Disoriented, he lay in the snow and watched another missile glide overhead. Trembling and nauseous, he mentally tallied his injuries. There was a vague sensation of heat in his left thigh. But when he tried to move his foot, pain like he’d never known screamed through him. Groaning, he rolled onto his side and glanced down to assess the damage. He immediately spotted the large piece of shrapnel jutting from his thigh. He stared in disbelief at the growing circle of shiny black blood.
Robert had seen enough shrapnel wounds in the last ten months to know this one was bad. Life-threatening if he didn’t get immediate medical attention. The piece of metal had hit him with such force that he’d sustained a compound fracture. The femoral artery had been spared, but he was still in danger of bleeding out if he didn’t get medical attention soon.
Cursing and groaning as pain radiated up his injured leg, Robert struggled to a sitting position only to have the dizziness and nausea send him back down. He lay silent and still in the snow for a moment, aware of the growing circle of blood, the symphony of pain singing through his body and felt a moment of panic.
Damn it, he didn’t want to die like this.
He rolled onto his stomach, worked off his jacket, then eased out of his shirt. Every movement sent ice-pick jabs of agony shooting down his leg. He spotted a narrow piece of wood nearby, looped his shirt around it and formed a tourniquet. Grinding his teeth against the pain, he twisted the makeshift tourniquet around his thigh, praying he didn’t pass out before he could stanch the flow of blood.
Lily.
Raising his head, Robert looked quickly around to get his bearings. Thick smoke belched from the crater where the bomb had struck ten yards away. He squinted through the smoke and flaming debris, trying to locate the pub. Horror swept through him in a flash flood when he realized the building was gone.
Robert blinked, disbelief and horror rising inside him like vomit. “Lily!” He heard panic in his voice but he didn’t care. The terror ripping through him overrode the pain, giving him the strength he needed to struggle to one knee, his injured leg dragging behind him. He got one leg under him, but when he tried to move his left leg the pain sent him spiraling into blackness.
“Lily…”
Holding his broken leg, he went down in the snow and mud and floundered like a turtle on its back. Agony and terror streamed through him like a cold, black tide. He rode the waves, struggling to stay conscious, struggling even harder to keep his head.
“Lily.” He’d intended to shout, but her name came out as little more than a puff of air between clenched teeth.
Dear God, she couldn’t be dead. Not Lily. She was too strong. Too vital. He loved her.
He lay there in the snow and mud, breathing as if he’d just run a mile, staring at the violent night sky, and cursed fate for being so cruel.
He didn’t hear the jeep approach. Barely felt the strong hands that lifted him onto the stretcher. All he could think about was Lily.
Robert fought the hands pressing him down. “Got to…find her,” he said.
“It’s okay, mate,” a British voice said. “I’m a medic with the Allied Medical Forces. We’re going to get you out of here. Looks like you’ve got a bit of a problem with that leg. Try to relax, all right?”
Robert tried to tell the medic that he didn’t want to leave. That he couldn’t leave without Lily, but his thoughts were jumbled, his voice weak. “There’s a woman,” he said. “In the pub. Jesus.”
The young man in the red jumpsuit looked over his shoulder at the crumpled building. There was knowledge in his eyes when he looked at Robert. “There aren’t any survivors in there, chap.”
“No…”
The young man glanced at Robert’s leg and muttered a curse. “I need some morphine over here!”
“No!” Robert shoved at the hands pinning him. “I’ve got to find her. For God’s sake…”
“Easy, mate, we’re going to take care of you.”
The needle bit into his arm. Robert fought the drug, but it dragged at him. He stared at the flames and smoke and debris while he slowly came apart inside. “Lily,” he whispered.
And then the drug sent him to a place where he couldn’t feel anything at all.
Chapter 1
Twenty-one months later
Somewhere in Virginia
Doctor Robert Davidson left his BMW in the parking lot and took the redbrick path toward the building at the rear of the complex. It was a path he’d walked plenty of times in the last year and a half. A path he’d never imagined he would take. But even though he’d been reluctant at first, he walked it with a great sense of pride. Of duty. Of respect.
Just that morning Robert had been summoned by Samuel Hatch, director of the top-secret division of the CIA known only as ARIES. The call had come just before 5:00 a.m. Like all of Hatch’s transmissions, it had been brief and to the point, with few details. Hatch needed an agent with Robert’s expertise and credentials. He would be deployed immediately. Long-term assignment. High-level security clearance. Top-secret mission.
The drive from Robert’s home outside Washington D.C. had taken just over two hours. Stiff from the long drive, he ignored the tinge of pain in his thigh as he passed several low-rise buildings where ivy flourished on the redbrick exterior. From the outside, the center looked like an Ivy League college financed by trust funds and old money. Robert knew differently. Behind the genteel facade lay one of the American government’s most top-secret facilities in the world. With emphasis on foreign intelligence, biomedical research, genetic engineering and high-tech gadgetry, the ARIES boys and girls played with toys the CIA didn’t even dream of. Toys that, in the eyes of the rest of the world, hadn’t yet been invented. The ARIES agents, scientists and researchers had the best of everything. Money was never a problem because when it came to ARIES, Uncle Sam had bottomless pockets.
Robert told himself he wasn’t nervous as he swiped his security card through the reader, then punched in his six-digit PIN number. He didn’t get nervous. Once a man had had his world shaken the way he had twenty-one months ago, it took a lot more than a cryptic call in the middle of the night to shake him.
The steel-core door slid open to a small, windowless room with a tile floor and three white walls. Dead ahead, an elevator door dominated the fourth wall. In the center of the room, black inlaid tile formed a thick line on the floor. Robert stepped up to the line, then looked into the lens of the camera glaring at him and waited for the identification scan to begin. An instant later, a green light flickered, letting him know the retinal scan was complete. The elevator door swished open, and he stepped inside. Frowning at the panel mounted next to the door, he set his palm against the glass and waited while his palm and fingerprints were scanned and the images run through the ARIES personal identification database. Like every other piece of equipment at the ARIES center, the security system was light-years ahead of its time and utterly fail-safe.
Once the green light flashed to tell him his prints had been scanned and approved, Robert pressed the button to the underground level, and the elevator rushed him toward ARIES’s inner sanctum and Samuel Hatch’s private office a hundred feet below ground.
He
