Spy Games (Tarnished Heroes #1)(42)
“Had to. We now share operational control. I should be in contact with my girl before the day is over.”
“That’s such a relief to hear.” Mitch pushed a hand through his hair. Damn, but that was the last thing he wanted her to say.
“What about your man? Did they…?”
“Nothing yet.” He ducked his head, the better to mask his worry as grief.
“I’m so sorry, Mitch. It’s hard to lose ’em that way.” Irene shook her head, as if she were some sort of guardian angel.
The leak had to be her.
The freelance handlers were mercenary. She was the type to wring her asset dry, then shoot them. After all, how many times did they get tasked with putting their assets down? Some of those guys were too dangerous to let loose without the right kind of mission. With the war in the Middle East at least attempting to wind down, they were culling the flock, so to speak.
Mitch didn’t buy the personal time-off bullshit for a minute. She’d been gone at the right times, her access was complete, it just made sense. Charlie was dead because of Irene, and Mitch would prove it.
“Well, let me know if you hear anything.” He smiled, but it was all for show. Being polite.
“You wouldn’t know anything about the medical report the camp staff filed on my girl, would you?” Irene’s voice made chills go up Mitch’s spine.
“Uh, yeah, they did field surgery to remove her tracking device.”
“Hmm.”
Mitch watched her face. Had she known about that? If she was the mole, she’d have to. But all she did was frown, as if she didn’t like that particular bit of information.
It was Irene.
It had to be.
Chapter Ten
“We need to call…someone.” Sarah paced the length of the surveillance suite. It was that or huddle on the bed, trembling. She was tired of feeling powerless and afraid.
The Chinese had split off, once more discussing interoffice politics and drama that was nothing more than soap opera material.
“Who should we call?” Rand asked.
“Hector? Maybe Irene is back or answering or, God, something.”
“What will they do?”
“Get everyone out. Bring them home.”
“Some of the operatives embedded in Asia are in so deep that if they try to get out, they’ll be killed.”
“Okay, then those stay, but the rest can come home, right?”
“And what about the relationships they’ve spent so long creating?”
“People have emergencies all the time.”
“Sarah—”
“What? I just don’t want anyone else to die because of me. Because I screwed up.” She jabbed her finger at her sternum, keeping her tone low. As easily as they were spying on their neighbors they, too, could be spied on.
Rand stood, stretching to his full height, towering over her. “Come here,” he whispered.
She didn’t want a hug, she wanted solutions. But a hug wasn’t all that bad, either.
He tugged her in close, his chin resting on top of her head, his heartbeat thudding against her ear.
“Doing what we do, we can’t panic. People can’t be extracted without losing a lot of headway. A move like that could set us back a decade in intelligence work. Yeah, if they figure out a way to open the case then a lot of people will die. We’re gambling with a lot more than human lives—we’re gambling with the future of the world. Imagine what would happen if America and China broke treaty? If they were enemies? It could be another world war all over again. That’s what we’re fighting for.”
“Then why are we the only ones fighting?”
“Because the fight for many has always been fought by the few. You remember watching Men in Black?” Rand leaned back, peering down at her.
“Uh…yeah.”
“You know when Will Smith is freaking out because someone is about to blow up the planet…and no one knows?”
“Yeah… Are you saying I’m Will Smith and you’re Tommy Lee Jones?”
“Pretty much. There’s always some crisis, some emergency, that’s got us on the brink of a world war, some sort of catastrophic event, and our job—if done well—means that no one ever knows they were in danger.”
“Oh, boy. I think I need to sit down.” Her knees gave out and she perched on the foot of the bed. Rand knelt in front of her, staring into her eyes. “I’m not cut out for this, Rand. I’m just not.”
“Sure you are. You’ve done so well and been so brave. I’m proud of you, Sarah.”
“I just… Charlie’s dead. Because of me.” She swallowed, but the tears wouldn’t go away.
“Hey. No. No, he didn’t die because of you. He died because someone chose to do that. You didn’t.”
“So where’s the rest of our men in black? Why are we the only ones doing this?”
“Because…” Rand sighed and perched on the edge of the bed. “Because if we screw up, if we fail, we’re just two people who died in some random mugging. We aren’t covert operatives. We aren’t employees of the government. We’re just a guy and a girl, in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s the other reason why we’ve never had another all-out war. Too often the spies people capture are really doctors, engineers, contractors doing a job under the table.”