Undercover Soldier Read online

  Mae screamed and aimed the car toward Brody, but he dove out of the way, aiming his gun toward Bobby.

  He gave a quick, grim nod toward Sherra, and she knew what he wanted. She threw herself to the pavement and tried to get out of the way. But Bobby grabbed her and drew her up, still holding the gun on her. “Like I said, get into the car.” He didn’t seem at all perturbed about what had happened.

  Sherra glanced around in a panic. She saw people start toward the parking lot. That bartender was one of them, the one Brody appeared to know. He had a phone in his hand.

  “Nope,” she said. She acted as if she was about to go limp, but then drew herself up and kicked him hard, where it really should hurt.

  He grabbed himself and her, too, as he fell to the ground writhing. She knew she was supposed to be his shield from Brody, and didn’t like that in the least. She turned and started pummeling him in the face as well as the groin. His grip on the gun loosened and she somehow managed to pull it away.

  By then, cops started arriving. They took control of the situation quickly, separating Sherra from Brody, and the supposed Andrewses from each other, too.

  Burl appeared bloody but alive. Bobby was clearly in pain, and Sherra could only smile at that.

  At least it was over.

  * * *

  Brody called Michael Cortez from the sidewalk outside the police station that evening, before he went inside to answer questions.

  Sherra was with him. She was okay, no thanks to him. He should have been more insistent. He should have—well, he would talk to her later about it.

  “Get someone good to interrogate them fast,” Brody told Michael over the phone. “We need to know who knows what, and whose orders they acted under.”

  Michael promised to do what he could.

  Even so, when Brody hung up he felt furious and powerless.

  Until Sherra drew closer and put her arms around him. She stood on tiptoes, kissed him on the mouth, then whispered, “We can get some answers, at least. I happen to have grabbed dear Bobby’s cell phone—and we should be able to trace his calls.”

  Chapter 16

  It was getting late by the time Brody and Sherra were free to go, after their respective interrogations.

  Cops and civilians passed them as they waited at curbside for a cab outside the modern concrete police facility.

  Pulling his phone from his pocket, Brody called Captain Cortez again. “We’re out. All seemed okay from this end. Any information yet?”

  “I’m still looking into it. Do the cops know anything they shouldn’t that I’ll need to smooth out?”

  “My identity never became an issue,” Brody said. Which was fortunate. The ID that had been created for him as Jim Martin had worked. He hadn’t had to take local authorities aside to explain who he really was and why Jim Martin had been created.

  Whatever the putative Andrews family members knew, they hadn’t spoken about it, either, or about anything else. “Burl” was in a local hospital under constant guard until well enough to be booked at the local police station as “Bobby” and “Mae” had been. Not that the local cops were likely to reveal all to someone who’d been involved and was therefore a potential witness, but Brody had overheard enough to believe that they had remained anonymous and silent so far. The suspects hadn’t even denied that both unregistered weapons were theirs.

  Brody would find a way to learn exactly who they were—and who had sent them. They were fortunate in some ways to remain incarcerated. They had knowledge he needed, and he’d have done all he could to extract it.

  Especially since they had attempted to harm Sherra.

  He wanted to kiss Sherra silly, both because she was unharmed, and because she had been smart and cunning enough to steal Bobby’s cell phone even as he was trying to abduct her. She had it hidden now, and it hadn’t been confiscated. Never mind that her stealing possible evidence was illegal. Brody would protect her.

  But he still hated this situation. As soon as he could, he would extract her from it again, even if that meant putting her into some kind of witness protection program—which he knew she would fight all the way.

  She was much too involved, too much in danger—and too close to him. Things seemed even more complicated now. He needed her out of this situation—and out of his life.

  For the sanity and safety of both of them.

  He would enjoy her nearness for the moment, though, even as he kept her safe.

  “Where are we going?” Sherra whispered, sidling even closer, although he kept one arm around her to ensure her nearness and security. He soon saw why. They had avoided talking to the media at the attack scene, but those buzzards still hovered around the police station. Sherra and he had been seen, and a couple approached with cameras and microphones ready to attack.

  “I’ll tell you when we’re on our way.” He moved in front of her as protection but was glad to see the taxi he’d called stop at the curb near them.

  He opened the door for Sherra and let her in before sliding beside her. He gave Jim Martin’s home address to the attentive driver, who immediately programmed it into his GPS.

  “That’s where we’re going?” Sherra asked as they started off. She glanced significantly toward the driver, then said, “But people will think to look for us there.”

  Brody appreciated that she gave no details that could be overheard. “Right, but we need my car for transportation. I’ll make sure there’s no tracking device on it, and there are ways of staying elusive.”

  “Are we going back to the safe house?”

  “I’m not sure if it’s still safe,” he said with a humorless laugh. “We still don’t know who those goons were or who sent them. No, wherever we wind up, it’ll be a place no one knows about.”

  The taxi dropped them off a few minutes later. Brody paid cash, then scanned the area. The sidewalk near his apartment building was empty, although there were some pedestrians outside the nearby coffee shop and other retail establishments despite the late hour. He quickly led Sherra through the lobby to the garage.

  There, he did a quick scan of his car for any electronic gadget that shouldn’t be attached. Finding none, he popped open the trunk. He extracted another service weapon and a laptop.

  “Hey—is that mine?” Sherra asked.

  “Yeah, I brought it when I left you with Roy. Your phone, too, to make sure you couldn’t use either. The computer’s another reason we came back here. It’s easier than buying a new one without using a credit card that can be traced. I don’t like it, but I’m going to put you to work as long as I’m with you to observe. Let’s go.”

  He drove the car defensively, turning corners fast and without signaling and otherwise conducting maneuvers designed to reveal if anyone was following them.

  All looked good.

  He drove them to a cheap chain motel on the city’s outskirts, where he booked a room and paid cash. Since they checked in without luggage, he figured any curious employee would assume they were there for a short fling.

  Maybe they were—along with needing a place to hide out.

  They got key cards and walked up the steps to their second-floor room. It was compact but clean, with a queen-size bed dominating its decor.

  Sherra immediately headed for the long window at its far end and pulled the curtains open. Then she sat on the bed facing the glass.

  She extracted a phone from her purse—the one she had shown him before. It was the smart phone she had so smoothly lifted from Bobby as they fought.

  “I’ve been dying of curiosity,” she said. “It’s time to learn who at least one of those nasty characters has been talking with. Sit here.” She patted the bed beside her, which got Brody’s body reacting. Not that he would do anything about his inevitable attraction to Sherra.

 
Later, though…

  “I’ll need to see if you recognize any of the numbers he’s called recently that aren’t connected with names he has programmed in,” Sherra continued. “Okay?”

  “Okay,” he confirmed, and kept his kiss, as he joined her, agonizingly brief.

  * * *

  Sherra started the process the easy way. She was somewhat familiar with this brand of smart phone, and she pressed icons on the screen until she found a list of contacts.

  “No one here named Mae or Burl,” she told Brody, who sat closely beside her on the side of the bed observing the phone over her shoulder as he kept one arm around her.

  Too close. It was hard to concentrate. But she didn’t want to brush him off and move away…yet. It felt too good. Plus, she’d been shaken by their encounter with the fake Andrewses, the fight and the ensuing police interview. A small bit of snuggling, for just a short while, could help.

  Even so, Sherra was glad that the drapery stayed open. She couldn’t see much besides the concrete wall at the far side of the narrow balcony, with the darkening sky above. Light bouncing off a conglomeration of puffy clouds provided some illumination, but the rest came from their motel room.

  There were other buildings around, and with their modicum of backlighting people might be able to see at least their outlines.

  Which meant that, at least for the moment, their closeness could not turn into anything more exciting. At least not until Brody closed the drapes for security—not that they were likely to have been followed here.

  “Give the guy some credit for intelligence,” Brody murmured into her ear so closely that it gave her shivers. “Try ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad.’”

  But neither those words nor any similar ones were on the list. Nor were there any Andrewses, or even any last names with the initial A.

  Sherra scrolled down slowly, holding it in front of Brody. “I’m not likely to recognize names but why don’t you take a look?”

  When Brody shook his head negatively as the list progressed, she felt it. Why would something like that make her insides stir, as if he were touching her intimately, turning her on?

  Maybe because they sat on a bed in a motel room. But moving away wouldn’t buy her anything but more time with no answers.

  When she reached the end, she changed the settings. “Here. This way the numbers are listed in the first column. See if you recognize any.” She hesitated. “You might want to check them against numbers on your own phone that you’ve recently called, or those you’ve received.”

  He shifted, as if she’d irritated him. Maybe so, but she had to suggest it. “You think we have friends in common?” he asked derisively. “Hell, I know what you mean. And you’re right. What I’m peeved about isn’t what you said, but the fact that I don’t know yet who’s been playing me that way.”

  He took the phone and began scrolling down it himself. She watched, her gaze moving from his face to the numbers and back. He scowled but said nothing. Nor did he appear to focus on one number any more than the others.

  He’d only scrolled through a portion of the screen when his own cell rang. He handed the one they’d been studying back to Sherra, then rose and walked away with his phone.

  She immediately missed his closeness, which was silly. But she had to wait, for now, until he returned to follow up on reviewing the numbers.

  Or not. She made a mental note of the numbers on the screen where Brody had stopped scrolling and continued looking herself.

  She stopped at one near the end. It looked familiar—didn’t it? She didn’t know whose it was but believed she knew where it came from.

  She had seen ones with a similar area code and first three digits on Brody’s phone.

  She’d have to wait and ask Brody after his current conversation ended. If she was right, he would want the information she might be able to grab for him.

  He was apparently prepared to let her use her computer—but only in his company?

  For the work he wanted her to do?

  That was better than nothing, at least.

  And she could always try to play games of her own.

  * * *

  “Did you find out anything about the Andrews pretenders yet?” Brody asked immediately, moving toward the bathroom and keeping his voice low. Force of habit, since what he expected to hear from Michael Cortez wouldn’t be worthy of keeping secret from Sherra. Or trying to.

  “Still working on it,” the captain said. “But look. I know things have been strained for you over the past couple of days, but there’ve been rumblings around here that something is about to go down at AFD. We need you there tomorrow to check it out. Make sure you’re over your cold. Got it? And if you happen to finally reach a breakthrough on who’s communicating with what government branch, that would come in damned handy.” He paused. “It’s time you had a breakthrough, you know.”

  “Yeah. I know. Especially if I get an indication that anyone there was involved in the fake Andrewses situation. But about tomorrow, I need some more time.” He hated saying that. He really did want to be at AFD, back in his undercover role, to be there particularly if there was something happening.

  But protecting Sherra came first. And right now, he didn’t even know what he could do with her, where he could put her that would be safe, if he wasn’t around her.

  “There’s no time to give you, Jim.” Michael’s soft but unyielding voice emphasized the name in Brody’s undercover ID pertaining to AFD. “You want someone else to wind up dead because you didn’t get answers in time—ones just waiting for you to dig a little?”

  “No.” Brody knew his tone was abrupt and inappropriate for addressing his commanding officer, but he was damned unhappy with the situation. Damned was the right word. He might be damned if he failed to go there and see what the hell Michael was talking about.

  He might be even more damned if he went there, leaving Sherra someplace that may or may not be safe, and something happened to her.

  Although…what if he called Roy, got Sherra’s former caretaker and bodyguard to join them again. He hadn’t harmed Sherra, after all, but had managed to let her get away.

  Even so… Brody asked Michael about him. Mike claimed the guy was legit, a longtime trusted player who was remorseful. He’d been careless, sure, but had learned his lesson.

  Brody still wasn’t one hundred percent confident, but surely the guy would be on best behavior—and full alert—if called in again.

  “Okay, assume I’ll be there. I need to make a couple of calls first, and I’ll let you know if something changes, but—”

  “No buts. No changes. Be there tomorrow.” Michael hung up.

  Irritated, Brody slipped his phone back in his pocket, then tried to loosen up before turning toward Sherra again.

  She stood near the window, looking out over the view—not much in this dismal location surrounded by the lights of other seedy motels, restaurants and gas stations.

  He joined her, pulling her back slightly to be less visible, backlighted by the low illumination in the room.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “I’ve got to go back to AFD tomorrow.” He knew his irritation reverberated in his tone. “I’ll call Roy to come here to keep you company.”

  To his surprise, she didn’t disagree. Instead, she said, “Here. I’ve got something to show you.” She still had “Bobby’s” phone in her hand, and held it out so he could see the screen.

  Just phone numbers, as he’d been reviewing before.

  But he immediately recognized what she wanted to show him.

  “Damn,” he said, taking the instrument from her and scrolling once more toward the end of the numbers.

  He didn’t know who they belonged to.

  But several of them sported the area code and first three
digits indicating they were numbers stemming from offices at the Pentagon.

  Chapter 17

  Sherra saw the dismay and anger on Brody’s face, although he didn’t say a word. She didn’t give him time.

  Instead, she began explaining the compromise she wanted. “This whole thing has gotten so complicated, yet if you’d let me work on my computer on my own I might be able to dig out some of the answers you want—like who these numbers belong to.”

  “I can just call them.” He stood rigidly beside her as he stared at the numbers he moved up and down the screen.

  “And give yourself away—even if you use some neutral phone to call from. Look, here’s the deal. If you let me do some research, I’ll stay right here and even let Roy hang around to bother me if you want.”

  She waited for Brody’s explosion, watching him. His hand tensed on the phone, as if he prepared to hurl it. The amber of his eyes darkened as though tensing for a storm. But then he looked directly at her.

  “You’ll stay here till Roy arrives? And then you’ll stay with him till I get back?”

  “You’ll return here after your regular workday at AFD?”

  He nodded. “As long as I’m sure I’m not followed or otherwise hijacked. But you’ll also keep in touch. I’ll give you back your phone.” His scowl deepened. “No, that won’t work. You can’t turn it on, in case there’s a chip in it that they can use to track you.”

  She didn’t like his use of the amorphous, unidentified “they” but knew what he meant. She had to ask—even goad him—though. “But can’t they track me by way of my computer? That’s how you found me in the first place, isn’t it?”

  “Not exactly. The fact you were hacking into sites that didn’t concern you put you on the radar of the very diligent IT folks who assist the department I’m working for. They were able to trace your identity from that, but not your location. Not directly. They figured out who you were, where you worked and where you live through normal channels, not a chip or GPS.”

  “So even though they know who they’re looking for now—lucky me—the fact we’re still using different IDs means they won’t know to look for us here?”