Termination Orders(39)

This is going to be easy, he thought. And then he lost three pieces in one move. There went a jacket, a tie, and a shoe. Only then did he realize she’d been toying with him, leading him to underestimate her, get overconfident. She was a far more subtle player than he’d realized. He thought, this is going to be fun.

“I hope you have as many moves in bed as you have on the checkerboard,” he said.

And then the game really began. She, like he, seemed to be able to see many turns ahead. Every move became a sally or parry in complex strategies as each player tried to find an opening.

The game progressed, and Natasha was down to her dress and nothing more. He advanced, but it had been a trap—and there went his shirt. But the move had left her vulnerable. He took another one of hers.

She smiled slyly and pulled him in, by the hair, for a kiss. Then she turned her back to him, slowly unzipped her little black dress, and let it fall to her ankles. They never finished the game.





CHAPTER 17


Boyle shut the door to his office and almost bumped into the Deputy Director for HUMINT, or Human Intelligence, Julia Carr.

“Boyle,” she said, “I was just coming in to see you.”

Carr was an ex-Marine and had been a HUMINT handler herself, in her earlier days. She had a face that was both ordinary and attractive, which, with the right makeup and hair, could even be called beautiful. But she downplayed her beauty as much as possible. Her hair was cropped short, she wore no cosmetics, and she donned clothes that, while not exactly ugly, made it plain that she refused to rely on her looks to establish her authority or to gain the respect of others.

“I’m on my way somewhere,” Boyle told her. “Can it wait?”

“I’d really rather talk to you right away,” she said.

“Then walk with me,” he said. “You have about a minute and a half.”

They started down the hallway together. He could tell that she was straining to keep up with his vigorous pace.

“Sir, I’d like to know what’s going on in Kandahar.”

“Just what do you mean?” he asked. “Kandahar’s a big place. There’s plenty going on there at any given time.”

“I think you know what I’m talking about, sir,” she said.

“What you’re meant to know will come to you through the appropriate channels.”

“Jeff, come on,” she said, lowering her voice. “Don’t bullshit me here. Something’s going on. I’ve got people in the field. I gotta know if they’re going to be in some kind of danger.”

“My answer’s still the same, Julia.”

She held out her arm for him to stop. He did and turned to face her.

“Throw me a bone here, Boyle,” she pleaded. “I can’t be left out of the loop like this.”

He sighed. “Rogue agent. Purpose unclear, whereabouts unknown. And that’s all I’m giving you.”

“Isn’t much,” she said.

“It’s as much as you need to know. Now if you’ll excuse me . . .”

He gestured down the hall and walked on to his meeting. When he burst into the conference room, Kline and Plante were already waiting for him.

“One of you care to tell me what the hell is going on with the Cobra situation?” said Boyle.

“We have reports of gunfire and several dead at the Kabul Zoo,” Kline began. “Witnesses describe the shooter as a man who closely matches Cobra’s description. Witnesses also say—get this—that the man shot a lion during his escape.”

“Any idea where to?” asked Boyle.

“He flew out of Kabul under the identity of an Italian citizen named Antonio Bevelaqua,” said Kline. “He took off in a private jet at the Kabul airport eight hours ago, headed for Amsterdam.”

“So we—”

“The plane,” Plante cut in, “was forced to make an emergency landing in Istanbul. Where he went from there is anyone’s guess.”

“Then we need to focus on finding him, right away. Kline. Put together a task force. I want them concentrating exclusively on finding Cobra. Do what you have to, and make provisions to bring him in.”

“Sir,” interjected Plante, “do we need to treat him like a fugitive?”

Kline cut in. “As far as I’m concerned, this is what he chose, and we should treat him accordingly.”

“I know Cobra,” said Plante. “Probably better than anyone else here. He’s a good man. An honorable man. Whatever he’s doing, there’s got to be a reason. I think the best thing we can do is to bring him in quietly and just ask him what’s going on.”

Boyle seemed to think about it, even swayed. “In any case,” he said, “I want someone at the ready, in case this really is some kind of vendetta. I’m not going to have a highly trained ex-operative on the loose without a contingency measure. I want Wagner on standby.”