Together.
Having absorbed the implications of the room’s occupants, she returned to the peephole. She found the door leading to the function room that held the hostages. Guarded, of course. She had no doubt the main exit from that room was guarded, as well, and she’d already seen the interior guard. The hostages had nowhere to go unless she could cause enough diversion to get them out through this corridor. The ceilings were high and original; the heating ducts primitive and usually merely grates between the rooms. The same factors meant there would be little opportunity to beard the terrorists in their chosen den. She had no intention of revealing she’d discovered this passage until she had no choice.
Well, then. Perhaps she’d have to nibble at them from the edges. They might know she was here, but they wouldn’t know about her Athena Academy background. They wouldn’t know she hadn’t run to the darkest, most distant corner of the building to tremble and wait out the crisis.
But before she took any action at all, she needed to relay the details of the situation to someone on the outside. Cole. And to judge by the impact his voice had had on her the last time, she’d best get her head together before she made that call.
Cole crossed his arms and stared at the kitchen phone. Glared at it, truth be told. He’d already snatched it up once on the first ring, only to find himself at the other end of a useless conversation with someone at the FBI. Someone apologetically informing him that Selena might be involved in the current Berzhaani crisis. “Of course she is,” Cole had snapped, adding the instant follow-up, “What’re you doing about it? Has HRT been called?”
And the young man on the other end of the line had fumbled his words; Cole clearly hadn’t followed the script. Then he’d admitted he didn’t have any information about the Hostage Rescue Team and he couldn’t tell Cole even if he did. Typical. Cole had darkly warned the young man that they’d best stay out of Selena’s way. And then he’d hung up, leaving the line free for Selena.
He uncrossed his arms long enough to stalk from one end of the apartment to the other, then dropped for a quick series of push-ups. It didn’t do much to ease his explosive tension; he grabbed his cell phone and considered calling the special agent who’d recently borrowed him from the CIA. It’s not what you know, it’s who…
But he didn’t yet have anything to say, not really. And the woman wouldn’t be at liberty to reveal any information even if she had it. Nope, he wasn’t sure the FBI connection was the way to go, no matter that they signed Selena’s paycheck. And the CIA? Not likely to be any better. They might well have a special ops team on the way; they might even be working with the military to get the SEALs sent in. They might well be engaged in a turf war with HRT.
That didn’t mean anyone would tell Cole.
He considered the phone in his hand, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. There had to be someone he could contact…strings to pull, favors to call in. He had plenty of both…just not anyone in a position to siphon him this particular information.
He flung himself into the creamy leather recliner opposite the television—on, but muted. The UBC station had only been repeating the same old phrases, the very same words they were running across the bottom of the screen. But now…now they switched to an image of Tory Patton. Tall and elegant, sleek black hair sweeping the length of her chin, green eyes piercing even across thousands of miles of satellite feed. Tory Patton. More than just a pretty star reporter face. She, too, had been to the Athena Academy.
Selena said little of her former schoolmates even when pressed, but Cole had no trouble seeing her fierce loyalty to them; he had no trouble spotting her pride these past few months. Athena grads Kim Valenti and Diana Lockworth had each saved President Gabriel
Having absorbed the implications of the room’s occupants, she returned to the peephole. She found the door leading to the function room that held the hostages. Guarded, of course. She had no doubt the main exit from that room was guarded, as well, and she’d already seen the interior guard. The hostages had nowhere to go unless she could cause enough diversion to get them out through this corridor. The ceilings were high and original; the heating ducts primitive and usually merely grates between the rooms. The same factors meant there would be little opportunity to beard the terrorists in their chosen den. She had no intention of revealing she’d discovered this passage until she had no choice.
Well, then. Perhaps she’d have to nibble at them from the edges. They might know she was here, but they wouldn’t know about her Athena Academy background. They wouldn’t know she hadn’t run to the darkest, most distant corner of the building to tremble and wait out the crisis.
But before she took any action at all, she needed to relay the details of the situation to someone on the outside. Cole. And to judge by the impact his voice had had on her the last time, she’d best get her head together before she made that call.
Cole crossed his arms and stared at the kitchen phone. Glared at it, truth be told. He’d already snatched it up once on the first ring, only to find himself at the other end of a useless conversation with someone at the FBI. Someone apologetically informing him that Selena might be involved in the current Berzhaani crisis. “Of course she is,” Cole had snapped, adding the instant follow-up, “What’re you doing about it? Has HRT been called?”
And the young man on the other end of the line had fumbled his words; Cole clearly hadn’t followed the script. Then he’d admitted he didn’t have any information about the Hostage Rescue Team and he couldn’t tell Cole even if he did. Typical. Cole had darkly warned the young man that they’d best stay out of Selena’s way. And then he’d hung up, leaving the line free for Selena.
He uncrossed his arms long enough to stalk from one end of the apartment to the other, then dropped for a quick series of push-ups. It didn’t do much to ease his explosive tension; he grabbed his cell phone and considered calling the special agent who’d recently borrowed him from the CIA. It’s not what you know, it’s who…
But he didn’t yet have anything to say, not really. And the woman wouldn’t be at liberty to reveal any information even if she had it. Nope, he wasn’t sure the FBI connection was the way to go, no matter that they signed Selena’s paycheck. And the CIA? Not likely to be any better. They might well have a special ops team on the way; they might even be working with the military to get the SEALs sent in. They might well be engaged in a turf war with HRT.
That didn’t mean anyone would tell Cole.
He considered the phone in his hand, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. There had to be someone he could contact…strings to pull, favors to call in. He had plenty of both…just not anyone in a position to siphon him this particular information.
He flung himself into the creamy leather recliner opposite the television—on, but muted. The UBC station had only been repeating the same old phrases, the very same words they were running across the bottom of the screen. But now…now they switched to an image of Tory Patton. Tall and elegant, sleek black hair sweeping the length of her chin, green eyes piercing even across thousands of miles of satellite feed. Tory Patton. More than just a pretty star reporter face. She, too, had been to the Athena Academy.
Selena said little of her former schoolmates even when pressed, but Cole had no trouble seeing her fierce loyalty to them; he had no trouble spotting her pride these past few months. Athena grads Kim Valenti and Diana Lockworth had each saved President Gabriel
Similar Books
Mystery Of The Sea Horse
Lee Falk
The Coal War
Upton Sinclair
Come To Me
LaVerne Thompson
Breaking Point
Lesley Choyce
Wolf Point
Edward Falco
Fallowblade
Cecilia Dart-Thornton
Seduce
Missy Johnson
