Debra & Regan Webb & Black - Her Undercover Defender

His watch flashed and sounded another alarm, and David finished his lap. Pulling himself out of the pool, he sat at the edge, feet dangling in the water. It was silly to keep wondering. There was only one way to find out if Casey’s lifetime assignment would suit him. Hearing the slap of flip-flops, he looked up and smiled. “Hey, Noah,” he said, raising a hand. He and Noah Drake had discovered their mutual appreciation of the coast when they were tasked together on a water rescue mission. The fellow Specialist and artist maintained a house on one of Georgia’s barrier islands and allowed David to use it when he wanted to dive in the area.

“Am I interrupting?” Noah inquired, tossing the towel in his hands onto a nearby chair.

“No. Just finished up and got lost in thought.”

“It happens,” Noah said with a commiserating smile. “I know this is early, but Blue is already planning the annual New Year’s bash on the island. You’re welcome to join us again.”

“That could be good.” Depending on his upcoming meeting. “I had a great time last year.” It had been the ideal excuse to dodge the romantic trap his sisters had set in motion. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

“Sure.” Noah stepped back as David stood. “There’s been some noise about a new shipwreck discovered nearby. I thought you’d like to take a look.”

“Definitely.” Any time he could get underwater was a good thing. His parents often joked he should have flippers and gills instead of feet and lungs. He rubbed a towel over his hair again and looped it around his neck. “Thanks, man.”

“You got it,” Noah said. “Just remember your friends if you find some unclaimed treasure.”

David laughed to himself as Noah walked away. He rarely stopped to think about how much he appreciated the friends he’d made here. A lifetime assignment could mean the end of those connections. His mother’s wisdom came to mind. Much as she’d done when he joined the Coast Guard, she’d remind him that moving on was part of life and that true friends and good family weren’t limited by geography.

Pushing the questions to the back of his mind, he showered and dressed for the meeting. Director Casey didn’t waste resources, human or otherwise, and David needed to go in prepared to listen and make a swift decision. Casey would expect nothing less.

David checked his reflection, satisfied with the pressed khakis and black cable-knit sweater. He pushed his thick, dark hair back from his face, missing the military regulation cut he’d maintained during his Coast Guard service. Specialists had to be less obvious and able to blend in with civilians, so he’d let it grow a bit longer since moving to Casey’s team.

With an open mind and no small amount of curiosity, David rode the elevator to the offices upstairs. His shoes squeaked as he crossed the polished marble floor, and he grinned at the receptionist waiting for him when he swiped his key card and walked through the glass doors.

“Hey, Elizabeth. Is Director Casey ready for me?”

She nodded. “I’ll let him know you’re headed his way.”

David gave a little double tap on the countertop surrounding her like a bunker. “Thanks.”

With each step he coached himself to keep an open mind, to hear it all before he leaped in with both feet. Casey’s door was open, but David knocked on the door anyway. His boss made eye contact over his computer monitor and waved him on in. David entered and closed the door behind him. He paused at the guest chairs, feeling an unexpected bout of nerves.

“Have a seat,” Casey said. “You read the email?”

David nodded. “A few times.”

“Good. I was just going over your employment and service records. Before we go any further, remember you can always turn down an assignment.”

David had yet to meet a Specialist who’d done that. “I’m hoping for more information before I make a commitment.”

“Of course,” Casey acknowledged.

He leaned back into what David termed a leadership pose, his hands resting lightly on the padded armrests of his executive chair. The body language appeared open, but David knew better. The director had forgotten more secrets than any of his Specialists had racked up.

“How do you feel about hospitals?” the boss asked.

David bit back the immediate questions, knowing Casey would provide information in good time. “As a lifetime assignment? I’m probably only qualified to be a janitor.” He definitely didn’t want to make a lasting career of mopping floors.

“We can do better than that,” Casey promised. “If you agree to accept this post, you’ll go in as yourself, with your service record intact through the Coast Guard years. We’ll smooth over what you’ve done since.”

So far so good, David thought. He could be himself, maintain the ties to friends and family and still be part of a bigger purpose.

“You’ll be posted in Charleston, South Carolina, and we have plans to insert you as part of the staff at MUSC.”

Having grown up in Georgia, David was familiar with the shorthand reference for the Medical University of South Carolina facility. “My accent should fit right in there.”

Casey exhibited a rare smile. “Agreed.” He leaned forward, pushing a manila folder across the desk. “Aside from a decent-paying nine-to-five job, you could be a part of local dive communities and coastal action.”

The director knew which buttons to push. “You sound like a recruiter promising me hobbies and a social life beyond the job,” David said, wary of the inevitable catch. “I’m sure you didn’t design this position for me.”

Casey seemed to sigh without making a sound. “I want some long-range plans in place before I retire. Every day we hear more chatter about strikes aimed our way. Placing dedicated assets in key areas is the best way to safeguard our interests and prevent the loss of innocent lives.

“This is a lifetime placement. You’ll still be a Specialist and expected to report as you would on any other mission,” Casey went on. “If and when we encounter problems in Charleston or the general region, you’ll be called to help.”

Sounded too good to be true, and still David was interested. “Count me in.”

“All right.” Casey’s nod showed more grit than approval or enthusiasm. “Charleston has a few choice targets from the ports to the nuclear school, to the prison at the Naval Weapons Station.”

David’s background and skills would be a more natural fit in any one of those places. He waited, stifling his rising curiosity, to hear the reason he was headed for a desk job inside the hospital instead.

“Intel has confirmed an immediate threat potential at MUSC. A research scientist has been working on implanted devices that could change the way we track criminals and people involved with terrorist actions. Despite precautions, word is out that he’s nearly perfected the biotech. Naturally, as a matter of national security, we keep a close eye on things like this. The most recent reports indicate a terrorist cell might —I emphasize that for a reason—have a way to get close to him. We’re working to clarify who knows what.”

At the director’s urging, David opened the manila folder and skimmed through the doctor’s background. The official head shot for Dr. Franklin Palmer was accompanied by an extensive list of degrees, publications and apparent accomplishments.

“If you take this placement,” Casey explained, “we’ll get you inserted at the hospital and find a house for you near a nurse who works at MUSC. The nurse has a close personal connection to Dr. Palmer.”

David glanced up from the page outlining Palmer’s early project. “These results are amazing.”

“Yes,” Casey agreed. “Unless the technology falls into the hands of our enemies.”