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Of course, dealing with that would be way above the pay grade of Operation Cold Intent. He could practically hear thecaller’s mental wheels turning over how this complication would affect the op at hand.

“If Alex brings out this proof, he’ll be a hero in the West. Koronov could spin it to his advantage. See how brilliant and successful my son is. He learned it all from me.”

His boss’s voice had taken on a bitter tone. André had long suspected that a personal vendetta lurked somewhere behind this op.

“Alex Peters must not get credit for this discovery. Whatever proof he’s found of chemical weapons must be separated from any association with him. My team will work on creating another credible origin story for the information. In the mean time, Alex and the McCloud girl must be distanced from the intel.”

André’s gut rumbled a warning at him. How was that going to happen? By killing them? The question popped into his head as a rhetorical one, but as soon as it did, he knew it to be a distinct possibility.

Easier said than done, though. Not only had Alex survived his training, but he’d so outperformed anyone’s expectations—which had been pretty damned high to begin with—that the agency was sharply split over what to do with him.

The original plan was merely to use him in Operation as Cold Intent to wreck his old man. But now, a number of senior supervisors in the agency wanted to anoint him the super-spy of the next generation, while another faction wanted to throw him in the deepest darkest hole the agency could find and never let him out.

Those people’s problem with him was that the CIA’s control of Alex Peters was tenuous at best. He was a maverick at heart and didn’t appreciate being jerked around. He would play nice and share his toys with the other children if, and only if, he saw a good reason for it. Fuck with Alex Peters, and he’d fuck the CIA back. Hard. And without hesitation.

Making a run at Alex and Katie to kill them could backfire spectacularly. Particularly if the girl were successfully killed and Alex survived. Which was, in his opinion, the likeliest outcome.

Casting about desperately for an alternative, André said, “What if we separate Alex and Katie? Alex has personal feelings for the girl and we can leverage those to get him to hand over whatever proof he collected. And, we can…pressure…him to go along with whatever alternate explanation for the information you folks cook up over at Langley.”

Silence on the other end of the line.

He added, “It would have the side benefit of weakening Alex. He and his girlfriend are turning out to be a more effective team than anyone anticipated.”

His boss’s response, when it came, was brief. “Do it. Break them up.”

Alex lounged in the chair as much as it was possible to lounge in an interrogation room. The man who’d just stepped through the door looked highly frustrated. Poor Jarhead. This guy had so wanted to rough him up a little.

“Come with me,” the Marine bit out.

Alex followed the guy down a long hall. Given that the two of them were alone, he was obviously no longer considered a hostile threat. Too bad. He would’ve enjoyed knocking this guy’s lights out. Sanctimonious know-it-alls had always irritated the crap out of him.

Alex was reunited with his meager personal belongings—his wallet, knife, and emergency medical pack. Funny how naked he felt without the compact kit of supplies. It was as if his identity as a doctor was tied to that black rucksack.

“You’re really a doctor?” the Jarhead finally asked.

“Yeah,” Alex muttered as he signed the receipt for his stuff. “My associate—the nurse I told your colleagues about—is supposed to show up here with a bag of medical samples for me in the next day or two. Has she checked in with the base, yet?”

“You mean the hot babe the MP’s picked up outside the fence a little while ago? The Cubanos were right tweaked that she made it onto the reservation. Sent half the damned army after her, the way I hear it.”

Praise the Lord.She’d made here safely. His knees actually felt a little weak at the news. “Is she all right?” Alex asked sharply. “I need to see her.”

“Cool your jets. She’s okay. Gotta fill out some paperwork explaining what the hell she’s doing down here without us knowing about it. And the MP’s sent her bag over here, already. Lemme go get it.”

Alex was so relieved he could bust that Katie was safe. But in the next breath, suspicion bloomed in his gut over why they hadn’t let her come join him.

The guy plunked the backpack onto the counter hard enough that Alex’s heart jolted in alarm. “Easy does it with that” he snapped.

“Who are you, anyway?”

“Just a guy doing a job,” Alex answered wryly as he picked up the bag. “One last favor and then I’ll get out of your hair. Can you point me at the base hospital?”

“Yeah, sure. Two-story white building. Long. Kinda H-shaped. It overlooks the bay.” He gave Alex detailed instructions on how to get there, apologized for not being able to leave his post to give him a ride.

The dude seemed to have forgiven Alex for not being a bad guy he could rough up. Eager to get away from the young Marine’s overblown brand of macho, he slipped out into the night.

The hospital wasn’t hard to spot. The building, indeed, was snowy white, not to mention it also had electricity. He walked in the front door, identified himself as a doctor, and followed the signs to the lab.

A technician in a white lab coat looked up from a centrifuge as he entered. “Can I help you?” the guy asked.