security it won’t be on my end.”
“If you spirit her away to safety,” Simon countered, “how is that going to affect the situation with the assassin and his leading you to Leberman?”
Another dicey maneuver. “I’m going to send someone undercover to get close to him.”
“Since complete anonymity is essential, who will you utilize for that assignment?” Ian wanted to know, his tone reflective of his uncommitted stance on the matter.
“I’m going to use someone who isn’t affiliated with my people at Mission Recovery or the Colby Agency. Someone completely out of the game.”
“You think that’s wise considering who we’re up against?” Simon prodded, his arms folded over his chest. He clearly didn’t like this any more than Ian did. For that matter neither did Lucas.
“This agent is a recruit fresh from the CIA’s training facility. Our Forward Research group has been tracking her progress since before she entered the program. She’s good. Damn good. She has a degree in psychology, which could prove useful. And she has no stake in the matter either way.”
“What makes you think she’ll go for this assignment?” Simon looked even more suspicious of the whole strategy. It did sound like a suicide mission, even Lucas had to admit it.
“If she’s got half the fire burning in her belly to impress the brass as it appears, she’ll go for it.”
“But is she good enough to do the job?” Ian voiced the remaining variable.
Lucas smiled as he thought of the hotshot he’d observed steamrolling her peers, female and male alike. He’d been waiting for the right kind of opportunity to bring her onboard. “Oh, yeah. She’s good enough.”
“She’ll try to get close to this guy in hopes that he’ll lead her to Leberman, is that it?” Simon relaxed, but only marginally.
“She’ll get close to him, and then when Victoria vanishes he won’t have any choice but to contact Leberman for additional instructions.” Lucas hoped like hell it would be that easy.
Five seconds lapsed into thirty as the two men closest to Victoria at the Colby Agency considered his proposal.
“I can see how this might work.” Simon was the first to edge toward commitment.
“And what about you, Ian? Do I have your support?” Lucas couldn’t move forward without both these men on board. Timing and synchronized reactions were everything. There couldn’t be a single glitch.
“I have no reason to doubt your loyalty to Victoria,” he said in response, without actually answering at all. “I do, however, have reservations as to the plan you’ve outlined, but I can’t conceive of a better strategy.” His gaze locked fully with Lucas’s. “As you say, Leberman must be stopped. It’s past time we got this done.”
“All right, then. I’ll set things in motion on my end. The only thing I need on yours is full cooperation and complete secrecy.”
“You have that unconditionally,” Ian said with that quiet intensity that would unnerve most men.
Lucas nodded. “I’ll keep you posted.”
With the preliminary plans out of the way there was nothing further to discuss. “We’ll ensure status quo at the office until we hear from you,” Simon offered in parting.
“I don’t want Victoria to suspect anything,” Lucas reiterated as they moved toward the door. “She’s already picked up on my uneasiness.”
“We understand.” This from Ian. He paused before following Simon into the corridor. “Just one more thing.” He looked directly at Lucas. “I have no doubt that you will do all in your power to protect Victoria from this assassin.”
“I will,” Lucas assured him.
“If,” Ian qualified in that low, deadly tone, “you take this risk and fail, it will be the last thing you do.”
Their gazes held for a beat of screaming silence.
“If,” Lucas allowed grimly, “I fail, you can use my gun to do the job.”
Chapter 5
Tasha North tossed her bag into her car and yanked off the confining double-breasted suit coat that had felt like a straitjacket all day. This stuffy attire was just one more thing she hated about her new job. She flung the inside-out garment into the back seat and dropped behind the wheel of her Volkswagen Beetle. She breathed a sigh of pure, unadulterated relief. Whenever she settled into the white leather seat of her little yellow Bug she felt normal...almost.
Jerking the pins loose from her hair, she shook the blond shoulder-length mass free and pushed her sunglasses into place. She cranked and revved the engine. Thank God it was Friday. She couldn’t wait to get out of here.
Tires squealing she rocketed out of her designated parking slot and zoomed toward the exit of the mammoth parking garage. At the security checkpoint she slowed for the guard to ID her, gave him a big, friendly smile, which he returned sheepishly, and then proceeded forward.
Once off Langley property she floored the accelerator and headed home.
Frustration pounded in her brain. She hadn’t joined the elite CIA to sit behind a desk. All day long she did the same thing: reviewed intelligence reports, looking for tidbits others had missed. Oh, she’d found an item here and there, especially the past couple of days. But that wasn’t how she’d seen herself fitting into the agency she’d been in awe of all these years. At any rate, when she’d graduated from training, her superiors had insisted that her battery of assessment tests had determined that this was the best assignment for optimum use of her skills.
In her opinion that was a load of crap.
So what if she had a near-photographic memory and felt like cyberspace was her second home or that she could hack into the Pentagon’s computer system as easily as checking her e-mail? Would they never forget that little incident?
She rolled her eyes as she merged onto the expressway. She’d only done it once. Good grief, she’d been seventeen. Kids did stupid stuff like that. She was more sensible now, played by the rules, thought before she acted... Well, most of the time, anyway.
But at seventeen she’d been impetuous. Still, once the hoopla had settled down, especially the part about no charges being filed, and her parents had stopped having cardiac episodes, she’d actually gotten a little excited about having stepped knee-deep in national security shit. A CIA recruiter had come to see her at high school. It had all been very secretive. Her first covert briefing. He’d told her how impressed he was with her skill and how he’d personally kept her out of trouble. Had said that he’d be watching as she moved through her college career. Then, with a mysterious “I’ll be in touch,” he’d disappeared just like the spy she dreamed of being. And just as he’d promised, on graduation day he’d shown up at the university to recruit her.
And what had they done?
They’d stuck her behind a metal desk reading boring reports all day every day.
Oh, the
