She glanced upward, her gaze sweeping the surrounding trees, looking for cameras, before inspecting the roof. Mack could have told her where every one of them was located. She didn't hurry, but slid under the beams, taking care not to disturb them. Mack was a little surprised that Jefferson had used something so easy to defeat. The beams were crisscrossed, but still a good foot from the ground where someone as limber as Violet could slide beneath them. The woman used her elbows and knees to propel herself forward. She had shed the elegance of her former appearance and wore a black jumpsuit. Her hair was covered with a tight cap and there were no diamonds glittering anywhere on her body.
Mack caught a brief glimpse of a shadow sliding along the lawn, very low, not ten feet from Violet. He held his breath as Javier rolled clear of the beams and into the thick hedge that ran around the house. Violet wasn't as confident, propelling her body forward with painstaking slowness.
Jacob's voice brought Mack's attention back to the house. "Griffen is no danger to us, James. The GhostWalkers are like his kids. He doesn't want to lose them any more than Whitney does. Once you explain to him that we're all on the same side, he'll understand."
"He's arrogant." Dislike was evident in Jefferson's voice.
Jacob laughed harshly. "Now we're getting to the real reason you're upset. You don't like Griffen."
"He rubs me the wrong way."
Violet was at the window now. She reached her arm up and pressed a small object into the frame. Another piece went into her ear.
Jacob helped himself to more brandy. "He rubs you the wrong way because he doesn't like spooks. You're recruiting his men for your dirty work."
"He doesn't have the balls to make this country strong. We need strong leaders," Jefferson said. "Griffen's thinking is linear. Black and white."
"Still, he not only believes in the GhostWalker program, but he runs one of the teams," Jacob pointed out.
"He's squeamish. He talked about women's rights for God's sake. Who gives a fuck? Really, Jacob. We're talking about having the greatest soldiers in the world and he wants to spout off about women's rights. We have a chance to make the United States the most powerful country in the world. Imagine if we could send a lone soldier into an enemy camp undetected and he could assassinate their greatest general and no one would be the wiser because the death looks natural. We could change entire governments, put people in office friendly to our country and no one, no one, would be the wiser. Whitney is a man of great vision . . ."
"Yet you don't listen when he tells you he has plans for one of his GhostWalkers."
"He has to be protected, even from himself. And Jacob." Jefferson looked up to meet Jacob's eyes over his drink. "So does Andrew. His daughter-in-law is as cold as ice. She can't be trusted. Whitney chose her to be the senator's wife because she had the least ability to be a soldier, but she has no loyalty."
Mack watched Violet's face carefully. There was no change of expression. None. She might have been listening to a bedtime story. She might not have as many psychic talents as the other GhostWalkers, but he doubted if Whitney had sold her to Freeman because of her lack of talent; more likely he recognized her amoral nature. Whitney would have slated her for termination. He couldn't control her through her affinity for others. If she was loyal to Freeman, it was because Whitney had bound them in some way. Mack would never believe the woman had a genuine care for anyone.
"She's loyal to Ed," Jacob pointed out. "And that's good enough for me."
"She's sleeping with Andrew," Jefferson said. "She controls him as totally as she does Ed. He'll do anything she wants. And she wants Whitney to back Ed so Andrew will bring his full weight behind what she wants."
Jacob sucked in his breath. "Are you sure? That can't be true. Andrew loves his son."
"Andrew's a man. Violet was trained to seduce men. It was part of her 'wifely' duties. Sleeping with Andrew keeps him in line. She has his ear, and he feeds her the information she wants, so be very careful of what you tell him. She does whatever it takes to further Ed's career, including fucking anyone he wants her to. Hell, Ed likes to watch. I've got tapes, Jacob. He's just as sick as she is. Whitney programmed her that way and she's very single-minded. She came here prepared to sleep with me to get her way."
"But you didn't."
Jefferson shuddered. "I'd sooner sleep with a snake. She'd smile at you while she cut your balls off, Jacob. Don't ever trust her."
Abrams regarded Jefferson over the rim of his glass. "I don't trust anyone anymore, James. We live in shifting times." He put down his glass. "I'm an old man and need my sleep. Think about what I said about that girl in San Francisco. Leave her to Whitney. And as for Violet, let's see how it goes with Andrew, whether or not he notices anything different about Ed. Whitney swears he's the same, just more malleable. If Ed passes the test with Andrew, Whitney may want to strike a bargain with Violet and bring those women in. Especially the one he knows is pregnant. I think he'd do just about anything, including making a deal with that she-devil, if it meant getting his hands on the pregnant woman."
Mack cursed softly under his breath. He was fairly certain the pregnant woman they were referring to was the woman Kane was searching for.
"You know one of the GhostWalkers who turned in evidence against Whitney was the one who impregnated her. He's searching for her and Griffen is helping him, using all of his sources."
"You have a line to Griffen. Let them search. As soon as they know where she is, we'll know and we can snatch her first," Abrams said. "Use both of them to get what we want. You can always have the bastard killed on a mission later if he gives you any more trouble."
Jefferson didn't bother to mention he'd tried it several times already.
Abrams put down his glass and picked up his coat. "I've seen Ed Freeman, James. I don't think his own father or anyone else will ever be able to tell the difference."
"Can we trust Violet?"
"We don't have to. If she tries to destroy Whitney or any of us, Ed will die. It's that simple. Whitney has a protection built into the program and there is no way Violet is going to let Ed die. She'll ride him all the way to the presidency."
"And we'll control both of them." Satisfaction purred in Jefferson's voice.
"A triumph beyond measure," Abrams agreed.
Violet swiftly pocketed her listening device and rolled under the beams back toward the safety of the groves of trees. Javier had already anticipated her departure and moved before her, sliding into the shadows just parallel to her, escorting her back to where she'd left her car, just to make certain she didn't backtrack and surprise them.
James Bradley Jefferson cleaned up the glasses, carrying them carefully through to his kitchen, where he washed them thoroughly and put them away. The small recorder he'd secreted in the book was removed and taken with him to his bedroom. One by one the lights in the house went out until only a single lamp shone in the bedroom.
Mack waited until the moon moved across the sky and the sounds of the night had resumed a loud chorus. The slightest thing could alert a pro, including the sounds of insects. As he descended he made certain his energy was suppressed, that he moved with the night itself, keeping the natural rhythm.
Gideon's sole job was to protect him, and Mack couldn't imagine a better backup. Gideon never missed. Javier waited by the house. "He's got two cameras in the back. That's our best bet, boss," Javier said. "Both are on five-second sweeps. You should be able to move through the two of them if you watch each lens, and use that weird-ass teleportation thing you've got. No one will ever know you were in the house."
Mack scowled at him. "I told you, it isn't exactly teleportation."
"Whatever. Just do it and watch where you position yourself." Javier glanced at his watch. "Counting down now."
Mack crouched low, leapt over the high back fence--probably the reason there were only two cameras. He landed just to the right of the house and moved with blurring speed, his body looking to the naked eyes lik
e a shadow made of dust, a blur, and then forming from one spot after another until he crossed the open yard to the back door. He couldn't teleport anywhere he wanted, he could only use short bursts of speed, moving his mass small distances, rather than one long one. He'd found a few uses for his particular talent, but not many, and it took a lot out of him.
It wasn't difficult to bypass the alarm on the door. The box was located on the roof and easy enough to access. Mack slipped into Jefferson's house and padded silently through the kitchen, down the hall, to the bedroom. The door was ajar. A fireplace cast a small glow over the room, illuminating the man reading in bed.
Jefferson wore a pair of glasses and lounged with his robe tied loosely over a striped pajama shirt. The covers were pulled up to his waist. Beside his bed was a cigar in an ashtray and a drink. Mack moved with his blurring speed, looking like a dark shadow materializing beside the bed.
Jefferson dropped his book, his hand sliding toward his pillow.
"Don't," Mack said softly as he removed one glove. "I just wanted to give you a chance to realize you've already accomplished what you set out to do."
Jefferson relaxed. "And what would that be?"
"You wanted to create an assassin who could go into an enemy camp undetected, kill the general, and walk out with no one the wiser."
"You're a GhostWalker."
"How else could I have gotten in without detection?" Mack leaned down and laid his palm very gently over Jefferson's heart. He moved without aggression, utterly calm, almost tranquil, so Jefferson was without alarm.
"You overheard my conversation." He winced. Looked up at Mack. "Oh, fuck."
"No," Mack corrected softly. "You're fucked. You shouldn't have been so stupid as to come after us. What did you think would happen?"
Jefferson slumped back on the pillow, his mouth open, his eyes wide and staring, one arm flung out as if toward the phone, reaching for help.
Mack waited until he was certain the man was dead before he pulled on his glove and exited, turning on the alarm and once more moving undetected through the cameras.
CHAPTER 18
The moment Mack made his way up to the second floor, he felt the instant tension and knew something was wrong. His team--Ethan included--was assembled around a table, an obvious makeshift war room. His beeper had gone off in the plane, so he wasn't at all surprised that there was trouble.
Jaimie looked up, her face a little pale and strained, but she leapt up, a smile blocking out the worry. That look alone was worth everything to him. Uncaring that Sergeant Major was watching, or that his team had grins on their faces, he swept her into his arms and kissed her thoroughly. He took his time, feeling her cling to him, the slight trembling in her body.
He framed her face with his hands. "Are you all right?"
Jaimie nodded. "I'm glad you're back. We have a bad situation here, Mack."
"I can see that, honey." He reluctantly let his arms drop, stripping off his jacket. "Sergeant Major, you're cleared. The mission was a success."
Griffen nodded his head just once in understanding. The old, faded eyes smiled at Mack briefly in acknowledgment before he indicated the computer screens above their heads. "You're looking at the reason for World War Three, Mack."
He looked up and studied the two unlikely faces. A small girl of about ten looked back at him, her shiny black hair framing her face. Beside her was a serious young teenager, perhaps seventeen, with razor-straight, gleaming black hair and dark eyes hidden behind black-rimmed glasses. "And they are?"
"Dae-sub Chun is seventeen. A nice young man, far ahead of his age. The girl is a niece of an old friend. Her name is Mi-cha Song. Dae-sub Chun's father is General Kwang-sub Chun. He just happens to be the ambassador to D.P.R.K. Permanent mission to the UN."
Javier lowered his gear to the floor. "That doesn't sound good."
"Democratic People's Republic of Korea," Sergeant Major reiterated.
"No," Javier said. "I'm guessing anything to do with North Korea right now isn't going to be good, not when our countries are posturing at each other."
"It gets worse," Griffen said. "The girl is the sister of one of our agents. Both children have been kidnapped."
"Was the girl's abduction deliberate?" Mack asked. "Is our agent compromised?"
Griffen shook his head. "No, she was with the boy at a museum. She had been visiting General Chun's family. We don't believe she was the target so much as Dae-sub. Educated guesses by Chun leaned toward blackmail at first. It seems one of their leading scientists accidentally stumbled upon a particularly unstable and highly explosive compound. Somehow Doomsday was able to infiltrate the lab and obtain the information. The general was certain he would be contacted very soon with a demand for the formula and compound. We all know the general's wife was killed last year, and that he loved her very much. It nearly broke him. He isn't a young man and now, with his son in grave danger, well, this is a desperate situation any way you look at it."
"Then you've been in touch with General Chun?"
"Yes, very quietly. He can't be seen talking with us, of course."
Mack found a chair and gratefully accepted the cup of coffee Kane pushed into his hands. He'd been up all night and traveling all day and needed rest. But the room was tense, Jaimie looked stressed, and Sergeant Major Griffen was as grim as he'd ever seen him.
"Lay it out for us," Mack said and waved Gideon and Javier into chairs.
"We took the weapons in the warehouse," Kane said. "The mission went like clockwork, boss. When Shepherd and Estes tried to break in, we killed two of their men. We managed to tag both of them with a tracking device. We couldn't have asked for a smoother operation."
Griffen took up the story. "We traced them all the way to China. Beijing to be exact."
Mack sat up straighter. "China? What the hell would Shepherd and Estes want in China?" He sank back. "Never mind. If you want to go to North Korea, you have to go to Beijing, right?"
Kane nodded his head. "They met with Frank Koit and Holeander Armstice, both known members of Doomsday. The four traveled together to North Korea. The next day, these two children were snatched from the museum and their bodyguards were slain. The kidnappers left behind an American assault rifle."
"To implicate the United States," Mack guessed. "Because we aren't in enough trouble already, with both countries pissed off at each other over the nuclear issue."
"Publicly North Korea has warned of military action against the United States," Kane said. "Even if they knew we weren't guilty of kidnapping these children, to save face they'd have to retaliate if it looked to the world as if we were responsible for grabbing them."
"The world would be on their side," Griffen said. "Using children as pawns in a nuclear debate would be despicable."
"And the children would have to die," Mack added. "You know they'd kill them. What other choice would they have? Even if they pretended, the boy was raised by General Kwang-sub Chun. You know he'd spot any inconsistencies. One thing, he won't panic, not if he's anything at all like his old man."
"Privately, North Korea has asked for us to aid them in getting these children out alive."
Mack sighed and rubbed at his temples. "Are you certain the kids are still alive, Top?"
"We have to believe that," Griffen said. "I want your team to go in and bring them out."
Jaimie made a small sound of distress. Mack swung his head to look at her. She was curled up in a chair a few feet away from the table, partially hidden in the shadows, her face averted. "He makes it sound so easy."
"We have to know where they are," Mack said. "Unless our bugs have stopped working."
"Oh, no," Jaimie said, "they're in place. They're relaying the information just fine." She rubbed her hand over her face. "They're transmitting from under the American embassy in Beijing. The American embassy, Mack. If the kids are found there, the world is in trouble."
"Shit," Javier commented.
"Thank you for your contributi
on," Griffen said. "As you can see, Mack, this requires a delicate hand. You have to get in unseen, scoop the kids back without anyone knowing you--or they--were ever there. That means no shots fired. Nothing that could possibly draw attention to this situation."
"With no shots fired? Against a terrorist organization that thrives on as much violence and publicity as possible?" Mack looked at Kane. "When do we leave?"
"I'll provide as much intel as I can from here," Jaimie volunteered.
"You have to go with them," Sergeant Major ordered. "I'm not asking."
There was a shocked silence. The men looked at one another. Mack looked at Jaimie. She squeezed her eyes closed tightly, fists clenching until the knuckles turned white, until her fingernails bit deeply into her palm. "You know I can't go with them, Sergeant Major," she whispered softly, a thousand tears in her voice, her chest aching. "I would if I could, but it's impossible. I nearly got Mack killed on our last mission together."
"She can feed us intel from here," Mack said.
Griffen shook his head. "I don't need her feeding you intel. I need her to do whatever she does to get you all in and out quietly. If there was another way . . . But she's what we have and we have to use her skills."
"I don't work for you anymore." Her voice was stiff. She didn't look at any of them.
"You never stopped. And I'm not asking," Griffen retorted.
Jaimie stood up so fast her chair went over backward. "You're not going to do this to me. Arrest me."
"Don't think I won't. This is what you were trained for and, by God, you're going to do your job."
"Sergeant Major." Mack's voice was low. Ice-cold.
The room went dead silent. Kane moved. The action was subtle, but he put his body between Jaimie and the rest of the room.
Griffen rose, his eyes narrowing. He did a slow sweep of the room with speculative eyes. "Are you threatening me, soldier?"
The tension in the room rose significantly. Mack didn't so much as blink, letting it stretch out almost to a breaking point. "I said nothing to give you that impression--sir."