Own (Command Force Alpha #1) (29 page)

Fucking hell.

Good or bad, the phrase fit. Either this was the best news or the worst possible mistake.

Nicky sat up a little straighter, accentuating how well he was recovering. “Explain quick.”

“It’s in Russian, but it’s been through a pro’s wringer. The original message is in Russian, sure, but the only language pattern I can translate it into that makes any sense is Welsh, which was one of Laurie’s favorite tricks. The message itself is in our own Beta-C code.”

“Let me get this straight.” Evan articulated his words as his mind raced. “Someone wrote a message using a Welsh version of Beta-C, then translated it into Russian?”

“Worse. Some of the syntax is funky, like a game of telephone. Pieces are missing, you know?”

Looking impatient, Nicky drummed his fingers on the railing of his hospital bed. “After all that, what does it say?”

“The passages I can understand refer to ‘
Zhar-ptitsa’
. That’s ‘Firebird’. Does it mean anything to anyone?”

“It was in Alex’s debriefing.” Evan flipped through the notes from Fletcher’s file. “Continue, first.”

With all that had gone on with Katsu, Evan had been late to read Alex’s full report on the events in Minsk. Those missing minutes were accounted for now, but his debriefing detailed encountering a redheaded markswoman lying in wait—one who could tussle with Alex and get out alive, leaving Alex worse for the wear. That he’d been able to snatch a handful of hair before the woman escaped was useful, but DNA sampling had yet to turn up any matches through INTERPOL.

Mags put on a pair of narrow-rimmed glasses and consulted a stack of notes. “The message reads, in its entirety: ‘Bokun small fish.
Zhar-ptitsa
on, um…rise? Sell me out. Prison. Last-known locale Soltsy.’ That’s it.”

“Where’s Soltsy?” Evan asked, his heart beating faster.

“About an hour outside Novgorod, where the message originated, but about eight hours away from his last check-in from Minsk.”

Silence held the small room in its fist.

“It’s vague,” the colonel said first. “And that’s being kind.”

Evan shook his head. “It’s the first lead we’ve had since July, when we started planning the trade mission in Minsk.”

“But, Evan, the timing.” Nicky was the colonel now, with shoulders squared to bear the burdens of his position. “First the body that almost certainly isn’t his. And
now
we get a supposed message from Laurie? It smells like another hoax.”

“Sir, from Alex’s debriefing, his unknown female target said ‘
Zhar-ptitsa
’ into a comm. And from what Mags has explained, that email has all the hallmarks of CFA coding, meaning Laurie is possibly jailed outside Novgorod.” He tapped the file he held. “This could be connected to the Bokun family, just like my tail at Quincy. Fletcher said he wants asylum and is ready to give up his comrades here in Boston to get it. Who does that? If the Bokuns’ own people are trying to jump ship, Firebird may be a lot bigger than our pride can take. It’ll mean that an organization has militarized right under our noses, with Laurie stuck in the middle.”

“Laurie was the one who wanted to head into Belarus and go undercover with the Bokuns in the first place. He insisted, even going against my advice. Then we don’t hear from him for nine months, but he’s apparently able to send a message to us via a go-between?”

“But Laurie had his reasons,” Evan said. “He
always
had his reasons, and they always paid off. That’s why you signed him on. He’s brilliant and doesn’t take chances. And if he’s in Novgorod, it’s no wonder we couldn’t find hide nor hair in Minsk.”

“It’s suspicious as hell and you know it.”

“We needed a new place to start, and now we have two. We revive the search for Laurie—this time in Mother Russia. And we rattle Fletch’s detainee for some names, hopefully here in Boston. I doubt guys broke into Kat’s apartment straight off a plane at Logan.”

“
What?
Broke into her apartment?”

Fuck me sideways.

Yeah, sometimes Evan called the man Nicky. Sometimes he was the colonel. Right now, the man was simply his executioner. The colonel growled in a way that said this conversation would continue in a moment.

“Anything else to report, Portillo?” Colonel Stafford’s words could shred iron and melt it into slag.

She paused. Even over the flat screen, Evan could see her assessing the sudden change in the room’s mood. “Nothing else regarding this subject, Sir. The rest I’ll relate by secure channels once we sign off. Maybe Jayden and Evie can work some computer magic and make something of it.”

“Not yet. Keep it to yourself until further notice.”

“Understood. With your permission, Sir, Portillo out.”

“Safe travels, Mags,” the colonel said. The screen blinked off. He turned eagle-sharp eyes to Dr. Bascombe, who looked ready to give up on a fight that hadn’t started yet. “Doc, would you give us a minute?”

“If you kill my patient,” he warned Evan as he left, “I’m taking twelve inches of intestine out of
you
and strangling you with it.”

“I’d deserve it.” Evan’s lips were numb but tight. He barely heard the click of the door behind him. “It was on the fourth day you assigned me as her guardian,” he told the colonel without prompting. “Dr. Bascombe induced your coma, and I thought it a precaution to settle Katsu in for a longer stay away from her regular life. Her apartment had been entered. Her laptop was taken. That’s when we decamped from my place to East Fourth.”

The colonel let out a long breath. The monitors at either side of his bed remained steady, almost tranquil. Fletcher was right. They were an unnatural breed. The whole team probably was.

“I put my life on the line to get answers, because I know we all need closure. But, Evan, this is a wild-goose chase. Say that message really is from Laurie via a go-between. That means he’s been in a Russian prison for nine months. This Firebird organization is obviously way below our sensitive radar, so it’s likely an end-of-the-world
awful
Russian prison. Between three months embedded with the Bokun family crime syndicate, and nine months of potential torture, what sort of man would we find at the end of this new trail of breadcrumbs?”

“One of our own,” Evan said calmly.

The colonel smiled. “Damn straight. Now, tell me what happened at Quincy Market before I have to kill you right here.”

Evan related the story with complete honesty, including his doubts—which were difficult to admit to his mentor. But telling the truth was essential. If the colonel suspected anything about Quincy, he must’ve pulled intel from one of the CFA agents who were there.

“And you thought risking my daughter’s life was in keeping with your promise to safeguard her?”

“No, Sir.”

“Evan, don’t think I couldn’t strip you of your sidearm and beat you bloody. I’d die doing it, but I’d manage.”

“You left me with more than just Kat’s safety to consider. You left me in charge of the entire team. That meant working for the greater good of CFA’s anonymity and flushing out the people who’d discovered your identity—then hers too.” He was almost breathless, choking on a combination of too many emotions. He wanted to be understood, respected, absolved. He wanted Nicky Stafford to stop staring at him as if he had failed. “Sir, you taught me that the worst place to be is on the back foot. We haven’t known which way is up since you were shot. Taking Kat to Quincy meant putting faith in our people, as well as taking our first offensive steps since landing in Belarus.”

“All true. But I hate you for it.”

Evan swallowed. “Understood.”

“I want Katsu in here.”

A minute later, smelling of the hotel’s lemon-scented lotion, Kat and Evan stood like two kids about to get grounded. The colonel’s razor-sharp gaze flicked back and forth between them. They looked at one another, then back toward the man who seemed to hold the fate of the world in his hands.

“Would either of you care to tell me why the two people I love most on this whole fucking planet have been lying to me? And yes, Katsu, lying by omission counts.”

“Sir?”

“Dad, I don’t get it.”

His expression was a combination of tired, angry and disappointed. “Alice is a more wicked bitch than should be allowed by nature. The job should’ve been hers, but I trusted you. I trusted you both. Had I known I was handing my daughter over to a man as dangerous as you, Evan—and I mean dangerous in ways I hadn’t expected—I never would’ve opened my goddamned mouth. Your orders were to keep her safe, not seduce her and use her as bait.”

Evan stood taller, but the back of his neck was on fire.

Katsu had bowed her head. In Japanese she asked, “When did you know, Father?”

“Don’t pull that with me,” he snapped. “Head up and speak English. We had this talk last time. You’re not your mother. So go ahead. Mouth off. I know you’re dying to.”

In a blink, Kat transformed from demure Bunraku puppet into her sharper, pool-shark self. “Where do you get off calling him on the carpet? I’m here, right? I’m safe. He even let me help the team you love so much, which is more than you’ve ever done. Evan did everything you asked, protecting me, and I did what you made me promise. I obeyed to the fucking letter, no matter how much I wanted to object. So yeah, we got thrown into a pressure cooker together and things happened. You feel like you need to know everything about everybody, but
what
happened, exactly, is none of your business.”

“You’re in a relationship?”

“No, Sir,” Evan spoke quickly, to answer for them both.

Kat whipped her face toward him. Strands of hair caught on her parted lips. “We’re not?”

The place where Evan’s heart should’ve been nestled was a black hole. Her hurt and disappointment had burned it out of him.

“Fucking shit on a stick, Sommers.” The colonel’s eyes were as blue as Evan’s, but he shot fire in the Stafford family way. “Get the team in here. I don’t want to see your goddamn face.”

“With all due respect, Sir,
no
.” Evan eased his posture. He wasn’t a subordinate whose ass was grass. He was his mentor’s second-in-command. Despite being clean-shaven, Nicky was in no shape to lead any operation from his hospital bed. “I’m not leaving, because I have a team to assemble. I’m sending them north to Charlestown, and they’re going to discreetly knock some heads until we track down the guys who’ve threatened Katsu. Fletcher will have a lot to talk to them about, namely the Bokun family and Firebird. After that, I’ll personally lead a team to Novgorod to find Laurie Madigan, once and for all.”

“You think you’re in charge now, kid?”

Staring down his mentor was one of the hardest things Evan had ever done. “Yes. I’m in charge for now, Sir.”

“I remember taking you down with a single punch.”

“Okinawa, 2013. Yes, Sir. And when you’re healthy enough to do it again, I’ll gladly step aside. Until then, you’re the only liaison I trust with Portillo’s information. Contact me directly if she receives any new messages.” He turned to Katsu, who hadn’t moved since her outburst. “I’m assigning Crandall to take you to HQ. You’ll bunk down there until Fletcher, your father or I provide further instructions.”

She nodded heavily as he turned to go.

“Sommers.”

Evan looked over his shoulder but said nothing.

The colonel wasn’t himself yet, but he was still a force of nature. “I trusted you with the most important part of my life.”

“I know that, Sir.”

Kat shivered visibly. Evan took her hand and urged her toward the door, then shuffled her out into the waiting room. He looked back at the legendary Nicky Stafford, who looked weary for reasons that, for once, didn’t have to do with international espionage. There was nothing more to be said. He and Kat were busted, the colonel couldn’t do anything about it, and they were all still staring at a loaded pistol.

Just outside, Kat’s words were as soft and threatening as a snake’s hiss. “Not in a relationship? I can’t believe you actually said that. In front of
my father
.”

“We’re not. You know that.”

She firmed her features until she was the spitting image of the colonel, all business and hard edges. She wore the same expression when taking down her pool marks, one by one. All business. No room for error.

“After what we did this evening, I don’t know any such thing,
Sir
.”

Evan searched for his heart again, but it was still missing. Burned to cinders by circumstance and his greedy, reckless desires. “Katsu-kun, I’ll reassess my position if you answer one question.”

Tears already glazed her eyes, as if she were preparing for a punch coming at her in slow motion. “Ask it.”

“I have to go to work. I might not come back.” He took a deep breath. “Will you wait for me?”

“You haven’t given me any choice.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Crandall was a big guy. Wicked big. Evan was over six feet as well, but Crandall had the thick arms and shoulders and torso of a moving fridge. With fists like his, Kat was surprised that his specialty was detonations. Were his fingers capable of blowing things up using fine wires and hair-trigger bombs carefully designed to neutralize targets and nothing else?