Fated Identity (Red Star #6) (3 page)

“Brienne.” Gus Wilson knocked impatiently on the office door after he’d opened it abruptly, not apologetic in the least for interrupting. The alarm written on his features conveyed the emergency. “We have a serious problem. There is chatter coming in over the wires and it’s bad. I mean, really bad.”

“What happened?” Brienne asked, reaching for her favorite coffee mug with the remnants of the cold liquid from the first pot still inside. She would take whatever reprieve Gus was offering her to get out of this office before she lost her thin veil of composure in front of Grady. She needed a better, solid emotional footing before she collected her things from his apartment. Her mind understood this was how things needed to be done, but her heart was obviously still protesting. “Are we talking about the mission in Kandahar or the one in Damascus?”

Brienne brushed past Grady, ignoring his penetrating gaze promising her this conversation was far from over. She was well aware of that, but this allowed her a brief reprieve, a moment to breathe and focus on something she had the ability to change. Critical missions, such as the ones in the Middle East or southern Asia, were vital in the success on this fight against terrorism. She had her professional priorities and right now…this took precedence. The ringing of Grady’s cell phone aided her ability to follow Gus out of the office without having to say anything else.

“It’s neither,” Gus said rather distractedly, so unlike his usual demeanor. Her colleague was normally focused on the task at hand, and pulling his attention elsewhere was like pulling teeth out with nothing but her fingers. Right now, he appeared at a loss as he led the way down the hallway toward the Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility (SCIF). Every department within the Intelligence Division had their own satellite version of this secure area where sources and methods were stored, used, processed, or discussed. Had one of the embassies been attacked? “This is more of a personnel issue.”

Gus walked at a faster pace, his erratic movements telling her more than his words. He was leading her to Supervisory Special Agent James Telfer’s office located just outside the SCIF. The door was open and she could see the small gathering of other agents. Brienne crushed the anxiety that tried to surge through her body, but it didn’t prevent a fine sheen of perspiration to coat her skin. She was now wishing she’d left her coffee cup back on her desk.

“Agent Chaylse, we have a problem,” SSA Telfer explained without even glancing her way. He was in the middle of looking at his phone, but it was a blow to her chest when he finally did look her way. Jim Telfer was worried; therefore, she should be scared as hell. She tightened her fingers around her cold mug and braced herself. “Your personal identity as an agent for the Central Intelligence Agency has been compromised.”

No one else in the office said a word. As a matter of fact, only the muffled sounds from the bullpen could be heard through the door Gus had closed behind them. The other three agents—Samuel Frye, Connor Vaupel, and Chloe Hammond—all appeared stunned as they were apparently hearing this for the first time as well. It didn’t make Brienne feel any better to realize she wasn’t the last to know.

She took a moment to step forward and set her cup gently down on SSA Telfer’s desk, careful not to spill what little was left of the contents. She took notice of how organized the surface was maintained. Her life had been very much like that until this very moment.

The pencil holder must have been made by one of Telfer’s children, but it only held sharpened pencils and pens with black ink. The inbox had a few folders meticulously centered in the middle of the wooden container, while the outbox contained more files just as well-ordered. The mouse for his computer was centered on its pad parallel to his keyboard and his desk phone was within perfect distance of his reach at a forty-five degree angle.

What would it look like if she were to take an arm and swipe it across this immaculate surface?

Chaos.

Wreckage.

Her life—as it stood at this very moment.

“In what manner?” Brienne asked, grateful she was able to get the words out without hesitation. Depending on the leak, everything she’d worked for could be gone…depleted. “Is it something that can be mitigated?”

“There was an article published in the
Daily Express Urdu
newspaper today stating your name as the lead CIA liaison to the Pakistani government for the Near Eastern and South Asian Analysis Desk here at Langley,” SSA Telfer stated bluntly, cutting to the chase and giving Brienne what she needed to know. Her career as a covert agent for the CIA was officially over. “We’re doing what we can to locate the source of the leak, but you’ll be placed on administrative leave as the board reviews the damage this has caused to your current caseload, as well as to the other agents involved on your desk. You know the process and we’ll…”

Administrative leave. Brienne suppressed the manic laugh that built within her as SSA Telfer continued to outline her immediate future. Her employment—the very thing she’d invested her life in—within any branch of the United States government was now tainted. She was going to be terminated because of a simple article written in a Pakistan newspaper and there wasn’t a thing she could do to change that. She would deal with the emotional fallout in private. Right now, there were things that needed to be addressed and she would handle it like the definitive professional she was.

“I will turn over all of my files for…”

Three hours. That was how long it took Brienne to delegate her current caseload and her life’s work over to her desk’s executive replacement within her section’s hierarchy. She hadn’t allowed herself to comprehend the raw emotion burning inside of her or to acknowledge the compassion her associates were trying to convey. She would have completely come undone had she permitted anything other than maintaining a distant demeanor.

It was only when she was by herself that she leaned against her office door for support and laid a hand over her chest to prevent the physical pain from becoming overbearing. All she needed now was the courage to walk out of the Company with her head held high.

“Are you ready to leave?” Grady asked from his position by the window, only turning toward her after he’d spoken. It surprised her to find determination within his dark eyes instead of sympathy. His appearance was as immaculate now as it had been this morning and his composure was something to envy. It wasn’t until he continued his train of thought that she understood the reason why. “We need to get in touch with Catori Starr. She has the contacts we need to take care of your problem.”

‡

T
he long, flat
ride through downtown Washington D.C. was made in silence. Traffic was at the usual near stall rate, held up by the ever-present red stoplights and eternal flow of jaywalkers. The annoying sounds of car horns and shrilling brakes being applied too quickly were muffled by the premium ride package of his Mercedes-Maybach S600. The smell of vehicle exhaust was minimized by the cabin fragrance system injected through the vents as other vehicles crowded around, trying to cut in front of one another, jousting for position. These city people were like well-oiled machines as they gathered at the intersections waiting for the crosswalk lights to turn, allowing them to move in a somewhat staggered line.

City life. It wasn’t for everyone.

It could raise anyone’s blood pressure.

Grady gripped the Napa leather-wrapped steering wheel harder than necessary. It was better than the alternative. He wanted nothing more than to reach over the center console and hold Brienne’s hand to let her know everything was going to be all right.

It wasn’t.

At least, her professional life wouldn’t be anything like it had been before. As for her personal life…well, she’d stated she wanted that to change as well. It wasn’t fair to bring up their relationship given the extraordinary events that had transpired since her personal revelation. His brooding platitudes regarding her current situation weren’t going to be welcome.

“What exactly do you think Starr can do to rectify my situation, Grady?” Brienne asked, her steady voice cutting through the relative silence of the car.

Grady admired Brienne’s ability to keep her composure under the mounting stress, but then again, she’d been trained by the Farm. Grady applied the brakes and came to a standstill behind the navy blue Honda Accord he’d allowed into the flow of traffic a block back. He took advantage of the stop to look Brienne’s way. She was holding herself together, considering the initial shock of her public outing as an agent was wearing off.

“It’s over,” Brienne said somewhat dejectedly. “My name is out there and now all of my cases are compromised, as well as possibly other assets who I work with. The only thing that matters at this point is finding out who leaked the information to the newspaper, how they uncovered my personal data to begin with, who else is next based on my association with them, and then try to prevent any further damage from happening. SSA Telfer has the Director’s assurance that the Technical Collections boys from the Science and Technology Division is all over this. There’s nothing Starr can do that our resources can’t accomplish on their own.”

“You would be surprised at what Starr can achieve,” Grady informed her, catching sight of a grey Ford Focus pulling alongside of them a little too close for comfort. The man driving was singing along to his radio and clueless as to what was going on around him. “She has the seemingly magical ability to get things done in a timely manner without causing even a ripple in the water. You and I both know the CIA and the FBI have a tendency to overshoot these things and make the situation worse.”

Grady admired Brienne’s sense of right and wrong. She saw things black and white in a grey world, which was how she conducted her business. She fit right into the Agency’s mold and was able to make calculated decisions based on the collection of solid, supporting facts.

It did run through Grady’s mind that Brienne was handling their relationship in the same lock-step manner, but again, this wasn’t the time or place to get into that. She was a true professional and this violation of her covert status was ultimately a tragedy for the Agency and a setback in the region her desk managed. Would he be able to convince her to make a mutually beneficial deal with Starr in an attempt to salvage her career?

“Grady, do you happen to have a backup piece on you?”

Brienne’s question was said with the calm of a seasoned field agent. No one else would have caught the concern lacing her soft-spoken words. It helped that Grady had already caught sight of the male figure beside them drawing his weapon a little higher than he’d realized, giving away the reason he’d furtively pulled so close to Grady’s vehicle. He’d essentially blocked Brienne inside the car. She wouldn’t have known that from the direction she was looking, though, meaning an additional threat was present and within her line of sight.

“Glove box. It’s condition one.”

Grady hadn’t finished saying his last word before Brienne had efficiently opened the compartment in front of her in one fluid movement. The weapon was smaller than his preferred Kimber 1911 TLE, as was par for the course when it came to a spare weapon. She would have known he’d kept a round in the chamber without his statement to that effect, which was why she didn’t hesitate to bring the Berretta PX4 Storm in .40 S&W up with a purpose. He’d already done the same and the discharge of both firearms inside such an insulated luxury sedan instantly compromised their hearing. Only time would tell just how much damage had been done on a permanent basis.

That didn’t stop Grady from reaching for his door handle, ignoring the shards of glass that had shattered everywhere upon the bullet’s impact with the vehicle’s safety glass. He rammed his shoulder into the door, confident Brienne had neutralized her target or she would have followed up with continued fire. She was an accurate shot, on and off the range.

The ringing in his ears overtook the city noise, as well as the construction zone up ahead. It was apparent from the way people were ducking down in their cars and running in a staggered fashion away from the scene that they were terrified about what had unfolded, especially with two men dead. He took hold of Brienne’s hand as she maneuvered herself across the driver’s seat over fragmented glass. He didn’t let go until they started to jog down the street against traffic.

There wasn’t a chance in hell they were going to wait around to see if more men showed up to try and finish the job. Brienne wouldn’t be able to hear what Grady said, so he motioned for them to head for Union Station. It would provide an opportunity to get lost in the general public, as well as give them the time needed to analyze the situation.

Grady could see from people’s expressions and the way they were craning their necks that the police were arriving on the scene. It wouldn’t be long before someone pointed in the direction they had taken, but they’d already made a right at the next block and were putting lateral distance between them and the carnage left behind. He needed to speak with either SSA Telfer or someone higher up the chain immediately. Brienne was being targeted, which meant that article in a Pakistani newspaper had a far wider reach than any of them had initially anticipated.