4.18: Best Laid Plans
Two hours earlier
Paris, France
"Sir...respectfully, I don't think I can do this."
Tom arched an eyebrow and looked over at Brandon, who was biting his lip nervously. "What are you talking about, Sergeant McAllister?"
"Colonel." The younger man exhaled. "You know my file. You've seen me over these last couple runs. Me and guns don't get along. Shooting to defend is one thing, I'm not sure I can make an expert shot like this."
The CO had to give his subordinate credit for being open and honest about his weaknesses, and putting the success of the mission above his own bravado. But this was the job and combat was a heavy part of that job; Brandon really didn't have a choice but to learn how to handle a firearm, because they needed him on the team. "I understand, son. But we don't exactly have another choice," he said. "We need you to take this shot." A pause, holding the other man's eyes. "We believe you can take this shot."
Brandon nodded a little. "Yes, sir," he said quietly. "I'll do my best."
That had been two hours ago. Now he was standing at the window, sniper rifle carefully assembled and in hand. At least his hands weren't shaking; that was a plus. He just had to convince himself that he had the skill. One even slight miss and everything could go to hell, and he didn't want that. He still had a guilt complex from thinking he'd killed a federal judge. Maybe he was just too honest for this side of the line. Either way, he had his orders and he was going to follow them.
He was waiting for word from Bridget, who was across the street monitoring the meeting between their bosses and French regional authorities. He wouldn't take the shot until he got the all clear, and she was making sure that was all they got.
Downstairs from her, on the lower level of the cafe, Katie was fixing her hair...again. It had bothered her all day. Not to mention that she didn't speak French, so much to her annoyance as a perfectionist, she was having to rely on her husband to translate anything in the native tongue. She had a pocket dictionary, but it didn't exactly look professional for a senior U.S. military officer to be paging such in the field.
"Katie, your hair looks fine," Tom said without turning around. After almost five hours in country he was used to this.
She made a soft snort and stopped fussing with it, looking over at him. She'd dressed up a little in a good pair of jeans, a V-neck top and her favorite trenchcoat. He looked better than she did, even in such casual condition. "Did I buy you that sweater?" she remarked randomly.
"Yes, you did. Four years ago." He snickered a little. Their marital status meant that now they could joke about such things while still keeping their minds on the mission.
Case in point, when their contact arrived his wardrobe history was the farthest thing from either of their minds. He stood from his seat and Katie straightened as the two men conversed. "You look well, my friend," the Frenchman said, and then eyed her. "With a gorgeous woman on your arm no less."
"So do you, Commander," Tom said with a soft chuckle. "And this gorgeous woman would be my wife."
"Ah." The Frenchman gave Katie a smile that she returned as she stayed behind her husband, playing it safe for now, before he turned his attention back to Tom. "Then you are doing very well indeed."
They sat and discussed specifics in only the usual way: the vaguest of terms, no names ever dropped. Katie and Tom were watching for Bridget to give them the signal that Brandon had a shot available. When she did, Tom glanced at his contact. "You make the call. We're ready."
The other man nodded and stepped outside, phone in hand, unaware to the fact that Bridget was listening in to every word he was saying. Sitting next to her husband, Katie narrowed her eyes as she watched the man on the phone. "How much do you trust this guy?" she asked Tom, looking like a hawk.
"We've worked together before," he said, "But not completely or I wouldn't have Redcap listening in on that phone call."
Katie bristled. "I don't need to listen in to tell you he's been on that phone too damn long."
Her suspicions were only confirmed as she watched the man walk back in as if nothing was wrong, while Tom spotted Bridget upstairs making a hasty exit. That was their clue to make a clean break, which they did, meeting her at a designated rally point near the back of the building.
"What the hell went on in there?" Tom said, looking between the two women.
"We're being set up," Bridget explained. "They were going to frame us for murder."
Tom looked over at Katie. She had picked that up just on instinct and with her own keen powers of observation. No gadgets required, not even batting an eyelash. "This is why I promoted you," he pointed out. "Let's get Fortress and get the hell out of here while we still can."
Understandably the first thing Brandon asked when they all showed up back at the hotel where he was waiting was what had happened. Tom ignored him at first, telling them to get all the gear on the bed. Only as they were pulling it all together did he explain. "Seems the French don't want to be complicit in the death of an Algerian oil man, even if he does fund al-Qaeda."
"They were gonna pin it on us, and go public," Bridget said needlessly.
"What do you want to do?" Katie asked, hands on her hips. "I would understand if you wanted to shut it down, they've got to be looking for us."
"Mission's still active," Tom said, gathering all the gear up in the bedsheets. "We gotta get him before he leaves the hotel, and it cannot look like an assassination. We can't be caught."
"Yeah, no shit, sherlock," Katie interrupted.
That got her a sarcastic look from her husband before he glanced around at all of them. "Any suggestions?" he asked.
His wife thought for a moment of all the ways she'd been taught to kill someone and bit her lip, folding her arms over her chest. "It's gonna have to be done up close and personal," she said. "Which is only going to increase the difficulty. I'd suggest something chemical."
It was Bridget who spoke up as soon as Katie had mentioned that. "I have an ex-associate in Paris," she said. "He may be of use."
Tom seemed mildly amused as he slung the gear over his shoulder. "You break his heart?" he quipped.
"I sure hope so," she replied, not catching the vaguely annoyed look on the face of her current boyfriend, who very quickly hid it from the eyes of his commanding officers as the four of them made their way out the door. He was still under the delusion that they didn't know about his relationship with Bridget, despite the fact that Tom and Katie Ryan were the very first to do the dangerous tango known as the inter-Unit romance.
****
Tactical Operations Center
Fort Griffith
Missouri
It had been Brian Falkenborg's day off. But when the situation in California had broken loose, Kayla Medawar - acting as his replacement - had no choice but to call him back in. She was in the middle of helping to cover for Bob when the large man walked back in the door. Quickly, she briefed him.
"I assume you'll want to take things from here," she said as he settled at his usual workstation.
"No, you seem to have everything under control," he replied. Kayla did have one valuable thing he didn't, which was more experience working with the Unit and with Colonel Ryan. She had been one of his senior analysts for years now. Brian and Katie had also relied on her, and were now grooming her to be the fourth-in-command in case all of them were absent.
In other words, for days like today.
"Keep doing what you're doing. I'll just jump in, see what I can do," he continued. He looked down a row at Michaela Adams, who was punching keys in her usual rapid fire rhythm. "Anything from the other team I need to know about?"
"Nothing yet, Brian." Michaela snorted. "I liked today better when all I had to worry about was Katie not being able to speak French," she admitted.
"I liked it better when I was home sleeping in. But you can't always get what you want," Brian said with a chuckle before he went right to work.
****
Paris, France
Bridget's contact sorely looked like he'd escaped from an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog. But now was not the time to be cracking jokes. He was also happy to see her, though the smile faded when he saw Tom, then Katie, and Brandon - who was keeping his bulldog instinct well under control, having ignored Tom's suggestion that he might want to stay in the hallway - follow her into the small apartment.
It was another coded exchange, Bridget taking the lead and her 'friend' going to fetch them something from a medicine cabinet that would do the job. He briefed them on exactly how to administer it, and gave them everything they needed. It was obvious that he was still a little sweet on her, but nothing she couldn't handle.
Tom was more interested in his wife's reaction as they left the apartment. "Why do I think you've heard that speech before?" he asked.
She didn't bat an eyelash. "Four years in field intelligence, you learn what you need to in order to get the job done," she said. "Especially when you're working with the best available operative." She didn't have to tell him that she meant Stephen Brennan and his world-class reputation. As a result of which, they were handpicked for higher assignments than most of her normal rank.
He snorted slightly. "When we go back to the hotel, you stay with me," he told her. A little smirk. "Think you can handle being my wife for a day?"
"I don't know," she replied sarcastically. "How am I doing so far?"
But she stayed by his side as they arrived at the hotel, through the front as if nothing was wrong. She was listening as Tom got a call from Brandon, who broke down the situation he'd picked up from his recon: security was tight at the hotel plus their target had a guard directly outside his room. That would make things difficult. It was time for them to see things with their own eyes. He nodded his head toward the stairs and she followed.
Tom watched the man's mistress take the elevator downstairs and signaled his team to get ready. Unfortunately for them, the guard hadn't moved from his spot outside the door.
"We're going to have to bait him out," Katie whispered.
"Your turn to state the obvious?" he replied sarcastically before he nodded. Something out of the corner of his eye got his attention. He checked the luggage tags on a room across the hall, then walked back and turned to her. "Guy's got a wife and two kids," he said.
The two of them exchanged a smirk.
"You stay here," he told her. "Keep an eye on him. I don't come back in five minutes, you call me and let me have it."
Katie laughed. "Oh that part is easy."
He snickered before he walked off. They had both been doing this so long that he knew he didn't have to tell her specifically what to do. If he couldn't make it work, she would. And then they'd be in motion.
Thankfully for him, the receptionist bought it from him and he didn't need to call her for effect. Tom knew Katie would have had way too much fun with that. He waited until he was out of the woman's earshot to call his wife and tell her to meet him downstairs. A few minutes later Katie joined him on one of the hideously ugly couches, where they could do nothing but wait and signal the team upstairs to make their move.
"This couch is hideous," she commented as she crossed her legs and leaned back.
He snorted. "I don't think they asked your opinion."
"No one ever does." She smiled slightly. "So how many fake children do we have?"
The question threw him for a second and he shrugged. "I said kids, so at least two," he replied, arching an eyebrow. "Hell if I know. Why?"
"Still two more than you're ever gonna have."
They were in the middle of debating what was so bad about the idea of childbirth when he saw the guard being questioned by one of the security staff. Putting his hand to his earpiece, he gave the go order. Now it was only a matter of time: how much they had, and if they could get out.
****
Once Bridget let him in the room (and he did not once think about making a comment about her and a maid outfit - that didn't do it for him, and he wanted to keep his testicles) Brandon was not all that surprised how easy it was to knock out the Algerian and administer the drug. He had covered up plenty of deaths before, in all manner of ways, be it something like this or the good old fashioned burying someone in the dead of night, in the middle of nowhere. It was part of his job as a security officer, which meant maintaining the integrity of the mission and unit at all costs. If that meant someone had to be silenced, then that was what he did.
"We can't be in here more than a few minutes," he told Bridget, knowing the fine art of doing this properly.
She nodded. "Tell me what you need and I'll help."
Brandon had no idea just how right he was. Downstairs, Tom was busy swearing when he saw the mistress come back early. He and Katie managed to buy the team some time by getting on the elevator with her, but they couldn't stop her short of acting like five-year-olds and pushing every single button. As they got off on a lower floor, he radioed Brandon. "Get the hell out of there. Now."
The other man exhaled. He hadn't meant that early. That was too early. "We've got to bail," he told Bridget, already climbing to his feet. For all he knew they had only seconds to spare. He made it to the door - and that was when the lock jammed.
"Shit," he muttered.
"What?"
"It's jammed. It's not reading the keycard." He bit his lip. One disadvantage of most hotels going to swipe cards instead of keys was that there was no longer a physical lock to pick. He reached into his backpack, grabbed some tape, and taped the card before he ran it through again. This time, it gave.
Ignoring Bridget's piqued look, they exited the room next door and headed for the elevator. They were gone well before the panic started. He was even polite enough not to look as she was changing in the elevator.
Maybe he didn't suck at this.
****
Katie and Tom made their exit a few moments after Brandon and Bridget. The rally point was at another hotel across town. In an age where everyone expected the bad guys to flee the country immediately, taking their time was almost the best cover they could ask for. They had a flight leaving in two hours, and it would all be over.
Once they had all met up in yet another nondescript hotel room, and the young operatives had left to take care of the final loose ends, Katie leaned against the building and watched the passing traffic. She was still a little shaky with nicotine cravings, having had that cigarette the week before in California. She really needed to just quit, but the job kept giving her more excuses to light up.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" she remarked.
He shook his head. "Nope. Not that hard at all if you think about it." But he saw a different look in her eyes, one that made him arch an eyebrow. "What are you thinking?" he asked her.
She smiled slightly. "That this is actually the second time I've been to Paris," she said, and took his hand.
Tom understood perfectly.
****
Three years earlier
Paris, France
"Why did you come back for me?" she asked, the two of them meeting in the dead of night at some hotel they'd both never heard of. Her voice was ready to crack. "Tom, you're risking your career, you're risking everything..."
Of course just listening to her almost cry was enough to make him want to crack too, but he swallowed down the lump in his throat. "I came for you," he said. "Katie, I haven't stopped loving you. And I needed to see you one last time. If only because you deserve the truth."
She gave a soft, cynical laugh in disbelief. Tentatively, she reached for him, her fingers stroking gently over his jawline. "I've never stopped loving you either," she admitted, "I...I just...I had to know. He deserves more."
"I know." He nodded a little, his eyes locked on hers. He wanted her to see that he was honest this time, that he loved her and it had killed him to lie to her like that. "And now you do."
She swallowed. "I don't know what to do now."
He dared to smile slightly as he pulled her closer. "Stay here with me tonight," he offered, and when she nodded and kissed him for the first time in months, it was like a weight lifted off his shoulders.
They spent that night together. And when they'd exhausted themselves, and she was laying spent in his arms, he just held her close protectively. Just those few months apart had been hell and he was regretting every minute closer to when she would have to leave. "Let me get you out of here," he said softly, kissing her shoulder. "I can transfer you home. All it would take is a few phone calls."
Katie was tempted, but she closed her eyes, resting her head against his chest. "I can't," she said. "If they're really listening...watching us that closely...I need to disappear for awhile. They need to forget me." A swallow. "Just a few more months, a year, I'm sure they'll bring me back."
"What if they don't? Leave you here?" he said, not liking the idea of another minute away from the woman he loved.
"They have to. They need me back." She exhaled slowly. "Just give me time, Tom. Let it play out. They'll stop paying attention. I'll play along for awhile. When the coast is clear I promise I'll find a way back to you." Her eyes met his. "If you are willing to wait for me. I can understand if you..."
But he silenced her with a finger to her lips. "You waited for me for years," he said. "I'll wait for you as long as it takes."
****
Katie had tears in her eyes, but she was smiling. They were tears of joy and knowing just how lucky she was. She blinked them away as she reached for her husband and kissed him deeply. After a moment, she forced herself to pull away. "We should probably get going," she said softly. "If we want to make our flight."
"Actually." Tom looked over at her and gave her the barest hint of a sly smile. "I spoke with Sergeant Medawar and she says the situation at home's being handled. Our immediate presence is not required."
Katie laughed softly and turned to face him. "What are you saying to me?"
The small smile turned into a full out playful grin. "I'm saying I booked us on a flight that leaves four hours from now, so I think we can take some personal time."
She just smiled at him, shaking her head. "You mean you planned this all along."
"You'll never be able to prove it," he said, before he kissed her passionately, showing her just how much he loved her as he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.
****
Thankfully, Tom had at least informed Brandon and Bridget of this delay in their travel plans, which left them plenty of time to burn the last of the evidence and at least talk to one another. They hadn't seen a lot of each other recently, and their relationship was still too new.
She saw the distance in his eyes, noted that even for Brandon - a man who had admitted before they ever got involved that he could be quiet and moody - he was silent. "Hey, you doing okay?" she asked.
He raised his eyes to meet hers. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said. "Just wondering. If I'm really cut out to be an operator."
She frowned slightly. "I wouldn't see why not."
"Because this just isn't me," he replied, shouldering his gear. "I'm lucky I made that shot today. Or any shot. I don't do combat situations. You want me to pick that lock in that hotel room? Fine. Scout a situation? Absolutely. But when it comes down to it, I'm no fighter. I don't know what the Colonel sees in me."
"He's not looking for a fighter." Bridget smiled encouragingly back at him. "He's looking for a good man who's willing to take on something most soldiers can't even fathom. He sees the same guy he recruited all those years ago. I think he found what he's looking for."
He considered this. She had a point. He'd passed basic, and Unit selection. Colonel Ryan had recruited him. So maybe he wasn't the muscle, but they had people like Mack, Jonas and Bob for that. It was only his third mission with the team. And even if he doubted himself, he didn't think Tom Ryan was a fool. So if anything, if he didn't trust himself? He could trust his CO when his CO said that he believed in him.
He swallowed, pushed it all out of his head and smiled a little. She turned to go, but he stayed where he was. He didn't follow, not just yet. Not until he had his wits about him. "Bridget?" he said. "The thing is..."
"What, Brandon?" she asked, turning on her heel to look back at him.
"The thing is, I love you," he said honestly. "And I wouldn't want to do anything - like getting kicked out of here - to screw that up."
She just nearly beamed at him. "On the contrary," she said. "I think you just vastly improved."
****
Several hours later
Tactical Operations Center
Fort Griffith
Missouri
There was one more thing left to do.
Brian Falkenborg was trying not to look at the hickey on his boss's neck as he hit a few more keys. He finally coughed, drawing Katie's attention, and nodded toward her neck. She glanced down, blushed, and quickly moved her hair to cover it. No one needed to see that.
"Come on," she muttered at the screen. "I want to see how many people I have to shoot."
Brian chuckled. "You might need a lot of ammunition."
"And some weapons training but really that's just a technicality."
Their banter ceased as Tom walked back into the room. "Are we up?" he asked them, and Bridget cleared her throat. "Uh, satellite imagery is still loading."
"I wonder if you get a discount if you buy ammo in bulk," Katie commented as she glared at her console.
Mack glanced over his shoulder at her. "Yeah, you do."
"Huh. Good to know."
Tom looked between the two of them and at Brian, who was snickering. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Nothing important, sir," Brian told him with a small smile.
Jonas interrupted from where the whole of Alpha Team had gathered at the front of the TOC. "What do we expect to see?" he asked his CO.
"We had state of the art tracers on those passports," Tom explained. "We're gonna see how many tentacles Mr. Drake's organization has. Wherever you see a red dot, that's where your next mission is."
"Please, please let it be Bermuda," Michaela piped up causing her fiancee to snicker. No one could blame her. If they could fight all wars in tropical climates with pretty girls there would be a lot more soldiers.
Bridget finally exhaled. "We're ready," she said.
"Okay," Tom replied. "Light her up."
Jokes about vacations and ammunition aside, it was definitely not funny as they watched first one, then two and then a whole lot of red dots pop up on the world map in front of them. Drake's organization seemed to be on every continent, in multiple places. This wasn't just a national conspiracy, but an international one. "Fucking hell," Katie swore, her mind already reeling at the possibilities. It was just statistically impossible that they could handle this alone.
"Like a Christmas tree," her husband said helpfully. He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Looks like we're in this for the long haul."
No one was happy. They had all been hoping for one or two people they could destroy and end everything. Their faces had fallen dearly as they broke up, knowing that this was far from over, and more than a year of difficulty was about to continue. Katie knew her stolen few hours of romance in Paris was going to continue to be just that: whatever minutes or hours she could find. It was no way to start a marriage, but this was no way to live.
She sighed and walked into her office, swearing again when she realized she wasn't alone. Stephen Brennan and Richard Baker were both standing there, neither of them looking that pleased with the other. Brennan spoke first. "We heard you could use some help."
Never mind how he knew it. Or how he had snuck into the building. He was back, and just in time.
Paris, France
"Sir...respectfully, I don't think I can do this."
Tom arched an eyebrow and looked over at Brandon, who was biting his lip nervously. "What are you talking about, Sergeant McAllister?"
"Colonel." The younger man exhaled. "You know my file. You've seen me over these last couple runs. Me and guns don't get along. Shooting to defend is one thing, I'm not sure I can make an expert shot like this."
The CO had to give his subordinate credit for being open and honest about his weaknesses, and putting the success of the mission above his own bravado. But this was the job and combat was a heavy part of that job; Brandon really didn't have a choice but to learn how to handle a firearm, because they needed him on the team. "I understand, son. But we don't exactly have another choice," he said. "We need you to take this shot." A pause, holding the other man's eyes. "We believe you can take this shot."
Brandon nodded a little. "Yes, sir," he said quietly. "I'll do my best."
That had been two hours ago. Now he was standing at the window, sniper rifle carefully assembled and in hand. At least his hands weren't shaking; that was a plus. He just had to convince himself that he had the skill. One even slight miss and everything could go to hell, and he didn't want that. He still had a guilt complex from thinking he'd killed a federal judge. Maybe he was just too honest for this side of the line. Either way, he had his orders and he was going to follow them.
He was waiting for word from Bridget, who was across the street monitoring the meeting between their bosses and French regional authorities. He wouldn't take the shot until he got the all clear, and she was making sure that was all they got.
Downstairs from her, on the lower level of the cafe, Katie was fixing her hair...again. It had bothered her all day. Not to mention that she didn't speak French, so much to her annoyance as a perfectionist, she was having to rely on her husband to translate anything in the native tongue. She had a pocket dictionary, but it didn't exactly look professional for a senior U.S. military officer to be paging such in the field.
"Katie, your hair looks fine," Tom said without turning around. After almost five hours in country he was used to this.
She made a soft snort and stopped fussing with it, looking over at him. She'd dressed up a little in a good pair of jeans, a V-neck top and her favorite trenchcoat. He looked better than she did, even in such casual condition. "Did I buy you that sweater?" she remarked randomly.
"Yes, you did. Four years ago." He snickered a little. Their marital status meant that now they could joke about such things while still keeping their minds on the mission.
Case in point, when their contact arrived his wardrobe history was the farthest thing from either of their minds. He stood from his seat and Katie straightened as the two men conversed. "You look well, my friend," the Frenchman said, and then eyed her. "With a gorgeous woman on your arm no less."
"So do you, Commander," Tom said with a soft chuckle. "And this gorgeous woman would be my wife."
"Ah." The Frenchman gave Katie a smile that she returned as she stayed behind her husband, playing it safe for now, before he turned his attention back to Tom. "Then you are doing very well indeed."
They sat and discussed specifics in only the usual way: the vaguest of terms, no names ever dropped. Katie and Tom were watching for Bridget to give them the signal that Brandon had a shot available. When she did, Tom glanced at his contact. "You make the call. We're ready."
The other man nodded and stepped outside, phone in hand, unaware to the fact that Bridget was listening in to every word he was saying. Sitting next to her husband, Katie narrowed her eyes as she watched the man on the phone. "How much do you trust this guy?" she asked Tom, looking like a hawk.
"We've worked together before," he said, "But not completely or I wouldn't have Redcap listening in on that phone call."
Katie bristled. "I don't need to listen in to tell you he's been on that phone too damn long."
Her suspicions were only confirmed as she watched the man walk back in as if nothing was wrong, while Tom spotted Bridget upstairs making a hasty exit. That was their clue to make a clean break, which they did, meeting her at a designated rally point near the back of the building.
"What the hell went on in there?" Tom said, looking between the two women.
"We're being set up," Bridget explained. "They were going to frame us for murder."
Tom looked over at Katie. She had picked that up just on instinct and with her own keen powers of observation. No gadgets required, not even batting an eyelash. "This is why I promoted you," he pointed out. "Let's get Fortress and get the hell out of here while we still can."
Understandably the first thing Brandon asked when they all showed up back at the hotel where he was waiting was what had happened. Tom ignored him at first, telling them to get all the gear on the bed. Only as they were pulling it all together did he explain. "Seems the French don't want to be complicit in the death of an Algerian oil man, even if he does fund al-Qaeda."
"They were gonna pin it on us, and go public," Bridget said needlessly.
"What do you want to do?" Katie asked, hands on her hips. "I would understand if you wanted to shut it down, they've got to be looking for us."
"Mission's still active," Tom said, gathering all the gear up in the bedsheets. "We gotta get him before he leaves the hotel, and it cannot look like an assassination. We can't be caught."
"Yeah, no shit, sherlock," Katie interrupted.
That got her a sarcastic look from her husband before he glanced around at all of them. "Any suggestions?" he asked.
His wife thought for a moment of all the ways she'd been taught to kill someone and bit her lip, folding her arms over her chest. "It's gonna have to be done up close and personal," she said. "Which is only going to increase the difficulty. I'd suggest something chemical."
It was Bridget who spoke up as soon as Katie had mentioned that. "I have an ex-associate in Paris," she said. "He may be of use."
Tom seemed mildly amused as he slung the gear over his shoulder. "You break his heart?" he quipped.
"I sure hope so," she replied, not catching the vaguely annoyed look on the face of her current boyfriend, who very quickly hid it from the eyes of his commanding officers as the four of them made their way out the door. He was still under the delusion that they didn't know about his relationship with Bridget, despite the fact that Tom and Katie Ryan were the very first to do the dangerous tango known as the inter-Unit romance.
****
Tactical Operations Center
Fort Griffith
Missouri
It had been Brian Falkenborg's day off. But when the situation in California had broken loose, Kayla Medawar - acting as his replacement - had no choice but to call him back in. She was in the middle of helping to cover for Bob when the large man walked back in the door. Quickly, she briefed him.
"I assume you'll want to take things from here," she said as he settled at his usual workstation.
"No, you seem to have everything under control," he replied. Kayla did have one valuable thing he didn't, which was more experience working with the Unit and with Colonel Ryan. She had been one of his senior analysts for years now. Brian and Katie had also relied on her, and were now grooming her to be the fourth-in-command in case all of them were absent.
In other words, for days like today.
"Keep doing what you're doing. I'll just jump in, see what I can do," he continued. He looked down a row at Michaela Adams, who was punching keys in her usual rapid fire rhythm. "Anything from the other team I need to know about?"
"Nothing yet, Brian." Michaela snorted. "I liked today better when all I had to worry about was Katie not being able to speak French," she admitted.
"I liked it better when I was home sleeping in. But you can't always get what you want," Brian said with a chuckle before he went right to work.
****
Paris, France
Bridget's contact sorely looked like he'd escaped from an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog. But now was not the time to be cracking jokes. He was also happy to see her, though the smile faded when he saw Tom, then Katie, and Brandon - who was keeping his bulldog instinct well under control, having ignored Tom's suggestion that he might want to stay in the hallway - follow her into the small apartment.
It was another coded exchange, Bridget taking the lead and her 'friend' going to fetch them something from a medicine cabinet that would do the job. He briefed them on exactly how to administer it, and gave them everything they needed. It was obvious that he was still a little sweet on her, but nothing she couldn't handle.
Tom was more interested in his wife's reaction as they left the apartment. "Why do I think you've heard that speech before?" he asked.
She didn't bat an eyelash. "Four years in field intelligence, you learn what you need to in order to get the job done," she said. "Especially when you're working with the best available operative." She didn't have to tell him that she meant Stephen Brennan and his world-class reputation. As a result of which, they were handpicked for higher assignments than most of her normal rank.
He snorted slightly. "When we go back to the hotel, you stay with me," he told her. A little smirk. "Think you can handle being my wife for a day?"
"I don't know," she replied sarcastically. "How am I doing so far?"
But she stayed by his side as they arrived at the hotel, through the front as if nothing was wrong. She was listening as Tom got a call from Brandon, who broke down the situation he'd picked up from his recon: security was tight at the hotel plus their target had a guard directly outside his room. That would make things difficult. It was time for them to see things with their own eyes. He nodded his head toward the stairs and she followed.
Tom watched the man's mistress take the elevator downstairs and signaled his team to get ready. Unfortunately for them, the guard hadn't moved from his spot outside the door.
"We're going to have to bait him out," Katie whispered.
"Your turn to state the obvious?" he replied sarcastically before he nodded. Something out of the corner of his eye got his attention. He checked the luggage tags on a room across the hall, then walked back and turned to her. "Guy's got a wife and two kids," he said.
The two of them exchanged a smirk.
"You stay here," he told her. "Keep an eye on him. I don't come back in five minutes, you call me and let me have it."
Katie laughed. "Oh that part is easy."
He snickered before he walked off. They had both been doing this so long that he knew he didn't have to tell her specifically what to do. If he couldn't make it work, she would. And then they'd be in motion.
Thankfully for him, the receptionist bought it from him and he didn't need to call her for effect. Tom knew Katie would have had way too much fun with that. He waited until he was out of the woman's earshot to call his wife and tell her to meet him downstairs. A few minutes later Katie joined him on one of the hideously ugly couches, where they could do nothing but wait and signal the team upstairs to make their move.
"This couch is hideous," she commented as she crossed her legs and leaned back.
He snorted. "I don't think they asked your opinion."
"No one ever does." She smiled slightly. "So how many fake children do we have?"
The question threw him for a second and he shrugged. "I said kids, so at least two," he replied, arching an eyebrow. "Hell if I know. Why?"
"Still two more than you're ever gonna have."
They were in the middle of debating what was so bad about the idea of childbirth when he saw the guard being questioned by one of the security staff. Putting his hand to his earpiece, he gave the go order. Now it was only a matter of time: how much they had, and if they could get out.
****
Once Bridget let him in the room (and he did not once think about making a comment about her and a maid outfit - that didn't do it for him, and he wanted to keep his testicles) Brandon was not all that surprised how easy it was to knock out the Algerian and administer the drug. He had covered up plenty of deaths before, in all manner of ways, be it something like this or the good old fashioned burying someone in the dead of night, in the middle of nowhere. It was part of his job as a security officer, which meant maintaining the integrity of the mission and unit at all costs. If that meant someone had to be silenced, then that was what he did.
"We can't be in here more than a few minutes," he told Bridget, knowing the fine art of doing this properly.
She nodded. "Tell me what you need and I'll help."
Brandon had no idea just how right he was. Downstairs, Tom was busy swearing when he saw the mistress come back early. He and Katie managed to buy the team some time by getting on the elevator with her, but they couldn't stop her short of acting like five-year-olds and pushing every single button. As they got off on a lower floor, he radioed Brandon. "Get the hell out of there. Now."
The other man exhaled. He hadn't meant that early. That was too early. "We've got to bail," he told Bridget, already climbing to his feet. For all he knew they had only seconds to spare. He made it to the door - and that was when the lock jammed.
"Shit," he muttered.
"What?"
"It's jammed. It's not reading the keycard." He bit his lip. One disadvantage of most hotels going to swipe cards instead of keys was that there was no longer a physical lock to pick. He reached into his backpack, grabbed some tape, and taped the card before he ran it through again. This time, it gave.
Ignoring Bridget's piqued look, they exited the room next door and headed for the elevator. They were gone well before the panic started. He was even polite enough not to look as she was changing in the elevator.
Maybe he didn't suck at this.
****
Katie and Tom made their exit a few moments after Brandon and Bridget. The rally point was at another hotel across town. In an age where everyone expected the bad guys to flee the country immediately, taking their time was almost the best cover they could ask for. They had a flight leaving in two hours, and it would all be over.
Once they had all met up in yet another nondescript hotel room, and the young operatives had left to take care of the final loose ends, Katie leaned against the building and watched the passing traffic. She was still a little shaky with nicotine cravings, having had that cigarette the week before in California. She really needed to just quit, but the job kept giving her more excuses to light up.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" she remarked.
He shook his head. "Nope. Not that hard at all if you think about it." But he saw a different look in her eyes, one that made him arch an eyebrow. "What are you thinking?" he asked her.
She smiled slightly. "That this is actually the second time I've been to Paris," she said, and took his hand.
Tom understood perfectly.
****
Three years earlier
Paris, France
"Why did you come back for me?" she asked, the two of them meeting in the dead of night at some hotel they'd both never heard of. Her voice was ready to crack. "Tom, you're risking your career, you're risking everything..."
Of course just listening to her almost cry was enough to make him want to crack too, but he swallowed down the lump in his throat. "I came for you," he said. "Katie, I haven't stopped loving you. And I needed to see you one last time. If only because you deserve the truth."
She gave a soft, cynical laugh in disbelief. Tentatively, she reached for him, her fingers stroking gently over his jawline. "I've never stopped loving you either," she admitted, "I...I just...I had to know. He deserves more."
"I know." He nodded a little, his eyes locked on hers. He wanted her to see that he was honest this time, that he loved her and it had killed him to lie to her like that. "And now you do."
She swallowed. "I don't know what to do now."
He dared to smile slightly as he pulled her closer. "Stay here with me tonight," he offered, and when she nodded and kissed him for the first time in months, it was like a weight lifted off his shoulders.
They spent that night together. And when they'd exhausted themselves, and she was laying spent in his arms, he just held her close protectively. Just those few months apart had been hell and he was regretting every minute closer to when she would have to leave. "Let me get you out of here," he said softly, kissing her shoulder. "I can transfer you home. All it would take is a few phone calls."
Katie was tempted, but she closed her eyes, resting her head against his chest. "I can't," she said. "If they're really listening...watching us that closely...I need to disappear for awhile. They need to forget me." A swallow. "Just a few more months, a year, I'm sure they'll bring me back."
"What if they don't? Leave you here?" he said, not liking the idea of another minute away from the woman he loved.
"They have to. They need me back." She exhaled slowly. "Just give me time, Tom. Let it play out. They'll stop paying attention. I'll play along for awhile. When the coast is clear I promise I'll find a way back to you." Her eyes met his. "If you are willing to wait for me. I can understand if you..."
But he silenced her with a finger to her lips. "You waited for me for years," he said. "I'll wait for you as long as it takes."
****
Katie had tears in her eyes, but she was smiling. They were tears of joy and knowing just how lucky she was. She blinked them away as she reached for her husband and kissed him deeply. After a moment, she forced herself to pull away. "We should probably get going," she said softly. "If we want to make our flight."
"Actually." Tom looked over at her and gave her the barest hint of a sly smile. "I spoke with Sergeant Medawar and she says the situation at home's being handled. Our immediate presence is not required."
Katie laughed softly and turned to face him. "What are you saying to me?"
The small smile turned into a full out playful grin. "I'm saying I booked us on a flight that leaves four hours from now, so I think we can take some personal time."
She just smiled at him, shaking her head. "You mean you planned this all along."
"You'll never be able to prove it," he said, before he kissed her passionately, showing her just how much he loved her as he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.
****
Thankfully, Tom had at least informed Brandon and Bridget of this delay in their travel plans, which left them plenty of time to burn the last of the evidence and at least talk to one another. They hadn't seen a lot of each other recently, and their relationship was still too new.
She saw the distance in his eyes, noted that even for Brandon - a man who had admitted before they ever got involved that he could be quiet and moody - he was silent. "Hey, you doing okay?" she asked.
He raised his eyes to meet hers. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said. "Just wondering. If I'm really cut out to be an operator."
She frowned slightly. "I wouldn't see why not."
"Because this just isn't me," he replied, shouldering his gear. "I'm lucky I made that shot today. Or any shot. I don't do combat situations. You want me to pick that lock in that hotel room? Fine. Scout a situation? Absolutely. But when it comes down to it, I'm no fighter. I don't know what the Colonel sees in me."
"He's not looking for a fighter." Bridget smiled encouragingly back at him. "He's looking for a good man who's willing to take on something most soldiers can't even fathom. He sees the same guy he recruited all those years ago. I think he found what he's looking for."
He considered this. She had a point. He'd passed basic, and Unit selection. Colonel Ryan had recruited him. So maybe he wasn't the muscle, but they had people like Mack, Jonas and Bob for that. It was only his third mission with the team. And even if he doubted himself, he didn't think Tom Ryan was a fool. So if anything, if he didn't trust himself? He could trust his CO when his CO said that he believed in him.
He swallowed, pushed it all out of his head and smiled a little. She turned to go, but he stayed where he was. He didn't follow, not just yet. Not until he had his wits about him. "Bridget?" he said. "The thing is..."
"What, Brandon?" she asked, turning on her heel to look back at him.
"The thing is, I love you," he said honestly. "And I wouldn't want to do anything - like getting kicked out of here - to screw that up."
She just nearly beamed at him. "On the contrary," she said. "I think you just vastly improved."
****
Several hours later
Tactical Operations Center
Fort Griffith
Missouri
There was one more thing left to do.
Brian Falkenborg was trying not to look at the hickey on his boss's neck as he hit a few more keys. He finally coughed, drawing Katie's attention, and nodded toward her neck. She glanced down, blushed, and quickly moved her hair to cover it. No one needed to see that.
"Come on," she muttered at the screen. "I want to see how many people I have to shoot."
Brian chuckled. "You might need a lot of ammunition."
"And some weapons training but really that's just a technicality."
Their banter ceased as Tom walked back into the room. "Are we up?" he asked them, and Bridget cleared her throat. "Uh, satellite imagery is still loading."
"I wonder if you get a discount if you buy ammo in bulk," Katie commented as she glared at her console.
Mack glanced over his shoulder at her. "Yeah, you do."
"Huh. Good to know."
Tom looked between the two of them and at Brian, who was snickering. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Nothing important, sir," Brian told him with a small smile.
Jonas interrupted from where the whole of Alpha Team had gathered at the front of the TOC. "What do we expect to see?" he asked his CO.
"We had state of the art tracers on those passports," Tom explained. "We're gonna see how many tentacles Mr. Drake's organization has. Wherever you see a red dot, that's where your next mission is."
"Please, please let it be Bermuda," Michaela piped up causing her fiancee to snicker. No one could blame her. If they could fight all wars in tropical climates with pretty girls there would be a lot more soldiers.
Bridget finally exhaled. "We're ready," she said.
"Okay," Tom replied. "Light her up."
Jokes about vacations and ammunition aside, it was definitely not funny as they watched first one, then two and then a whole lot of red dots pop up on the world map in front of them. Drake's organization seemed to be on every continent, in multiple places. This wasn't just a national conspiracy, but an international one. "Fucking hell," Katie swore, her mind already reeling at the possibilities. It was just statistically impossible that they could handle this alone.
"Like a Christmas tree," her husband said helpfully. He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Looks like we're in this for the long haul."
No one was happy. They had all been hoping for one or two people they could destroy and end everything. Their faces had fallen dearly as they broke up, knowing that this was far from over, and more than a year of difficulty was about to continue. Katie knew her stolen few hours of romance in Paris was going to continue to be just that: whatever minutes or hours she could find. It was no way to start a marriage, but this was no way to live.
She sighed and walked into her office, swearing again when she realized she wasn't alone. Stephen Brennan and Richard Baker were both standing there, neither of them looking that pleased with the other. Brennan spoke first. "We heard you could use some help."
Never mind how he knew it. Or how he had snuck into the building. He was back, and just in time.