Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
WASHINGTON, D.C.
“I don’t understand. We’ve been stuck on hold, waiting for the green light to send a team over there.” Natasha stood on the other side of her boss’s desk at Headquarters, still trying to wrap her head around the info he’d just dropped on her.
They’d been sitting on the location of the target package for a week, not too long given how slow Washington moved, but it’d been seven days too long for her.
But was her number one target for years really dead?
“Most of the details of the operation are classified. But I thought you’d want to know he’s been taken out.
” Her boss flattened his long, thin fingers on the maple veneer and stood to his height of five-eight.
Dan was a study in brown—coffee-colored slacks, beige dress shirt, russet tie.
His dark brown hair was combed to the side, with his equally dark brown eyes directed straight at her.
“The plan was to bring him in alive.” Dead was unacceptable. It was like a gaping chest wound that would forever bleed out. “Was any evidence recovered confirming it was even him who—”
“The guy had a fail-safe. He rigged the place with explosives to destroy everything while trying to make a run for it.”
“But how do we know he’s really dead, that he didn’t escape?” Her throat constricted and her stomach burned.
“The team dispatched tried to get to him, but it wasn’t possible. They had to retreat before they suffered casualties. But there’s no way he made it out alive.”
“And that home dates back to before World War Two.” She had done her research, and she’d added all the details to her report, hoping to give the operators their best chance to secure the target when they got spun up for the mission.
“The original property records listed a bunker as well as tunnels. A lot of homes in that region had them built in preparation for potential air raids.” It was most likely why The Knight chose the damn location.
“Did the team have the tunnels covered?”
“Within seconds of fast-roping onto the property, the place blew up.”
“So, they didn’t secure the tunnels?”
“Damn it, Chandler.” Dan dropped back down into his leather chair, a scowl on his lips.
“The team didn’t even have operational authority to be in Romania.
When the bastard exploded the home, they were ordered to evac immediately.
It’d been an unanticipated move, and the decision was made to pull the team out rather than risk exposure. ”
She needed to sit now, too. She stumbled back into the chair opposite his desk.
“There was no opportunity to confirm the identity of the man inside or check out the tunnels. They did manage to look into the bunker and it was empty. And since we weren’t officially there, we couldn’t ask the Romanians to pull DNA. To check dental records.”
“Shit. So, we don’t even have a name?” She was back on her feet again. “Is there some way we can get the records now, at least?”
“That’s the thing.” He settled farther back in his seat.
“We did some checking into the Romanians’ handling of the case, and it’s not good.
The home used to belong to a businessman, Alexander Rothus, and after he died in a car crash the property was turned over to the city, and it’s been vacant ever since.
The Romanians assumed it’d been a squatter who died in the explosion.
There wasn’t much left of the body, so the remains were cremated and labeled as unidentified. ”
“You’re shitting me! A squatter rigged the home to blow, then killed himself? Give me a break!” She hadn’t meant to raise her voice, but she was in no state to refrain—her emotions were going to tear her up. “There’s no way we’re dealing with a John Doe situation.”
“What do you want me to say?” His lips flattened before he let out an exhausted sigh.
“Our intelligence supports the idea The Knight was hiding there, a perfect place for someone like him. And the assumption is that when our boots hit the ground, he tried to destroy evidence and make an escape, but he died in the process. We wanted him alive, but we couldn’t have predicted he’d—”
“With all due respect, sir, you’re not actually telling me he’s really dead right now, are you, not after this bullshit cremation story? There was probably never a body recovered at the crime scene.” She dragged a hand through her hair, processing what she knew about her target.
“His strategy was to blow up the house.”
“And use that as a distraction to get out through the tunnels, which surely he did!” Natasha exclaimed.
“The operators said they did see a man inside on fire, which is why we believe he never got a chance to make it out.”
She shook her head. “That doesn’t mean he didn’t get away and pay someone off on the police force to say they found a body.
” How many times had they seen that? “No way is this just over, not after years of us chasing one of the most calculated and elite hackers in the world. No way did he accidentally kill himself.”
“And maybe I agree with you, but the higher-ups want a win, and they like the idea this guy is dead.”
“Of course they do, until he hacks the Pentagon again, or helps terrorists steal bioweapons or—”
“Chandler!”
She clamped her teeth together, frustration ringing in her ears, a hollow pit being carved out in her stomach every second the CIA believed this cocksucker was actually dead.
“If he shows up again, we go after him.”
“And until then?” she asked.
“We assume he’s dead.”
“Because that’s what the big guns want?” She huffed and spun away, unable to look at someone she used to respect before he became a spineless pawn for Washington elitists.
“You’ve been preoccupied with this man for over three years. And for now, it’s time to move on.”
She whirled back around, her temples throbbing.
“He hacked our secure records last year, sir. He gave up the identities of agents in the field, our own officers—they were murdered! And I couldn’t stop him.
” She held her palms open, her heart pounding, her body shaking.
“There’s blood on my hands, and I can’t just walk away without knowing he’s truly dead. ”
Three and a half years of chasing him. Too many innocent lives lost.
Enough was enough.
“But he kept you alive.”
Guilt wrapped like a tight ribbon around her spine, and it had her bowing forward, her eyes dropping closed.
“He knows your name. It was in the case file he hacked. Be thankful you’re alive, and if it was him in Romania, you got him. It’s finally over.”
“He kept me alive because it’s a game to him, and I’m just a player.
He knew I was close, and he wanted to make me suffer—to punish me by killing others and making me powerless to stop it.
” Emotion choked her words, but she forced herself to stand all the way upright and open her eyes.
“And this was probably just another game. What if we found him because he wanted us to?”
Dan stood and circled the desk to confront her. “I think you need a vacation.”
“What I need to do is talk to the team sent in after him. I need to know exactly what happened.”
He pocketed his hands. “It’s classified. POTUS can’t divulge more than I already told you.”
That was par for the course, but in this instance, she refused to take no for an answer. “Any clue who went?” she pushed. “His top-secret guys?” The president had dark money for such operations, and word was they were a group of Delta Force guys. Rumors were usually true in Washington.
“My guess is that they were in the private sector if you want to hear the truth. The mission was over and done while we were still waiting on approval to put together a team. I-I don’t know who could have done this that fast, not even Delta.
But it’s all the more reason POTUS would have wanted the operatives to get the hell out of Romania and fast after that explosion. ”
Her thoughts drifted back to Algiers, to her quick rescue.
Wyatt. Private contractor. Stellar kisser. Sinfully seductive accent.
It was a stretch, but was it him? His team?
“Take a vacation, and when you come back, I’ll see about putting you back out in the field.”
“Yeah, um, okay,” she mumbled, her mind now buzzing with questions and possibilities. “I, uh, have to go.” She whipped around and started for the door.
“Chandler,” he croaked out. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
She peered back at him. “Never, sir.”