David Bruns - Weapons of Mass Deception

“Lizzie.”

She looked up and bit her lip. Brendan’s skin was flushed and clean from a recent shower, his hair still damp. Before she realized what she was doing, she had jumped out of the booth and wrapped her arms around his neck. He smelled six ways to wonderful and she could feel the hard muscles of his back beneath the thin material of his shirt.

Brendan gave a quick hug, then whispered in her ear. “Hey, we’re being watched.” Liz looked up to see a whole room full of faces turned in their direction.

“Sorry,” she said, sliding back into the booth, her face burning. “It’s good to see you, Bren.”

Brendan took the seat across from her. “Likewise.” He gestured at the ring. “That’s quite a rock. Who’s the lucky guy?”

She covered the ring with her free hand. “His name is James, and he is a lucky guy.”

“No argument here.” Brendan’s blue eyes seemed to have gone a little cold. “In fact, I think maybe I talked to him once.”

Liz raised an eyebrow.

A flush of red crept up Brendan’s neck. “It’s a little embarrassing. I called you around Christmastime two years ago, and a guy answered the phone. I heard you in the background… you sounded happy. So I hung up.”

Liz took a sip of soda. James had proposed to her that Christmas in Laguna.

“That would have been James. You’d like him, Bren.” She went back to her drink, desperate for a change of topic. “What about you? Anyone special in your life?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Brendan reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a picture.

Liz felt her jaw tighten, but she kept a smile on her face. He had her picture right there, just waiting for me to ask about her.

Brendan slid the photograph across the table. The girl in the picture had long auburn hair and stunning green eyes. A row of perfect white teeth caught the edge of her lip, adding zing to her sultry smile. The girl wore a bikini and the picture looked to have been taken poolside. Liz flipped it over. To my one and only, Love, Amy. The letter “y” in her name was in the shape of a heart.

“Wow,” Liz said. “She looks like a model.”

Brendan laughed. “She is. Swimsuits, mostly. Amy’s hoping to get into Sports Illustrated this coming season.”

Liz bit back a snide comment about bimbos and slid the picture back across the table. “Well, are there any wedding bells in your future?”

Brendan colored again. “We’ll see… Amy’s kinda high maintenance and she’s not much for commitment.” He gestured to her shirt with the FBI logo. “FBI? What happened to the Marines?”

Liz almost let out a sigh of relief. Finally, a safe topic. “Well, I did my five years and then decided to try my luck elsewhere. FBI is hot on language specialists, so I applied, was accepted, finished at Quantico — again! — and they transferred me here immediately.”

Brendan wrinkled his brow. “Farsi, right? I didn’t realize you were that good.”

She nodded. “I’m leaving in the morning for Basra, translating Iranian communications and interrogations. Based on what I heard this morning, I don’t even need to leave the Green Zone.”

“I don’t follow.”

“The prisoners you brought in. They were speaking Farsi.”

Brendan stared at her. “Are you serious?”

“You didn’t know?”

“They acted strange from the moment we picked them up. During the firefight, as soon as we got the upper hand, they just gave up. That never happens. The insurgents usually fight to the death. And then when we cuffed them, they settled right down. Almost no talking, like they were trained to stay silent.” Brendan stood up. “This could be big. Let’s go talk to these guys.”

They made the walk to the detention center in silence, moving through pools of light cast by the streetlamps. Even with the sun down, it was like an oven outside. Liz watched Brendan from the corner of her eye.

The doors of the detention center were in sight when Brendan spoke again.

“I’ve missed you, Liz,” he said softly.

She caught his hand in the darkness between two pools of light. “I missed you, too.” She felt him grip her fingers, and she realized she was shaking. In that split second, she was sure he was going to pull her into his arms and kiss her… and she was okay with that.

Their intertwined fingers moved and her ring sparkled in the night, the way only a two-carat diamond in a glittering platinum setting can sparkle.

The flash seemed to bring Brendan back to his senses. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” He strode forward and yanked open the door to the detention center for her. He was breathing heavily and avoided her eyes.

It’s okay, she wanted to say, but instead she stayed quiet and walked into the building.

Sergeant Dixon, a skinny black kid with a Texas accent, was manning the duty desk.

Brendan smiled at him. “Hi, Sergeant, I’m looking for access to three prisoners who were processed in this morning by my SEAL team. Name’s McHugh.”

Dixon checked his records and shook his head. “Sorry, Lieutenant, just missed them. We released them to the Iraqis about an hour ago.”

Brendan swore under his breath. As part of the cooperative agreement between the US and Iraqi governments, any detainees not deemed “high value” by the Americans were turned over to the Iraqis.

“What about tape?” Liz interrupted.

“Pardon, ma’am?”

“Did you record them in their cell?”

“Yes, ma’am, that’s standard protocol. You can listen to it during normal working hours—”

“I leave for Basra in the morning, Sergeant. How ’bout we listen to them tonight?” Liz flashed her badge that gave her access to the intel files.

With a minimal amount of grumbling, Sergeant Dixon connected them to the intel team leader, who called up the recording of the prisoner cells. He even let them use his office, where Liz and Brendan crowded in front of his laptop to watch the video. The room was dark, only the glow from the laptop on their faces.

On the screen, three men sat on the cell floor, one against each wall, silent. The audio made a loud hiss that filled the tiny office.

Liz’s shoulder barely touched Brendan’s and she did her best to focus on the screen. “I’m going to fast-forward to see if they ever move close enough to talk.” The figures on the screen made minute jerking motions and the time stamp in the lower right corner raced by. Finally, the large one got to his feet, crossed the room, and settled next to one of his cellmates. The remaining man scooted across the floor until all three were huddled together.

Liz stopped the fast-forward and notched the audio up to its highest setting. She closed her eyes in concentration, and tucked her hair behind her ears. The foreign voices, in scratchy whispers, filled the room.

“One of them lost a weapon,” she said. “A knife.” She screwed up her face and pouted her lips. “No… it’s a code name. Maybe a new operation or a weapons system?”

She opened her eyes and sat up straight. On the screen, the three men retreated to their own walls again. “That’s it. Look, I need to write this up.”

Brendan got the hint. “I think I’m going to turn in,” he said, standing up.

“It was great to see you, Bren.” She stood. Because of the desk in the cramped office, it seemed like they were unnaturally close together and his blue eyes blazed in the dimness.

Brendan reached out and brushed his hand against her cheek. “Bye, Lizzie. I wish you the very best.”

Then he was gone.

Don Riley huffed his way up the last steps to the third floor. One more to go. The stairs were adjacent to the bank of elevators, and he longingly eyed the wide silver doors.