Free Two Evils by Christina Moore

Charger, a powerful American vehicle that had become popular with law enforcement agencies across the country in recent years. She’d owned a Ford Escape before heading down to the Virgin Islands, though she’d sold it in order to help pay for her trip. John opened the trunk and they both dropped their bags into it, then he hit a button on his key fob and the door locks clicked open. Billie settled into the passenger bucket seat and found it more comfortable than she’d expected. She was fastening her seatbelt when John slid into the driver’s seat and slipped the key into the ignition.
    His face lit up with a satisfactory smile when the engine roared to life, and he turned to grin in her direction as it idled into a quiet rumble. “Gotta love the sound of good ol’ American muscle.”
    Billie tried and failed to stifle a laugh. “Boys and their toys,” she said with a shake of her head. “Come on, Agent Courtney, let’s drive.”
    Just over half an hour later, they were pulling up to the North Parking Visitor Screening Facility at the Pentagon. When the guard on duty asked for their identification, Billie nonchalantly pulled the Virgin Islands driver’s license identifying her as Georgia Ross from her wallet and handed it to John. He only lifted an eyebrow as he glanced at it, before passing it over with his own.
    The guard scrutinized the IDs closely, leaning down to peer into the car at each of them in order to compare them with the pictures on the plastic in his hand. It occurred to her then that John’s CIA credentials would have come in handy at this point. Official identification always made things go smoother, unless you were dealing with an operative from another agency—none of the federal agencies liked sharing information or credit.
    The guard handed their IDs back. “What’s the nature of your business Mr. Courtney? I’m certain you’re aware of the time—and the last tour ended a good six hours ago.”
    “Sergeant, my associate and I have urgent business with Brigadier General Sterling Wainright,” John said. “Could you please see if he’s still on the premises?”
    The staff sergeant looked as though he wanted to refuse the request, but nevertheless he stepped back into the guard booth and picked up a phone, while his partner, although standing casually, held his M-16 ready.
    They watched the sergeant speak to someone briefly, then he hung up and returned. “I’m afraid the gener al is no longer on site, Mr. Courtney.”
    “Can you tell us why?” Billie leaned forward to ask before John could speak.
    The staff sergeant looked at her. “I do not know the general’s itinerary, Ms. Ross.”
    “Shit,” she muttered as John thanked the man.
    A moment later John was backing out of the drive and turning around. “This is great,” Billie grumbled. “We’ve got no clue where the man is—‘no longer on site’ could mean anything.”
    “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Billie,” John said. “Let me find a phone and I’ll get a hold of Rex. He can call the Brigadier’s house and see if he’s there. If he’s not home, you’re just going to have to wait until tomorrow to throw his monumental mistake in his face.”
    Fifteen minutes later, they had confirmation that Wainright was not home—he was at Georgetown University Hospital with his family, where his daughter was in labor with his first grandchild.
    “And no, I will not take you there,” John added as he’d relayed the information from Rex.
    “Kiss my ass, Courtney. Do you really think I’m so inconsiderate as to interrupt a family waiting on a baby?” Billie asked with a sneer. “Give me some fucking credit for having common decency.”
    “I’m almost surprised you even know what that is,” he countered, his voice laced with sarcasm. “I already tried to tell you this could wait until tomorrow.”
    She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him pointedly over the top of his car. “Oh really? Eddie