Yet part of her still wanted to withdraw from such an offer, to keep going it alone. She had not figured out her response to that or him yet. Maybe she would never have one.
She looked up at the sky and let the pelting raindrops hit her in the face. She closed her eyes and a rush of images came to her. Each one a person and each one of them dead. Some were innocent. Others not. Two had been killed by someone else. All the rest had died by her hand. One, her mentor and friend, lay in a vegetative state from which she would never awaken.
It was all pointless. And it was all true. And Reel was powerless to change any of it.
She slipped the medal on its chain from her pocket and looked down at it. It was identical to the one Robie had been awarded. It had been given to her for the same mission. She had performed the kill shot—agency orders. Robie had helped her escape nearly certain death. They had made it back to the States to the chagrin of a powerful few.
It was a meaningless gesture, this medal.
What they really wanted to do was put a hole in her head.
She walked to the edge of the land and watched the waters of the bay spray over the dirt.
Reel hurled the medal out into the bay as far as she could. She turned away before it struck the surface of the water. Metal didn’t float. It would vanish in a few moments.
But then she turned back around and used her middle finger to flip off the sinking medal, the CIA in general, and Evan Tucker specifically.
That was the main reason she’d come—to chuck her medal into the bay. And this place had been her home, to the extent any place was. She did not intend to come back here. She had come to take one last look, perhaps to gain some closure. Yet she wasn’t finding any.
The next instant she pulled her gun and ducked down low.
Over the sounds of the water had come a new intrusion.
A vehicle was pulling to a stop near the ruins of her waterside cottage.
There was no reason for anyone to be visiting her here. The only reason anyone would appear here would be a violent one.
She raced over to the only cover there was: a pile of rotted wood stacked near the water’s edge. She knelt down and used the top log as a gun rest. While she could see nothing clearly, they might have night optics that would reveal all, including her location.
She managed to follow them only by subtracting their darkened silhouettes from the darkness around them. She centered on one spot and waited for their movements to cross that point. By this method she counted four of them. She assumed they were all armed, all commed, and here for a specific purpose: her elimination.
They would try to outflank her, but her rear was not capable of being flanked, unless they wanted to jump into the bay’s cold and storm-tossed waters. She focused on other spots and waited for them to cross. She did this again and again until they were within twenty meters of her location.
She wondered why they were staying packed together. Separating during an attack was standard tactics. She could not follow so easily multiple groups coming at her from different points of the compass. But so long as they stayed together her focus need not be diffused.
She was deciding whether to fire or not when her phone buzzed.
She was not inclined to answer, not with four bogies bearing down on her outgunned butt.
But it might be Robie. As corny as it sounded, this might give her an opportunity to say goodbye in a way that had not been possible before. And maybe he would go after her killers and slay them for her.
“Yes?” she said into the phone, keeping her shooting hand on her Glock and her eyes on the forces coming for her.
“Please hold for DD Amanda Marks,” said the efficient voice.
“What the—” began Reel.
“Agent Reel, this is Amanda Marks, the new deputy director of Central Intelligence. We need you to come in to Langley immediately.”
“I’m a little busy right now, DD Marks,” replied Reel sarcastically. “But maybe you’re already aware of that,” she added in a harsh tone.
“There are four agents currently at your cottage on the Eastern Shore. Correction, where your cottage used to be. They are there simply to escort you to Langley. Please do not think of engaging with them and perhaps doing them harm.”
“And are they planning to do me harm?” snapped Reel. “Because it’s the middle of the night, I have no idea how they even knew I was here, and they’re acting quite furtive.”
“Your reputation precedes you. Hence they are acting with care. As to your location, we determined you were nowhere else.”
“And why do you need me to come in ASAP?”
“That will all be explained when you get here.”
“Is this about a new mission?”
“When you get here, Agent Reel. I can’t trust that this line is secure.”
“And if I choose not to come in?”
“As I told Agent Robie—”
“You called Robie in as well?”
“Yes. He’s part of all this, Agent Reel.”
“And you’re really the new DD?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what happened to the last two?”
“The exact same question Agent Robie presented to me.”
In spite of everything Reel smiled. “And your answer?”
“The same as yours will be. Just get your butt in here.”
The line went dead.
Chapter
5
HOURS LATER JESSICA REEL ARRIVED at Langley. The sun was up, the rain had passed, but her mood had not improved.
She cleared security and entered a building she knew well.
In some ways too well.
She was escorted to a room where she found a familiar face already waiting.
“Robie,” she said curtly before sitting down next to him.
“Jessica,” said Robie, inclining his head slightly. “I take it you received the same invitation.”
“It wasn’t an invitation. It was an order. Did they send goons to bring you in?”
He shook his head.
“Then I guess they trust you more than they trust me.”
“We trust you both the same,” said a voice as the door opened and a woman in her early forties, with shoulder-length brown hair walked in carrying an electronic tablet. She was petite, about five-four and maybe a hundred and ten pounds, but lean and fit, and her wiry physique suggested a strength that belied her small size.
DD Amanda Marks. She shook each of their hands while Robie and Reel exchanged bemused looks.
“Thank you both for coming in so promptly.”
Reel said, “If I knew I had a choice I wouldn’t have. The four guys you sent after me didn’t provide any options.”
“Nevertheless, your cooperation is appreciated,” said Marks in a brisk tone.
Robie said, “I thought after the last mission we had some stand-down time?”
“You did and now that’s over.”
“So a new mission?” Reel said wearily.
“Not yet,” replied Marks. “First things first.”
“Meaning what?” asked Reel.
“Meaning that you both need to be what I would term recalibrated.”
Robie and Reel exchanged another glance. He said, “You recalibrate instruments.”
“You are instruments. Of this agency.”
“And we need recalibration why, exactly?” asked Reel.
Marks had not made eye contact with them before, even when shaking their hands. She had either looked down or over their shoulders. It was disconcerting, but the tactic was not unexpected by either Robie or Reel.
Now Marks stared directly at them. And to Robie she had the eyes of someone who had spent time behind a long-range scope at some point in her career.