2
The sooner she could figure it out, the sooner she could find her mark.
And though she was technologically incompetent and didn’t own a computer, she had become adept at using hackers to her advantage, turning them upside down and shaking out the information she needed most.
Hackers always had too much information, more than anyone could possibly need.
The trick was to shake their pockets and find the morsels that were actually important.
Today’s hacker was named Blue, a new kid recently sprung from prison.
Even Celeste, as disconnected as she was from the gossip pipeline, had heard the grumbles and rumors about him.
He was a wunderkind; he couldn’t be trusted; why was a prisoner given such high-level clearance? But all Celeste needed to know was that The Colonel trusted him.
If she had that assurance, she couldn’t care less about the skeletons in his closet.
Whatever they were, she undoubtedly had more.
“His favorite color is yellow,”
Blue said now. He had the gritty voice of someone who’d been up all night working. Celeste knew the voice well; while on a job, she rarely found time for sleep.
“Can’t imagine why that would come in handy,”
Celeste said, but she wrote it down regardless, adding it to the tidy pile of scribbles she’d already assembled.
“I can’t either, but I thought it was funny. Renowned terrorist loves the color of the sun. Maybe he’s secretly an optimist,”
Blue submitted. “Here’s something: ten years ago he stayed at the Hotel Algonquin four times. He proposed to his girlfriend on the patio, she turned him down.”
Celeste wrote the location of the hotel. “Who’s the girlfriend and where is she now?”
“She and her, ouch for our guy, husband and two children, live in Colombia Heights.”
“Bet she made the baby’s nursery yellow,”
Celeste said and Blue snickered.
“That’s cold. He went to three Wizards games at about the same time, none after the botched proposal. That’s all I see for now. I’m going to go back another five years, take a poke around. I’ll let you know if I come up with anything.”
“Thanks,”
Celeste said. She disconnected distractedly and without a goodbye, her mind already laying out her scraps of paper. As soon as both hands were free, she pulled out her map and began assembling the pieces, using a dry erase marker to draw lines and make connections. She had almost finished her assembly when her phone rang. Thinking it must be Blue, she picked it up without checking the ID.
“Celeste, it’s Leo.”
She drew in a breath to preempt whatever he was about to say, but he interrupted her before she could begin.
“I’m not calling to ask you out again, I swear. I happen to be in DC a few days before I head back out and wanted to see if you could grab a coffee. As a friend, totally a friend this time, I mean it.”
He didn’t mean it, she was sure. But the blatant lie made her smile. Leo had been trying to find her soft spot for years. Too bad for him she didn’t actually have one. But he wasn’t a bad guy was, in fact, the closest thing to a friend she had these days. So she tried to gentle her delivery when she said, “Can’t. I’m working.”
“Here? At home?”
“Yup.”
She paused, thinking. “If you’re not busy, I could use another pair of eyes. It’s time sensitive.”
“I am so in,”
Leo said, as she knew he would. Leo was restless and hated to sit still almost as much as she did.
She paused again. “Are you sober?”
He paused, too. “Mostly. By the time we meet up, I will be.”
The sound of a coffee machine flicked to life in the background.
“Are you making yourself an espresso?”
she asked.
“Cappuccino, if you must know. I like the way the foam feels against my lips. I’ll bring you one, if you want.”
“No, thanks. That’s a little too girly for me,”
Celeste replied.
“Just for that, I’ll drink yours, too,”
Leo said and hung up.
T he first bomb was where the hacker said it would be, but it was bigger than they’d been expecting.
“Geez,”
Ethan breathed as he set out his pack and unrolled it.
“I don’t like this,”
Jones said.
“Jonesie, you have to get more comfortable with bombs, man,”
Ethan remarked.
“I really, really don’t,”
Jones said.
“This would be the way to go,”
Ethan continued undaunted. “You’d never see or feel it. Not like torture in some backwoods jungle camp. That would be my nightmare, trapped in a box.”
He shuddered.
“I’d rather take my chances with the box,”
Jones said.
“That’s because you don’t speak the bomb’s language.”
“Boom?”
Jones guessed.
“Only if you get it wrong,”
Ethan said. He snipped wires with the ease of a barber cutting hair. Jones turned his back and kept watch, not because he expected a sneak attack, but because it was better than the anxiety of watching Ethan work with the knowledge that, considering the size of the bomb and the size of the apartment building above them, a large swath of humanity now rested in their hands.
“ W hy is it always a sewer?”
Ribs asked, his fingers unconsciously finding the grooves in his puckered scar. It was eighteen months old now, but still caused him some discomfort whenever it pulled. And, despite how much he’d healed, he still felt a moment’s worry over the threat of bacteria. Could wounds get infected after they were already healed? Not that it mattered; he’d still go in the sewer.
“Keep an eye out for rogue alligators,”
Frog said.
“What about pizza-loving turtles?”
Ribs asked.
“Pizza-loving turtles get a pass. Pizza-loving rats, not so much.”
“What if the rats also fight crime?”
Frog pretended to think about it. “Man, that’s a question for the ages. You should have studied philosophy.”
He shined his flashlight beam in an arc. They were close to where the hacker said they’d find the explosives, but so far nothing. “How come Shimmer always misses the good stuff?”
“Because he’s married,”
Ribs replied.
“I’ve got to get me a wife,”
Frog mused.
“Good luck, all the good ones are already taken,”
Ribs said. “There.”
His light landed on the largest bomb they’d ever seen, which was saying something because they’d seen a lot of bombs.
“I changed my mind about the rats,”
Frog said, unfurling his pack. “Go find some and train them to gnaw these wires because this is going to take a minute.”
“What about the turtles?”
Ribs asked.
“Turtles are no good for gnawing wires. Use them to find our perp, I thought that was the next obvious step.”
“Look at you, calling plays in the field. Someone’s gunning for LT’s job,”
Ribs said.
“Not today,”
Frog said. “Working one on one with The Colonel. Can you imagine?”
“I think I’d prefer the turtles,”
Ribs agreed.
“Or even the rats,”
Frog added.
Between deranged sewer rodents and their boss, the sewer rodents were far less terrifying.
“ I t’s been a minute, since I was in the field,”
The Colonel said, the only words he’d spoken since they left the trailer.
It was only the third time Ridge had met the man who had already laid claim to his future, but somehow he knew silence was his natural state.
“I can’t imagine ever not being in the field,”
Ridge said.
The Colonel went silent again, his blank expression giving nothing away.
There was a part of Ridge that wanted to ask him how it felt to transition away from a life of action.
Seeing the older man was like seeing his future play out in front of him, and he knew he could learn a lot.
But he also knew he was a man of few words who didn’t enjoy extraneous prattle, so he wisely remained silent.
But he watched and he wondered.
How old was The Colonel? He was one of those people who looked both ancient and timeless, as if he’d been transported from some other time, a wizened warrior from a bronzed age.
Did he have people who cared about him? It was hard to imagine him in any other form than hard at work.
Ridge had met other men with The Colonel’s seniority.
Without fail they had all been politicians at heart, comfortable with all the schmoozing that became an integral part of their jobs.
The Colonel always existed in his own little aura, so separate and intense that people automatically gave him a respectful buffer.
One time in Africa he came across a rogue lion that had broken away from its pack.
Battle scarred and singular, it had stalked at the perimeter of the prideland, pacing stealthily back and forth, still keeping watch, even though it had been ousted.
The Colonel reminded him of that lion, no less dangerous because he was alone.
Maybe more so, because he had nothing to lose.
They reached the entry point for the sewer.
The Colonel popped the opening like it was a soda can tab, proving again that life an office had not made him soft.
It wasn’t often that Ridge followed, but he did so now, trying not to trot to keep up with The Colonel’s determined strides.
It was like being a kid again on the ranch, following his dad’s too-big footsteps.
He was supposed to be the forward man on this mission, but The Colonel seemed to have forgotten as he reached their target first, a massive display of explosives.
He surveyed it with hands on hips and spoke to Ridge.
“Lieutenant, take my phone and make a call.”
“Yes, sir,”
Ridge said. He reached for the phone as The Colonel handed it to him.
“You’re going to contact a hacker at the Defense Department, name’s Blue. Tell him to contact Celeste and let her know we have a second bomber on the loose, codename Mongoose. He’ll find him from a black op mission of mine in ’93 from Somalia.”
Ridge dialed the number and relayed the message, pausing to transmit the reply as The Colonel began dismantling the bomb. “Begging your pardon, sir, but the hacker says Mongoose died in ’97.”
“Tell the hacker he’s wrong. If he died in 97, there’s no way he could have left me a message today.”
Ridge disconnected and gave The Colonel his phone. “The hacker says that puts a new spin on things and he’ll get back with you after he pokes around. Sir, please tell me Blue is his handle and not his real name.”
“Real name, and he has blue hair and sleeve tats to go along with it. Thinks he’s pretty edgy for a kid who only got his braces off three years ago,”
The Colonel said.
Ridge wasn’t sure if he was supposed to laugh at that, but he did.
The Colonel worked in silence a while longer before he spoke again.
“Lesson one for you, Lieutenant. Once you leave the homogenized world of the navy and enter the underbelly of intelligence, you cease to judge on appearances. Some of the most dangerous people you meet will be the smallest and most unassuming of women, and some of the most talented people you encounter will look like they belong in the prison you just sprung them from. Once you enter my world, you leave your skin-deep judgment at the door.”
“Yes, sir,”
Ridge replied, wondering if The Colonel somehow sensed his earlier suspicion of the Middle Eastern guy with the girlfriend. Someday he’d be the one making calls about who got to live or die; he hoped he was worthy of the task. Maybe someday he’d be ready to make a phone call and handle those sorts of decisions. For now he was glad the navy was still in charge.
“ T here’s a second bomber,”
was how Celeste greeted Leo, the first time they saw each other in person in two years after an assignment that threw them together and created a tentative friendship, if Celeste was willing to overlook the way Leo hit on her. (And she was.)
Leo whistled appreciatively. “Glad I had the second cappuccino.”
She quirked a brow at him.
He gave her a helpless shrug. “I developed a taste for them in Italy. What’s our plan? What do you need me to do?”
“These are our targets,”
Celeste said. She hadn’t been able to send him any intel, because there were no safe channels between them. Now she showed him the pictures on her phone, the ones Blue had sent her not more than ten minutes ago.
Leo took the phone and studied the pictures intently, squinting as he tried to discern any identifying marks. “I guess it makes sense they’re working together. This one doesn’t look capable of anything on his own. What’s our objective?”
“Elimination, by any means necessary,”
Celeste said.
“You get to have all the fun,”
Leo lamented, handing the phone back to her. He’d been involved in a lot of black ops, more than he could count. But rarely did they come with the sort of carte blanche reserved for Celeste and those of her ilk. Usually the people Leo targeted were wanted alive, at all costs.
“My line of work doesn’t usually end with care and compassion for the target’s transport, if you know what I’m saying.”
She unfurled a map between them. “I used the info the hacker gave me to develop a pattern map. Our guys are underground, but these are the intersects. The older guy has some beef with The Colonel, my guess is he’s keeping watch to see where The Colonel turns up today. I say we focus on the younger guy. Instinct tells me he’s going to hover near Colombia Heights, his old stomping ground and home of his former girlfriend.”
“Must have been some epic scorned love, if it led to bombing an entire city,”
Leo mused.
“And that is why I don’t date, Leo. Can you imagine the fallout if I ever had my heart broken?”
Celeste said. “I could take out a nation.”
“Yes, but any guy dumb enough to lose you deserves to have his country ground into powder,” Leo said.
Celeste laughed. “Do these lines ever actually work?”
“For as long as I need them to,”
Leo said. He slid his sunglasses back into place. Though he had sobered up the last few hours, his bloodshot eyes hadn’t gotten the memo yet. “Are we splitting up or handling this thing together?”
“I work best solo,”
Celeste said.
“ A pity for every man on the planet,”
Leo said. He used his phone to give her a little salute. “I’ll let you know when I find your boy.”
“It’s cute how you think you’ll find him first,”
Celeste said.
“How cute?”
Leo asked.
“Not cute enough.”
“Care to make a little wager?” he asked.
“Like what?” she said.
“If I find him first, you have that coffee with me.”
“And what do I win when I find him first?”
she asked.
“You have that coffee with me,” he said.
She laughed, undaunted. Her world was populated by cocky men. She’d learned not to take offense, and at least Leo had some good sense and a big heart, beneath the bluster.
“Do we have a deal?”
he pressed.
“I guess you’ll have to win to find out,”
Celeste replied, sliding her own sunglasses into place. The best part about being surrounded by men who knew their worth was that they were never threatened when she knew hers, too.
“ H ey, it’s them again, the pretty people. This time they’re dressed like soldiers,”
Amelia said as Jones and Ethan jogged past at what could best be described as a sprint. This time the entire Eldgridge clan paused and watched them breeze past.
“Must be some kind of drill,”
Darren surmised.
“You don’t know,”
Amelia said. “It could be an actual thing.”
“Right, Amelia, like they’re going to let us continue to stand here, in the middle of a live event,”
Darren said, tone scathing.
“Let’s eat,”
their mother said, clapping her hands to get their attention. To Sam and Maggie she added, “Maybe if I shove food at them, they’ll stop arguing.”
“Dare to dream, Mom,”
Maggie said.
“I never stop believing, never for a minute,”
her mother replied, herding her brood in the direction of the restaurant.
“ S econd one done,”
Frog declared, setting aside his tools. “Did I beat The Colonel?”
“No, he finished twenty minutes ago,”
Ribs said. “I waited to tell you so you wouldn’t be discouraged. We’re all hands on deck now, looking for our perps. Guess who The Colonel put on it?”
“Who?”
Frog asked, frozen in suspense as he waited for the answer.
“Celeste,”
Ribs breathed.
Frog sucked a breath. “Think we’ll actually get a glance at her this time?”
“Doubtful. Apparently Leo’s already been sniffing around and assigned himself as her assistant.”
Frog winced. “That won’t make Ridge happy.”
“That doesn’t make any of us happy. How does a sloppy screwup like Leo keep scoring assignments with the Scarlet Ghost?”
Ribs groused.
Celeste had become mythic for her list of confirmed kills and ability to remain unseen.
As far as any of them knew, they’d never even met her, though stories abounded that she’d been imbedded with them multiple times, without their notice.
That was how it was with ghosts, though.
You never knew they were there.
Above them, Celeste stood on the street and scanned the scenery, trying to determine the perp’s next move.
W hile he worked, The Colonel tried to put himself in the Mongoose’s mindset, not an enviable task at the best of times.
There hadn’t been many of his recruits over the years who went rogue.
Usually they met their end before they could cause much trouble.
The Mongoose had been one such recruit.
The first warning sign was that he gave himself the name The Mongoose, a ridiculous, self-aggrandizing title The Colonel had tried to put a stop to immediately.
Being in the military meant people got handles and nicknames, it went with the territory.
But assigning one to yourself and trying to make it stick was never a good idea.
He thought The Mongoose, AKA Charlie Kunselman, accidentally blew himself up in Somalia, and he hadn’t grieved the loss.
Had, in fact, been relieved to see him go.
The kid thought he was the hottest thing to come out of the marines since Montezuma.
In reality he had a middling amount of talent mixed with too much cockiness and a need to prove himself that made him combustible, literally.
The ease with which he’d set and detonated explosives had put him on The Colonel’s radar while he was a young jarhead.
The difficulty with which he’d handled himself and others had taken him back off the short list of candidates for advancement.
In their world talent wasn’t enough; you had to have the brains to temper the ability, otherwise you could easily become a vigilante or psychopath.
The Mongoose had set his sights on becoming the latter, and now he was back.
If The Colonel had to guess, it had taken him all this time to make his way back to the states.
In the meantime, he’d likely been planning this day for a while.
That meant it was personal, as did the fact that so many of The Colonel’s personal recruits had skin in the game.
Where will he try to strike, to hurt me most? John asked himself.
Of course his family would be the logical answer, but there was no way Charlie had any idea about Juniper or the girls.
John had been in the intelligence game too long to take chances with his family.
Few people even realized he had one, a myth he was all too happy to encourage if it meant keeping his girls safe.
His home was buried in miles of paperwork he doubted even Blue could crack and, if someone did, they would find themselves attempting to enter a literal bulletproof fortress.
At this point all that was missing was a moat, and if Juniper would let him, he’d probably add one of those, along with some well-placed alligators.
Even if someone did make it through the layers, the girls knew how to take care of themselves.
They’d run the drills and had all been taught to handle weapons.
The safe room he’d installed was well-armed, with plenty of ammo.
Juniper, Jane, and Poppy were all decent shots, and he was proud to say Bailey was like him and didn’t need a gun.
The girls are safe, he reassured himself.
Juniper had told him, too.
We’re home and safe, everything is quiet, the dog is sleeping peacefully.
The yappy little frou-frou dog had been his concession to her, though she had rightfully asserted that the mutt would make them all deaf, if an intruder attempted to breach the perimeter.
She’d turned out to be a good, albeit annoying, little asset, and the fact that she was asleep and probably snoring did more to assure him than he wanted it to.
Why was Juniper always right? The woman was uncanny.
So where would “The Mongoose” strike to make it personal? His work was a possibility, but good luck to the crazy loner who tried to break into the Pentagon to get to him.
That left one other possibility, and the more he thought of it, the more likely it seemed.
Charlie would want to go somewhere symbolic, somewhere that would try to strike at the heart of John, at everything he believed and espoused.
“Lieutenant,”
he said after an unknown length of silence.
He wasn’t great at keeping track of his silences when he didn’t have to be.
One of the reasons he’d selected Cameron Ridge for advancement was because he was the sort of old-school military guy who put duty above personality.
Therefore he felt no need to fill the silences between them by explaining his thought processes.