Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
CIA training facility
Harvey Point, North Carolina
That same day . . .
Lena kept her pistol up and at the ready. Her legs carried her with fluid ease. The boots on her feet were silent in their purposeful steps as she kept her eyes on the shadowed hallway before her.
The sound of her own heartbeat made its presence known. Its rhythmical thumps filled her ears as she moved. Just a few more steps to go and she’d finally have her man.
Come out, come out, wherever you are.
She approached with caution, adjusting the grip on her weapon before coming to a complete stop. Her breaths came and went at a slow and steady pace as Lena willed herself to remain clear-headed.
At the same time, a shuffling sound came from somewhere close, just around the corner. It was so slight, she almost missed it, but luckily, Lena wasn’t the type to miss much of anything . . . ever.
A slow smirk began to grow from the corners of her lips.
Here we go.
She drew in a deep breath in preparation of what came next. Counting down from five, Lena took a step forward when she got to one. Her Glock 19 led the way as she rounded the corner with her arms stretched tautly in front of her.
With her target in sight, she didn’t hesitate when pulling the trigger. There was no loud bang or deafening boom. Only the telltale click, letting her know the gun’s chamber had been left empty.
The man with his back to her froze. His spine became stiff the moment he realized he was no longer alone.
Lena waited, watching her target closely for any hint of movement he was about to make. After a few tense seconds, the man before her released the tight grip on his rifle.
The weapon hung loosely from the straps attached to his vest as he slowly raised both hands into the air.
“Bang, bang, Officer Diaz.” She lowered the empty weapon down to her side. “Do you know what that means?”
“Yes, ma’am. It means I’m dead.”
“That’s right.” Lena holstered the training pistol and sighed. “And if you’re dead, what happens to your teammate? You know, the guy whose six you’re supposed to be watching?”
The embarrassed trainee turned around, the expression on his face giving away the anger he felt at himself. “He’s left open and vulnerable.”
Her brow arched high with a knowing stare. “Mmm hmm. And what happens when we’re left vulnerable while out in the field?”
“We die.”
“That’s right, Mr. Diaz. We die.” Lena gave a pointed nod. A breath later, she lifted her chin with a shouted, “Let’s go through it again!”
With near-simultaneous moves, both she and her trainee removed their night vision goggles seconds before the overhead lights powered on.
“Sorry, Director Price.”
The young man’s apology was a mumble that came with a look of complete chagrin.
“Don’t be sorry, Diaz. Do better. Not only for your teammates, but for yourself.”
“It was a mistake I won’t make again.” A rumbled promise.
“Good. These training exercises are designed so we can learn from our mistakes in a safe place, rather than in the middle of a mission.” Because by then, it would be too late. “Set it back up, boys!” Lena hollered out to make sure those participating had heard her previous order.
She spun around with the intention of heading back in the direction she’d come from when someone called out her name from somewhere up above.
“Director Price!”
“Yeah?” Lena stopped mid-stride and looked up. She used a hand to shield her eyes from the blinding lights.
The agent in charge of the upcoming mission stared down at her from over the upper level’s metal railing. “Phone call. You can take it in my office.”
“Can you take a message?”
His expression was unreadable as he gave a slow shake of his head. “Pretty sure you’re going to want to take this one.”
Okaaaay . . .
Lena blew out a breath, turning to the agent she’d “killed” a moment ago. “Tell your team to take five.”
“Copy that.” Diaz dipped his chin before heading out to round up the rest of his assigned team.
Lena followed him before taking a short-cut through another section of the closed course, walking swiftly toward the nearest exit. Minutes later, she was inside her colleague’s upstairs office. She went straight to the man’s desk and picked up the black receiver, which had been left off its cradle.
“This is Director Price.”
“Hey, Lena.”
Her brows dipped as recognition of the man’s voice sank in. “Roger? Is that you?”
Roger Wilcox, her former boss and mentor, had taught her everything she knew about being Director of Operations within the CIA.
“Long time no chat,” her former boss quipped. “What’s it been, two . . . three years?”
“Almost four.” Four years next month, to be exact. “How’s retirement treating you?”
The man on the phone let out a deep chuckle. “Don’t tell my wife, but I’m bored out of my fucking mind.”
Lena smiled. “You could always come back, you know?”
“Are you kidding?” He chuckled. “My wife would kill me if I even considered it.”
A short pause ensued, persuading her to get to the point of her old friend’s call.
“What’s up, Rog? Must be pretty important for you to track me down here.”
After a quick clearing of his throat, Roger shared, “There’s been a development. One that, I’m sorry to say, involves us both.”
“What kind of development?” Lena helped herself to the high-back, leather-bound chair. A bad feeling began to settle deep within her gut.
“Alexei Kozlova has resurfaced.”
The breath in her lungs escaped past her lips in a hard, dizzying rush. Kozlova was an unwelcome blast from her past. The only target of hers to have ever successfully escaped.
“It’s been almost thirty years.” Lena swallowed.
“Facial rec picked him up during a sat scan for a current op. He’s older, and his hair is a lot grayer, but it’s him.”
“You’re sure?”
She had to be sure.
“I’ve seen the image myself.”
Lena sat up straight, pushing her whirling thoughts aside and clearing her throat. “Okay, so let’s talk next steps. Obviously, we need to put a team together. There’s a select group of agents within my department who are more than qualified to take on this kind of mission, and I—”
“That’s actually not why I called.”
At first, Roger’s words didn’t register because her mind was too busy racing through the impromptu plan.
“They’re solid agents,” she went on. “I trust them to get the job done. And with me in the lead, I know we can finally bring the SOB to justice.”
“Lena, wait. There’s more.”
She still didn’t seem to hear a word he was saying.
“I’ll have to call in a replacement for me to take over the training here, of course,” Lena rambled off the developing plan in a rush.
“But that shouldn’t be a problem. I can be in the air and on my way to Langley within a couple of hours, tops.
In the meantime, I’ll put the members of the new task force on notice so they can already be on-site when I get there, and then—
“Dammit, Lena, I need you to shut up and listen!”
Roger’s commanding tone made every muscle in her body tense.
“Okay.” She blinked. “I’m listening.”
“This isn’t about you putting together a new task force. That’s not . . .” Her former boss paused. “That’s not the reason I called.”
“Then why—”
“He’s coming after you, Lena.”
She physically recoiled at the news. “Kozlova is coming after me?”
“Not just you. Everyone who was on the ground in Syria.”
“Everyone?” Her heart kicked against the inside of her ribs. “How do you know?”
“Because Calhoun and Sanchez are already dead.”
Shock reverberated throughout Lena’s entire system. “Caleb and Sabrina? They’re both . . .” Lena trailed with an audible swallow. “And this has been confirmed?”
You know it has. Otherwise Roger never would’ve called.
“The public story is Caleb died in a late-night motorcycle accident on a secluded road.”
“And Sabrina?”
“She had a sudden medical emergency due to an undiagnosed birth defect of the heart.”
The man said the words as if he was reading them from a script.
Probably because he is.
“What did he do to them, Roger?”
“The agency’s M.E. and I go way back, and he owed me one, so he was my first call.”
“And?”
“He said both died under suspicious circumstances, but without a positive tox screen or definitive wounds, the manner of their deaths was left inconclusive.”
Lena closed her eyes and let her head drop between her shoulders. Her voice was barely a whisper as she asked, “Where’s Kozlova now?”
“From what I was told, the agency doesn’t have a bead on his exact location yet. But they’re working on it.”
“They?” Her brows dipped low as more questions began to form.
“And what do you mean, from what you were told? How did you find out about any of this, anyway?” She began to ramble.
“And why is the former Director of Operations reading me in rather than Crain himself? Or at least someone who’s still actively on the CIA’s payroll, for crying out loud. I mean—”
“Take a beat, Price.” Roger switched to sounding much more like he had when he was still her boss. “Kurt agreed to let me be the one to call you as a favor. I know how personal that op was for you.”
“It was a job.”
“It was also your first time serving as a unit’s lead field officer. And don’t even try to argue the fact that you took Kozlova’s escape personally, because I was there, remember?”
Roger’s boots weren’t literally on the ground in Syria, but Lena understood what he meant. He’d been around for the aftermath. Throughout her borderline crazed, months-long obsession in her search to find the CIA target who’d gotten away.
“You’re right. I did take that failure personally. Just like I own Sabrina’s and Caleb’s deaths.”
“They were murdered by a sadistic man with nothing but evil in his soul, Lena. Not a single part of that is on you.”
It was a kind thing to say, but she knew better. If Kozlova hadn’t gotten away back then, her former teammates would still be alive today.
“You never told me where he is.”
“Intel puts him entering the U.S. two days before Caleb was killed. According to chatter, there’s a list. Not sure how he got your names, but from what Director Crain said, Kozlova’s making his way through the list in record time.”
“What’s the plan?” She shot to her feet. “Where do we go from here?”
“The only plan is for you to get yourself someplace safe and hole up until you’re in the clear.”
Lena stiffened. “I’m sorry; did you just say you want me to hide?”
“I want you to stay alive.”
Oh, she had no intentions of dying anytime soon. If for no other reason than her refusal to give Kozlova the satisfaction.
“I can take care of myself, but I do need to warn the others.”
“How about we divide and conquer?” Roger offered to help.
Her pulse spiked. “I’ll contact Owens and read him in, and you can take Pascal.”
There was a slight pause before her former boss returned with a hint of humor in his tone. “I thought it might go that way.”
“What way?”
“You know what? Never mind. Crain gave me both men’s contact information. I’ll text you Owens’ number.”
“I’ve got it.”
“Current?”
“We reconnected recently,” Lena explained. “Our paths crossed unexpectedly, while I was heading up another op.”
“The Crawford case,” Roger rumbled with recognition.
Gordan Crawford was a former sex trafficking sicko who’d been high on the CIA’s list. Former because the man was dead and, with any luck, burning in Hell.
“I arrived in Charlotte as he and his team were heading out for the rescue. It was a quick reunion, but once the situation with Crawford was neutralized, we swapped numbers with the usual promise to keep in touch.”
“And have you? Kept in touch, that is?”
“There were a couple of texts exchanged shortly after, but you know how it is. We’re both busy with our jobs, and . . .” She let her voice trail. “You remember those days, right?”
Roger blew out a breath. “Oh, yeah. I remember. Just when you think you’ve found a moment of peace—”
“Some asshole from the past puts a target on you and your old teammates’ backs.”
A deep, half-humored chuckle came through the phone. “Sounds about right.”
The half-smile that had been on Lena’s face fell as she thought about Rafe and all he and his own team had been through. “I’ll contact Owens and fill him in.”
“And I’ll tell Damien to watch his back. The powers that be are on this, but you all need to lay low until the prick’s caught.”
“Thanks, Roger. We’ll talk soon.”
Lena ended the call by placing the phone’s receiver into its cradle. And as she started to plan, she knew she didn’t just want Kozlova caught. After all this time, after what he did to her friends—
I want the bastard dead.