After a deep breath for courage, she answered the call.
“Hey, boss. What’s up?”
* * *
Michelle Harper wasn’t used to having her orders disobeyed, especially by one of her trusted analysts. She did her best to unclench her shoulders as she stared out the doorway of her office into the empty blackness beyond. This late, the place was practically deserted. Only the whir of a faraway janitor’s mechanical floor buffer broke the silence.
She gave orders for a reason, the same reason she planned all of her missions to a T: control. Control meant safety. Control meant security. Endless hours in hospital waiting rooms had taught her the pain and horror that came from things she couldn’t control—things like cancer. That was why, in her work, she held on with an iron grip. It was the best way to keep everyone safe.
“Tell me why you disobeyed my direct orders.”
“The person I was meeting wasn’t comfortable with a crowd. It seemed more important to gain his trust than to—”
“Follow directives?”
Hayley sighed. “Yes. And I’m sorry about that. I promise it won’t happen again.”
The kid was good. Better than any of Michelle’s other analysts. Hayley was on a fast track for early promotion if she kept up her efforts. “Kid” being a relative term, of course. Michelle was only eleven years older than her protégé, but some days it seemed like centuries.
Those days when Charlie was sick and there wasn’t a damned thing she could do to make him better. Days when all she could do was hold her son tight and pray for a miracle.
Michelle swiveled in her chair and stared out at the glittering DC skyline, the Washington Monument in the distance, the Capitol Building. All the emblems of American justice, but where was the justice for her and Charlie?
On her desktop, a small, black burner phone buzzed to life. She glanced at it over her shoulder, her heart rate accelerating. She should be used to the calls by now. They came every night, always at eleven fifteen sharp.
Still, every time he called, her throat dried up and her chest constricted and she wondered why in hell she’d ever agreed to his conditions.
Charlie, that’s why.
Biting her lip, she turned back to face her desk and the dim cubicles in the distance. “I need to go, Hayley,” she said, her tone sharp with tension. “We’ll discuss this first thing in the morning.”
She hung up before Hayley could respond.
Hand trembling, Michelle grabbed the burner phone and answered. “Yes?”
“How’s Charlie?” The low, monotonous voice grated on her nerves.
“H-he’s holding his own.” She hated the quiver in her words. She was an FBI intelligence team leader, a former Army medic who’d seen more active duty time than most Rangers. One man’s phone call should not do this to her, and yet—it did.
The FBI opened files on everyone suspected of nefarious activities, had intel on anyone they considered a threat to national security, kept tabs on criminals far and wide. They had two words on this guy:Top Secret. Even her boss’s boss couldn’t access his records, let alone Michelle.
That’s why she feared him. You couldn’t control what you didn’t understand.
“Are the plans for the widow coming along?”
“I’m working on them.”
“Don’t take too long, Michelle. We had a deal.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Forget promises. They mean nothing. Action, that’s all that matters.” She could practically hear his sinister smile through the phone. “I’d hate to see anything happen to Charlie.”
Her blood prickled with ice. She’d do anything to save Charlie. Anything.
“I’ll have the intel by the end of the week. I’ve got my best analyst working on it.”
“Perfect. Until Friday, then, Michelle.”