yet also defiant.

And easy prey for the Brigadier, or so the file speculated. The working assumption was that the anonymous leader had promised each of the Brigade members some enticement-be it revenge, security, wealth, or raw power-in exchange for their loyalty and services. Kell could offer his brilliant research; the other three had talents and resources of a military, financial or technological nature.

But even those four men were not trusted with the actual identity of the Brigadier, although SPIN and the CIA hoped Kell might have knowledge Kristie and the CIA analysts could use to deduce that identity.

Miranda shivered with excitement. For the second time in her career, she had an assignment that thrilled her. Inspired her. Made her feel as though she could make a meaningful contribution to her country.

Of course, the last time she had felt that way, it had been a fraud. And she had been a dupe. She couldn’t help remembering that as she stared at the map in the file that gave directions to Ortega’s retreat in the Sierra Nevada mountains.

But this time, the only potential dupe was Kristie Hennessy. Miranda was going into it with her eyes wide open and her expectations at zero.

And it was always possible Kristie was right. She was, after, all a spinner-a psychologist trained to evaluate others. To predict how they would react, and to plot successful scenarios accordingly. It was because of Kristie that the Ortega alibi mess hadn’t led to loss of innocent lives. She was clearly deserving of the trust and respect the SPIN director had placed in her, their apparent love affair notwithstanding.

And even if Kristie’s judgment was clouded this time because of her friendship with Ortega, the worst that would happen was he’d refuse to cooperate. Miranda almost hoped he would! She trusted Will McGregor’s word that he’d recommend her for participation in the CIA’s anti-Brigade op either way, and that was all she really wanted out of this-a chance to redeem herself. To prove her value to the company.

If one more encounter with Ortega could get her that, then all she could say was, Bring it on.

Ortega had chosen a perfect location for his self-imposed exile. A twisty mountain road provided the only access to the parcel, which was surrounded by jagged outcroppings and steep terrain that would discourage even the most adventurous hikers. According to the file, Ortega had installed some sort of monitoring system to alert him when a vehicle approached, which Miranda guessed didn’t happen very often, and never by mistake. It was simply too inhospitable a drive for anyone to undertake without a very, very good reason.

By the time she was within a thousand yards of the place, she knew he knew she was coming. He would be prepared. And luckily, so was she, mostly because of the eight-month stint she had served on the Farm-the CIA’s training facility that doubled as an ongoing societal experiment. During Miranda’s stay, she had been inserted into a hostile society with disorienting customs. Surrounded by people she couldn’t trust, in an atmosphere of duplicity and challenge, she had honed the skills needed to thrive in such an environment.

She had done well. Now she was headed for another such experience, and she had no doubt she’d survive again. The prospect of seeing Ortega, while distasteful, was overshadowed by the excitement she felt over the anti-Brigade operation. She knew that if she focused on the goal, and didn’t get distracted by the alibi disaster and its accompanying humiliation, she’d do fine. And if he tried to manipulate her in any way, well, he’d be surprised. Because thanks to him, she had had a full year of developing her own manipulative skills!

Not that she really thought he’d try anything. A close reading of the file suggested he really did want to be alone, which meant that the worst he’d do would be order her off his property, as he’d done to every other person who had tried to visit him.