BACK UP
Late 2000-Fall 2003
Kira Grant's ego had been stroked tremendously when she single-handedly took out three men set to destroy an airport. She had saved dozens of lives, but four or five people had died, including Taryn Donovan. She wasn't ruthless enough to take out a life unless the person deserved to die. Taryn Donovan wasn't one of those people, it just happened. Taryn had been hit seventeen times by the crossfire between her and one of the goons with a machine gun. When it was all over, Grant had gone to the fallen woman. By then, she was already dead, her blood flowing rapidly out onto the hard tile floor. She felt badly about her dying, but had no sympathy for Martel. Everything he touched turned to shit. It was as simple as that. She hadn't thought Martel's grief funny; it was the exact opposite. What she found amusing was the fact that he thought she'd lower herself to shoot his wife. She was a bad girl, but not that bad. Then when he stuck his gun in her eye, she was almost positive she'd die right there. Although she had no desire to die at that moment, it would only serve to punish Martel further. He would certainly go to prison. She stood back and smiled wider as she watched several men descending on him, cuffing him, and then dragging him up to his feet. He wanted to kill her, that was highly obvious, but he wanted to do it for reasons unknown to her. Taryn Donovan wasn't the target, her husband was always the one. Whatever the case, Kira Grant was celebrated by both the CIA and the FBI. While Martel lost his mind and went to the mountains, she was offered his position on a temporary basis, and she jumped at the chance. Of course, it was short-lived, but she loved the power. She loved it and wanted more of it. She had been around when whispers of special projects began springing up. The spots would be offered to the elite of the elite. The one she wanted was a special ops group, but it had been given to a man named Keller. She knew very little of him, but it pissed her off. She was directed toward another slot instead. It wasn't nearly as exciting as the SOG, but it would do.
After a while, she'd heard that the leader of the SOG had been killed in action. A replacement would definitely have to be found. The young agents were good, but could be loose cannons if left without a leader. She discovered [through her many hacking jaunts] that she was in the running to take control. There were only three names on the list, but she had more experience and was far more ruthless than the other two. She considered herself a shoo-in for the spot. However, it hadn't turned out that way. She was let down gently and told that she could continue on or quit and move to another assignment. She had no intention of quitting, of course. She'd simply wait for another death to occur and then she'd step up again. She wasn't stupid enough to put herself in a situation where she'd end up shot or dead. She'd been in the agency long enough to know everything. She was surprised that she hadn't been offered Dubois' position. He couldn't keep it forever. She intended to be in line for that as well. She had basically gone on with her life and forgotten about the SOG until she and her group were called in to assist with finding the son of the attorney general. Her jaw nearly dropped when she watched Martel, clad in black, strolling up the stairs of the AG's mansion as if he owned the world. She had wondered what the fuck he was doing in that position. At that moment, she didn't want to be within five feet of the man. Her plans to expose him for the fraud that he was could be set aside for a bit. With Martel and his group, there would be no need for outside help. Fucking Martel had control of everything and wouldn't share with anyone, especially her. She had gone back to her hotel room and sulked until she felt better. Her feelings grew worse when she heard that the kid had been returned to his father and that Martel's group had played a huge role in it. Of course it did. Give him the world, because he deserves it. She was a grown woman, but she had a screaming kicking temper tantrum. The day after that, she resigned her position and took off.
Grant didn't resurface for a while. She continued her affair with Dubois to keep getting the information she fed off, but soon, most of it had dried up. As each year passed, Martel's SOG group became better known in the agency and seemed to be a smashing success. Martel's records were hidden deeper and deeper, but she could pull them up with a little hacking. At that point, she began to design a new identity for herself. She had made it her true mission in life to finish Martel. She would live on savings and severance until a job came open in the Department of Justice. She figured it was the only way to find the information necessary to ruin him. She had taken a job completely beneath her, but it didn't matter. She had access to tons of information regarding Martel and had plenty of opportunities to hack into the files. Grant made sure her tracks were covered. At first, she didn't find much of anything that she didn't already know, but her luck had changed when she saw Martel with Harrison.
As soon as she discovered that little jewel of information, she began to watch Harrison, to learn her habits, to watch when she took breaks, and had her routine down pat before she went home. She would continue to watch her for a few more days and then become her best friend. She knew the best way to Martel was through the people he loved most. He was strict about keeping his personal life totally separate from his work. He didn't bring his work home or vice versa. She noticed that Harrison had never ventured out to meet Martel for lunch or whatever. He normally came to her when he took lunch breaks. It was obvious that either she didn't know where he worked or she did, but didn't bother joining him because of his rule. She learned that Harrison was very much in love with Martel and often spoke about him around her girlfriends. She had even come to work one day and announced that they had finally set a wedding date. She heard December twelfth. It was a little more than two months away. That was enough time to begin communication with Martel. He'd either break the news to his fiancé, or she would. It didn't matter much to her. If he lost another love, perhaps he would disappear forever and she'd have exactly what she wanted.
Paige sat alone at a table in the break room. Her usual tablemates were having lunch with the executives. She had no desire to do that. It wasn't her type of scene, regardless of the food. Almost everyone had gone down and there were only a few people scattered here and there. She was a bit lost in thought. When she basically demanded Donovan to set a wedding date, she actually expected him to get angry and then tell her to get out. However, he did the exact opposite. She had begun to wonder if she misjudged him on that. Every now and then, she questioned herself about whether or not she believed he truly loved her. He said he did, he'd invited her to live with him, and he'd asked her to marry him. Now they had a definite date set for a wedding. Wasn't that enough? Sometimes it was, but sometimes it wasn't. She loved him very much and wanted to marry him, but every now and then, a doubt crept in her mind. Of course, it had all started the night he made love to her and then called out his late wife's name. Throughout the duration of their relationship, he'd never called her by Taryn's name. It wasn't something he did, ever. Did she actually believe his drinking brought it on? That night wasn't the first time he had drunk and it wasn't the first time she'd lived through October with him. She knew it was a difficult time, had never doubted it, and had never questioned it. She understood the horror and the grief. He'd shared with her what happened and she actually expected him to break down and cry afterwards. But he didn't. He told her the story and kept the same look and attitude throughout. He was stoic and almost cold. In fact, she hadn't ever seen him cry.
She picked up her yogurt container and scraped the bottom of it. She didn't know what she was worrying about. Perhaps she was already experiencing pre-wedding jitters. After all, it had taken them a while to set a wedding date. Marriage was a big step and wasn't something to be taken lightly. She laughed a little at herself. Look at her. She was being absolutely ridiculous. He loved her. If he didn't, he wouldn't have taken their relationship so far. How could a man act like he and not be in love? Shaking her head, she sat back in her chair and looked up. At that point, she noticed that a woman with very light blonde hair was looking her way. The woman smiled at her and waved a little. Paige nodded politely. Her lunch break was just about over. Paige stood and began walking toward the trashcan. The woman across the room stood and followed her lead.
"Your ring," she said, "is very beautiful."
Paige jumped a little and turned around. The young woman had a weird smile and very deep dimples. "Thank you."
"I'm new here," she said, "my name is Delia Nelson. I'm having difficulty finding my way around. Do you know if anyone could give me a tour?"
There was something about this woman that she didn't immediately trust. Her eyes were dead and flat. Her smile was false. "I could check with personnel for you, if you'd like. It's not a complicated building once you learn the floor plan." Paige turned and discarded her trash. She had the greatest urge to get away from this woman and get away from her quickly.
Wow, she is one timid mouse, Grant thought. She was nothing like the women Martel went for, well except for the big boobs. She definitely had that going for her. As she watched Harrison walk away, she discarded her trash and made her way toward her own mundane job. She had done something to scare the woman off and would have to work on it now. What the hell had she done? Hmm. Maybe she needed to work on her personality a bit more. It was important for her to know this woman. How else could she get more tidbits on Martel without her?
* * *
Fall 2003Selena Jane Larkin stood in her office perusing her orders for the day. She ignored them and tossed them into the trash. She had been working on the same damn case for two months now, so why did she need orders for them? Her superiors and co-workers gave her a lot of flack due to her age. She was barely twenty-four, but had started college at fifteen. When she joined the agency, she had heard every jibe in the book. Are you potty trained yet, Larkin? Will you need to carry a pacifier with you out in the field? Can I change your diaper? Then there was the matter of her appearance. She stood only five feet three with a slim, but petite build. Her blonde hair was cut into a neat one-length bob that fell just an inch or two above her shoulders. Her facial features were as petite as her build. What she lacked in stature and appearance, she made up for with her mouth. She wasn't easy to shut up and didn't take shit from anyone, even the upper brass. Her mind was sharp and she did her job well. If someone had issues with her, she'd point to her record and remind him or her of what she had done since she became an agent. Actually, Larkin had little choice but to fight her way to the top. She came from a huge family and she was the only girl. She had had to physically fight to stay alive with her dunderheaded brothers. It was the only reason she had gotten as far as she did. Otherwise, she'd have been buried in the masses. As it were, she wasn't at the bottom, but she wasn't at the top, either. Yet, she hated working these shit cases. She was allowed only one at a time due to the nature of the problem and the research that went into it. Her backlog was enormous, but this case had taken on serious overtones, and she had to get it solved and shelved before it drove her to distraction. It was time to move on, but she couldn't go anywhere just yet. She hated it.
Larkin stared down at the file for the hundredth time, taking note of her research and evidence collected. Three or four people were involved with this scam with all but one indirectly involved. She gazed down into the face of her profile. Kira Grant had been a CIA operative up until three or so years ago. She had been all over the place, jumping here and there. Her first interest in Grant was the fact that she'd been hacking into CIA records for years. Her lover, Director Dubois, had been supplying her with every code she needed to access dozens of files at a time. However, when she dumped him, she had had to find her treats through other means. Grant was a fairly good hacker, but she didn't cover every track as well as she thought. Most of her information centered around one man, Franklin Chase Martel, now known simply as Franklin Donovan. Larkin's position had given her access to tons of shit that would make Grant cream her jeans if she saw it. It appeared that the former operative was following Donovan around, messing with his mind while still continuously hacking into his personal files. What the hell was she trying to accomplish? She flipped through the file again, going over the history, and read about the death of Donovan's wife. Grant had been there at the time. She [as Donovan before her] wondered if Grant had had anything to do with the death. Surely it wasn't some jealousy thing. She didn't think that neither Donovan nor Grant had had any type of relationship while in the CIA. In fact, from what she gathered, they literally hated each other. As a further matter of fact, Donovan had tried to kill the woman more than once. She found it quite ironic that she knew so much about these two people but had never met them face-to-face. The time would come for that, and soon.
Her phone rang, startling her a little. She'd been in some type of dream state. "Larkin," she said, her voice slightly husky.
"When are you leaving for Chicago?"
She sighed and felt the need to scream in her director's ear. What good would it do? He'd wait for the noise to subside and then he'd speak again. "Not for a while, Will. I have about ten thousand things to get in line first. How am I supposed to approach this guy? He's been in every three letter agency we've got and I'm going undercover doing what? Finding hackers? It's stupid. Why can't I just tell him what I want to do?"
"Whenever men like Donovan hear the words Internal Affairs, they become jumpy. He has a history of instability, Larkin. You have learned that by now, haven't you?"
She rolled her eyes. "No duh. Of course I've learned that by now. However, most of it was bullshit, I think. The gun in the eye was a little precious, but not the tent thing. Looks like the hag had it coming. Thing is, she's following him for a reason and it's not to catch up on old times." He was about to give her another speech; she could sense it in his voice. Before he had the chance, she said, "See you later, Will. I'll call when I leave for Chicago."
Larkin hung up the phone and sat down in her expensive wingback chair. The only reason she consented to keep it was because it offered enough room for her to sit Indian-style. It was the only way she could think. It was weird, but it seemed to help clear her mind. She fingered the file for the twelfth time today. Martel snapped tonight, she read directly from a notation, caught choking an agent. Of course, Director Dubois, who was cheerfully boinking Kira Grant at the time, had made the notation. She glanced at the report from the hostage situation at the airport. Mental breakdown. Donovan requested to be relieved of duty. Mental breakdown. It didn't make sense. Regardless of the situation, she didn't think a man like Donovan could have a breakdown. Then again, she didn't know him, but from the record, it appeared he simply needed to chill out. Again, it was no excuse for him to draw down on a fellow agent, but what could they expect? He'd just lost his wife and then saw an old foil who had made his life hell from day one. She shook her head. Donovan and Grant. Grant and Donovan. The two names had crawled into her brain and latched on as if they were persistent leeches. The time would come when she'd have to face both of them, but was instructed to seek out Donovan for obvious reasons. Hell, why couldn't she just call him up and tell him that she was from Internal Affairs? Duh, Jane. If Grant is following him and/or using surveillance or something, wouldn't she find out within a few moments who you are? Okay. Selena Jane Larkin, IA for the FBI had become just plain ol' Agent Larkin out to break up an internal hacking ring.
F. Chase Martel, a.k.a Frank Donovan had had quite a time. Kira Grant wanted to pay him back for some misdeed she felt he had done. But what for God's sake? What she had dug up pointed to shit she had done to him. The first disciplinary action Donovan had suffered was the bombing of a CIA led facility. Records showed that Donovan [then Martel] had been in command. However, a flick of the computer had shown her the real deal. Kira Grant had been the lead that evening, and she had known the facility was CIA. How many men had died that night? Basically, she had killed them herself, but Donovan took the fall.
Larkin picked up the phone and dialed a number. As she listened to the burring rings, she wondered what she would say once it was answered. After three rings, she heard a gruff man nearly spitting out a last name. It was Donovan. "Good morning, Agent Donovan. I'm Selena Larkin calling from the regional FBI office in D.C. and I'll be in Chicago shortly. I would like to set up a time and place to meet with you."
"FBI in D.C.? Why would you be making contact with this office?"
She heard the harshness in his voice and could only imagine his penetrative glare. Hell, it came from his photograph in waves. "I'm sorry, Agent Donovan. I suppose I should clarify a bit. Sometimes, I forget. I'm working on a case that involves rogue hackers who have been playing around with confidential files, mainly personnel files of various agents in the CIA and FBI. I was instructed by my director to make contact. Your director should be calling within the hour. Does this make sense now?"
If she had been standing next to Donovan, she would have seen him looking down at the phone with a crazed look. "Not exactly. Who are you again?"
She sighed. "Selena Larkin. I'm an agent with the FBI in D.C. I need your help and your boss will contact you, because my boss has contacted me. How about that, babe? Make sense now?"
"Agent Larkin, I certainly don't appreciate your tone or your unorthodox usage of the English language. When will you be in Chicago?"
Oh, he's so snippy. Stiff as a poker. "Not sure yet. How 'bout I call you when I am? Chat with you later. See ya."
In Chicago, Donovan hung up the phone and stared down at it. Had that really happened or was it some type of prank? Selena Larkin? Who the hell was she?
"Cody…"
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To be continued…
