He eased up. “It’s ridiculous we have to say that inside this building.”

  Kane had to agree. He looked at Tong. “Everything set?”

  She nodded. “It took some convincing, but once I received that recording from Chris, the Director came onside. Do we know how long he’s been working for the Russians?”

  Kane shook his head. “One thing at a time. I want you to stay here. His wife is downstairs clearing security and should be here any minute. Bring her to the outer office so she can take the boy.”

  “Consider it done.”

  “Good.”

  The guards at the end of the hallway opened the door, one of them holding out a hand, blocking Echo Team.

  “I’m sorry, but you can’t come through.”

  Tanner looked to Kane for instructions.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine from here.” He turned his gaze to the guards, still speaking to Tanner. “But stay in the hall. If you hear anything, you have my permission to shoot open this door and take whatever action you deem necessary.”

  The guard who had spoken bristled, but wisely held his tongue.

  “Yes, sir,” said Tanner, making a show of the submachine gun she had strapped to her chest. Kane stepped through the door with Sherrie, the still sobbing Leonard, and the four guards. The startled receptionist reached for her phone and Kane stabbed a finger toward her.

  “Step away from your desk!”

  She raised her hands hesitantly, but didn’t move away. Kane directed Sherrie toward the woman with a wave of his finger. “Deal with her, and make a note for the record of her actions. We’ll decide later if she knew what was going on all along.”

  Sherrie drew her weapon, aiming it at the floor as she approached. The receptionist scurried out of her chair and into the far corner of the room.

  Kane looked at the others. “Remember, this is a reunion between this boy and his grandfather. Everyone stays calm. Understood?”

  Everyone nodded.

  Kane gently knocked on the door, then indicated with a tilt of his head for Sherrie to open it. She did, her weapon still drawn. Two guards followed her in, then Kane stepped inside with the grandson. Wiltshire had already risen from his chair, anger on his face.

  “What the hell’s the meaning of—”

  “Grandpa!”

  Kane put the little boy down and he bolted toward Wiltshire, shock and joy written on the man’s face. He picked his grandson up in his arms and hugged him hard. His eyes glistening, he turned to face Kane and the others.

  “What’s going on here? How did you know?” he asked, his voice cracking.

  Kane stared at him, his eyes burrowing into the Russian mole. “We know everything. Your wife will be here shortly to take the boy.”

  Wiltshire sighed with relief, his shoulders sagging as he closed his eyes and held his grandson. “Thank God it’s over. Is my wife okay?”

  “Yes, sir. Your wife and house staff are safe.”

  There was a knock at the door and Sherrie opened it. There was a brief whispered conversation, then she closed the door. “The wife is here.”

  Kane turned to Wiltshire. “Sir, I’m going to trust you to hand your grandson over to your wife. You’re not allowed to touch her or say anything to her. Understood?”

  Wiltshire’s eyes narrowed. “Why? She’s not involved in any of this. She’s a victim.”

  “Either you agree, or I hand over your grandson, and you don’t see your wife.”

  Wiltshire frowned but gave a single nod. “Fine.”

  Kane stepped back and Sherrie opened the door. Wiltshire rounded his desk as his wife stepped into the office, bursting into tears and rushing toward her family.

  “Thank God, you’re all right,” he cried, and Kane took a step between them.

  “Remember the agreement. Nobody says anything to anyone.”

  Wiltshire nodded then handed over his grandson. His wife leaned in to give him a kiss, and he took a step back, shaking his head. More tears erupted from her and their grandson, as he sensed the mood. Sherrie urged them out of the room with a gentle hand on the wife’s back, stepping outside for a moment.

  “Make sure they’re secure,” she said. “No communications with anyone, but get them anything they need. They’re victims, not suspects.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said one of the guards. Sherrie closed the door and Kane stepped forward, his hand darting out and gripping Wiltshire by the throat. He squeezed and pushed up until the man was on his toes. Wiltshire gasped for breath, his face turning red as his hands flailed at Kane’s iron grip.

  “You’re responsible for the death of at least ten good people. You’re going to tell me everything, and you’re going to tell it to me now, or I promise you, your grandson is never going to see you alive again. Understood?”

  “Yes,” gasped the man.

  Kane squeezed a little harder for effect. “Tell me everything you know.” He released his grip and Wiltshire dropped back to the ground, noisily gulping in deep breaths as the red in his face slowly eased.

  “What do you want to know?” he finally managed.

  “Who do you work for?”

  “I work for the CIA.”

  Kane gut-punched him and the man doubled over in agony. “Give me another smartass answer like that, and any mercy I was going to show you is gone.”

  Wiltshire held up a hand, still bent over. “No, you don’t understand. I don’t work for these people. They’ve been blackmailing me.”

  Kane stepped back. “For how long?”

  “Two years.”

  He suppressed the horror at how much information the bastard could have passed on, at the damage he could have done. “Who are they?”

  “They never said who they were, but they’re definitely Russian. I’m sure of it.”

  “Then you told them about the Chief’s meeting with Thorn?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did they ask you about it, or did you approach them?”

  “I approached them. My instructions were that if I came across any intel that might affect Russia or the Russian President, I was to immediately make contact, rather than wait for my weekly transmission.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  Wiltshire returned to his chair, collapsing into it. “I told them who was going to be at the meeting, where and when, and the little I knew about it, which was that it was an urgent meeting dealing with a former double agent from the Cold War era. I didn’t know anything about Red Eagle at that point.”

  “So, you informed them. Then what?”

  “They hit the meeting, then when their primary escape plan was foiled, they contacted me and gave me orders to hamper the investigation. I refused. I said I wasn’t going to work for them anymore, not after killing so many Americans. That’s when I got a phone call, only minutes later. It was my wife telling me men had come into the house and were holding her and our grandson at gunpoint. After that, I had no choice, I had to do whatever they asked.”

  “Leading to the death of more Americans,” spat Sherrie.

  Wiltshire’s chin sank into his chest. “I know, and I’ll never forgive myself for it, but I had to save my family.”

  “And what about the families of all those dead agents?” growled Sherrie.

  Kane held up a hand, silencing her. “Where did they take Thorn?”

  Wiltshire shook his head. “I have no idea. They don’t tell me anything.”

  “How do you communicate with them?”

  “They gave me a burner phone. I keep it in the car.”

  “Is it there now?”

  “Yes, in the glove compartment.”

  Kane jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Sherrie. “Give her your keys and tell her where you’re parked.”

  Wiltshire fished his keys out of his pocket and handed them over. “It’s downstairs. Level two. A black Lincoln Navigator.”

  Sherrie immediately left the room.

  “When are they expecting to hear from you next?”

  “The next scheduled communication isn’t for several days.”

  “Then how do you know if they want to reach you outside of the scheduled date?”

  “They’ll call the phone. When I see a missed call, my instructions are to call them as soon as it’s safe to do so. You have to understand, this is the most active it’s ever been. I’ve never had more than weekly contact with them, and it was almost always to report there was nothing they needed to know about. I tried to keep everything to a minimum. I didn’t want to be doing this, this wasn’t my choice.”

  “What did they have on you?”

  Wiltshire sighed. “Three years ago, I had a hernia operation and became addicted to Percocet. The doctor wouldn’t renew my prescription, so I got some elsewhere through someone my former gardener knew. I struggled with it for almost a year, and I guess my supplier recognized who I was and put the information out on the Dark Web. The Russians made a deal for my name, and that’s when they threatened my career and my family. I still refused to cooperate, but they killed my daughter and son-in-law, then threatened to kill the rest of my family if I didn’t agree. I had no choice, and I wasn’t thinking straight because of the drugs. I immediately quit. Cold turkey. It was torture, but I quit.” He grabbed at his hair, tugging at it in anguish. “But it was too late. They had me. They had already proven what they were willing to do to force me to cooperate, and I couldn’t risk the rest of my family.”

  Kane regarded the man for a moment, feeling for him, though the correct thing to do would have been to use the CIA’s assets to secure his family until the situation could be resolved, quietly putting word out to the Russians that should anything else happen, their own families would become targets. But instead, Wiltshire hadn’t done the right thing, perhaps because he wasn’t thinking clearly due to the drugs, or perhaps because he didn’t want to lose his job due to the fact he was now compromised by his addiction. He could never be trusted with a security clearance again.

  Kane leaned his shoulder against the wall, folding his arms. “So, you forced Chris to resign, you ordered Sonya to stop investigating who the hostiles were, you tried to have me and Agent White killed, all in an attempt to follow through on their orders?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

  Wiltshire stared at the floor for a moment before returning his gaze to Kane. “Only this. These people will stop at nothing to get their money back. It’s not Russia versus America. This is personal. And one thing that everybody seems to be forgetting in this entire situation, is that Thorn doesn’t just know who Red Eagle is. She knows who you are, and who dozens of our agents and assets in the region are. If they get her to talk, a hell of a lot more than ten people are going to die.”

  45 |

  Operations Center 2, CIA Headquarters Langley, Virginia

  Leroux stood outside the door of Operations Center 2, where the bulk of his team was working. And it was his team. Director McQuay had figuratively torn up his resignation email as soon as she had been informed of everything going on. Wiltshire was in custody, experts now interrogating him. Tong had contacted him with the good news, with instructions to report back for duty. He and Tommy had shut down Kane’s operations center with the help of Fang, their mole hunt successful. Kane and Sherrie were already in the air, well on their way to Helsinki, and Delta was nearing Estonia.

  And the hostiles they had identified were already in St. Petersburg, his team tracking them as best they could.

  Tong had instructed him to come to Operations Center 2, and he had no doubt it was so everyone could welcome him back as a team. He opened the door and stepped into the state-of-the-art room, a round of cheers and applause greeting him. Tong rushed forward and gave him a hug, and he returned it as tears rolled down both their cheeks. He let her go and exchanged more handshakes and hugs with the rest of the team, their jubilation at his return unquestionable.

  Tong held up a hand, quieting them all. “I’m going to try not to take everyone’s relief at Chris being back in charge personally, but”—she tapped her chest, feigning anguish—“I can’t help but feel a little hurt.”

  Everyone laughed and she flashed a grin.

  “Now, I happily hand the reins back to Chris!”

  Leroux smiled at her. “Thank you, Sonya. I have no doubt you did every bit as good a job as I could have, but I’m not going to lie and say I’m not happy to be back. Though it was only for half a day, it was the longest damned half a day in my life. Now, there’ll be plenty of time for celebrating once this op is finished. We’ll hit Earl’s, and the beers are on me.” A round of cheers went up, especially from Child. Leroux stabbed a finger at him with a smile. “And keep Randy away from the shots. I’m on a public servant’s salary.”

  Child blushed. “You’re going to deny me my Sambuca?”

  “Absolutely.” Leroux smacked his hands together, becoming serious. “Okay, everyone, let’s get back to work. We’re still in the middle of an op.”

  His team returned to their stations and Leroux headed out the door, followed by Tong, Child, and Therrien. They headed to the end of the long corridor buried deep underneath CIA headquarters, and entered Operations Center 3. Leroux sighed as he stood in the doorway.

  “Good to be back?” asked Tong.

  “You have no idea. I honestly thought I’d never see this place again.”

  Therrien slapped him on the back as he headed for his station. “Good to have you back, boss.”

  Leroux stood behind his station then sat, staring at the darkened displays that sprang to life as his team logged in, the classified feeds once again made visible. He fit his headset into place and leaned back, taking it all in as the scrambled pieces of his life reassembled.

  He turned to face the others. “Now that we don’t have Wiltshire sabotaging our every move, let’s see if we can get Kane the information he needs to save Thorn before it’s too late. Wiltshire might be a traitor, but he was right about one thing.”

  “What’s that?” asked Child.

  “She doesn’t just know who Red Eagle is, she knows who dozens of our agents are. We need to find her before they break her.”

  46 |

  Istanbul, Turkey Undisclosed Date

  Thorn sat on the patio of a café, sipping her Turkish coffee and swallowing it with a satisfied sigh. The only place you could get good a good cup was in Istanbul. She had tried it the world over, and it was never the same. She wasn’t sure why, but she had a feeling it wasn’t just the taste of the brew itself. It was the atmosphere, it was the aromas, the smells, the sounds of Turkey that enveloped her as she indulged. It all contributed to the experience, and that’s what it was. It wasn’t just drinking a cup of coffee, it was experiencing a cup of coffee, and that could never be replicated anywhere else in the world but here on the streets of Istanbul, where the Western world of Europe met the Eastern world of Asia.

  Once known as Constantinople, the capital of the Byzantine Empire, it had been a powerful city, the capital of the eastern half of the Roman Empire after its split, and outlasting the collapse of Rome by a thousand years. The history here was always something she enjoyed, though she rarely had time to indulge. The spires of the Blue Mosque weren’t far from here, yet she had never been inside.

  Over the past 30 years, her career had shifted dramatically. She was once an agent on the front lines, but now was a handler. She had aged out of what she had once thrived on. Women in their fifties weren’t on the front lines anymore, nor were the men, but you didn’t sit that much experience behind a desk, or retire it off on an early pension.

  You utilized it in support roles, like what she now did.

  While on a mission, the person in an agent’s ear was somebody back at Langley or some other safe haven, directing them whenever possible. But it was the handler who helped decide which assets to use on that mission, because she knew the strengths and weaknesses of the individual agents under her command. If they had something go unreported on their last mission that still had them shaken, she was the one they confided in, because she was there to take care of them and didn’t give a shit what Langley thought. Her job wasn’t to try and cover her ass when things went wrong, her job was to make sure her agents survived and thrived. And to do that, they had to trust her, and she them. And once they had established trust, once they had that bond, she found they would tell her everything. It made her feel closer to them than she could have possibly imagined when she first started this new phase of her career.

  Some of her agents had been with her for ten or twenty years. She had never settled down, she had never had children, but in a way, she had. These agents were her children, they were her babies. Whenever she lost one, which was rare, it broke her heart, which was why she worked so hard at her job and protected them as best she could, as if she was their own mother.

  And today, she was having a new child. Langley had assigned her a new agent. Top of his class, former Delta Force, someone the Agency had been trying to recruit for years. He was just that good, and now it was her job to make him even better, and to watch over him until the day one of them died, or one of them managed to live long enough to retire.

  But he was late.

  She checked her watch again. Ten minutes late. She frowned, unimpressed.

  A waiter walked up to her. “Ma’am, I have a phone call for you.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “For me? But you don’t even know who I am.”

  “He described you and where you were sitting, ma’am. The call is for you. You can take it inside.”

  She frowned, decades of experience telling her something was wrong. She flicked her fingers at the man. “Tell him to call me at my hotel in an hour.”

  “Which hotel are you staying at, ma’am?”

  “If he knows where I’m having coffee, then he knows where I’m staying.”

 

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