Next Exit, Quarter Mile Page 5

  3 Gitmo Detainees Released in Exchange for Scientist.

  Viper stared at the phone, her mind clamoring to grasp the ramifications of the words she was reading. Scrolling through the article, storm clouds gathered on her face as fury began to build deep inside her. The three names listed in the news report were three names she knew well. Contrary to the article’s claim that they were harmless soldiers, Viper knew them for who they really were. They were butchers, plain and simple, and she had expected at least one of them to end up on her roster before they were captured by Allied forces three years ago.

  And they released them?! In exchange for a scientist?!

  Viper very deliberately closed out the browser and set the phone down, her coffee forgotten. She stared across the back lawn, her gaze locked blindly onto a distant point in the trees. Taking a deep breath, she tried to get a handle on the anger threatening to burn a hole in her self-control, her fingers curled into fists on the arms of the chair.

  What was the point in sending her to kill terrorists no one else could touch if they were simply going to release the ones they had in custody back into the world?

  She stared into the trees, her lips pressed into a grim line. Seven years ago, she walked through the gates of a highly-secured and clandestine training facility, knowing that what she was about to do would change everything. Life as she knew it would end, and she would enter into shadows so dark that she would be lost forever. Alina stayed up all night before her arrival, grappling with the decision that would change the course of her life.

  When Charlie first approached her, she thought it was some kind of test. Even working for Naval Intelligence, her clearance was not high enough to recognize his name. He was a complete stranger, approaching her with an offer she hadn't believed was real. It was like something out of a movie. He told her about the Organization, a small division of the CIA that he ran with an iron hand. It was so classified most of Washington didn't know it existed; and those who did know, never discussed it. The Organization was a group of hand-picked, elite men and women, trained to be the most dangerous assassins in the world. Their mission? To hunt and eliminate those enemies who were untouchable. Charlie was very clear in his offer. She would be trained to hunt, kill and eradicate. She would take orders from, and be answerable only to, the Organization; no one else would know she existed. He offered her the opportunity to make a difference and fight for something she believed in, to fight for people who were unable to fight for themselves.

  He asked only that she surrender her soul in return.

  Alina entered the training facility on that long ago day determined to become the weapon her country needed. That day, she joined the ranks of some of the most skilled and dangerous people she ever met, and she never looked back. Viper was born.

  The curled fists relaxed and her long fingers stretched out slowly as she forced herself to separate her emotions from the facts. Who was this scientist that warranted such attention? What did he know that made it worthwhile to not only release three butchers back into the world, but to send a global message that the United States was open to manipulation?

  And why did she have a heavy feeling in her gut that it wasn't a coincidence these men were released just days after she killed the man they once called their leader?

  The atmosphere in the office Monday morning was subdued and John glanced across the aisle to Stephanie's desk. She was typing up a case report, her eyes on the monitor in front her, her lips set in the same grim line present since she walked in the door at eight. Turning his eyes back to his own work, John shook his head. He still couldn't believe it himself.

  They had negotiated with terrorists.

  So many lives were lost trying to capture those prisoners, and now they were just being allowed to walk free. And for what? A scientist?

  John sat back in his chair and reached for his coffee, unable to concentrate. Inexplicably, he thought of Alina. What did she have to say about all this? She couldn't be thrilled. Her job was to hunt these bastards down. Now, she had three more to worry about.

  He was still staring into space when his cell phone started vibrating in his pocket. John set down his cup, shifting in his chair to pull out the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “John?” a female voice asked.

  “Yes?”

  “It's Lani.”

  John frowned as a sob escaped from the woman.

  “Hey, what's wrong?” he asked. “Are you alright?”

  “No.” Lani sounded like she was trying to catch her breath. “I'm sorry to bother you, but I couldn't think who else to call.”

  “It's no problem,” he assured her, sitting forward. “What's up?”

  “It's Dutch. He's...” Lani's voice caught on another sob. “He's dead!”

  “What?!?!” John exclaimed, his voice raising despite himself.

  “He raced last night and...they're saying it was an accident...” Lani's voice trailed off as more sobs escaped. “Oh God, John, I don't think it was and I didn't know where else to turn.”

  John stared at the top of his desk, stunned. Dutch? It couldn't be. Dutch was invincible.

  “Where are you?” John finally got out.

  “At the house.”

  “I'm on my way,” he said, standing up and opening his desk drawer to grab his holster and gun. “Don't talk to anyone until I get there.”

  “Thank you,” Lani said, another sob escaping.

  John disconnected and dropped the phone back into his pocket. He clipped his holster to his waistband and slid the gun into it, snapping it in. Looking up, he found Stephanie watching him.

  “What's going on?” she asked.

  “I have to leave. That was Lani,” John told her. “Dutch was killed last night.”

  “Your friend from the track?” Stephanie asked.

  “Yes,” he answered shortly. “I'm sorry. I have to go.”

  “Go. I'll tell Rob,” she told him. She watched as he turned to leave. “Let me know if you need anything,” she added.

  John nodded and disappeared toward the elevators.

  John handed Lani a steaming cup of strong, black tea and sat down beside her. When he arrived a few minutes before, the kettle was screaming on the stove and she was staring out the window, her eyes glazed over. After gently settling her onto the couch in the living room, he made her the tea that was out on the counter. Now, he watched as she lifted the cup to her lips with shaking hands. Her hair was pulled back into a half-hearted bun and her eyes were red and swollen. She looked as stunned and shocked as he felt.

  “Tell me what happened,” he said, after she had swallowed a few sips of the tea.

  “There was a race last night, out in the woods,” Lani told him, cradling the hot cup in her hands. “They race there late at night. There's no traffic and no one around.”

  “Where?”

  “It changes,” she answered with a sigh, sitting back on the couch. “Last night, they were out past Atco. I didn't want him to go, but he insisted.”

  “Why didn't you want him to go?” John asked gently.

  Lani glanced at him.

  “I just had a bad feeling about it,” she said. “I told him, but he wouldn't listen. He said he had to, that it would be good for us.”

  “What did he mean? How would it be good for you?”

  “I don't know.” Lani raised her cup to her lips again and John waited while she drank. “Dutch was working with someone on something. He wouldn't tell me anything, but he seemed to think that we would make out well from it. He was planning on building an addition onto the garage.”

  John was silent for a moment, staring across the living room thoughtfully.

  “How did it happen?” he finally asked the question that had been burning inside him since she called.

  “They say a deer ran out in front of the cars.” Lani paused to take a deep, steadying breath. “The front tire blew. He lost control and flipped, hitting a tree. They think there was a gas leak
. The Boss exploded before they could get him out.”

  John closed his eyes briefly, horror washing over him at the thought of Dutch trapped as the car exploded. Taking a deep breath, he was silent for a few long moments while Lani sat beside him. Seeming to understand his struggle, she was quiet, stranded in her own world of loss.

  “You said on the phone that you don't think it was an accident,” John finally broke the silence. His pale blue eyes caught hers. “Why?”

  Lani hesitated, then leaned forward and set her mug on the coffee table before turning to face him.

  “Because they're taking the Shelby,” she whispered.

  John stared at her.

  “Who is?” he asked.

  “His name is Dominic DiBarcoli. He's the money behind the racetrack now,” Lani told him in a low voice. “He collects cars, and he's wanted the Shelby ever since he first saw her. He kept making Dutch offers, but you know Dutch. That car is...was...his baby. He wouldn't sell. Dominic kept offering more and more, and each time Dutch refused, he got angry. He finally told him that he was going to get the Shelby, one way or another.”

  “Go on,” John prompted gently when Lani stopped.

  She nodded and took a deep breath.

  “Do you know Tito Morales?” she asked.

  John nodded.

  “I've heard of him. He drives a '67 Camaro, right?” he asked.

  “Yes. He works for Dominic,” she said. “Rumors are that he drives for him, running some kind of product up and down the East coast.”

  “Drugs?” John asked sharply.

  Lani shrugged.

  “No one knows,” she answered. “Some people think he's running guns, some swear it's drugs. Others say it's just money. Whatever it is, he needs fast, precision drivers to move it and Tito is his head man. Tito's an asshole and Dutch couldn't stand him, but this...I never thought it would come to anything like this.”

  “Like what?” John frowned. “You're not making sense. Lani, you gotta tell me what's going on. I can't help if I don't know the whole story.”

  “Tito showed up here Saturday night, after you and Raven left,” Lani told him. “He sat out in the road, just watching. Dutch went out to talk to him and then Tito left.”

  “What did he want?”

  “Dutch wouldn't say,” she said. “When he came back to the party, he was acting normal, but I know my brother. He was furious. Yesterday, after church, I asked him what happened. He wouldn't tell me anything.” Lani paused again, seeming to debate within herself for a second, then lifted her golden eyes to John's. “All he said was that if anything ever happened, I had to come straight to you and trust no one else.”

  John stared at her, his mind spinning. Of course, Dutch knew John was an FBI agent. They had known each other for years, since before John joined the Agency. It would make sense that if Dutch thought for one moment his sister would need help, he would tell her to come to him. But why on earth would he think that might be necessary? What had he gotten himself into?

  “What makes Dominic think he can take Dutch's car?” he asked suddenly, bringing his mind back into focus.

  Lani raised her swollen, red eyes to his.

  “Dutch was racing Tito last night,” she said flatly, “for pink slips.”

  Chapter Five

  “Tell me again why we're driving to Atlantic City on a school night?” Stephanie asked from the passenger seat.

  Alina glanced at her.

  “Do you always go to bed early on Monday nights?” she countered.

  Stephanie chuckled despite herself.

  “I'm not complaining,” she said, looking out the window and watching as the exits flew by on route 42. “It actually makes a nice change to be spontaneous for once, but you still haven't answered the question. Why the sudden, last minute jaunt to AC?”

  “My horoscope said my lucky star was in the lunar vortex and chances of winning big would never be better.”

  Stephanie burst out laughing.

  “That doesn't even make sense, but fine. Don't tell me. I'll just enjoy the ride.” She glanced at her friend behind the wheel of the Shelby, then looked around the car again. “Although, I'm still annoyed you didn't tell me about this. How are you going to go out and buy a Shelby GT 500 and not tell me?”

  “You were still basking in the glow of your new car,” Alina said with a shrug. “Besides, it's just a car.”

  “This is not just a car to you, and I know that,” Stephanie retorted. “You forget that I know you, Lina Maschik, and I know all your dirty secrets.” Alina glanced at her and Stephanie grimaced comically. “At least, I know all your old dirty secrets,” she qualified.

  Alina couldn't help but grin as she switched to the left lane where the highway split, heading for the Atlantic City Expressway. Stephanie turned her attention back out the window into the night.

  “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if Dave hadn't died?” she asked suddenly.

  The silence that greeted the question was deafening and she stole a look at the woman beside her. Viper's mask was firmly in place as she flew past a slow moving tour bus without looking at Stephanie. Stephanie turned her eyes back out the window and unobtrusively grabbed the door, holding her breath and silently cursing herself for bringing up the subject. The thought popped out before she could stop it, and now she wished she could take the words back.

  Lina was very close to her brother growing up. They were virtually inseparable. Dave Maschik was the one who got Alina involved in cars, teaching her to rebuild engines before Stephanie could tell a transmission from a muffler. It was Dave who introduced her to all the classic muscle cars. It was Dave who promised to buy Alina her first Shelby. They were going to restore it together, alongside his 442. Alina adored him, and when he was killed in Iraq, it shattered her. Her relationship with John in tatters and her brother gone, she joined the Navy a year later and disappeared, leaving all of them behind. When she came back last Spring, she was a completely different woman. Alina had left more than just her friends behind.

  She left herself behind as well.

  “No.” Alina's voice was flat and emotionless, pulling Stephanie's attention back from the past. “He was killed and that's that.”

  Stephanie glanced at her and knew it was pointless to answer. Alina was gone, buried, and in her place was Viper.

  “I guess so,” Stephanie agreed easily, watching as 42 split off to the right, heading away from them. Viper lowered her foot on the gas and the Mustang accelerated with a growl. Stephanie smiled faintly. “I bet he's smiling now, though. He always said you'd look good in your Shelby.”

  Alina was silent, her eyes on the road in front of her. Stephanie's mention of her brother surprised her. She hadn't been expecting it, or the memories it brought to the surface. Alina spent her first year in the Navy wondering that very thing. What would have happened if her brother hadn't been shot and killed in Iraq? While she was grieving, her fiancé had an affair. He claimed at the time that she had neglected him. Would that have happened if Dave hadn't died? Would she have married John? Would she have joined the Navy? She stopped asking herself the questions after the first year, but somewhere inside her, she continued to wonder. It wasn't until she arrived in the training facility for the Organization that she stopped gazing into the past and moved on to her future.

  Viper shook her head and pushed the thoughts aside impatiently.

  “Have you seen Mr. Hunk O' Mysterious?” Stephanie broke the silence again.

  Mr. Hunk O' Mysterious was what Stephanie and Angela called Damon Miles behind his back. Alina smiled faintly. She preferred to call him by the name she knew best: Hawk. They met in boot camp and became friendly competitors. When they met again in the Organizations' training facility a few years later, they became friends. When he showed up here last year, things got complicated.

  “Not since Christmas,” Alina answered Stephanie.

  “You guys have a strange relationship,” Stephanie informed her
, making herself comfortable in her seat. “When you're together, it's like watching two magnets with each other. Then, you go months without seeing each other. It's weird.”

  “Two magnets?” Alina repeated, raising an eyebrow and glancing at her. Stephanie grinned.

  “Yes,” she said stubbornly. “Ask Angela. She has a whole theory developed about you two. It's all very new age.”

  “I'm sure,” Alina murmured, grinning despite herself. She glanced in her rearview mirror and watched as round headlights appeared behind her in the distance. “Angela thinks we should be married and procreating by now,” she added, watching as the headlights drew closer rapidly.

  “Angela just wants you to be happy,” Stephanie replied. “She thinks Damon can do that, though God alone knows why. She doesn't know what you two do, so she doesn't understand the...complications.”

  The headlights grew larger and Alina glanced at her speedometer. She was doing eighty-six, and the car behind her was advancing much, much faster.

  “How does that work, exactly?” Stephanie asked, oblivious to the approaching car. “Does your agency have rules against fraternizing with other agents? Are you guys even called agents?”

  “We're called assets,” Alina murmured absently. “And no, there are no specific rules against fraternization. I don't think it's ever really been much of an issue.”

  The headlights were right behind her now and she watched as the car moved into the right lane to pass her. She glanced over and raised an eyebrow in interest as a '67 Camaro pulled alongside her. In the faint light from their headlights, she saw orange flames on a black background engulfing the front end. The driver was male, and he glanced at her as he drew alongside. Alina couldn't see anything but his silhouette in the darkness, but she didn't need to see him. She saw his car. That was enough.

  “Why not? Don't you people like each other or something?” Stephanie asked, glancing out the window at the Camaro disinterestedly.

  “We don't really see each other much,” Alina replied, pressing the gas pedal. The Mustang surged forward, keeping pace with the Camaro easily. She opted not to add that the average life expectancy in her field didn't encourage long-term commitments.