Cassie Miles - The Final Secret

“Is this the usual exercise?” she asked.

“We change it every time,” the woman said. “Otherwise, we’d get bored.”

“And we’re all grateful,” Tony added, “that you went upstairs instead of charging into the kitchen and messing up the barbecue we’ve got planned. Hungry?”

Noah interrupted. “The rest of you go downstairs. I’ve got some paperwork for Gennie.”

Smiling, she watched them leave. Their friendly camaraderie reminded her of her platoon in Afghanistan, which was what she’d expected when she applied at ARC Security, also known as Noah’s ARC. They mostly hired ex-military personnel and had a stellar reputation as bodyguards, crime solvers and bounty hunters, as well as the original ARC Security Division that dealt with computers and cyber-crime.

“Come with me,” Noah said.

She followed him down the hall, walking carefully on her injured ankle. He held open the door to the first room on the landing where she had encountered a guard. The space was furnished with bookshelves, cabinets, a desk and several computer screens.

“An office,” she said.

“This is actually my house,” he explained. “The location is convenient, less than an hour out of Denver. When I’m in town, I have a condo.”

“You don’t mind messing up this house playing war games with paintball splatter?”

“Bachelor,” he said as if that explained everything. He gestured to a long sofa at the base of the bookcases. “I have a few questions for you.”

Gingerly, she lowered herself onto the clean-line sofa. “I’m still hired, right?”

“I want you working for us. As soon as I saw your résumé, I knew you had the right stuff. You worked security in Kabul in Afghanistan, is that right?”

“Only occasionally,” she said. There were times when they’d wanted a woman as a bodyguard, and she’d been available. “Between my tours of duty, I trained at Quantico.”

“You have contacts in the FBI and the army,” he said. “That’s a plus. Several of our contracts are with the military and government officials. You’ll fit well into ARC. There’s only one formality left. You need to take a physical.”

She’d been dreading this moment. “I can provide a document from my private doctor saying that I’m fit for duty.”

“Tell me why you left the army, Gennie.”

“I was a captain in Afghanistan, working with the Army Corps of Engineers. We were constructing a school in a remote village when we accidentally set off an explosive device.” Though she’d told this story a hundred times, the words still triggered a rage deep inside. Her work crew had been betrayed. They never found out who was responsible for the bomb, but she blamed herself. She should have known better, should have made smarter decisions. Because she’d been careless, four friends had been killed in that explosion. And she would never stop being angry. “I was injured and evacuated.”

Noah handed her a bottle of water from a mini-fridge beside the desk. “Do you know a former security contractor named Kenneth Warrick?”

“Yes.” Hoping that he’d drop the subject, she took a long drink from the water bottle.

But Noah wasn’t the sort of guy who gave up easily. “Tell me about him.”

“A private contractor and weapons dealer, he was questioned regarding the explosion that killed my team. More than anyone else, he knew our schedule and our plans. I hate to think that he betrayed my crew.”

“He wasn’t charged.”

And it wasn’t the first time that Warrick smooth talked his way out of trouble. “The investigation concluded that a local warlord was responsible.”

“You and Warrick were close.”

So close that they’d discussed marriage. She would never allow herself to be that vulnerable again. “I was stupid.”

He lowered himself into the chair beside the sofa. His gaze dropped, and he stared at her feet. Though she tried not to look down, she glanced. Her slacks were hiked up, and she could see her discolored ankle. The swollen flesh bulged over the top strap of her sandal.

“One of the guys downstairs is a medic,” Noah said. “He could take a look at your injury.”

“It’s only a sprain.”

“How do you know?”

She’d had enough broken bones to know when she had one. “I’ve been putting weight on my leg and it hasn’t buckled. If I get the injury iced and wrapped with a bandage, I’ll be fine.”

“I have an assignment for you on Saturday,” he said. “If you’re not one hundred percent by then, I need to know.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, I want the rest of your story. Three years ago, you were injured in Afghanistan. According to the medical report, you had several broken bones and a concussion.”

“That’s correct.”

“I don’t need to know the medical procedures you’ve undergone, but I want the results. You have a disability.”

Due to the concussion, damaged bones, a hematoma and extensive nerve damage, her left upper arm and certain muscles in both legs were numb. Ongoing programs of therapy and workouts had improved her condition. She passed her fitness tests with high marks, but there was one problem...not a problem, really, an anomaly.

She lifted her chin and confronted him directly. “In about thirty percent of my body, I can’t feel pain.”

“Noah, are you sure it isn’t too soon to have Gennie in the field?”

“I’m positive.” He stared at the face on his cell phone’s screen. Today, Anna Rose Claymore—the founder of ARC Security—wore her blue-streaked hair twisted in a bun atop her head. Her huge glasses had blue-and-pink-polka-dot frames. She looked several years too young to be the grandma of four—a phenomenon she attributed to being a full-fledged, dedicated nerd.

“Gennie Fox joined us only four days ago.”

“You don’t usually pay so much attention to field operations,” he said. Anna Rose ran the cyber-crime division and generally stayed at her multiscreen array of computers. “What’s up?”

“Gennie’s condition fascinates me. She’s like a comic book heroine whose superpower is being invulnerable to pain.”

“And I’d advise you to never tell her that. She’s not the type of woman who’d be complimented by a starring role in a comic.”

“Ah, well, I guess that’s my dream,” Anna Rose said. “Is Gennie’s sprain healed?”

“She’s keeping her ankle wrapped, but our doctor gave her an okay for full activity. Yesterday, I saw her running on the treadmill without a limp. She’s done well at every test we’ve come up with. Her marksmanship ranks at an expert level. She excels in hand-to-hand combat, and she understands our electronic equipment. Her greatest skill—one that can’t be measured—is her ability to work well with the others on the team.”

“Like I’ve said before, I approve of your decision to hire her. Gennie is remarkable and has contacts with people who might hire us.”

He heard an unusual sour note in her voice. “What’s troubling you?”

“It’s not about Gennie.” Above her glasses, her forehead scrunched with worry. “There’s something off about this fund-raising event at General Haymarket’s mansion. Why did he request a sweep of his house and grounds looking for explosives? He wants a metal scanner and ordered extra agents, including a sniper on the roof. Has our favorite general taken a deep dive into the paranoia pond?”

“I hope he’s not losing it. He sends a lot of business our way.”

“Send me a revised guest list,” she said. “I’ll check backgrounds and look for clues.”

“Consider it done.”

Noah ended the call and stepped back to watch as Gennie and other ARC field agents performed the pre-event security check at this palatial home southwest of Denver. The guest list that Anna Rose wanted would include the names of billionaires, high-ranking military personnel and influential executives. They’d allocated a good chunk of change for the privilege of attending this political event and were scheduled to start arriving in about an hour. During the silent auction, they’d drink artisan beer and whiskey from a local distillery. In keeping with the “Buy Colorado” theme, this elite group would chow down on stuffed mushrooms, venison, rattlesnake canapés and other regionally sourced delicacies arrayed on buffet tables.