Savages Recruit (22 page)

As that thought settled in her mind, a little tingle started at the base of her spine, not a tingle of fear, but a tingle of power. A similar tingle to the one she felt when she was deliberately defiant. She was about to do the unthinkable. She was about to walk into a military installation, disable its security systems, and walk out again. This mission was the ultimate in defiance and it thrilled her to her core.

Savage's rumble broke through her thoughts. “What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing,” Zora's little smile grew a little wider.

Savage chuckled. “You're enjoying this aren't you.”

“A little.”

“There's not much like it,” he admitted. “Once you've done this, not much else is going to compare.” The car began to slow as they approached the building. Zora had seen the concrete block facade many times in pictures, but in person it was much bigger, much more foreboding. “Remember, you own the place,” Savage reminded her, squeezing her hand one last time. “Just walk in there and do your thing. Anybody questions you, ignore them. If they insist on pushing it, somebody will come to your aid.”

Last minute nerves took the opportunity to assail Zora with doubts. “Aren't they going to wonder what I'm doing to the system? Aren't they going to ask questions? Won't they...”

“They don't have clearance to know,” Savage interjected. “They've been warned to expect an inspection, so they'll be on their best behavior, which doesn't include questioning a superior officer.”

“So their discipline will be their downfall?

“Quite.”

“Ironic, no?” She raised a brow at him.

“I get the point, brat,” Savage growled playfully as he brought the car to a halt. “Now get in there and do your job.”

He gave her a quick kiss and Zora exited the vehicle, straightened her shoulders and marched towards the front door of the monolithic concrete HQ. Two armed guards stood on either side of the door, their faces expressionless like dolls. She didn't know if they looked at her because as Savage had suggested, she was not looking at them. She was looking right through them with the forthright confidence of someone in command.  But in spite of her confidence, a little trickle of fear assailed her as she drew closer. What if they shot her? Or worse, what if they asked her something? She clip-clopped closer in her clumsy shoes and all that happened was the lighting fast saluting of subordinates who have spotted an important bit of ribbon. Zora walked between them without so much as a glance.

Once she was inside, she immediately spotted a friendly face. Tank had managed to squeeze himself into one of the ugly uniforms and was in residence at the front desk. He leaped up and saluted briskly, along with the other four armed guards in the lobby. She ignored him completely and proceeded through the reception area into the hallway beyond without any interference aside from the light fapping sounds of arms being lifted and dropped in salute. She was forced to keep her features composed as she realized it was working. It was actually working. This was what discipline got you, it got you mindless orderbots incapable of seeing past a symbol of authority. She'd make sure to drive that point home to Savage when it was all over and she was free once more.

As she walked through the facility in her starchy, itchy uniform she had entirely forgotten to feel afraid. It was all business now, everything that had been planned was unfolding perfectly. Olive green door on the left. Another door on the left. There it was. The third door on the left. A perfectly ordinary door. Not the sort of door behind which one security systems for high powered missiles should have waited. There was a large sign on the door, which could have said KEEP OUT, or maybe NO ELECTRONICS BEYOND THIS POINT, or maybe PONIES FOR CLOWNS. Zora wouldn't have known in any event, the script was completely unrecognizable to her.

She opened the door and walked into the room, which was entirely ordinary in almost every way. The walls were the same chipped institution green color of the rest of the facility and the carpet the same industrial brown high traffic material so rough and encrusted with the dirt of decades that it almost crunched beneath her shoes. She spotted the computer controlling the security system immediately. It sat at the back of the room on a thick metal desk.  The system the bad guys were using to guard their missile might have been ingenious, but it was in no way terribly expensive. They hadn't even sprung for a modern computer. Instead of the futuristic technology Zora had become accustomed to stateside, an antiquated CRT monitor waited for her, lit up with green text.

She approached it and immediately saw the formula waiting to be answered. She did not understand the native language, but the language of mathematics had never failed her. She gazed up on the question in the darkness, a single riddle standing between good and evil. This was the big moment, the moment upon which all things hinged. It passed utterly unremarkably. The answer popped into Zora's head in the same way a question on the two times table would pop into any reasonably educated adult's head, without thought or effort.

'424242.422' She typed the digits in and hit what had to be the enter key. The screen flickered for a moment, then flashed unintelligible green text.

That was it. At least, she thought that was probably it. If what she'd been told was true, the missile security system was now entirely offline. If it wasn't, well, she'd done her best. She turned and walked out of the room, back through the halls and out the front door without acknowledging anyone at all.

Her departure was noted by unseen observers, and over a mile away soldiers immediately began swarming in on a much more deadly, but no less dangerous mission that Zora would never know anything about. They would probably capture the missile, but that did not concern her, her job was done. She walked across the street without a care in the world and slipped back into the car where Savage waited patiently.

“Done,” she said casually, shrugging off the blazer.

His grin was broader than she'd ever seen it, but he didn't waste time in conversation. He was much too focused on getting them out of the area before any of the serious men with serious guns realized what had happened. He started the car and they made their way through the city, returning not to their hotel love nest, but to the airport.

“We're not going back on the big plane?” Zora wondered aloud as they passed by sign after sign with  an airplane painted on it in an obvious way even the dimmest tourist couldn't miss.

“The borders will be difficult to get through by the time we get to them. If we leave now through a commercial terminal, we're much less likely to arouse suspicion.” The smile had not left Savage's face, and it grew broader when he checked his cell whilst waiting at the lights. “They got confirmation. The system is down. The secondary mission is underway now. You did it Zora, you really did it.”

She smiled, trying not to seem too awfully pleased with herself even though she was bursting with pride. “I did? Oh good. I wondered if I'd done anything. It didn't seem like it. It was pretty non eventful.”

“That means you did a good job,” he chuckled. “If you ever find yourself with bullets whizzing over your head like in the movies, it means someone fucked something up somewhere.” He reached over and patted her hand. “You proved the doubters wrong.”

“Damn straight I did,” Zora agreed proudly. “So now what? Am I free now?” She looked at him as the last remnants of Haskovo flashed by the window.

“Well.” Savage's expression suddenly became decidedly less jovial. “Well,” he repeated himself.

“Well what?” Zora prompted him. “I get to be free now, right? I did what you wanted me to?”

“Well.” The big man seemed uncharacteristically tongue tied as they pulled into a parking space at the airport. “Let's sort that out once we're back home, huh?”

“Home? Where's home? You took my home, remember?” Zora's glee was quickly turning into frustration and anger.

“Just trust me, okay?” He looked over at her, his jaw set in the determined way that made him look more like a walking talking G.I Joe than ever. “Let's get back to the states and sort this out there.”

“You mean let's get back to the states and you can lock me up again like a dog, you mean?” Zora repeated herself as she began to get frothy with spittly anger.

“Just get changed into something less likely to draw attention. There's clothes in the back seat,” Savage said, taking refuge in orders.

“Fine.” Zora undid her seat belt and squeezed between the front seats and into the back. “But this isn't over.”

“Of course it's not,” Savage groaned, resting his forehead against the steering wheel. “God give me strength.”

“God give you strength? What about me?” Zora argued from the back, her voice muffled as a result of being stuck halfway out of an ugly uniform and halfway into a much more comfortable hooded sweatshirt. “This is silly!”

“I thought we'd come to an understanding,” Savage said, looking in the rear view mirror as Zora fought with her clothing. “You do as I say and nobody gets their ass spanked.”

“So what, I'm your slave forever?”

Her petulant tone was met with a broad smile. “I can't say I'd complain about that.”

“Ugh! You're impossible!” Having won the battle with her clothes, Zora glowered fiercely at him.

“As are you, brat,” he said, his voice lowering to a naturally authoritative bass. “Don't think having a successful mission means you can't be spanked.”

Zora felt her face flush. No matter how often it happened, no matter how many times his palm and other implements met her backside, she still couldn't get used to it. Being punished by Savage was always embarrassing. It made her feel small. Being spoken to in the rear view mirror like some petulant brat didn't exactly help.

Neither did kicking the back of his seat with a swift, hard kick that made him jolt forward.

“Zora!” Savage exclaimed in surprise, his dark eyes widened as he struggled to comprehend the sheer stupidity of what she'd done.

“Weren't expecting that, were you?” She smirked at the eyes in the mirror, enjoying the way they were all crinkled at the edges with anger and the way his brows had risen entirely out of view.

“No, but you better expect what's coming next!”

Zora squealed as Savage threw open the car door and made his way quickly to the back. She managed to slide across the seats and open the door on the far side, but only barely managed to squeak out of the back seat before his hand came grasping for her. She slammed the door on her side and stood with the car between her and the irate captain, breathing heavily not from physical exhaustion, but from excitement.

“Come here, Ms Matthews,” Savage growled, resorting to formality in the face of extreme bratting.

“I don't think so,” Zora shook her head. “Besides, shouldn't that be Mrs Brown? You're breaking our cover. Amateur.”

His glare intensified further at the taunt. “You are going to regret this,” he said, the promise holding more menace because of the quiet voice with which it was delivered.

“Probably,” Zora agreed. “But I'm not sure I care.”

Savage smirked an unpleasant, humorless smirk. “You should care, because you're going to be in a lot of pain when I'm done with you. Now come on. We have a flight to catch. Unless you want to stay here and wait for them to catch up with you.”

He looked very mad indeed, but Savage at even his maddest wasn't as scary as the threat of Bulgarian terrorists. “Okay,” she acquiesced, quickly thinking of a way to delay the trouble for a day at least. “But you can't touch me until we get back to America. Promise? I'll kick and scream all the way there if you do.”

Savage's handsome face was drawn into a mask of barely controlled irritation. “You'll keep,” he growled the dire promise. “Oh, you'll keep."

Chapter Fifteen

Zora and Savage made their way through the airport arm in arm but glaring at one another rather ferociously whenever their gazes happened to meet. To the casual onlooker they looked like a couple in the middle of a lover's tiff. The pair were very close to a successful escape, but they were not out of the country yet and it was more than possible that the airport could be shut down before they were able to board their flight and take off. Savage was all too aware of how things could go wrong just when you thought you were home free. Zora appeared to be entirely ignorant of the fact.

“Stop gawking around,” she hissed in irritated tones as he scanned the airport for the umpteenth time. “You look like a damn meerkat.”

His dark glower was enough to make her clamp her mouth shut. In anger's grasp it was easy to forget just how scary Savage could be. “When I get you back to the States....” he let the growled threat trail off as chimes played over the speaker system followed by a melodic accented voice.

Passengers for Flight 456 to San Francisco, you are now boarding at gate five.

“Come on,” he said, tugging Zora up by her arm and striding towards the gate at a fast pace that forced her to stumble after him in a quick trot. She gave some thought to biting his hand so that she could conduct herself at a more graceful and dignified pace, but he was on edge enough as it was. She didn't want to know what he would do if she made a scene in front of the gate. So she bit her tongue until they were safely seated in the first class section of a large Boeing jet being questioned by a very pretty air hostess with a toothy white smile.

“Can I get you a complimentary drink? Champagne? Orange Juice?” The air hostess batted her eyelashes at Savage and then at Zora, probably for equality's sake.

Zora looked at Savage hopefully. He'd said she could drink if she completed the mission successfully, and she had. The small, barely perceptible shake of his head dashed her hopes there though. Stupid hard ass of a man. He didn't even know how to enjoy comfort when he had it. He was sitting bolt upright in the plush seat, his feet planted firmly on the floor in a way that reminded her rather uncomfortably of the way he sat when she was over his lap.

“We'll have water please, still, not sparkling,” he said, speaking for them both.