Born In Secret. Kylie BrantЧитать онлайн книгу.
I have no doubt they’ll execute the mission perfectly.”
“I hope so. Because we both know the ramifications if they fail.” The two men shared a silent look of understanding, then raised their glasses. To the mission. To success.
Long after Dirk had left, Richard remained in his study, contemplating the faded network of scars on the back of his hands. His gaze was turned inward, on a bittersweet journey of memories that he rarely indulged in. The hard living he’d experienced in his sixty-two years hadn’t come without regrets. Decisions made decades ago, even viewed from the distance of time, could still haunt.
With effort he climbed out of memory’s abyss and into the present. He trusted Dirk to do as he’d promised, and had no doubt that very soon Walker James would be flying to the Middle East to begin the assignment. Richard thought it was a mission that Walker would relish and excel at. And since Richard’s involvement would be kept secret, there was no reason to believe he wouldn’t accept the job.
It occurred to him then that Walker bore more resemblance to Dirk Longfield than he did to his own father. He tried not to let that bother him, wished that it didn’t. They both had black hair, although Dirk’s was now threaded with gray. Walker’s eyes were a shade lighter than Dirk’s midnight-blue, and his regard even more piercing. But the real cause for jealousy wasn’t for the two men’s similarity in looks, it was for their relationship. Richard knew that Walker considered Dirk his father in every sense that mattered.
And that fact was his biggest regret of all.
Chapter 1
At heart, Walker James would always remain a thief. The acknowledgment brought him no shame. He’d been a damn good one in his delinquent youth. If his illegal career had been cut short by Dirk Longfield’s interference, well, the talents he’d acquired along the way had been equally useful in the alternative path he’d chosen. Or perhaps, he mused sardonically, it had chosen him. It was doubtful that many people made the conscious decision to become a spy.
He prowled Dirk’s well-appointed office, his muscled frame moving soundlessly. For once he failed to be amused by his mentor’s choice in collectibles. A Ming dynasty vase stood side by side with a chipped and faded replica of Mickey Mouse. A Picasso adorned one wall, hanging next to a scarlet sunset painted on velvet, artist unknown. Beneath his feet was a rich faded tapestry rug dating from the regime of Catherine the Great. And behind the acre-long walnut desk was a well-known wall hanging of canines cheating at poker.
The rare beside the common. The tacky and the priceless. The collection invited a guest to make all manner of judgments about the collector. They would likely all be wrong. After ten years of friendship with Dirk, Walker knew the man acquired chiefly for whimsy. The value of an object meant far less to him than the fact that it had caught his fancy. Walker didn’t share the sentiment, but he understood it. Just as he understood the man who had currently been keeping him waiting for—he checked his watch again—twenty minutes.
When he’d received the phone call from his mentor, Walker had been on his way out the door for some well-deserved rest on a tropical beach, preferably a nude one. Although he’d meant to travel alone, he hadn’t intended to stay that way for long. There had been a lot of creature comforts that he’d gone without for a while, and sex was one of them. He’d hoped to take the next couple weeks remedying that.
But then he’d spoken to Dirk and plans had changed. The airline ticket had remained lying on top of the gateleg hallway table in his Philadelphia penthouse, and he’d driven down to Virginia immediately. Loyalty was an innate part of his makeup. Which explained why he was currently cooling his heels in this gallery of contrasts instead of sitting on a white sand beach, sipping rum and oiling a well-endowed blonde’s butt. He glanced at his watch again. Patience would never be one of his strengths.
The door opened then and he turned a jaundiced eye toward the man strolling toward him. “For a guy who was in such a hurry to get me here, you seem to have developed a sluggish sense of time.”
Dirk merely shot him a good-natured smile and clapped an arm around his shoulders. “You’re looking good, kid.” He reared back, pretended to study the younger man’s face. “A few more lines, maybe, but you needed to toughen up that pretty-boy face of yours.”
An unwilling smile tugging at his lips, Walker returned the man’s embrace. “It’s only been three months. I couldn’t have aged that much.” If he had he would only count it as a blessing. The movie star good looks he’d been cursed with at birth didn’t exactly make his an anonymous face. That was a damn nuisance in his line of work.
Gesturing the younger man to a chair, Dirk seated himself. “You probably should have. The way I hear it, you barely managed to escape your last mission with all your limbs intact.” His casual tone didn’t quite mask the concern in his voice.
Walker shrugged. “Let’s just say I have a renewed respect for explosives.” Although he hadn’t walked away from the job unscathed, he had walked away. It was an important distinction. “The mission was successful.”
Dirk’s mouth quirked. “I never doubted it. Which leads me, indirectly, to why you’re here. I have a job to propose, one that calls for the best. Naturally I thought of you.”
“I learned from the best.” Walker’s quiet answer was more than just factual. It was Dirk who had introduced him to the shadowy world of espionage…a world where right and wrongs weren’t always black and white, but more often a mottled shade of gray. He’d found it a comfortable enough fit.
Inclining his head to acknowledge the compliment, Dirk went on. “How much have you heard about the trouble brewing between Montebello and Tamir?”
“In which decade?” Walker asked dryly. The two small Middle Eastern countries had been feuding on and off for more than a century. “Seems like I heard something recently about Sheik Ahmed Kamal’s son being missing and him holding King Marcus Sebastiani responsible.”
Dirk’s expression was serious. “The king’s oldest daughter is pregnant by Kamal’s son, Rashid. He was last seen in the company of the princess, so when he came up missing Kamal immediately blamed Sebastiani. The sheik threatened to retaliate by taking over Montebello.”
Walker let out a soft tuneless whistle. Since Montebello was situated in a strategic military location, the ramifications were clear. “So the U.S. wants to protect their interests there, discreetly of course, while keeping the peace.”
“Partially.” Dirk hesitated for a moment, seemed to choose his words carefully. “There have been threats on Sebastiani’s family—bombings, attempted kidnappings— and the king believed Kamal was behind them. New intelligence indicates that the sheik wasn’t responsible at all, but a rebel faction housed in Maloun called the Brothers of Darkness.”
“I’ve heard of them. They’re rumored to have at least one terrorist cell here in the states, near L.A.” He frowned, searching his memory. “Seems there was something recently about a U.C.L.A. scientist being questioned about a possible connection with them.”
“Dr. Sinan Omer. He’s suspected of taking a shot at Princess Christina Sebastiani while at a conference out there. We think the Brothers have been heightening the strife between the two countries as a cover. Our sources in the Middle East tell us the organization is close to developing an anthrax virus to use against Kamal’s people. They intend to overthrow the sheik’s government and bring their own leader into power there.”
“Biological warfare.” Walker said the words, felt chilled. If the organization succeeded, he doubted they’d be content with oil rich Tamir. The entire Middle East would be at risk. The repercussions would be felt around the world.
He looked at Dirk. “What do I do?” That simply, that easily, he was committed. He could think of nothing he wouldn’t do for this man, who’d stepped into his life and changed its direction. But there was a larger, more encompassing matter at stake. Over the years, much to his dismay, Walker James had developed a conscience.
He