Page 116 of Agency

My eyes went to the newly arrived flashbang, but only for a second. My foot was faster, kicking the grenade back around the corner on instinct in a nearly perfect, curving shot that would have made any billiards master or pro soccer player proud.

Shouting, Andrew pulled me back. His hands covering my ears, he dragged me to the floor and covered my body with his own. Opening my mouth the second I hit tile, I slapped my hands back and covered his ears.

We were both shouting with our eyes closed as the concussive force hit us from around the corner, roiling our insides and muscles with its minute pressurized wave. Ears ringing, I scrambled to my feet as Andrew did. But, before either of us could bring our weapons to bear, a diminutive form in all black, noise canceling head phones, and dark safety glasses came around the corner with tactical shotgun raised, and finger on the trigger.

I stopped in my tracks as I looked down into the muzzle of that mid-length barrel and saw my whole life sucked away. The air left my lungs, and my heart began to race, even as my fingers tightened on my weapon.

A shout came from somewhere, but the voice lost its fight against my still-ringing ears. My eyes remained on the open muzzle in front of me as my hands began to move of their own volition.

Morgan and Jericho both shouted over the coms and straight into my ear, their voices indistinct amidst the ringing. But, still, I kept raising.

If I was going to go out, I was going to go out fighting, and on my own two feet.

“Ambyr!” Again came the shout from beyond my com, this time more clearly as the shotgun began to lower. “Ambyr! Oh my God!”

And then Aunt Val was stepping high over the earlier-spotted tripwire and rushing at me, squeezing me tighter than I’d ever imagined being squeezed by her as her tear-damp cheek met mine and our weapons pressed between our sandwiching bodies.

My arms went slack at my sides.

“Oh my God!” she repeated. “My God, my God, you’re okay! You’re really okay! Management didn’t get you!”

Here she was. The woman who had turned me into a killer, then lied about this mission so I would murder a pregnant woman. And now? Now, she was hugging me, and squeezing me to death for the first time in I didn’t know how many years, or maybe even ever, after having tried to flashbang me and shotgun me down.

I knew I should push her off me. Knew I should get my weapon readied.

“Report, Bravo!” Jericho barked. “What is happening in there?”

“We’re fine, Alpha,” Andrew said as I returned my aunt’s hug. “We’re fine, Charlie. Just a family reunion, is all.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Ambyr

Ididn’t need to drag the story from Aunt Val. The whole sordid thing tumbled from her lips as she directed us over the tripwires tied to two claymore landmines, and led us around the corner to stairs leading down to the basement Morgan had earlier identified.

“I didn’t know,” she said. “I didn’t know. You have to believe me, Ambyr, I really didn’t know. We’ve always dealt with terrorists, organized crime figures, and war criminals, and I never imagined the analysts would go along with changing things up on me. It wasn’t until I’d gone to Management with your request, then dug deeper after I saw Joergensen and his unit suddenly shift positions on the tracker, that I began to realize how much the change in Management meant things were being held back from me!”

“So you did know about the tracker in my neck, then?”

Even in the house’s darkness, her face paled as she nodded. “I… They were meant to keep our agents safe. We’d only ever used them to track injured agents in the field. I only ever used yours to make sure you were okay, Ambyr. You need to believe me.”

“The accident, though? That was setup by your people, then?”

Swallowing hard, she nodded. “You don’t remember it, but moments after your crash an Agency team surprised and sedated you, and then some contracted medical specialists implanted it.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“I know,” she said. “Ambyr, I’m sorry. I should have seen what the organization was turning into. But I was too close, too shortsighted to see the forest for the trees. The dossier, the lies, the changing of our tracker signals, it was all too much, and so I stayed here and began compiling my information and trying to figure out what I could do next. I have safe houses, but I didn’t want to go running off to them, not yet, just in case you got free of Joergensen!”

“Wait. What do you mean Management changed?” I asked, my voice a dry croak as I proceeded down the stairs under Andrew’s watchful eye. “When?”

“Six months ago,” she said. “Lajos Backlund, one of the partners, stepped up and wrested control away from the original partners. He’s brutal, Ambyr. Absolutely brutal.”

The basement was finished out like a living room decorated in modern furniture. A low-profile couch and two chairs tried to dominate the space, but the real master of the room was the solid glass wall facing the Rimrocks at the back of the house. A sliding glass door led out to a spacious patio, and the grass beyond.

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I thought Backlund would still honor the old agreements,” she said as she went to a heavy looking credenza and began to shove. “I thought wrong.” She glanced to Andrew. “A little help, young man?”