Janet looked at her with her agency face on, but Selena thought she saw a gleam of understanding. “Although you have significant Berzhaani government and security contacts and we expect you to work this op under the cover of your own name, there’s a good chance you’ll also end up working the streets. In fact, we assume that’ll happen. When it does, you’ll need a man on your team.”
Selena winced at the thought. Under those circumstances, Dobry would have the initiative.
But the man had no agenda in Berzhaan. Had no reason to do anything other than his best, grabbing the opportunity to return to the field on a permanent basis.
And the hell of it was, the CIA was right. In the business section of the city, she could wear Western clothes and a modest attitude and get by just fine. But without the cachet of the embassy behind her, without official business to wear on her sleeve, she’d have to be much more careful in the outlying areas.
And if she knew Cole, he’d dug himself a little hidey-hole for Dr. Aymal so he could then go sniff out his options. A hidey-hole she’d have to find, and that she had no chance of finding if she was hanging out in the embassy trying to pull strings.
Dobry’s expression had turned earnest. It wasn’t one she’d seen on him before, and she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. “Look, I don’t have exactly the same stakes as you, but this man is a CIA operative in trouble and the asset is carrying invaluable intel. I’ll do everything I can to get them out of there.”
Selena nodded an acknowledgment, but Janet was the one she looked to. Don’t make me ask it.
Janet was no dummy. She volunteered the information. “Because of Selena’s experience in Berzhaan, she’s to be the senior operative.” She raised a hand as Dobry’s mouth opened. “However—Selena, I trust that you understand this is an unusual situation. FLEAGAL is an experienced officer. Take advantage of that fact.”
Selena nodded. “Gratefully,” she said, and meant it. She’d use anything that would help her find Cole and get them all out of there alive. She shifted in the chair—Aeron or not, she’d been sitting for far too long, especially in the wake of that wild ride down the mountain.
Janet’s mouth pursed; she tapped the closed file folder in front of her. Red, like Selena’s. “Do more than tolerate one another,” she reiterated. “Work together as the team we know you can be. Because there’s more to this asset than you know—information we received right before this meeting. Aymal’s former case officer briefly regained consciousness. He doesn’t remember much, but he does know that Aymal mentioned the terrorist attack will be soon— and that it will involve a school.”
God, no. Not kids. She’d have to tell Delphi for Oracle as soon as possible, although the Oracle system probably would soon have the intel. She closed her eyes, trying to assimilate the additional urgency—another layer on top of her concern for Cole. For a moment it all mixed together, her remembered fears for the schoolkids she’d ultimately saved from the hands of the Kemeni eight months earlier, her instant protectiveness of any child, her ongoing efforts to have her own children with Cole.
But then, none of it was anything new. She’d been working for the next generation from the start, creating cooperative counterterrorism programs in allied countries as an FBI legate. She hadn’t thought she’d ever be in that particular position again, but the responsibility suddenly clicked into place, as snug as the shoulder harness for her Beretta. “When do we leave?”
Randy must have been the go-to guy, the details facilitator. He smiled, and looked satisfied. “I’ve reserved a couple of spots on a Starlifter leaving Bolling within the hour. BLUEMAN, you can pull things from the suitcase you had in Arizona, and you’ll also find a suitcase already packed. It has both Western and Berzhaani-style garments, as well as your personal effects.”
Selena stopped short of reacquiring her croissant. “You went to the town house.”
“While you were in the air,” he agreed. “And there’s a travel outfit in that overnighter by the door.”
She opened her mouth, then decided to fill it with a torn piece of croissant rather than words. Just doing his job…and doing it well at that. After she swallowed, she said, “Thank you. Do I have time to change before we leave?”
Dobry frowned in doubt. “How fast can you do it?”
At that moment, she thought, What would happen if I ditched him and showed up alone at the plane?
Tempting. So tempting.
Taz would do it.
But Selena wouldn’t.
Not yet.
Instead she left her chair for the overnight bag and zipped it open with economical purpose, pulling out a deep turquoise shirt knit in a chunky, exaggerated weave, and a pair of her black cargo pants. She nodded approval at Randy, and then grabbed the bottom of her shirt—she was halfway to pulling it over her head before Janet laughed, a quietly amused sound.
Randy glanced at Dobry and said drily, “Point taken, but there’s a bathroom just down the hall that will do. I think we can spare the thirty seconds it’ll take for you to reach it. Not to mention it has a mirror—there’s makeup and jewelry in that case, too.”
Selena dropped her shirt and grabbed the overnighter. “Works for me.” She looked back at Dobry on her way out. “Faster than you can flush a urinal.”
When she returned just moments later, she found them up and waiting. She grabbed her croissant and a cream-cheese bear claw, wrapping both in a napkin and shoving them—along with a bottle of water—into her briefcase. At Dobry’s raised brow she said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m still making up for breakfast. I get cranky without my corn flakes.”
“Can’t have that,” Dobry said, trying to make it sound lighthearted and failing. Selena left the overnighter in her chair—let the CIA have the horse-imbued riding tights, and she’d buy Athena another pair of boots—and breezed out the door ahead of him, close on Randy’s heels. Once in the hallway, Janet said, “Randy will see you to the plane from here. Good luck, FLEAGAL… BLUEMAN.”
But it hadn’t taken luck to get Selena out of that embassy alive the previous winter. It had been persistence and a determined exploitation of all the tools she had on hand, from a sheaf of flying papers to decorative marbles and dry ice. It had been teamwork with Cole—an unusual remote teamwork where they’d each simply trusted the other to do what was necessary.
And now she was just as determined to do it again.
To judge by the action of the Starlifter crew, they’d been holding off departure. As soon as Selena and Dobry set foot on the plane, the pilot and co-pilot started takeoff procedure, assisted by the two flight engineers. One load-master double-checked the security of the pallets as Selena and Dobry settled into aft-facing seats, their gear stowed by the other loadmaster.
Selena waited for the crew to button up and take their own seats; takeoff wasn’t far behind. Once they were in the air one of the loadmasters offered them some MREs, and Selena was glad to supplement the pastries. She found herself with beef enchilada and used half the water from her appropriated bottle to trigger the flameless chemical heater. The loadmaster just grinned at her as Dobry ate his beef ravioli cold, shaking his head at Selena’s offer of the rest of her water.
After they tucked the resulting garbage away, Dobry cleared his throat and said, “I meant it, you know. I’ll do what I can to make this work—I want to stop that terrorist attack as much as anyone. Schoolkids? No way. And you’ve got Cole—JOXLEITNER—to