Operation Zulu Redemption--Complete Season 1 (76 page)

Téya’s hazel eyes held hers. “Nuala will be on the rooftop with her sniper rifle monitoring your every move.”

Was it a promise? Or a threat?

Annie

Reston Town Center, Reston, Virginia

July 4 – 1900 Hours

“Okay, just like we practiced.” It’d been two weeks since that day in the bunker when the Lorings revealed themselves as CIA operatives. Since Francesca Solomon entered their lives and bunker…and stayed. Tension high and resentment higher, Annie and her sisters had done their best to steer clear of the troublemaker.

Annie stepped out of the hotel lobby and into the warm, Northern Virginia air. Lights sprinkled through the trees abutting the One and Two Fountain Square buildings threw a romantic aura over the cozy setting. Mercury Fountain, whose water danced in the glistening lights, made the area feel more festive for the celebration that wasn’t really a celebration but a dupe. A fake to lure murderers into the open.

This is it
. The night Zulu would break free of the chains tethering them to the past.

Annie’s heels clicked on the pavement as she headed toward the tented pavilion, feeling the throb of loud music against her chest. She caught her reflection in the window of Clyde’s, a restaurant. The navy satin gown would’ve cost more than a month’s salary—if she had a salary. Or a job.

“Looking good, One,” came Trace’s firm, calm voice through the small device embedded in her ear. He monitored the event from the third-floor room in the Hyatt Regency. “Two, your position is good.”

Annie furtively swung around until she spotted Téya by the fountain on the other side of Market Street. Their gazes met then moved on, unwilling to draw attention or give away that they knew each other. Tonight, the only people who should recognize Zulu would be the team behind this trap. And the ones trying to kill Zulu. “Six, how’s your view?” Trace asked quietly.

“Flying high. Should have a great view of the fireworks down on the Mall.”

“Not exactly how I wanted to spend the Fourth of July,” Téya muttered.

Annie’s favorite celebration included a very handsome Navy SEAL. And when this night was over, she’d go back and get her life on track with Sam. If he’d forgive her. She wasn’t sure, not after the way he’d handled her, pushed back and called her on her feelings for Trace.

But getting shot, sitting on that bench, Annie’s biggest regret was not seeing sooner how much she loved Sam. Thinking of dying without him knowing how important he was to her…

Annie floated around the other suits filing into the pavilion. Smiled at the plastic-fest of trophy wives and girlfriends.

Sam and Jeff would be out at the lake watching the biggest fireworks celebration in Washington. She ached to be there with Sam. Laughing with Jeff and his wife. Eating sandwiches from the Green Dot.

“Nice setup, but it doesn’t have anything on Manson,” came teasing, husky words.

Annie froze, her eyes widening as she swirled around to find Sam before her. She opened her mouth to ask what he was doing there, but her mind got log-jammed with the million other questions. How did he know? He was wearing a suit. Heavenly days, he looked good. Smelled good.

He smirked at her. “Speechless for once, eh? Glad I have that effect on you.” He took her hand, stepped back and let his rich, brown eyes take her in. He lingered a little too long on her curves.

“Hey, sailor,” she said with a tease in her voice. “Eyes up here.”

Sam slid his arm around her waist, inching closer.

“What are you doing here?”

Sam smiled down at her, his gaze taking her in. As if he didn’t want to miss anything. “I came to save the day.”

“I asked him to come,” Trace corrected quietly, effectively reminding Annie that the coms were still live. That he could hear the conversation. “With Boone MIA, we needed the extra hand.”

“You mean,” Annie said to Trace, though she held Sam’s eyes, “you wanted someone watching over me since you knew you’d be up there and not at my side.”

Eyebrow quirked, Sam leaned in. “Evening, Weston,” his whispered words tickled down the side of Annie’s neck. When she shivered, Sam’s smile grew. He leaned in and kissed her.

Knowing they were being watched, having Trace in her head, for all intents and purposes, Annie blushed. She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad you came.”

“Look alive, people,” Trace said, his voice all business. “Batsakis and Stoffel are here.”

Annie hooked her arm through Sam’s and aimed them toward Democracy Drive, where the limousines were delivering guests to the event. Titus Batsakis stepped from the armored SUV limo. A different kind of shiver traced Annie’s spine.

Sam gave her a look.

She squeezed his arm, warning him not to say anything.

“Annie, stay low for now,” Trace said.

She immediately turned and guided them toward a crowd of suits and uniforms but kept her eye on the two Greeks who walked tall. The interesting addition was Mercy Chandler. Attractive and young, the woman exuded confidence and wealth. Chin lifted, shoulders relaxed but spine straight, she knew who she was and what crowd she walked in. The one who’d come to her, offering to honor her and give her more money.

So she thought.

Annie couldn’t help but wonder if the woman knew what her husband was doing, how he was funding their lives, using the orphanages as covers for the weapons smuggling.

Bulbs flashed as the Greeks posed for photos before entering the roped-off area for the event. Batsakis, who towered over his brother-in-law, let his gaze surf the crowd.

That man was as slimy as they came. He stood arrogantly, strutting his stuff. Then his gaze hit something he didn’t like. His brows knitted. Nostrils flared.

“What’s he looking at?” Trace asked.

Annie turned subtly to identify the subject.

“Anyone?”

“No joy,” Nuala said softly, meaning she couldn’t tell what he was looking at.

Annie tried to line up his gaze with the crowd. “Lots of Brass and suits over there.”

“Houston’s working on it. Okay, Cantor and Solomon are in play,” Trace said. “Anyone seen Ballenger yet?”

“Negative,” Téya said.

“No.” Annie gave Sam a smile when he shot her a questioning look. Clearly Trace invited him, but he didn’t have a coms piece? His gaze slid to her ear, and she could tell he was questioning the very thing she had just then.

“Miss Palermo,” General Solomon extended a hand as he and General Cantor joined them. In dress blues, Solomon cut an impressive figure, whereas Cantor struck an imposing one.

Annie greeted them then introduced Sam. “This is Mr. Calamari.”

“Caliguari,” Sam corrected without missing a beat as he shook their hands.

Cantor shot a look up and down Sam. “You’re the SEAL.”

Sam started then nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good work in Greece,” Cantor said.

“Thank you, sir. Took home a souvenir, but I’m glad to have been able to help.”

“Oh, you helped all right,” Cantor said with a grin. Then elbowed Solomon, who grimaced. “Wouldn’t you agree, Haym?”

Rubbing his side, General Solomon nodded and flashed a smile. “Of course.” But his smile vanished as quickly as it’d come.

“You okay, general?” Annie asked.

“Of course.” Then he frowned at her. “Lot at stake tonight.”

“Annie,” Trace said, his voice thick with warning, “move on. If you stay near him, it’ll draw attention.”

Happy to comply, Annie smiled at them. “I think it’ll be a great, memorable night, General Solomon.” She nodded as she took Sam’s arm again. “If you’ll excuse us…”

But even as she moved past him, she couldn’t help but feel something was off with the general tonight.

“Uptight,” Sam muttered.

“Yeah.” Which wasn’t like the general. “Must be really stressed about tonight.”

“He has as much to lose as the rest of us,” Trace said.

“True,” Annie replied.

“True what?” Sam scowled at her then at her ear. Resolution carved a hard line through his face. “I’ll be right back.” He stalked across the pavilion then into the door of the Hyatt Regency.

Trace

Reston Town Center, Reston, Virginia

July 4 – 1930 Hours

The command center thrummed with tension and activity. Aznar and Olmedo sat at folding tables with laptops that showed a quad-split screen of different camera angles. Trace stood by the one-way glass, hovering over the scene, wishing he was down there in the fray. Closer to the fight. Closer so he could protect Téya and Annie.

The tented area only hosted the food and entertainment. Everything else had been deliberately set up so they had a bird’s-eye view of every attendee. Annie stood alone, sipping a drink. Water. She’d never compromise her state of mind for alcohol. She was too stringent with the rules to bend them. It’s what he’d liked about her.

A cluster of uniformed officers drew his attention. He considered their placement. The analysts said Batsakis had been looking in their direction when he reacted. Trace scratched the side of his face, thinking.

“Boss-man?”

Trace shifted and glanced over his shoulder.

At his own workstation, Houston waved him over.

The door to the suite clicked and opened. In stormed Samuel Caliguari. An agent stopped him, but Trace lifted a hand. “He’s with me.”

Caliguari crossed the room. “You wanted me here.”

“I did.”

The Squid nodded. “Good. I came to get the mic you forgot to give me.”

The guy had some chutzpah.

“I mean, I know you meant to. You wouldn’t want me on the ground during a mission without being able to communicate possible threats. I know you want to protect Annie, and I need a piece”—he thumbed toward his ear—“to do that.”

“You know that, do you?” Admirable that the fish out of water presented this in the best possible light for everyone. He’d put Trace in a corner.

“I do. Because I know you’re an honorable type of guy. You wouldn’t let personal feelings get in the way of doing the right thing.”

Grinding his teeth, Trace lifted a coms box from the table and held it out.

Sam took it without a word.

“Uh, Boss-man… I think you’ll want to see this,” Houston said.

Trace turned, pulling his anger and attention from the SEAL. He lifted his chin in a “go-ahead” to Houston.

“It’s that trajectory analysis you wanted.”

“The what?”

“The trajectory of Batsakis’s gaze.”

Trace made his way back to Houston near the windows. As he reached for the table, he noted Caliguari with him. Trace scowled at him.

“What? I need to know threats on the ground, right?”

With a huff, Trace nodded to Houston.

“Well, I have been working with the feed from Batsakis…” Houston’s wiry hair seemed especially frizzed today, and Trace had to shift to see around the mop.

Caliguari adjusted, too, watching the video.

Houston’s fingers sailed over the keyboard. “So, I—”

“Weston! Weston, your girl’s in trouble!” Aznar shouted, and flipped a switch. The audio went live through all speakers.

“What do you want?” It was Annie’s voice. Her trembling voice.

“You did this little event, so I would imagine you know what I want, Miss Palermo.”

Trace stilled. “That’s Ballenger. He knows her name. Her real name.”

“He also knows this gig is a setup,” Caliguari added.

With a pat on Caliguari’s chest, Trace nodded. “Get down there now.”

Sam darted for the door.

“Anyone got a twenty on One?” Trace demanded. “Six, do you have Annie?”

“Copy that,” Nuala said. “She’s directly below your suite. Out of your sight.”

“The man with her—”

“No joy,” Nuala said. “He’s hidden. Perfectly. Hotel pillar covering from the south. Large planter from the north. Annie’s shielding him. Repeat, I have no joy.”

Trace cursed but heard Aznar ordering one of the SWAT teams to the roof of an adjacent building. Security camera angled in and caught Annie, standing rigid and wide-eyed. Not moving anything but her eyes and lips. Ballenger could kill her right there, right in front of him. Retaliation?

“Two,” Trace said.

“Moving in now,” Téya replied softly. “I only see a shadow. He’s smart. And good.”

“We need to be better!” Trace shouted.

“You understand,” Ballenger said, “that I couldn’t just stay in the shadows. I couldn’t let those responsible continue to profit year after year.”

“Who are you after?” Annie asked.

Yes, keep him talking. Good girl
.

“Oh, the wisest man in the world.” Ballenger snickered. “Which, obviously is nobody on your team. It has been so easy to get around you.”

“Why would you want to target us?” Annie’s voice shook. “We were only—”

“No. No! You do not get to do that,” Ballenger’s voice growled through the coms. “Let them sit in their temple and palace, built on the blood of my daughter and wife.”

“Almost there,” came Sam’s breathy grunt through the coms.

“Be ready, Miss Palermo. The fireworks start soon.”

“Who are you targeting?” she asked. “There are a lot of innocent people here who will get hurt. Think this through, Berg.”

But he didn’t answer.

The camera captured Téya scurrying up to Annie. Trace bent forward, waiting for the confrontation.

“He’s gone,” Téya panted out the words. “Ballenger is gone.”

“Find him!” Trace shouted, his heart pounding.

“Boss-man.”

“Not now, Houston.”

“No, really. You need to see this now.”

“Colonel Weston?”

Trace pivoted toward the voice. A man stood in the corner of the room, being checked by security. He stepped forward and Trace frowned. “General Cantor.” Another man loomed behind the Army chief of staff. “Do I know you?”

Cantor motioned to the man. “Colonel Weston, this is my future son-in-law, Eric Goff.”

The young captain shifted but gave Trace a firm handshake.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but this is a bad time,” Trace said, irritated the man would bring his future son-in-law up here to show off. It didn’t seem within character for Cantor either, but Trace couldn’t focus on them. “If you’ll excu—”

“Actually, Colonel, this”—Cantor bobbed his head around the room—“is why I came up here.”