Dutch, page 8
“Why did you tell me to go to her? Why didn’t you put up a fight?”
Malin leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “To what end, Dutch? Did you want me to throw away what little pride I had and beg you to pick me over her, knowing full well you wouldn’t?”
He shook his head and looked away from her. “I don’t know.”
“My telling you to go let you off the hook for something you were going to do no matter what. You didn’t even wait for me to get dressed.”
Dutch cringed. Looking back on it, it had been a chicken-shit-asshole move. “Earlier, when you went up to the bedroom and closed the door, I sat out here not knowing what to do. Maybe it was more that I didn’t know what to say. I’ve apologized to you, I’ve told you that I wish I could go back and do it all over again. I even wish sometimes that I’d never met Alegria, but the more I say those words, the less authentic they sound to me. I mean them with all my heart, but I can’t keep saying them, because there will come a time when I don’t mean them anymore.”
He waited for her to speak, but she didn’t, so he went on. “Tell me what to do, Malin. Tell me how to make it better or how to make it up to you. Tell me, and I’ll do whatever you want. The only thing I can’t do is keep saying the same things over again, knowing that it isn’t making any difference.”
“I don’t know what I want you to do.”
He nodded. “Let me ask you this, then. Is it worth it to you to keep trying? Whatever the outcome ends up being, and that includes us just being able to be friends again.”
“I don’t know.”
“Fair enough.”
“It is?”
“I guess it’s going to have to be.”
“Are we leaving the island?”
Dutch rested his elbow on the table like she had and peered into her eyes. “Do you want to?”
“No.”
“Then, no. We aren’t leaving.”
“How long can we stay?”
Dutch thought about it a long time before he answered, wanting to be sure he meant the first words that came to his mind when she asked the question. If he said the words out loud, he had to be sure he was ready to do what it took to make it happen, because once he made her the promise, he would fulfill it, no matter what.
“We can stay here forever, Malin, and I’m not being flip or funny or anything like that. We never have to leave.”
She studied him. “How?”
Dutch nodded. “I’ll make it happen.”
Her eyes remained fixed on his, perhaps waiting for a sign that he was bullshitting her.
“What do I have to do?” she asked.
“Not a thing.”
“Tell you about the mission?”
“I hope you do, but it isn’t a condition of staying here.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Fair enough,” he said for the second time.
—:—
“Stop this.” Malin didn’t like what Dutch was doing one bit. Whatever game he was playing wasn’t any fun for her. The sad thing was, she could stay here forever, even after only being here a short time, as long as Dutch was with her. His teasing her about it was cruel.
“Go to hell, Dutch,” she spat and moved her chair to leave, but he grabbed her arm.
“This isn’t a joke, Malin. I’m dead serious.”
“Why would you do this to me?”
“I’m not doing anything to you.”
“You’re playing with me, and I don’t understand why. Is it so I’ll admit I want to be with you? And then what, I have to prove it to you by trusting you?”
“Sit back down.”
She hesitated, but then did as he asked.
“I don’t want you thinking every time we disagree that we’re going to leave. I don’t want you thinking you have to leave at all. I want you to just be, Malin. Does that make sense to you? Just…be. No demands, no negotiations. Stop. Breathe. Be.”
“What would you do, buy the island?”
He nodded. “I told you I would retire if Doc asked me to take on another mission in the Middle East. Instead of throwing down that gauntlet, I’ll just retire now and make this my permanent home.”
She’d been making a joke. It never occurred to her that that would be what he’d do. “How would you be able to afford to buy an island? Never mind, it isn’t any of my business.”
“I’ll tell you how. I saved a hell of a lot of money. I worked damn hard, and never had a reason to spend it. I took my retirement from the Air Force, the money I got when I left the CIA, and what I’ve made since I became a K19 partner, and invested it. The only significant thing I used the money for was to buy a house in Newport News. With all the work I did to it, it’s valued at three times the amount I paid for it. I don’t have to do a damn thing for the rest of my life if I don’t want to.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you asked.”
“And then I said it wasn’t my business.”
“There isn’t anything I’m not willing to share with you, Malin. If you have a question, ask it.”
“I only have one question for you.”
“Go ahead. Ask.”
“Do you still love her?”
9
“I do. I always will,” he answered, looking into Malin’s eyes. “But not romantically—as a friend. If anything positive came out of the time I spent with her, it’s that I realized I never loved Alegria the way I thought I did. When I met her, I was a kid. I was infatuated, lusted after her, but it wasn’t her I was in love with; it was the idea of her. Fantasy and reality were very different.”
“I don’t want you to buy the island, Dutch.”
He nodded, surprised that her saying so hurt a little.
“Maybe someday, but not now. Not for me.”
“I understand.” He tried not to hang his head. She was telling him she didn’t want him, and that was okay.
“I don’t think you do.”
“No? Enlighten me, then.”
She laughed. “We’ve only been here three days.”
“It’s the perfect pretend place to live, though, isn’t it?”
She smiled. “It is. Maybe someday it could be the perfect real place to live.”
“I’d really like that, Malin.”
“I want to talk business, Dutch.”
“Go ahead.” He held his breath, not sure he wanted to know what she was about to say.
“I’d like you to read the brief, and if there’s anything in it you think I should know, I want you to tell me.”
“I can do that.”
“Now, Dutch.”
He smiled and ran up two flights of stairs to the bedroom where he’d put his laptop. It had been so long since he’d looked at it, he didn’t know if it still had a charge. Just in case, he pulled the cord out of his bag too. As he turned to go back down to the kitchen, he saw Malin’s angel ornament sitting on the nightstand. He picked it up and took it with him.
“Are you sure you don’t want to read it?” he asked, setting the ornament on the counter in front of her.
“Maybe I will. It depends on what you think when you’re finished.” Malin picked up the angel and dangled it from her finger.
—:—
She would know, just by the look on his face when he read it, whether the brief contained anything significant. She doubted it did, but with the CIA, one could never be sure how much they knew and didn’t know.
The chime of the computer starting up signaled, and Dutch waited. She watched as he typed in his credentials, and then waited while he pulled up his email, downloaded the brief, and read it.
When he was finished, he looked over at her. “You were investigating Middle Eastern terrorist cells.”
Malin nodded. “Initially.”
Dutch waited, but there was no doubt he was holding back questions. “For what purpose initially?”
“I received an alert that a significant amount of money had come into the US and went directly into a Super PAC. This happened right before the election.”
“When you say ‘right before,’ how close to the election are we talking?”
“Less than two weeks.”
“By the time it had to be reported, the election was over.”
“Exactly.”
“Then, what happened?”
“I received another alert that, close to the same amount moved out, transferred to a known terrorist organization, leading us to believe that there was a significant strike planned on US soil.”
“Ghafor?”
“He was the primary suspect.” The Islamic State was definitely in the top three of terrorist organizations that posed the biggest threats to the United States.
Dutch nodded, clearly trying to think this through; however, it would take him miles of thought before he got to the place where Malin was, if he ever got there at all.
“Listen, I…uh…am I allowed to keep asking questions?”
Malin covered her smile and did her best not to laugh. Dutch Miller was one of the toughest men she knew, and here he was, walking on eggshells for her.
“Why don’t I start at the beginning?”
“Before you begin, can I get something else to eat?”
As hard as she tried, Malin couldn’t contain her laugh. “Of course.”
“You think it’s funny, but I’m literally starving over here. Aren’t you hungry?”
She kept laughing. “You made me breakfast.”
“How can you exist on an egg-white omelet and toast? I was hungrier after we finished eating than before.”
“I get it, Dutch,” she said, squeezing his shoulder and walking into the kitchen. “Is there any of Sofia’s food left?”
“I think that’s why I’m so hungry. I don’t think I’ve eaten a quarter of it.”
“You need to keep your strength up.”
Dutch looked up from his computer and smiled. “I do?”
Malin laughed again.
“What?”
She walked around the kitchen’s island and stood in front of him. “Sometimes you’re like a little boy.”
He put his hand on her nape. “And sometimes I’m not.” He leaned forward and kissed her. When his tongue pushed through her lips, Malin put her arms around his neck and kissed him back, harder.
“Oh, God,” he groaned, looking up at the ceiling.
“What?” she asked with wide eyes.
“I’m so hungry, and yet I want you so bad.”
“Let’s eat first.”
“But then we need to talk too.”
“Are you whining?”
Dutch stuck his lower lip out. “I am so whining.”
—:—
When Malin went back around the island to continue heating up food, Dutch’s phone pinged. He didn’t want to look, but he knew he had to.
Malin Kilbourne is on the agency’s alert list, said the text from Doc.
“Fuck,” Dutch muttered, wishing it had taken them a few more days to get to this point.
When he looked up, Malin was studying him.
“They’re actively looking for you.”
She nodded. “What do you know about Ghafor’s whereabouts?”
“I’ll ask.” He sent Doc a message and then set the phone down. “I think we need to move talking up to a higher priority.”
Ghafor’s 20’s an undisclosed location.
“Ghafor is still with Striker and whoever else is on the team K19 put together.”
Malin nodded. “Is the agency looking for him?”
Again, Dutch sent Doc a text. “Affirmative,” he told her a few seconds later.
“So, both of us.” Malin tapped her cheek with her fingertip. “Who else is with them?”
Dutch continued going back and forth with Doc, either confirming or answering the questions Malin fired at him.
“Ask who else specifically, please.”
“Monk…shit.”
“Who else?”
“Ranger and Diesel.”
Instead of freaking out or even looking mildly concerned, Malin just nodded.
“You wanna fill me in on what your reaction means?”
“They were covering Somalia.”
“They went in when we did to get Tackle and Halo.”
“On the mission with you and Striker.”
Dutch nodded.
“We need to find out where they’re holding Ghafor.”
“No way in hell,” Dutch boomed, anticipating what she was about to say. “We are not going wherever they are.”
“Then Doc needs to figure out a way to pull Striker out of there.”
“Why?” Maybe it was the lack of food, but Dutch was having a damn hard time following Malin’s train of thought.
“Because Striker might be in on what I’ve been investigating.”
He nodded. “We need to talk to Doc.”
Malin waited while Dutch sent the message.
“Awesome,” he murmured, looking at his phone. “He said to give him fifteen.”
Malin set a plate in front of him. “Eat up, Miller. We have a lot of work to do.” She drummed her fingers on her chin. “Tell Doc we need an hour.”
As momentarily hopeful as Dutch was, it only took him an instant to realize she wanted to talk to him about her mission, and that was the only reason they needed more time.
She was grinning again, which meant she knew exactly where his mind had first gone.
“May I?” she asked, motioning to his computer.
He hesitated and that surprised him. Hadn’t he been lecturing Malin about her lack of trust in him? Now he was contemplating whether or not to let her use his computer. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her what she was going to do, and instead, he bit it and spun the laptop around.
“That looked like it was painful,” she teased.
“Swallowing some of my own medicine.”
By the time he’d finished eating, Malin had several windows open on his computer. While she did that, Dutch processed through everything Striker had done and said in Islamabad.
She met Dutch’s gaze. “We’re going to start at the beginning.”
“Let’s do this,” he said.
“As I said, I started out tracking money that came into the Super PAC. At first, I thought whoever brought it in had someone on the inside. Maybe even with Treasury, but Ed Montgomery got wind of what I was working on and assigned me the mission to infiltrate the Islamic State.”
Dutch recognized the name. Ed Montgomery was a career agent, old-school type. He should’ve retired long ago, but the guy kept moving up the ladder, albeit damn slowly. Last he’d heard, Monty was Deputy Director of Congressional Affairs for the CIA. Assigning Malin the mission he did, smelled a lot like he’d been setting her up for a hit.
“Monty is way above your handler, Copeland.”
Malin nodded.
“Who was between them?”
“First Striker, and then after he left, McTiernan took his job. Paul Stevens was their boss.”
“Stevens. Sounds familiar.”
“Deputy director of NCS.”
“Not under Montgomery.”
“Nope. Stevens works directly for Flatley.”
“What was Monty doing, poking around in National Clandestine Service business? Not to mention, assigning you to a mission. It’s way out of his lane.”
Malin shrugged. “Interesting you use those words. That was the warning I got. To stay in my lane.”
“From Montgomery directly?”
Malin shook her head. “The warning was anonymous.”
“You got suspicious.”
“Quietly so. It was definitely a mystery.”
“What led you to Ghafor?”
“I found something that led me to believe the money was going back out to him.”
“What?”
Malin opened up another window on Dutch’s computer. It was only a screenshot, but it clearly showed three transfers totaling the same amount as the incoming money. All were under the threshold that would raise red flags.
“Wait a minute. You said you received an alert about the money going into the Super PAC.”
“That’s right.”
“And then you said you found something that led you to believe the money went out to Ghafor, but really you received something leading you to believe it had.”
Malin nodded.
“You got both tips from the same person. Who?”
“Someone at DHS.”
“Someone you trust?”
“Implicitly.”
“Will you tell me who it is?”
Malin shook her head.
Dutch leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “In from God knows who, and then right back out to the Islamic State.”
Malin nodded.
“Talk to me about how all this went from following this money to infiltrating Ghafor’s organization.”
“They were essentially one and the same, except as I said, I was warned away from the money. The goal was always to bring the Islamic State down by identifying their weaknesses.”
“Via infiltration as a trainer for female recruits?”
“That’s right.”
“So, your stated mission allowed you to mount a different one of your own.”
Malin nodded.
“Where is your Homeland Security contact based?”
“Virginia.”
“High-ranking?”
Malin nodded a second time.
“Male or female?”
She scrunched her eyes. “What difference does that make?”
“Male, then.”
“Dutch?”
“Is it someone you’ve had a relationship with in the past?”
Malin put her hands on her hips. “What the hell?”
“I’m a jealous SOB, baby. It’s not something I’ll ever apologize for.”
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
“Are the questions you asked me about my DHS contact relevant to anything other than your Neanderthal tendencies?”
“Nope.”
Dutch waited to see if Malin would tell him more about her mission, or if she was done talking.
“You must have some kind of theory,” he said.
Malin nodded with a faraway look in her eyes.
