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Elena had been first off the plane and had not waited for Red as Red had asked.
But how far away could she get? In order to get on the international flight to Morocco, they needed to go through a passport check, and then they’d leave from the same gate. Red had the trackers. Everything was fine.
In the line, Red was behind Elena, but not by much.
When Elena turned around and stared at her, Red sent her a smile and a finger wave.Friendly, see?
This happened again. And Again. And Again. Elena looked agitated. Frightened even, and Red didn’t see a reason why. Was Elena trying to signal her?
Elena was up at the window, handing over her passport. She was talking to the man animatedly.
A guard tapped Red’s shoulder and pointed to the open window next to Elena’s.
“There. Her!” Elena said in a panicked voice as she accepted her passport. “She’s the one talking on her phone aboutbombing the plane. You must stop her and her bags from going wherever she’s flying today.”
Instantly, sirens sounded. Guards with hands on weapons raced toward Red.
Red sent a shocked, wide-eyed glance toward a smirking Elena, who, passport in hand, winked and moved through the doors to her plane.
The guards slammed Red against the booth. Her arms were wrenched to her back, handcuffs snapped in place as a gun was trained on the little space at the top of her nose between her eyes where a bullet could kill her so thoroughly dead, that a finger on a suicide switch couldn’t retract even from a left-over electrical impulse.
Red closed her eyes and held very still.
She really didn’t want to die in a line at the airport.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Nomad
“You’re flying to Marrakech this morning,” Colonel Watts’s voice was in Nomad’s earpiece.
His phone dinged as flight information dropped into Nomad’s messages. “Long layover in Amsterdam.” When they said this morning, they meant right now. Nomad was in motion, gathering his things.
“It is,” T-Rex said. “Best we could do under the circumstances. You'll be functioning in support of CIA’s Color Code, Johnna Red.”
“Yes, Master Chief.” Nomad’s heart filled his chest, and he stopped breathing. “She’s out of the hospital? She’s good?”
“You met her last night,” Colonel Watts said. “You two were playing do-si-dowith Elena Savas.”
Itwasher. He hadn’t been imagining things. “Got it.”
“And you have a relationship with Elena now. So you don’t have to start from scratch,” Watts said. “You have a sense of her.”
“Elena knows my face. Am I going into this as a known quantity? Last night, I told her I was ball security, so arriving in Morocco would set off alarms. Are we still trying to do the international waters?”
“Undercover,” T-Rex said. “Change your appearance. Get clean-shaven and get a haircut. Not military, but short and neat, think American businessman climbing the corporate ladder.”
“Master Chief, I don’t want to be the “new guy” here. I don’t need any landmines that are being tossed out to see if I blow or not. What's the real reason I'm going in?”
It was Colonel Watts who answered. “Who the hell knows, son. Whatever it is, get the job done.”
“Yes, sir. So, I’m not taking point. And I have no mission objectives.” This was wild. Delta Force was a new world for him. He wondered if this was what it was like for people in intelligence. Just out there walking around, seeing if they didn’t happen to bump into a terrorist along the way. “Am I under her command?”
“You’re a partnership. She’s representing the CIA, and you’re representing the DIA.”
“Yes, sir.”
***