Extraordinary Rendition Read online

  He winked. “Practice makes perfect.”

  She pouted. “Who are you practicing on when I’m not around?”

  He wagged a finger. “A CIA man never tells.” He opened the door. “See you tonight. Love you.”

  She blew him a kiss. “Love you too.”

  The door closed and she leaned back on the couch, hugging herself. Life was good. So good. She had just been promoted, she lived with the man she loved, she had a few good friends—all she had ever needed—and had no complaints. Her childhood had sucked with her parents being killed in a car accident when she was a teenager, but life had improved slowly, then dramatically once she met Leroux.

  She chuckled as she pictured how awkward he used to be. He still was to a point, and was definitely a geek compared to her, but she loved every single little quirk.

  But he was a man now, and gawd could he satisfy her—once she had taught him a few tricks.

  She pushed to her feet, deciding waiting for Fang to reply was pointless when she lived in the same building. She put on her jacket then paused. It was unlike Fang not to respond.

  Better safe than sorry.

  She headed to the bedroom and retrieved her weapon from the gun locker. She removed her jacket and put on her shoulder holster, slipping her Glock inside along with her suppressor in its special slot. She didn’t bother with extra ammo. She was certain nothing was amiss, it was simply an overabundance of caution and years of training at the CIA that had her worried.

  Maybe you’re overreacting.

  She stared at herself in the mirror.

  Go get her, then come back here and put the weapon back.

  She nodded then closed the locker, minutes later approaching the apartment her best friend Fang shared with Leroux’s best friend Kane.

  And paused.

  She was certain she had heard something. A grunt or a groan.

  Something.

  She smiled slightly.

  Maybe Dylan got home early and they’re bumpin’ uglies.

  She pulled a small magnetic device off her keychain, designed to mimic a mini-flashlight. She pressed it against the peephole then pulled out her phone, launching the app, the image the device would capture certain to be titillating.

  Her eyes bulged as she suppressed a gasp. Two men had Fang at gunpoint, her friend badly beaten and lying on the floor, her hands tied behind her back. Whatever had happened had just finished, and Fang had lost.

  For now.

  Sherrie drew her weapon and screwed the suppressor in place, not willing to fire without it and have neighbors not only poke their heads out their doors like idiots, but also not willing to blow their covers unnecessarily. She took aim with her right arm extended in front of her, the phone in her left hand, then adjusted her trajectory.

  She squeezed the trigger twice then adjusted right, firing twice more. Her first target went down in a heap, but the second managed to only get himself winged. She fired four into the wood surrounding the lock, weakening the structure, then kicked the door open as she surged inside, regretting the choice to not bring extra ammo. She swung her weapon toward the second man and fired twice as he dropped behind the couch, evidently missing if his continued efforts to scramble away were any indication.

  Suddenly a plastic bag was dropped over her head from behind. She immediately elbowed him in the stomach, but his grip was like iron. She reached up to poke a finger through the plastic so she could breathe when a fourth man rushed from another room, grabbing her arms as she gasped for breath, her already pounding heart chewing rapidly through her oxygen. Someone tased her and she fell to her knees, her breaths shallow now, her gasps growing less frequent as her world went dark.

  She was going to die.

  And her only thought was of how her beloved would once again regress into his shell, and be alone for the rest of his life.

  I’m so sorry!

  3 |

  Lobby, Fairfax Towers Falls Church, Virginia

  CIA Analyst Supervisor Chris Leroux stepped out of the elevator, already late for work. In his haste, he almost ran headlong into a maintenance crew, pulling up just in time.

  “Sorry guys, my bad.”

  None of the four men replied and he chalked it up to a possible language barrier, all four Asian, all with haircuts that would appear more at home on the other side of the Pacific, suggesting they were new to the country.

  He jogged the rest of the way to his car and started up the engine, firing a quick text to Sherrie.

  Did you find Fang?

  He put on his seatbelt, pulled up Tommy Granger’s latest podcast, something he was enjoying immensely, then frowned at the lack of a reply from Sherrie.

  They must be gabbing.

  He pulled out of his parking spot then headed toward the office, thinking about Sherrie and Fang. He had no idea what women did alone with each other. Were they like guys? He grunted. He didn’t know what guys were like. He had been the king of the dorks in high school, friendless until the popular jock Dylan Kane needed tutoring. They had become friends, and Kane his protector, though beyond him, he had been alone.

  His Friday night was sitting in front of the television, sharing a pizza with his parents.

  It had been pathetic.

  Life hadn’t improved. In fact, after he was recruited by the CIA and moved closer to work, he had been painfully alone, not even his parents there to keep him company. He simply threw himself into his work, then was delighted to discover his best and only friend, whom he had lost touch with after high school, worked at the CIA as well. Though with Kane operational, he was rarely in country, but when he was, they would always get together.

  It was Leroux’s hard work and talent that had drawn the attention of his boss, National Clandestine Service Chief for the CIA Leif Morrison, who, before bringing him into the inner circle, had tested his loyalty with a honey pot—Sherrie White, who was assigned to seduce him then pump him for information.

  He had passed the test, but was devastated to learn the woman he was falling in love with had been playing him.

  Or so he had thought. It turned out she had fallen for her target and had begged to be reassigned. Unfortunately, timing was critical, and the request had been denied. It had been his best friend who had reunited them, and they had been together ever since.

  And life was better than it had ever been.

  In fact, for the first time, he was truly happy. He had even become used to being the boss, his promotion giving him a team of almost a dozen, a team that he had gained the respect of by constantly proving he deserved the job, despite his young age.

  He spotted the gates for CIA Headquarters ahead and sighed.

  I love my life.

  Then frowned as he paused his podcast, his text message to Sherrie still unanswered.

  What the hell are those two doing?

  4 |

  Fairfax Towers Falls Church, Virginia

  CIA Special Agent Dylan Kane leaned against the back of the elevator, his eyes closed, his entire body exhausted from his latest mission—not every assignment meant a five-star hotel to relax in. In the past, he’d head off to some resort in Thailand or such, drink himself into a stupor, and enjoy the company of the local ladies.

  But that was behind him. He had forgiven himself for what he had been a part of years ago, accepting that the innocent deaths weren’t his fault, and that there was nothing he could have done to avert the missile strike that took the lives of so many whose only guilt was that by association.

  And he had found himself an honest woman.

  Lee Fang had changed his life. They had changed each other’s lives. He had extracted her from China to the safety of the United States, and she had extracted him from the death spiral that had been his life.

  Now he had something to live for.

  At first, he had been concerned it would affect his job. One of his assets was the fact he had never cared if he died. He preferred to work alone, had no friends, and little cont
act with his family, though it wasn’t an estranged relationship anymore, things improving dramatically since his father discovered he hadn’t left the US Army to be a glorified insurance salesman.

  With the family relationship repaired, Fang giving him a reason to come home, and Leroux and his partner Sherrie giving him the outlets he needed to get things off his chest, his life was complete. The lies were finished. His circle was made up of people who knew who he really was, knew what he did, and often were involved at some level. He could share his troubles and frustrations, and it had allowed him to work out issues that had haunted him for years.

  He exited the elevator, glancing at his phone, his texts to Fang still unanswered.

  And it had him concerned.

  Fang was rarely away from her phone, and it had been almost an hour since his first text to her.

  She could be out for a run.

  There were any number of reasons she might not be answering, though his vocation had him always fearing the worst.

  He reached toward the door with his key then paused. The door seemed different. He reached forward and pressed a finger against it then pulled it away, finding paint on the tip.

  Huh. I didn’t think it needed to be painted.

  He inserted the key and opened the door, stepping inside. “Hey, babe, I’m home!”

  There was no answer.

  Must be out.

  He started for the bedroom to change when he paused. The couch was out of place. Only slightly, maybe a few inches, and the throw cushions had all been piled on it instead of spread about the other chairs in the room. He slowly turned his head, his trained eyes examining every detail. The room was as he had left it two weeks ago, and was meticulously neat as Fang always kept it.

  Yet something was wrong.

  Too many things appeared just slightly out of place.

  His heart hammered.

  As if someone who didn’t know exactly where things should go had straightened up.

  He quickly searched the rest of the apartment, making certain she wasn’t there, then returned to the living area, suddenly spotting what was throwing him off the entire time.

  A large blanket was lying over the back of the couch.

  A blanket he didn’t recognize, and was definitely not Fang’s taste. This had a Mexican flare to it, beautiful bright colors and patterns. Fang preferred solid colors, no patterns, trending toward harsh reds or solid blacks.

  She would never buy that.

  He stepped to the side of the couch, getting a better angle on what the blanket might be hiding, and controlled his reaction as he spotted what appeared to be a hole in the back.

  “Maybe Chris and Sherrie know where she went.”

  He headed out the door, locking it behind him, before going down the elevator and climbing into his car, hoping the eyes and ears he now feared littered his apartment bought his ruse.

  For every fiber of his being was telling him something was wrong.

  He dialed Leroux as he pulled out of the parking lot, praying he was mistaken.

  5 |

  Operations Center 2, CIA Headquarters Langley, Virginia

  “She’s supposed to be at lunch with Sherrie. Why?”

  “When’s the last time you heard from either of them?”

  Leroux’s stomach churned at the concern in Kane’s voice. “I saw Sherrie maybe an hour ago at the apartment. She wasn’t able to reach Fang about their lunch date, so she went to see her after I left for work. I texted her but never heard back. I assumed they were too busy chatting and weren’t paying attention to their phones.” He pulled his out. “Let me try again.” He fired off a quick text.

  911. Respond immediately.

  “Anything?”

  Leroux frowned, sweat beading on his upper lip. “No.” He turned to Randy Child, his team’s wunderkind when it came to computers. “Track Agent White and Lee Fang’s phones.”

  “On it.” Child worked his keyboard then indicated the large displays that curved across the entire front of the operations center. “They’re both offline. Last active ping for both of them looks like your apartment building.”

  “When?”

  “Fang’s about an hour ago, Sherrie’s about ten minutes later.”

  Leroux drew a deep breath, steadying his nerves. “Dylan, I’ve got a bad feeling about this. It’s not like them to turn off their phones. Not in our business.”

  “Me too. Get me something to work with.”

  “Will do. I’ll let the Chief know one of his agents is missing.”

  “Do that. And send a crew to sweep the apartment. If they left any listening devices behind, I can’t be the one who discovers them. I’m just a lowly insurance investigator.”

  “We’re on it.”

  6 |

  Unknown Location

  Fang jolted awake, panic momentarily setting in at the unfamiliar surroundings. It was completely dark, her entire body ached from the fight she had been in, and ultimately lost, six trained men against one trained woman, no matter how good, still odds even Kane would have had difficulty with.

  But her pounding head dominated her suffering at the moment.

  She had been injected with something, a lucky jab from behind that had proven enough to take her out of the fight.

  Sherrie!

  She remembered her friend entering the apartment, gunfire, and little else beyond glimpses through her drugged haze of a beating savage in its ferocity.

  I hope she’s okay.

  Yet she knew her friend wasn’t.

  She couldn’t have been.

  Fang struggled against her bonds, her shoulders tight against whatever space confined her. She was lying on her back, and could hear what sounded like an engine running, a vibration pulsing through her body.

  She was in a vehicle. Perhaps a truck of some sort. She had no idea how long she had been out. It could be minutes or days, but the fact her bladder wasn’t troubling her, and she didn’t feel as if she had soiled herself, she guessed less than a couple of hours.

  Long enough for her to be far away from her apartment.

  She had only one last move to play.

  “Help!” she shouted, her gag muffling her plea.

  Somebody pounded on the box she was confined in—for she was certain that’s what it was. “Speak Chinese from now on! Your days of speaking English are behind you!”

  Her skin went cold as a rush of anxiety swept over her, confirming her worst fears.

  For the warning had been delivered in Mandarin.

  They had indeed found her.

  And her life was over.

  7 |

  Director Morrison’s Office, CIA Headquarters Langley, Virginia

  “And you’re sure they didn’t just turn off their phones for a girl’s night out?”

  Leroux shook his head, dismissing his boss’ suggestion, though he would have asked himself if he were in Director Morrison’s position. “No, sir. First, it’s lunchtime, and I’ve never known them to do anything wild at this hour, and with who and what they are, there’s no way they would turn off their phones.”

  Morrison agreed. “Pull whatever resources you need. Find my agent.”

  “And Lee Fang?”

  “I’m guessing if you find Agent White, you’ll find her.”

  Leroux chewed his cheek for a moment as he processed the situation. “We can’t really put out a missing person’s report on her. It’ll blow Sherrie’s cover for any future ops.”

  Morrison leaned back in his chair. “Then what do you propose?”

  “We’ll pull footage, see if we can find a lead, then put out a BOLO on the vehicle or whoever we find is connected.”

  “You’re forgetting one thing.”

  Leroux’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

  “Who Fang is.”

  “I’m not sure I follow you.”

  “That’s because you’re too close to this. You’re focusing on your girlfriend, not the situation.” Morrison leaned
forward, placing his elbows on his desk. “Who was taken first?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess Fang, since she was late meeting Sherrie.”

  “Exactly. Fang is a nobody to everyone except the Chinese.”

  “Maybe it’s some other type of crime. Rape. Abduction.”

  “Do you really think that a single person could take out both Fang and Sherrie? Two highly trained operatives?”

  Leroux frowned, his boss right. “I would hope not.”

  “Which means more than one was involved, which means a conspiracy, and it’s definitely Fang from what you’ve told me.”

  “But why fix up the apartment like Dylan described?”

  “Because they wanted to delay things. Only Dylan would notice the difference, but they don’t know who he is. Every minute they buy, is a minute they have to put some distance between them and the crime scene. That means this was well-planned. They had a team waiting for her, then another to do the clean-up.”

  A wave of weakness swept over Leroux. “Oh my God!”

  “What?”

  “I saw them!”

  “Who?”

  “The clean-up crew. Four men came onto the elevator just as I got off. All Asian.”

  “Did you see their faces?”

  Leroux nodded.

  “Then that means the cameras did too.”

  “I’ll get the footage, but it almost confirms it was the Chinese.”

  “Agreed. The question is, what is their end game? It has to be her past.”

  “So this is an extraordinary rendition situation.”

  “What else could it be? They’ve been looking for her since we gave her asylum. They find her, take her back, put her on trial, execute her.”

  Leroux went cold. “Which means Sherrie was never part of their plan.” He paled. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

  Morrison shook his head, his jaw squaring. “No one is dead until I see a body.”

  8 |