The Mole Page 2

  A collective gasp erupted from the room, and Epps rushed from his station, joining Leroux by the door. “Is she going to be all right?”

  Leroux squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t know. I’m heading to the hospital now, but I’m going to see the Chief first.”

  “You need us to take over?”

  “Can you?”

  “Absolutely, that’s what we’re here for.”

  “Good. I’ll let the Chief know what’s going on.” Leroux checked his watch. “Dylan is inserting in about half an hour. Integrate in my team that are still up for working. They’re fully briefed. I left Marc in charge.” He opened the door and paused. “Where’s Avril?”

  Epps shrugged. “Nobody can reach her. I got called in at four this morning to cover for her. When I do see her, my wife’s asked me to pass a few choice words on to her.”

  Leroux wanted to laugh, but it just wasn’t in him.

  Epps flicked his fingers at the door. “Go. Your op is in good hands.”

  Leroux left the room, feeling a little better as Epps began barking orders. The last thing any of them would want, especially Tong, was for Kane to be left hanging when he was entering hostile territory.

  3 |

  Casey Residence Pimmit Hills, Virginia

  “Help me.”

  Avril Casey was so weak she couldn’t be certain the mouthed words had any sound behind them. The doorbell rang again and a fist pounded, the sound carrying up the stairs and into the bathroom. “Help me,” she repeated, and this time she was certain she made a sound, but it was barely a murmur.

  No one was hearing her.

  She forced her eyes open, struggling to make sense of what was happening. Her brain barely registered that she was in her tub, water up to her neck, yet it wasn’t water. It was pink, almost red. What was going on? She shivered, the water cold. How had she gotten here? She struggled to pierce the fog clouding her mind. She had no recollection of taking a bath, yet she obviously had. She must have fallen asleep for the water to be so cold. Could that be why she was weak? A mild form of hypothermia?

  The doorbell continued to ring, rapidly now, the hammering nearly constant. She glanced over to see sunlight pouring through the window. It was daytime. She was supposed to have been at work for the night shift. She was scheduled as Control Actual for the backup ops center. It must be somebody from the CIA sent to check on her. She struggled to get out of the bath but collapsed.

  “Help me.” Again, barely a murmur. She had to get out of here, yet the cold water was sapping her of her strength and weighing her down. And why was it red? She closed her eyes and prayed to God for strength, and he granted it to her. Just a little bit, just enough for her to reach behind her and press the drain stopper. It popped up and she could hear the water rapidly flow out of the tub, the waterline receding slowly, a red ring marking where it had obviously sat for hours.

  Why is it red?

  The water continued to drop, revealing her knees and chest, then finally her entire body. She raised her hand to grip the edge of the tub then gasped. There were long deep slits in her left wrist, blood slowly oozing from the cuts. She pulled her other arm from behind her back and a lump formed in her throat when she found her other wrist sliced open as well.

  What’s happening?

  Her wrists were slit. She was in a tub that likely held warm water to stimulate blood flow when she first climbed in. She had obviously attempted to commit suicide, but why? She couldn’t remember. She attempted to lift her arm one more time to pull herself out of the tub, but it wouldn’t move. The answer to her prayers had given her enough energy only to reveal to her the truth and nothing more.

  She wouldn’t be saving herself today.

  And if she had indeed committed the ultimate sin of killing herself, she didn’t deserve to be saved. Yet that couldn’t be what had happened. She was happy. She had a great career, people she liked and who liked her at the office, friends, a nice home, and a boyfriend who loved her.

  Her barely beating heart skipped a precious beat at the thought of her boyfriend, a sense of foreboding washing through her. He had something to do with this. She knew it, but she couldn’t be sure what. She just sensed fear when she thought of him. But why? Why would she fear the man she loved?

  The laptop.

  Her eyes shot wide with a final burst of energy as everything came flooding back. Dinner, making love, having a shower, leaving it running for him, discovering him on her CIA laptop, logged into the system with a password he couldn’t possibly know, him grabbing her then spraying her face with something.

  And then nothing.

  Until now.

  As the door was kicked open downstairs, she exhaled her final breath, comforted by the fact she hadn’t committed suicide but had been murdered, though dismayed the man she thought loved her had used her because of her position. What terrified her wasn’t what was to come, but what his betrayal might mean for the operatives whose lives she held in her hands every day. Her entire body relaxed as her mind faded to black, her problems now the responsibility of the living.

  I’m ready, God.

  Brooklyn Tanner shoved the door aside, having arrived only a moment ago, a Langley staffer sent to check on Avril Casey calling in that she couldn’t reach the analyst supervisor, despite the fact her car was in the driveway. Echo Team, a special forces team under the direction of the CIA but seconded to Homeland Security so they could operate on American soil, had been dispatched, and she didn’t bother wasting time with pleasantries like knocking.

  Her second-in-command, Michael Lyons, had used a battering ram to break down the door. She cleared the living room, heading toward the kitchen as Lyons broke right. “Avril, can you hear me? Are you here?” There was no response. As she entered the kitchen, she noticed everything was spotless, not a thing out of place, not a smudge anywhere. She indicated the door to the basement and Lyons headed down the steps.

  “Holy shit, Tanner! Second floor!” shouted Chris Morrissette.

  “Clear!” announced Lyons from the basement as she headed for the stairs to the second floor. She took them two at a time to find the other two team members standing outside the bathroom door.

  “What is it?”

  Morrissette shook his head. “Not good.”

  She stepped into the bathroom and cursed. Casey was in the tub, the water drained, a red ring around the top suggesting it had been full at one point. Her wrists were slit, her body ghostly pale. She stepped forward, removing a glove, then took a knee, checking for a pulse. She cursed again. Nothing. There was a scream behind her and she spun to see the staffer standing there, a hand slapped over her mouth, her eyes wide.

  Tanner frowned. “Get her out of here. And call this in.”

  “Who?” asked Morrissette.

  “Call the Chief. Let him decide how he wants to get the locals involved.”

  Lyons poked his head inside. “Holy shit!”

  Morrissette grunted. “That’s what I said. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this before.”

  Lyons agreed. He reached in and picked up a piece of paper lying on the vanity counter. “Suicide note.”

  “What’s it say?” asked Tanner.

  Lyons read it. “I’m sorry for what I’ve done. The guilt of it is tearing me apart and I can’t go on knowing I’ve hurt the ones who put their trust in me. Avril.” He flipped the page around, holding it up so she could see it. “Typed.”

  Tanner cocked an eyebrow. “Typed? She actually typed then printed off her suicide note? I thought they were usually handwritten?”

  Lyons shrugged. “No idea. You’d have to ask Columbo.”

  “Who?”

  “Some TV detective my father likes to watch. Seventies, I think.”

  Tanner grunted. “I wasn’t even born.” She pointed at the countertop. “Put that back where you found it. Take a photo of it. Send it to the Chief and we’ll await instructions. Right now, secure the house. Standard protocol. Sweep for any electronic surveillance, secure any Agency property. The paperwork on this one isn’t going to be fun.”

  4 |

  Director Morrison Office, CIA Headquarters Langley, Virginia

  “Is he in?”

  National Clandestine Service Chief Leif Morrison’s assistant nodded at Leroux. “Yes, but he’s on a call.”

  Leroux didn’t hear the words. Between his conversation with Epps and reaching his boss’ office, he had created a completely revised history of his life where Sherrie hadn’t entered it and he and Tong were instead dating, deeply in love with each other, blissfully happy. It was now no longer a colleague fighting for her life, but the woman he was supposed to marry.

  He opened the door to Morrison’s inner office.

  “Chris, what are you doing?” exclaimed the assistant behind him, but again, her words went ignored.

  Morrison sat behind his desk, his phone pressed to his ear. He didn’t appear surprised at Leroux bursting in, instead holding up a finger then pointing at an empty chair. Leroux opened his mouth to interrupt when the Chief gave him a look that had him snapping back to reality. Morrison’s assistant was waved off and she closed the door as Leroux dropped into a chair, his foot tapping impatiently.

  “I’ll have the local authorities notified. We want to do this by the book, but take photos of everything before the locals get there. Have you secured her equipment?… Good. Put that in your vehicle immediately…No, leave the letter…I’ll be sending a liaison officer over. Keep the scene secure, but as soon as the locals arrive, surrender control to them…Very well.” Morrison hung up the phone and sighed heavily. He regarded Leroux then his eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”

  Leroux rapid fired the response. “Sonya’s been shot. She’s in surge
ry. I need to go to the hospital. I need to stand my team down. Dylan’s on an op. He’s inserting at the top of the hour.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut as he struggled to maintain control. Morrison’s chair creaked and a moment later a gentle hand was on Leroux’s shoulder.

  “Take a breath, son.”

  Leroux gasped in a lungful of air then exhaled loudly, repeating the process several times. He wiped his eyes dry with the back of his hands. “I’ve already talked to Epps. His team has already taken over. It should have been Avril, but apparently she hasn’t shown up, so he was called in.”

  Morrison frowned and it was Leroux’s turn to notice something was wrong, and his jaw dropped as the conversation he had heard but not listened to finally registered.

  “Has something happened to Avril?”

  Morrison sat in one of the guest chairs. “Echo Team just found her body.”

  Leroux inhaled sharply.

  “It looks like she committed suicide. The note she left suggests she did something she regrets, perhaps Agency related.”

  Leroux recoiled at the idea. “Not her. She loved her job. She loved working here. There’s no way she would betray the Agency.”

  “That’s what I thought until five minutes ago. It’s too early to say exactly what’s going on, but we’ll get to the bottom of it. For now, go to the hospital, do whatever you need to do. Just keep me posted.”

  “Yes, sir.” Leroux rose and headed out the door as Morrison returned to his chair behind his desk. It was a bad day for the Agency, and he just prayed things didn’t get worse, for if Casey were indeed a traitor, she was privy to so much information, covers could be blown the world over, including his best friend’s.

  Dylan Kane.

  5 |

  Beijing Capital International Airport Beijing, China

  CIA Operations Officer Dylan Kane stepped up to the Chinese customs official with a smile. He had been to China countless times, and when he came through the front door, it was always using his cover as an insurance investigator for Shaw’s of London, and his cover demanded he play the part. His bespoke Savile Row suit cost more than three months of his regular paycheck, the tie alone a healthy car payment. And his CIA-customized watch, now sending an electrical pulse into his wrist in a pattern that indicated he had an urgent message from Langley, was TAG Heuer.

  Unfortunately, the timing couldn’t be worse.

  He smiled at the man on the other side of the glass as he handed his passport and paperwork over.

  “The purpose of your visit?”

  “Business, then hopefully a little bit of pleasure.”

  The man scanned the passport and the visa. “You come here quite frequently.”

  “Yes, I do. China’s part of my territory.”

  “And what do you do, Mr. Kane?”

  “I’m an insurance investigator for Shaw’s of London.” He produced a business card. “One of our clients had his yacht stolen while he was visiting your country. I’m here to investigate.”

  “You don’t trust that the Chinese police can do their job?”

  Kane smiled, not taking the bait. “Oh, I investigate in a different way. Your police are concerned with the criminal aspect, I’m more concerned with the negligence aspect. You’d be amazed at some of the stupid things rich people do with their toys, then expect us to pay.”

  The man handed Kane’s documentation back after stamping the passport with a flourish. “Enjoy your stay, Mr. Kane.”

  Kane smiled. “Thank you. You have yourself a good day.” He casually headed toward the bathrooms and secured himself in a stall. He entered a coded sequence around the watch crystal and a message was projected on the glass that had him frowning.

  Possible security breach at HQ. Cover may be compromised.

  He acknowledged receipt of the message then flushed the toilet. He could abort the mission, though if his identity had been compromised, that still might not save him. Nothing drew attention more than stepping off an airplane then booking a last-minute flight to immediately leave. He had no choice but to continue to his hotel. Langley had indicated a possibility of his cover being blown, not a certainty. He needed more information, and the fact Langley had sent the urgent message, knowing the timing of everything, suggested they knew little about what was actually going on as well. That could all change by the time he arrived at the hotel.

  He had a job to do, and unless he was given a direct order or agreed that his cover truly was blown, he intended to complete that mission. It was too critical to not go through with over possible suspicions. Besides, the Chinese likely already suspected who and what he was. The key was making sure he was never caught in the act. His country was well aware of who many of the Chinese spies were operating back home. The trick was identifying them and monitoring them. If you arrested them, then they would be replaced the next day with somebody you would then need to find, and they could operate freely for months or years before that happened. It was only when they were doing something overtly dangerous that you took them down, then used them as bargaining chips when one of your own was captured.

  He emerged into the arrivals area and spotted his driver holding up a sign with his name. He was a low-level local asset that Kane had used before. The man didn’t know who Kane actually was, but was paid to know the city like the back of his hand, to drive like a maniac if needed, and to not ask questions, yet have the answers about the seedy underbelly of Beijing the Chinese government would have the world believe didn’t exist.

  “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Kane,” said Xu Peng as he bowed deeply, taking Kane’s bags.

  “Good to see you too, Peng. It’s been a long flight. Let’s get to the hotel.”

  Xu led them outside and to a waiting SUV. Kane sat in the rear and as soon as they were off the airport grounds, he pulled out his phone and placed a secure call to Control. He was surprised when the familiar voice of his best friend, Chris Leroux, wasn’t on the other end, and doubly surprised when it was Epps and not the scheduled backup Casey.

  “This is Control Actual. Go ahead.”

  “It’s me. I got your message. Does it have something to do with why I’m talking to you and not our friend?”

  Even though he trusted Xu, it was only to a point. He had to be careful what was said. “Not your friend, but his backup. A lot’s happened here in the past couple of hours. There is a chance that we’ve been compromised. We don’t know the extent of the damage, if any.”

  “When will you know?”

  “We may never know. There’s a possibility the backup I was called in to replace had two employers, if you know what I mean.”

  Kane did, and the implications were staggering. If Casey, who had been at the Agency for years, was working for the other side, she had access to incredible amounts of classified intel. She would be privy to the identities of people like him, the assets they employed, safe houses, communications protocols, missions. It was endless. The question was, whose asset was she? Chinese, Russian, Iranian, North Korean? It was only a problem for him today if she were working with the Chinese. “I assume she’s being questioned?”

  “No, it appears she committed suicide last night because of what she’s been doing.”

  A pit formed in Kane’s stomach. Casey, dead by her own hand. None of this made any sense. He had met the woman and she always seemed so full of life, yet if she were a traitor, then he had obviously misjudged her.

  And perhaps the happy person he thought he knew was merely a façade to disguise a tortured soul.

  The situation with Casey was interesting, but it didn’t explain why Leroux wasn’t on the job, or at least one of his team. “What about my friend?”

  “Something else happened this morning. Sonya Tong was shot on a city bus this morning. Leroux is at the hospital.”

  “What? Is she all right?” Kane had worked with the woman for years, usually over an earpiece, but more recently in person. She was exceptional at her job and one of the nicest people he had ever met. For her to be shot was unfathomable. People like her were supposed to be constants in your life.

  “We don’t know yet. Last I heard is she’s in surgery. The news is reporting her as clinging to life.”