Chapter 3 The Field Op
Wincing at the tight band encircling his neck, he tried slipping a finger beneath the starched collar. Ignoring Roan's muted chuckle he shot him a warning look. "How am I supposed to accomplish anything if I can't even breathe—never mind, don't answer that."
Roan nodded toward the theatre. "Time to go, Boss."
"Yeah it's time alright," he muttered, glancing around at their surroundings and pulling his trench coat close. "Let's boogie then."
Stalking across the street he waited while Roan kept an appropriate distance before following him. The familiar bulge of his holster along his left side was hopefully hidden by his oversized coat, though the wind plastered it against his body. It also kept blowing his newly styled hair into his eyes, further annoying him. The aviator glasses Amanda insisted he wear felt huge and rested uncomfortably on his cheekbones. He eyed the line of limos parked before the entrance, ducking between them as he forced a smile, answering the interested glances of several attractive women.
It's the tux and the bangs, he realized, eager for this job to be over with so he could go back to being himself. Percy and Amanda both had insisted he disguise himself with a dark auburn color rinse and an updated cut, careful to remind him that his photo had been plastered all over the news, even though that had been over 13 years ago. They insisted however that someone might still recognize him.
He moved along the sidewalk, shoved rudely aside by a man in the crowd. He had to stop in order to regain his balance as a deep voice cursed him out in Russian. "Watch where you're going!"
Shooting back an equally rude insult, he glanced up at the huge tattooed man who eyed him carefully, making him even more uncomfortable. Then he whistled something he would have rather not been able to translate.
"Oh yeah?" he waved dismissively, continuing on his way. "Why don't you go find someone your own size and persuasion?" he yelled, cursing his playboy image makeover. A wave of ugly memories from his days in prison assaulted him, worsened by the appreciative whistle that followed in his wake. Thankful for the crowd milling around he disappeared into a side passageway for a quick escape, hoping Roan hadn't witnessed his humiliation.
Once hidden from street view, he paused to study the opposite buildings and caught a glimpse of his partner heading toward the main entrance. Too bad Michael hadn't been chosen to accompany him—they worked better together and were actually friends, but Percy had insisted he take Roan instead, a cleaner instead of an operations agent! It was just too sketchy, this whole assignment, and he wanted it done and over with.
Deciding his way was clear he pulled open the alley door and went in, heading up the side stairs toward the main lobby. He could already hear the orchestra warming up and glanced up toward the mezzanine level and the focus of the job. It was to be a simple hack and copy run, with room keys awaiting him up in the baby changing room. Since this was an evening performance families weren't expected to attend, but you never knew. Circling the first level he passed slowly through the waiting crowd, stepping into a corner to check his weapon and remove his coat. Draping it over one arm he headed back into the mob, fixing a jet setter grin on his face and trying to relax as people actually notice of him. He saw Roan already in position by the champagne server, a flute of in his hand as he smiled uncharacteristically at the well heeled attendees.
Slowly working his way toward the stairs, Birkhoff reached up and tapped a message in Morse code into the tiny mike of his earpiece to let him know he was going in. Climbing the stairs, he found and entered the deserted restroom after checking that it was empty. Heading toward the changing tables he unlatched the designated one and lowered it. Finding a thin envelope taped under the plastic surface, he slipped it into his vest pocket and repositioned the table. Listening for sounds of approaching guests, he heard nothing and exited unnoticed. Pausing to hang his coat in a broom closet, he unbuttoned his jacket and approached the office, resting an ear against the door to listen. The occupants were due in around 11, giving him plenty of time to hack, evaluate the intel and copy it if it was good.
Sliding the key into the door lock he heard a click, slowly pulled out his pistol with the silencer in place and edged inside. Moving through the darkened room he was thankful for the moonlight illuminating the way to the safe, which he unlocked with the combination provided. Sliding out the laptop he carried it to the desk and fired it up. Glancing nervously around the room, he wondered why he'd been so eager for field work after what had happened to him the last time. Shaking his head, he waited until the desktop loaded and started to hack into the system. Wracking his brain for the language keys he'd not used in decades, he managed to finally open up the operating system and find the accounting program. Reaching in his vest pocket for his flash drive, he plugged it in and started copying the files. It didn't take long, and he was tempted to go beyond the basic assignment as he considered what these goons were actually doing with the money. Pursing his lips, he defied Percy's orders and deleted the original files with a sly smile.
"Take that for good measure," he whispered as one by one they were deleted. Lifting his head to listen to the distant sound of the performance, he felt the old thrill of covert success as he powered off. Then replacing everything he shut the safe just as a warning message sounded in his earpiece. He froze, listening intently before he heard voices drifting toward the room.
Locking the safe, he slipped into the shadows and glanced into the back room. The voices were getting louder so he edged along the wall into the small file room, eyeing the single window with dread. This was his backup escape route in case of emergency, and he frowned at what that entailed. Climbing up onto the table he unlatched the window, trying not to worry about what he'd have to deal with once he was outside. Lifting himself out through the small opening, he heard the door lock click and winced at the sudden flash of light. Pulling his feet through he shivered in the cold wind and closed the window behind him. Getting a grip and establishing himself on the ledge he edged toward the adjoining window as he heard the men in the office he'd just left.
Just my luck, he thought, trying not to panic at the prospect of falling as he made his way along a ledge that barely accommodated the length of his shoes. Pressing close to the wall he slid along, buffeted by the wind and his hair blowing in his eyes. Then he remembered his trench coat. Deciding that he did need Roan's help, he broke the latch and crawled in through the window whispering a prayer of thanks for not falling. Then he tapped his request and headed for the door, finally moving back out into the hall. Shoving his disheveled hair back he tried calming his racing heart as he made his way toward the opposite stairwell. Quickly descending to ground level he pushed against the door, feeling the cold air hit him in the face as he strode out into the alley and headed back toward their van.
Once he was seated in the driver's seat with the heat starting to warm the van, Roan rushed toward him and opened the door.
"What the hell was that," he grumbled as he climbed in, "leaving your coat?"
"I'm sorry," he cried as he put the van in gear and pulled out of the alley. "I'm not used to being all trussed up and wearing a dress coat," he tried explaining. Moving into the lighter traffic he headed back toward their hotel.
"You finish everything?" Roan checked, eyeing his dusty clothes with suspicion.
"Yeah but I had to climb out onto the ledge," he complained, frowning at Roan's unexpected laugh. "Hey I'm a little rusty, ok?"
"A little?" he chortled, looking ahead as he began to relax.
"Anyway, thanks for the warning," Birkhoff grumbled, pulling onto the main thoroughfare.
"No problem, that's what I'm there for—" he answered, interrupted by the sudden pinging of shots that hit the metal. They both ducked as Birkhoff accelerated. "We're being hit!"
"What the hell—" he agreed, glancing in the side view mirror as more shots pierced the rear window.
Roan pulled out his gun and lowered the window, reaching out to fire back. "I thought you got out unnoticed!" he cried as a BMW came up on their right.
More shots were fired while Birkhoff zigzagged up the street, then careened around a corner to cut into an alley. Trying to remember his way through the city, he watched their pursuers follow before they were suddenly cut off by a delivery truck.
"Yes!" he shouted, speeding out onto the main avenue and hedging along the north side of the city. Roan finally turned around, nodding to him.
"You outfoxed them," he said with relief, tucking his pistol back into his holster.
Birkhoff drove toward the beltway, heading for the airport. "Guess we leave our luggage," he muttered, driving at top speed and thankful they didn't have far to go.
"I'll change the flight while you call in," Roan stated, meting his sidelong glance. "Good job otherwise."
"Thanks, you too," he said, patting his jacket pocket. "Passport's never left behind, if I remember correctly."
Roan nodded, staring ahead at the terminals and pointing to theirs. "On your right—Gate D."
They parked the van and locked up, and when he finally checked his appearance Birkhoff whistled at the bullet hole that had gone clear through his sleeve. He glanced at Roan's raised brows, then down at his pants. The fabric was split over his right knee and was dusty from his escape. When he tried brushing the dust away from his thigh it only smeared and looked much worse.
"Great," he muttered, shuffling forward in line. He couldn't risk stopping to buy another change of clothes—they only had a few minutes to make the new flight.
"Don't even think about it," Roan confirmed, hiding a smile as they edged forward again.
"Amanda will kill me," he groaned as he prepared to be called forward to the boarding agent.
"I wouldn't want to be you," Roan sighed, checking his watch again.
"Yeah me neither," he sighed before stepping forward. They had to split up from this point on, so he pretended to be traveling alone. As he walked toward the waiting area he saw Roan step up to the agent. As Roan nodded to the woman the call to board was announced and Birkhoff turned his back to him. He smiled wanly at the older woman who looked down at his dusty clothes with a disdainful grunt, then up at his formal wear. She shook her head and turned away.
"Great," he sighed in English, "looks like I'm stuck in this monkey suit for the duration."
Alex drummed her fingers atop her station, trying not to worry about him. She hadn't seen Birkhoff for two days, not since she'd showed up at 8 p.m. for their tutoring session the other night only to find him a no-show. Had he forgotten? she'd wondered, too afraid to ask after him for fear of getting him in any kind of trouble. She had the definite sense that his offer to tutor her was not exactly kosher. Still, she'd worried through a pretty sleepless night only to find a sub the next two mornings. As she fought to keep her eyes open she decided she much preferred Birkhoff's shouting and off-color jokes to the patient smiles of their retirement-aged female spinster teacher.
Eyeing Tom with a commiserating look, she watched him shrug before returning his attention back to his screen. With a sigh of resignation she finished up the assignment without much enthusiasm, thinking that class just wasn't the same without Birkhoff. Nothing was the same without him.
When the dismissal bell finally rang everyone jumped up and rushed out, eager to leave the room and head for lunch. Gathering her things together she followed, surprised by the sound of a familiar voice out in the hall. Stopping just outside the classroom she stared at the two men standing in the middle of the hall with Amanda while the crowd parted and streamed all around them. Eyeing the one whose voice was Birkhoff's, she stared at him in disbelief.
"Look I'm sorry Amanda," he said near a shout over the noise of the recruits, a frustrated look on his face. "We were compromised and had to get out fast—you can buy another tux, can't you?"
Amanda stood with her hands on her hips, her back to Alex. Next to Birkhoff stood a tall man who was trying hard not to laugh at the encounter. They were both were dressed in black tuxedos but Birkhoff's was dusty and torn. His shirt was open halfway and his tie was missing, unlike his impeccably dressed partner. Still, she tried not to gape at how handsome he looked. When he ran a frustrated hand through his hair she stared at its dark auburn tint in confusion. What on earth was going on?
"Look I've got a bad case of jet lag and Red Bull-withdrawal and trust me, the combination is deadly," he warned Amanda, his hands up as if to avoid being shot by her. Alex saw her glance at the other man, who shrugged as Birkhoff reached into his pocket and held out a flash drive toward her. "Ok I forgot the trench coat too but here's your intel," he said flatly, turning his head away as if trying to summon the strength to hold his temper. It was then that he looked right at her, catching her staring at him.
Caught in his sights, she marveled at the changes in him. His dyed hair was styled to frame his face and was parted to one side, hiding half his forehead above a pair of aviator shaped glasses with dark lenses. Both accented his strong jaw line and the scraggly beard he usually wore was nowhere to be seen. As she stared at him his eyes seemed to burn into her until she tore her gaze away. Then she noted the ragged slit at his knee and the coating of gray dust on his thigh. But she'd know his voice and personality anywhere, despite the changes in his appearance.
"Well, at least you weren't wounded," she heard Amanda sigh now that the crowd had dissipated. "I'll let Percy know you're back so you can debrief and get some rest."
Alex watched her turn away, as did the man at his side who waved a backhanded farewell to him and left him standing virtually alone in the hall. To her surprise no one else seemed to have noticed or recognized him, and as she started toward him he glanced away, shoving his hands in his pants pockets.
"It is you," she stated as he looked up, the tinted glasses keeping her from seeing into his eyes. Even standing directly in front of him, she couldn't see much through the dark sepia color.
"How was your sub?" he asked tiredly, not seeming surprised that she recognizing him.
"Hi," she breathed, clutching her backpack straps as his gaze swept down her length and back up. "Incredibly boring," she admitted, noting his slight nod. Breathing in the pleasant scent of his aftershave, she decided it was a refreshing combination of evergreen and rain and suited him perfectly. He looked incredibly attractive, even before he offered her a half-smile of apparent approval.
"Good," he sighed, leaning toward her. "I'll be back on Monday morning, so spread the word. And I won't be letting anybody off as easily as she has."
She lifted her chin with a nod. "I look forward to it."
He pursed his lips, glancing down at his rumpled clothing with what looked like self-consciousness. "We had to make a quick get-away and lost our luggage," he stated, looking up into her amused eyes before he gazed heavenward. "God— I feel like James Bond or something in this get-up," he stated.
"Where were you?" she couldn't help asking, entranced by his behavior and appearance.
Her words made him stiffen, then he glanced around before touching her arm. "Walk with me?" he asked quietly, his voice low.
She nodded and turned with him, falling into step as he shortened his usually long stride and slowed his harried pace. They headed down the hall toward Operations, finding it empty. She dared a glance up at his profile and bit her bottom lip.
"I missed you," she whispered to him, noting again how he stiffened at her words. Veering off toward a vending machine he approached it, stopping to examine the contents as if she hadn't spoken. Coming to his side again, she watched in silence as he dug into his pocket and pulled out some change. Opening his hand he revealed several foreign-looking coins that she immediately recognized.
She looked up. "Rubles?" she whispered as he shut his hand and shoved it back into his pocket. Clearing his throat, he turned his head to glance down at her.
"Sorry—I don't seem to have the right change..."
"Let me," she offered, taking some quarters from her jacket pocket and inserting them into the water bottle dispenser as he waited for them to drop.
"You don't have to—"
"It's my treat," she interrupted, glancing up at him with a nervous smile before he moved closer. She froze, her heart racing at his closeness.
"Look I'm sorry about the other night," he said close to her ear, his head bent close. Goosebumps rose along her skin as his breath touched her cheek. She turned her head toward him just as he looked away. "Something came up," he added softly.
"That's fine," she said in a small voice, holding his gaze when he looked at her again. A jolt of electricity shot between them, holding them in a state of suspension. When she realized the bottle had dropped, she bent as calmly as she could to get it for him. Straightening to her full height, she pulled up the cap and handed it to him.
"How about we try again Wednesday night, same time?" he asked as their fingers brushed. Without waiting for her answer he took the bottle and tipped his head back to drink. She watched the movement of his throat as he downed nearly half the contents and capped it with a lusty sigh of appreciation. "Thanks…" he said, moistening his lips with a quick slip of his tongue.
"No problem," she said in a small voice, trying not to stare at his mouth. "Wednesday night's fine," she said despite her plan.
He nodded. "Good—now if you'll pardon me I've got to get this ridiculous stuff out of my hair and put on some decent clo—"
"Where did you go?" she interrupted as he stiffened in alarm and led her further back into the corner. She touched his arm as he turned his back as if to shield them from view of the video cameras. Then he pulled off his glasses and eyed her with suspicion.
"Why do you need to know?" he said just above a whisper, watching her closely.
She stared into his marvelous eyes, her breath caught by the hungry, desperate look in them. As she hesitated they darkened in color, almost to navy blue. Never before had she seen such a color in someone's eyes, nor read so many conflicting emotions within them.
"I—I don't really know," she sighed more than stated, lost in his changing expression, which now looked almost annoyed.
"It was a field assignment, which I couldn't pass up," he stated, glancing over his shoulder. "They don't offer me the chance much anymore..."
She watched him put his glasses back on and straighten, disappointed that the moment was lost. "Well, I'm glad you're back," she told him, "and that you're ok. "
He studied her expression a moment, lips quirking as if to challenge her. "Really?" he said doubtfully, pausing to stare at her from behind the dark lenses.
Why? she read in his expression as the air practically crackled with energy all around them.
She nodded. "Really… maybe we'll get an assignment together someday."
At her words he sobered, eyeing the empty hall. "You should go," he warned quietly, turning away.
She caught his sleeve and he froze. Sensing that he didn't want to leave, she tightened her grip on his arm. "I need to see you," she whispered, "please?"
His expression grew even more wary and he glanced over her shoulder, out into the empty corridor. "Like I said, we'll meet for some tutoring, ok?"
She shook her head, eyes pleading with him. His brows shot up.
"We can't," he whispered, gazing at her intently. "Understand?"
"No," she whispered back as he pried her fingers from his arm.
"I've got to get ready for debriefing," he stated soberly, nudging her out of his way.
"Please?" she whispered even as he left her standing in the corner. He walked away with a stiff set to his shoulders, then disappeared around the bend in the hallway. Confused and bereft of his presence, she reminded herself that she'd hacked into Human Resources to find his address while he was absent and she couldn't wait until Wednesday. Tomorrow night when the recruits were given a night off she would meet with Nikita as planned, but if he was home he might more open to talking if she visited him there. It was risky but she didn't know what else to do. She needed him, not even really knowing why. And she sensed that he needed her. But for now all she could do was wait and hope.
Nikita stared at her with eyes full of question, then understanding dawned in her expression. "Wait a minute—you like him, don't you?" she croaked, shaking her head. "You like Birkhoff!"
Feeling her color rise, Alex shrugged. "He's interesting," she admitted calmly.
"To say the least," Nikita breathed, studying her carefully. "You do like him, don't you?"
"Alright, I admit it—I do. He's funny and brilliant and cute too."
Nikita fought a smile. "But does he know?"
"No! Please don't tell him, Nikita!" she pleaded, glancing around to be sure no one overheard them in the crowded atrium.
Nikita sobered, considering the implications. "How long has this been going on?"
"Nothing's going on!"
"Oh yes it is," she argued, taking her arm and walking toward the food court. They passed the crowds in virtual silence until she sighed with resignation, stopping to face her. "You know what—it's actually good, even considering the circumstances."
"Yeah, well there's that," Alex huffed dejectedly, feeling more and more frustrated. She was still trying to gather her wits and her courage before daring to try to ring his doorbell.
"Actually I've decided it's perfect," Nikita added, looking thoughtful. "You'd be good for each other. He's a really good guy beneath all the sarcasm, and I think he's really lonely. He's mature enough for you, and he'll definitely take care of you, unlike a lot of other guys. And he's extremely loyal, which says a lot."
Alex stared at her in surprise. "Really? I thought you'd discourage it."
She shook her head. "On the contrary—I say go for it, girl! Tell him you like him, but be subtle."
"But I don't even know why I like him, I just do! And believe me I fought it, knowing how closely Amanda and Percy watch him."
"That is a problem," Nikita admitted, "but with my help maybe we can fix that. You know I've been there—sometimes you just can't help who you fall for."
Alex bit her bottom lip. "I know there are rules and that he's my teacher but I don't care! I even like the fact that he's maybe ten years older—"
"He's 29, though he doesn't look it," Nikita stated. "That makes him only six years older."
"What bothers me is that he's got a crush on you," Alex admitted.
Nikita smiled, as if remembering something from the past. "You know, I have to admit I flirted with him a lot those first few years, mostly just for fun."
Alex had to smile at the mental picture she was getting. "Yeah he's a lot of fun, especially when he doesn't mean to be…"
"He's really very charming, in a gruff lost-puppy sort of way," Nikita stated, her smile fading. "And there's the problem of Percy being in the equation. Maybe together we can remove him."
Alex nodded. "And you like Michael, despite him being Percy's."
Nikita became thoughtful as they walked along. "I'm not denying it," she admitted it, gazing off into the distance. "I've been in love before, and it didn't end well for him at all..."
"But that was different, wasn't it? Michael and Birkhoff are both agents."
"That's the only consolation," Nikita worried.
"Well I can't see Division cancelling either of them, just for having a relationship."
"I hope you're right about that," she admitted, pulling her jacket closer. "They're certainly not expendable, which is encouraging…now, how on earth are you going to tell him?"
"I don't know, except to just come out with it!"
"No Alex, you have to prepare him—"
"I already told him that I needed to see him," she replied.
Nikita looked unconvinced. "How did he react?"
She sighed, entertaining doubts yet again. "He seemed alarmed, but that was because we were standing near a surveillance camera. And I know there's something in his eyes when he looks at me, like he's really lonely, desperate even."
Nikita looked worried. "Alex—do you know anything about his background?"
She shrugged. "Only that Percy recruited him to Division after he hacked into the Pentagon's security, and that he was pretty young at the time."
"He was 16, Alex—he's been under Percy's control for almost 13 years. That's longer than either Michael or I have been."
"So?"
"The point is he doesn't know anything else," Nikita stated. "It might be too difficult to openly go against Division, despite how he feels."
Alex nodded. "I'll try to keep that in mind…but he was a field agent before and he just came back from one."
Nikita looked stunned. "Birkhoff went out into the field? Where?"
"Former Soviet Union, judging by the coins in his pocket."
"And he seemed ok?"
She nodded. "Yeah, just tired and a little disheveled."
"I'm stunned!" Nikita admitted, shaking her head. "But that might make it easier for him to break away, if he's given the chance."
"That's what I'm hoping," Alex sighed. "Did you ever go on assignment with him?"
"Once," she admitted, her expression changing to one of concern. "We were both just a year into being recruits and he was already teaching us in his computer class," she said, shaking her head. "He was that brilliant."
Alex nodded. "Go on."
"But don't get me wrong—he was one of the top recruits Division ever had. His aim is nearly perfect, and by the time I went out with him he'd already aced his first three ops."
"And the one you went on?" Alex prompted.
"He led the op into Germany—our orders were to destroy a neo Nazi arms dealing network but our cover was blown. When things hit the fan it was a shock, but he made sure the rest of us got out first. On his way out he was ambushed by one of the victims we thought was dead. He was wounded pretty badly."
Alex stared at her in alarm. "What happened?"
"He was shot clear through the shoulder and spent 15 minutes pinned down. By the time we got to him he'd nearly bled to death. We rushed him to Landstuhl Medical Center for surgery, but it was months before he recovered the complete use of his arm. Percy was furious and wouldn't allow him out again except on rare occasions. He was put in charge of Operations, where his real talent always was. I think it was more of a challenge for him as well."
"Is that all you know about him?"
Nikita nodded. "It's all anyone knows. He's never told Michael anything more, and they're friends."
"I thought you were friends, too."
"We were, at least until I pistol whipped him."
Alex grimaced, not really liking the thought of Nikita hurting him.
"But he never told me his story...I don't think he's spoken of it to anyone. If you like him you'll respect his privacy. He was the youngest recruit Division ever took, and came more unwillingly than most, so just keep that in mind."
"I will," she sighed, looking around and noting the time. Three hours til curfew…"Well, I should get going."
"We're finished here," Nikita replied. "So—you going to pay him a call, after all we've discussed?"
"I'd like to…think he'll let me in?"
Nikita smiled, laying a hand on her shoulder. "I think he just might, but be careful—for both your sakes."
c. 2011 by Christine Levitt