From Russia Without Love

8

Chris, Hannah, and Sonny arrived at the Naval Support Activity in Crete and turned Michael’s body over to the SEAL Team Six commander of Blue Squadron. The SEALs placed Michael in a body bag and zipped it shut. One moment, he was full of life, and now his body was an empty shell. The part of him that mattered most was gone, like a projectile fired through the barrel of a gun, and there was no bringing it back.

The Blue Squadron SEALs’ faces and shoulders drooped as they loaded Michael onto the plane. They’d gotten all psyched up for a rescue, and they weren’t even given a chance to try. Now there would be no back slaps, high fives, or stories of momentous heroism — only feelings of helplessness and defeat. On top of all that, Michael was dead.

The plane’s hatches closed, and soon the big bird ascended into the clear blue sky. The higher it ascended into the expanse of the heavens, the smaller it became, and Chris felt himself become small with it. Then it was gone.

He wanted his senses to become numb. He wanted to take the emotions welling up inside and shove them in a box and store them with the others in the depths of his psyche, never to see the light of day again. But his emotions were loose. They started coming out of one eye, and soon a tear crept down his face. He was conscious of being in a public place, with Hannah and Sonny standing beside him on the tarmac, and he wiped it away.

Beneath his feet, the tarmac seemed to tilt and spin, like the teacup ride at Disneyland, and nausea overcame him. When Nikkia had died, little Chris had sat in a closet and wept, and now he longed for a closet to hide in.

Breathe, he tried to remind himself. He inhaled weakly, but he didn’t get much oxygen. It was more like a convulsion, an inward sob.

He sensed Hannah’s eyes on him. He turned to look at her but couldn’t maintain eye contact.

“Chris?” It was her voice. “Your shoulder… It’s all wet.”

Chris peered down at it. Wetness spread across his dark polo shirt like a sweat stain, but when he touched it with his finger, the wetness was thick and sticky. He pulled his finger away and it was red. More than once he’d been on an operation where he and his Teammates were flying home and a guy would suddenly realize he’d been shot. With all the adrenaline and laser focus on the mission, guys sometimes didn’t notice until later. He kept staring at the blood, still not feeling a thing.

Now Sonny was staring, too. “Dude, I thought that was water or some shit. You’ve been shot.”

“We need to get you to a doctor,” she said before flagging down a sailor for help.

“When did you get shot?” Sonny asked.

Chris pressed his hand on the wound, and the pain came, slicing through his flesh as he applied direct pressure. “I… I don’t know. Maybe after we crashed the BMW… I thought I felt a sharp pain, but with my adrenaline banging and everything else going on, I guess I forgot about it.”

With the sailor’s help, Hannah and Sonny got him to the Branch Health Clinic on base. While a Navy flight surgeon took care of Chris, Hannah stepped out of the room to make some calls. The surgeon removed the bullet, cleaned the wound, patched him up, and gave him some meds. He told Chris to avoid strenuous activity, which Chris interpreted as, Give your shoulder some rest when you can.

When Hannah returned, he was already finished in the clinic, and they walked with Sonny to the parking lot to claim their new vehicle.

“The Agency took our shot-up car, and the Navy is loaning us this for use on base,” Hannah said. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Doc said to rest it when I can,” Chris said, fudging the truth.

They sat in the car with Sonny in the driver’s seat this time. He turned on the engine. “Where to?”

Hannah gestured toward the airfield. “We fly back to Langley for debrief.”

Chris’s brow furrowed. “Back to Langley? Why?”

“The mission is over,” she said.

He shook his head. “Don’t take me out of the box and wind me up just to stick me back in the box again. Please don’t do that to me.”

“What’re you saying?” she asked.

“I’m saying I want to get Xander. Dead or alive.”

“Hell, yeah,” Sonny cheered. “This has just turned into a kill-or-capture mission.”

Hannah gave Sonny a blank stare.

“Well it has, hasn’t it?” Sonny asked. “We’re not going to let that piece of shit get away with this, are we?”

“I can tell Langley we think Xander is trying to interfere with the construction of TAP, and I can request a mission to capture-or-kill him for the kidnapping and murder of Michael Winthrop. But I don’t know what they’ll approve.”

Chris nodded as Hannah took out her phone and made the call.

“We should clean up a little so we don’t stick out,” Sonny said. “Then stop by Xander’s house. He’s probably not dumb enough to return home after what he did, but we might find clues to where he’s hiding out.”

Sonny drove to the Gulfstream jet, where they freshened up. While they were on the plane, Hannah received a phone call. After she ended it, she turned to Chris and Sonny. “That was Langley. They’re going to send up our request.”

Chris and Sonny smiled at the news.

“It’s no guarantee,” Hannah said, “but it’s a start.”

“We better get busy,” Chris said.

“Better to ask forgiveness than permission,” Sonny added. “Let’s go.”

Sonny drove them off base to a local restaurant in Crete for a meal, but Chris didn’t have much of an appetite. The trio sat in a quiet corner of the restaurant, talking in hushed tones.

“We could drive within a couple blocks of Xander’s house and do a quick vehicle recon,” Chris said.

Sonny nodded. “If it looks safe, I say we move in on foot and take a closer peek.” He took a bite of roasted lamb in a pita wrap filled with tomato, onion, and tzatziki.

“If Xander is there, and he’s not heavily guarded, we can bag and drag him,” Chris said.

“And if he’s not there?” Hannah asked.

“We search for clues as to where he might be.”

“And if we encounter Xander’s assistant or others?”

Sonny swallowed a bite of his gyro. “We wrap ’em up.”

Chris nodded, and Hannah pursed her lips. She was warier than they were about going against orders. Or not waiting for them.

They spent the rest of the meal eating in silence, Chris only picking at his food. When they returned to the base, the Navy gave them a ride to the Greek mainland where the Agency loaned them another vehicle. And soon they were parking their new car within a block of Xander’s estate.

Hannah turned to Chris. “You know we’ll blend in better as a couple than as individuals.”

Chris took hold of her hand. It wasn’t hard for him to act like he had romantic feelings for her. He opened the door to all his boxed-up emotions and stepped inside, and his feelings for her were in the crate closest to the door. He didn’t need a crowbar to pry off the lid, either. She turned her face to him. Her eyes were smiling, and he sensed that her feelings for him were close to the door, too.

They strolled through the neighborhood of white stone mansions. The Aegean Sea came into view, and they stopped at a street corner and carefully observed Xander’s place. It seemed dead in comparison to the last time they’d visited. They continued until they reached Xander’s property, where they followed the cobblestone pathway to the front door. Hannah and Sonny readied their pistols, covering Chris while he picked the lock. Once it was disengaged, he opened the door and the three of them slipped inside. Chris drew his pistol then, too.

Beyond the entrance hall, they passed the grand piano and walked across the black marble floor. The spacious main room with the grand fireplace seemed empty without the crowd of people. They searched the house, but Xander’s laptop was gone and there was nothing of significant interest left, not even his staff.

They spent the rest of the day and all night in the mansion, waiting for Xander or one of his staff to return. Chris didn’t think he’d have to resort to pain killers while they waited, but the swelling around his bullet wound pressed against a nerve that ran between his shoulder and the base of his skull, causing him torment all along the nerve. He muttered some f-bombs before surrendering to a pill to relieve the hurt.

Swearing had always been a vice of his, but only once in his lifetime had he used the Lord’s name in vain. It was in elementary school, and guilt had riddled him immediately after. He never did it again. Once he began studying to become a pastor, he’d stopped swearing cold turkey, and when he became an assistant pastor, he’d continued to abstain. However, when he resumed doing black ops part time for the Agency and came under fire, he couldn’t stop the curses from falling out of his mouth. Old habits really did die hard.

Hannah and Sonny let him sleep while they took the first watch. Chris rested on his left side to give his shoulder some relief and fell into a deep sleep…

It was right after the Switchblade Whisper mission, and Chris flew from Dallas to Arlington to pick up Hannah in the dark of the morning. He drove from her house to the National Mall, and they sat down beneath Abe’s feet, on the top step of the Lincoln Memorial. They drank hot cocoa as they watched the sun surge up the horizon, the sky becoming a swirl of orange and grape sherbet, split open by the Washington Monument. The trees cast shadows on the ground, creating a V-shaped border. The long mirror image shone in the reflecting pool, which was smooth until ducks floated by, releasing ripples across the water.

Moisture formed in the white edges of Hannah’s chocolate-brown eyes.

“Is everything okay?” Chris asked.

She sipped her drink, the sun casting a warm radiance across her face. “I’ve been here before, and I’ve seen sunrises, but I’ve never been here at sunrise. It’s too beautiful.”

He’d seen sunrises around the world, and he’d seen Hannah, but he’d never seen Hannah at sunrise. She was too beautiful. He wanted to tell her so, but he worried that words would somehow get in the way. When she turned to look at him, he kissed her, and her lips tasted like the sweetest cocoa.

By morning, Xander still hadn’t shown. On the upside, although still feeling discomfort in his shoulder, Chris was in less pain. The medicine and the sleep seemed to have helped.

They returned to their Athens hotel to change and discuss what to do next. When a call came from Young, Hannah put it on the speaker.

“NSA just picked up Xander’s cell phone signal at Athens International Airport,” he said.

“Showtime!” Sonny exclaimed.

They dashed out of their room and to the parking lot. Hannah remained on speakerphone with Young, who was communicating real time with NSA, updating Xander’s location. Once in their car, Sonny drove them to the airport, arriving there in fifteen minutes.

“Can’t tell if Xander is inside the main terminal or outside,” Young said.

They parked and headed in that direction. “We’re nearing a main entrance, now,” Hannah said.

“Xander seems to be left of your position,” Young said. “Possibly outside of the terminal.”

Chris thought Xander would be going to the airport to catch a plane. Why would he be outside of the terminal?

The three shifted to Xander’s direction, but he wasn’t there. “The only person over there is a smaller guy, dark complexion,” Hannah said.

“He may not be Xander,” Young said, “but maybe he has Xander’s phone.”

“Okay, we’ll check it out. Call you back soon,” she said and then hung up, tucking the phone in her pocket.

The three approached the man.

“Excuse me,” Hannah said when they got close enough for him to hear. But the man waved her off and walked past, heading in the direction of the parking lot.

The SOG three turned around, and Sonny called to the man, “Hey, asshole!”

The man picked up his pace to a trot, and the trio trotted after him. Then he full-out ran. Chris, Hannah, and Sonny ran, too.

The man looked over his shoulder, huffing and puffing. “Why you chase me?” he asked.

“Because you’re running,” Sonny called.

“Stop chasing me!”

“Stop running!”

The man kept running until Sonny tackled him, both of them landing on the concrete.

“I not do anything,” the man said.

Sonny patted him down for a weapon and discovered a cell phone. Then another. And more. “Why do you have six cell phones?”

“I salesman.”

Hannah quickly dialed Young back and asked him to call Xander’s phone.

One of the man’s cell phones rang. Sonny took it and checked the caller ID before answering and turning the phone off. He glared at the man. “Where’d you get this?”

“I don’t know.”

“You better start giving some answers,” Sonny threatened, “or I’m calling the police.”

“A big guy,” the man said.

“Where was he?” Sonny asked.

“Near security.” The man tried to sit up, but Sonny pushed him back to the ground. “Which security?”

He pointed to a spot in the terminal.

“Was he heading into security or walking by?”

“Going into security.”

Sonny pocketed Xander’s phone. “When?”

“Thirty minutes ago.”

“We better hurry,” Hannah said.

The three of them hurried into the airport, abandoning their informant, and stopped near a line of people funneling through security. Xander was nowhere in sight. Chris did notice a nearby TV monitor, though, tuned in to CNN International.

“In Athens, a terrorist group known as 21D kidnapped a British civil engineer, Michael Winthrop, son-in-law to America’s White House Chief of Staff. When a fire broke out next door to where Winthrop was being held hostage, he used the diversion to escape, and as Hellenic police moved in to rescue him, a shootout occurred. 21D killed Winthrop, and police killed a number of the terrorists…”

Chris and his team knew the real story. It was them, not the Hellenic police, who shot it out with the kidnappers and lost Michael. He was used to his work going uncredited, but he wasn’t used to losing a hostage. Xander would pay for it, too. Chris tightened his jaw and focused.

The trio pressed closer to the security line to search for Xander, but still nothing. Chris examined the surrounding area when he spotted a familiar figure. “That’s Animus,” he said, “heading for the ticket counter. He might be meeting up with Xander. Let’s follow him.”

They kept their distance and spread out. Chris tried to keep at least two people between him and Animus, and he searched for a place to duck out of sight in case Animus doubled back. The man kept going, though, and joined a line of customers at the Air France ticket counter. When he seemed near the end of his transaction, and before he turned around, Chris snuck into a restroom and waited, his heart pounding. He estimated how long he thought it would take Animus to leave the area and near security. While waiting, he heard footsteps approach the restroom door.

That could be him.

Chris hid in one of the stalls as sounds from the airport lobby entered the restroom. Footsteps echoed, closer and closer. Within the small confines of the stall, Chris felt ambushed. If the other person in the restroom was Animus and he started shooting through the door to Chris’s stall, he’d be trapped. Whoever had entered used the urinal, but Chris couldn’t see who it was. He could peek over the door, but he’d risk being seen. His heart pounded even harder and he pulled out his pistol, preparing to defend himself if the shooting began.

But the man left, and Chris gave him time to depart the restroom before stepping out of the stall. He left the men’s room and scanned the terminal. Sonny briskly walked toward him, but Chris couldn’t see Animus. Hannah was missing, too.

“If you shake it more than once, you’re playing with it,” Sonny quipped.

“Where’s Hannah?” Chris asked, ignoring the joke.

“She’s going to find out which gate Animus went to so we know his destination. She already bought a ticket and gave me her pistol to pass security.”

Chris’s eyes widened, concern churning in his gut. “What if she gets into trouble and needs backup?”

“She said she’ll call before the trouble gets troubling.”

“We should’ve given her backup.”

“And do what with our guns to get past security?” Sonny asked.

“We have diplomatic passports. Maybe we can pass through the crew line without being screened.”

“You’re assuming Athens airport security gives a shit about our diplomatic passports.”

“We could stash our pieces in a locker.”

“Just chill,” Sonny said. “We’ll do her more harm than good. Animus is more likely to spot three of us than Hannah alone. He’s also never met Hannah. You, he’d recognize.”

“I don’t like this,” Chris said.

“If you weren’t banging her, maybe your tactical judgment would be clearer.”

Chris took a deep breath. “I’m not banging her.”

Sonny shrugged. “Whatever you call it.”

Chris pulled out his cell phone and tried to keep his anger from bubbling over. “If Hannah rings for help, we’re keeping our guns and we’re busting through that security checkpoint. You got it?”

“Damn straight.”

Chris and Sonny walked to the security gate and took seats close by. Chris kept an eye on the clock, but it only made the time go slower, so he tried not to think about it.

When more than half an hour passed, he couldn’t bear it anymore. “One of us should—”

“Shh,” Sonny said, cutting him off.

Chris wanted to call her, but he knew the sound of her cell might alert Animus or Xander. Then Chris’s phone rang. The caller ID read Hannah.

“I’m okay,” she said immediately. “The line at security was long, but I got through and found Xander, Animus, and Evelina in the same lobby for the flight to Paris, but Xander is sitting separately, like he doesn’t know them. Obviously, they’re up to something, so I called Langley and requested some of our guys in Paris put surveillance on the three when they arrive.”

Knowing she was safe, Chris heaved a sigh of relief.

“What?” she asked.

Chris didn’t say anything.

“You were worried about me,” she said.

He swallowed. “Yes.”

“See you in a minute,” she said, and he could almost hear the smile in her voice.

Chris wasn’t completely worry-free until she finally reunited with them in the arrivals area.

“Can we have the Gulfstream meet us here and take us to Paris?” Sonny asked.

“The Agency is going to fly us,” Hannah said. “The Gulfstream will have to catch up with us later.”