Striking Distance. Debra WebbЧитать онлайн книгу.
she’d expected to hear, “You have the codes, don’t you?”
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. “Codes?” Her posture stiffened before she could stop it. He noticed. Dammit. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“They’re watching you.” He surveyed the wooded area around them. “They know.”
“Who knows?” She straightened, adopted a fight-or-flight stance and did a little surveying of her own.
He reached into an interior pocket of his high-priced suit jacket and pulled out a 9 mm handgun. “Take this. You may need it.”
She stared at the nickel-plated weapon before accepting it. “How do you know?” She’d reported the breach the moment she stumbled upon it while reviewing endless boring text. Someone, inside the agency, had hidden the codes in the documents. She had no idea how or why, she’d simply done her job. But, as Martin said, she had, in fact, uncovered some sort of code. Her supervisor had appeared agitated that she’d made such a discovery. And it wasn’t like she could forget what she’d seen. Once she viewed data—any data, written, visual, whatever—it was in her brain for all time.
“I always know what’s going on with my special students.”
He’d been an excellent mentor. She’d counted on him. Trusted him...but somehow this felt off. The psych evaluators who’d assessed her prior to advancing into the CIA’s training program had called the little sixth sense she possessed elevated precognitive reception. Well, whatever the hell it was, her little precog receptors were humming like mad.
“Is there something else I should know?” Was he only here to warn her to be careful? She resisted the urge to shake her head. It just didn’t make sense.
“You’ll need—” The rest of his words were cut off by screaming tires and a roaring engine.
Tasha dove for the ground, hitting the asphalt hard and rolling behind his car just as a hail of gunfire erupted.
Martin followed suit, their movements like a well-choreographed dance.
She shifted into a crouch and prepared to return fire when the world suddenly went dark.
* * *
Her head ached.
Tasha slowly opened her eyes and surveyed the room around her. Plain white walls. No furniture other than the chair in which she sat.
Where the hell was she? She blinked and even that small movement cost her. The ache in her head sliced through her skull like a machete.
Her hands were secured behind her back. She twisted her wrists, the flesh there burning from the tightness of the ropes.
Martin.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Had he been shot?
The code.
Surely this wasn’t about that code...she didn’t even know what it related to.
The door across the ten-by-ten room suddenly opened, and a man dressed in black combat gear walked in. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it.
“Hello, Agent North.”
She looked up at him from beneath her lashes and told him her position in no uncertain terms. “I don’t know what you want. You’re wasting your time.”
He tugged at first one leather glove and then the other, pulling them firmly into place. “You think so?”
She laughed softly, anticipation already rushing to steady her spinning head. Let him take his best shot. “I know so.”
“We’ll just see about that.”
He started toward her, and Tasha did as she had been trained.
She shut down all nonessential functions.
Closed him out.
Closed everything out.
Chapter 6
They’d covered her head and tied her hands behind her back again. Tasha stayed very still, absorbing the details around her as best she could in her current state of near numbness. The vehicle—a cargo van maybe—she’d been shoved into glided smoothly toward its destination. City streets, well maintained. No back road. Not yet. Wherever they were taking her she had a pretty good idea they planned to execute her and dump the body.
She hadn’t given either of the men who’d interrogated her what they wanted. She was of no further use to them. Those words echoed through her throbbing skull as she allowed her senses to awaken more fully, inch by slow inch. The bruised ribs and split lip were the least of her worries. Unless she finagled an escape she was dead.
Just in case she managed a getaway, she had studied each face she’d encountered very carefully. Had even gotten a DNA sample under her nails when she scratched one of them. She almost smiled when she thought of the head butt she’d pulled off, taking one guy down. She hoped his nose was broken.
Well, at least she’d put up a good fight and she hadn’t given them the code.
That was something.
Though an alien emotion, what felt like fear, moved through her. She had to admit that the thought of dying so young lacked any appeal whatsoever.
The vehicle rocked slightly as it slowed, then stopped briefly. She listened intently. No traffic sounds. A left turn. Then a right. They were likely nearing their final destination now. Her heart rate quickened.
The vehicle bumped over a rise and then stopped. Parking lot, she surmised. The sound of metal sliding over metal and a rush of cool air told her the cargo door had been opened.
It was now or never. She had to make a move.
When she would have pushed herself up, brutal hands shoved her forcefully from behind, sending her hurtling out of the vehicle.
She landed hard. Her skin, wherever exposed, identified asphalt beneath her. Struggling frantically, she maneuvered into an upright position, her legs folded painfully under her. If she could only get up...
Those hands pushed her back down.
She braced for the impact of a bullet.
Silence.
Footsteps retreating.
Tires squealed as the vehicle spun away.
Stunned as much by the shock of being left alive as by the pain now making itself known in a big way, for one long moment Tasha could only sit there, bewildered.
The sound of clapping jerked her out of her state of dazed confusion.
She stumbled to her feet, battling with the bindings on her wrists. Within seconds she was free, the knots oddly easy to escape. Not like before.
“Bravo, Agent North.”
She jerked the cloth sack from her head and glared in the direction of the voice. Martin. Her mentor. Her recruiter. The man she trusted above all others.
“What the...”
Her words drifted off as realization seeped into her muddled gray matter. She’d been set up. He hadn’t needed a tracking device...he’d planned this.
“You son of a bitch,” she snarled as she charged toward him.
He held up both hands to halt her attack. The streetlamp on the outer perimeter of the abandoned parking lot provided sufficient light for her to see his features. “Now, don’t go taking it out on the messenger.”
“What the hell was this?” She swiped at the blood leaking from her split lip, wincing at the burn.
“Just a small—” he held his forefinger and thumb close together “—final test,” he assured her with a knowing nod.
“Test?”