Attempted Assassination(5)

He stood there, his wide grin in place, his dark stare piercing. She threw herself into his arms as tears streamed down her face. Relief, happiness, and a huge surge of hope flooded her.

He didn't say anything, just held on to her tightly as she buried her head in his chest and fisted his shirt.

After a moment, he spoke. "Let's get inside before we draw any more attention to ourselves."

Garrett moved them into the room, then closed them in. He walked her over to the table and sat next to her. She grabbed his hand tightly.

Joe smiled at her, his eyes seeming to twinkle. "Jordan is alive, Ava, just as surely as Garrett is. I wanted to gauge your reaction to what I had to say before having Garrett join us."

She nodded, a little irritated that Joe wouldn't tell her off the bat, but yet, she understood his thinking.

Garrett squeezed her hand under the table. "We're going to need your help."



       
         
       
        

"What do I need to help you with? Why hasn't he called me? Why hasn't he come home? Is this the mind control stuff you were talking about?"

"He hasn't touched base with you because he doesn't remember you," Joe interjected. "He's going to try to kill me, and we're hoping him seeing you will help to bring back his memories."





4





Jordan walked through the streets of Washington, DC, heading for his workplace. He'd been told he had another assignment, another person to kill.

Killing didn't bother him. He'd been in the military; it had been something he'd had to do then, and if he didn't, it would go the other way. Now, he worked for the organization Group Nine. They did important work for the United States, the work that no one else wanted to do-not the CIA, FBI  …  no one.

As he walked down the side alley off a somewhat busy street, he stopped in front of the warehouse and glanced up at the camera. It looked as if the place had been deserted a long time, but it simply wasn't the case. Every now and then, they had to chase off tweakers and homeless people, but overall, most stayed away.

A moment later, the door opened and he stepped inside, making sure it shut behind him. He strode through the large, empty space, the sound of his loafers echoing off the old concrete. As he approached the elevator, the doors slid to the sides, and he stepped in.

When they parted, he stood in an underground labyrinth.

A few people nodded hello at him, but most kept to themselves. No one wanted to know much about their fellow co-workers because in the work they did, chances were good they may not be around tomorrow.

He turned right, then walked through the door on his left where his handler, Nicholas, had his office.

The man glanced up at him from behind the desk, his onyx eyes piercing. "Jordan. Come in."

Paper wasn't allowed in Group Nine's main chamber, so everything that passed through the building was coded and delivered electronically. Nicholas stared at an iPad screen in his lap for a few minutes before he spoke again.

"You have your next assignment."

Jordan nodded, and studied the man. He didn't know if Nicholas was truly his first name, and he'd never been told his last name.

"Here's your target."

He took the iPad from Nicholas and stared at a picture of a man in a wheelchair. It seemed a little unfair to pit him against a guy with a disability, but at least, it would be an easy job.

"When and where does it happen?"

"You fly out to Seattle tomorrow. Don't let the wheelchair fool you. This man has been the greatest threat Group Nine has ever faced. He has infiltrated this organization more than we would ever admit, and he's had some of our agents killed." 

Jordan stared at the picture, his anger growing with the fact the man in the photo had hurt the institute to which he'd pledged his life.

"I'll be careful."

"I expect nothing less."

They stared at each other a brief moment, and a feeling of unease and intense dislike overcame him. No, he really detested his handler. It was nothing he could put his finger on, but the hate sat square in front of him. He shook it off. He didn't have to like the man to work for him.

"I'll go pack."

He didn't wait for a response, but rose from the chair and walked out, glad he wouldn't run into the same damn weather as he had in San Francisco. Seattle was supposed to be nice in the summer.





5





Ava stared out the window of the private jet, Grunt asleep on her feet.

The emotions caused by her meeting with Joe had made her nauseous the previous night. Garrett had ended up spending the night on her couch, and sleep hadn't come easily for her.

Her heart hurt that Jordan and the rest of the squad had been treated so poorly by the government they'd served, and the thought also made her want to punch someone in the face, but she didn't know who to direct her anger at. Her congressman? The president? Who did she yell and scream at about her husband and his unit?

She'd been up late into the night reading about the government's attempts at mind control. In the sixties, they had set up a safe house in the San Francisco area where they'd paid prostitutes to lure men inside. The ladies would then spike the drinks of their targets with LSD, and the CIA would watch and record their findings. In their search for mind control, they'd also experimented with electronic brain stimulation, sensory depravation, something called sleep teaching, and many other different avenues to try to find a way to build, as one CIA doctor said, "the perfect assassin."

The experiments on the unwilling, the unknowing, and those that volunteered for the LSD trips went on for about a decade, until the CIA moved on to something bigger and better, namely "super-hallucinogens."

After hours of reading about the covert operations, she'd lain in bed, unable to sleep. According to Garrett, experiments on the military and on the general public had been going on for decades.

Confusion tore through her at the fact that Jordan's memory had been erased, and worry had clawed at her until deep in the night. What if he couldn't remember her? She didn't know what would be worse-thinking he had been killed, or knowing he still lived but couldn't recall her, their marriage, or their time together.

Married five years, they'd had their fair share of ups and downs, especially when he'd been deployed. She'd worried endlessly about him, and had often thought about asking him to retire. However, she also knew that he loved his job and his unit. She couldn't ask him to give it all up because of her insecurities.

It also turned her stomach that Group Nine had somehow molded him into an assassin. She thought of the kind, funny man she knew, and just couldn't picture him taking a life without having any regrets.

It didn't make any sense to her, and it certainly didn't resemble the man whom she'd fallen in love.

She tried not to think about what Jordan had been through in the course of having his mind erased, but she couldn't help it. Had he been given drugs? Subjected to physical abuse? Had his brain been electrocuted? Whatever had been done, it had been successful. Jordan had become an assassin, fooled into working with the most cryptic, clandestine part of the government that didn't operate within normal laws and boundaries.



       
         
       
        

Joe said he needed her help to get Jordan back. There were still things she didn't understand, pieces of the puzzle she hadn't been privy to-at least not yet-but, she also knew that she wouldn't turn her back on the possibility of Jordan returning even as she treaded into infested waters.

After only a few hours of sleep, she woke with one thought in mind: Jordan would remember her, and she'd do everything in her power to make that happen.

If he were going have any recollection of their time together, Seattle would be the perfect place for that to happen. They'd met there, and he'd proposed to her on Whidbey Island. A lot of good times had taken place in the Northwest, and a lot of special memories had been created. If he couldn't remember her there, she'd consider it a hopeless situation.

Joe's voice broke into her thoughts.

"Garrett told me you met Jordan in Seattle."

She smiled. "Yes, we did. He also proposed to me on Whidbey Island."

"Excellent. I think our chances of getting the old Jordan back are good, especially immersing him in such a familiar environment where life-altering events took place."

"I hope so. I've spent a year thinking he was dead, and I was just wondering what would be worse-having him dead, or having him alive and not remembering me."

Joe studied her intently with a stare that made her feel as if he could see into her very soul. His bright, intelligent blue eyes seemed to miss nothing. It unnerved her.

"I don't think you'll have to have such morbid thoughts for very much longer. Once everyone has been assembled and we get our game plan in place, I think everything will fall in line, and eventually, you'll have your husband back."

Tears pricked her eyes, a surge of optimism sending goose bumps over her skin. "I hope so."

"I'm not saying that it won't be difficult, because I'm sure we'll have our challenges. However, I've also found that in life, sometimes the best rewards come after we've conquered the obstacles in front of us."