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“Ma’am,” I added.
X frowned, unimpressed. “I want you to use the resources at hand, which in this case, is a cooperating witness. We can keep her safe until she goes into WITSEC.”
“But ma’am,” Alder said, “what if she doesn’t agree to go?”
“She had a panic attack at the parking garage,” Jensen added. “Doc said that was when the realization of what she’d agreed to do hit her.”
X glared at me as if this whole damn mess was my fault. Which it was.
“There might be a way to get around WITSEC,” I said.
“There might have been,” X said, “but not anymore. We need her cooperation, after which, she will be burned. The only way to keep her alive will be to convince the world she’s dead.”
I rubbed at the vise of tension on the back of my neck. “I realize that, but Alder’s right to worry Ms. Armand will turn down WITSEC when she realizes she has a choice.”
“Then I suggest you convince her,” X said. “She loves her family. She’ll want to keep them safe. That’s the screw you have to turn until it hurts.”
She was right, and tomorrow I would make peace with that. But at that moment, I remembered the abject fear on Ashlee’s face, the way she gasped for breath as she understood she had agreed to cut ties with everyone she loved, the longing I’d felt to hug her to my chest and hold her tight until the shock of it had passed. And I hated X for stating what had to be done.
“Convince her, TJ.” X picked up her black bag and slung the strap over her shoulder. “Because if you don’t, I’ll come back here and finish the job myself.”
9
Ashlee
I sat on a medical exam table in a suite that Dr. Bond referred to as a medical bay. To my left, there was a window that looked out over a nondescript parking lot and some distant office buildings. Below the window was a neatly organized desk, with shelves of medical books and journals lining the walls in the office alcove.
Where I sat, in the middle of the space, there were all the implements of a doctor’s office, with a sink, cupboards, and drawers presumably full of medical supplies, and separate receptacles for trash and medical waste. There was also the door to the hallway, now wide open, and two other doors. One of those led to the bathroom I’d already used. The other was fitted with a sturdy lock, so I assumed it housed controlled substances.
“Do you provide all the medical services for the team?” I asked Dr. Bond, who was reading the test results of bloodwork she’d been able to run herself using equipment lined up on the countertops.
She glanced at me. “I can’t perform surgery here, address major traumas, or perform tests that require large equipment. Other than that, yes, we are rather self-contained.”
My mind stuck on “surgery” and “major trauma”, but I knew she wouldn’t elaborate even if I asked, so I remained silent.
“Yes, send her up,” Bond said.
It took me a few beats to realize she was talking to whoever was on the other end of her comms unit. She had informed me she was wearing it and that the other team members who spoke with me would be wearing the units, as well, and that every word of our conversations was being monitored. I took that to mean TJ was somewhere on the other end. Then again, maybe I would never see him again, and maybe that was for the best. The thought wasn’t comforting, though. What had happened between us had been unexpected and probably really stupid on both our parts, but I didn’t regret it. If I never saw him again, I wouldn’t know whether or not he did, and the realization made me inordinately sad.
A familiar woman arrived in the medical bay doorway and knocked on the frame.
“Come in, Kessler,” Dr. Bond said. “Ms. Armand, this is Cynthia Kessler. She’s been authorized to debrief you on some of the details surrounding your kidnapping six months ago.”
“You’ll have to excuse Bond,” Kessler said, shooting a pointed look at the doctor. “She’s always very direct.”
“You were there,” I said. “On the harbor ship and again at the embassy last weekend.” I’d suspected TJ had known this blonde woman and the tall, dark-haired one as well as the Wilder brothers. Not only did he know them, but he also worked with them. At least with Kessler. “And the rescue?”
Bond laughed softly. “She’s direct, too.” She glanced at me. “I like that.”
Kessler didn’t take her eyes off me. She observed my face and my hands. My expressions and my body language.
“And now you’re reading me for my reactions,” I stated.
Kessler raised her eyebrows. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I assume you do some of that in your field, as well.”
“I do,” I said. “And I also keep track of things like people not answering my questions.”
Kessler smiled at Bond. “I like her, too.” She focused back on me. “In a minute, I’ll tell you everything I’ve been authorized to release. But first, I want you to understand that we have expectations regarding your cooperation.”
