The Prime Objective. Ginna Gray
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When he was certain that he wasn’t being followed, Jack thumbed a number on his cell phone. The call was answered on the first ring.
“Yeah?”
“Are we working?”
“Like a charm.”
“Good. I’ll report in. Then I’m going to get some shut-eye. I’ll relieve one of you guys in the morning.”
Jack disconnected, looked around again, then punched in another number. This time there was a series of clicks and buzzes as the secure call made a convoluted route around the globe and was scrambled. Finally the connection was completed, and again, the person on the other end picked up on the first ring.
“Yes?” a throaty feminine voice queried.
Ah, hell, Jack thought, a weary half smile twitching his mouth. Annie Smith had the sexiest damned telephone voice. Whenever he heard those husky tones, thanks to his starved libido, his mind immediately conjured up visions of cool sheets and hot, sweaty sex.
Annie had been his contact on other assignments in the past, and on this job he’d been reporting through her for the last five weeks. He’d never met Annie personally, but he’d heard that she was in her late fifties, gray-haired, on the chunky side and had penchants for crocheting and soap operas.
“It’s Jack. Clearance number 78C19344LZ622. Operation Rabbit Hole,” he rattled off. “We’re in.”
“Any problems?”
“None. Smooth as glass.”
“Great. I’ll pass the word along.”
“Be sure and advise that activity has increased. Something is definitely brewing. We should know soon. I’ll keep you informed.”
Jack could see the lights of his hotel ahead—the only thing close to a western-style establishment of its kind in town. Reporters from all over the globe stayed there, and since his cover was that of a photojournalist he did, as well. He picked up his pace.
He longed for a hot shower, but he’d have to settle for a soak in the ancient tub down the hall from his tiny room. No matter. Already, just thinking about sinking into a deep tub of hot bathwater, he could feel his strained muscles beginning to ease.
“Anything else?” Annie asked.
“Naw. Now we wait.” And listen, he added, but only in his mind. Not even on a scrambled line would he or any other agent say anything that might remotely tip off the other side as to what they were doing.
“You got anything for me?” he tacked on almost as an afterthought.
Annie’s pause lasted only a second, but little got past Jack, not even as weary as he was at that moment. Fatigue dropped away like a stone, and his attention sharpened. “What is it?”
“Um…nothing earth-shattering. I’m sure it can wait until you’re not so busy.”
“Tell me,” he demanded.
“It’s just a personal message for you that was passed on earlier this morning.”
“Personal?” Jack repeated, puzzled. Since he no longer had any close family and none of his friends knew how to get in touch when he was on assignment he couldn’t imagine who would be leaving him a message. “From whom?”
Annie paused again. He could almost see her biting her lower lip. “Kate Mahaffey.”
Jack stopped in his tracks less than twenty feet from the entrance to the hotel. “My ex-wife left a message for me and you didn’t think it was important enough to pass on?” he said in a dangerously quiet voice. “Why the hell didn’t you contact me the moment it came in?”
“The operative word is ex, Jack. I have to use my judgment in these matters. You’re in the middle of a critical mission. I figured hearing from the woman who dumped you could only upset you and interfere with your concentration.”
“You let me worry about my concentration. Now give me the message.”
“Jack—”
“Now.”
Annie sighed. “Oh, all right. It says—‘I need your help. If you can return in the next day or two, I’ll be at Tralee.’ There, you see? That doesn’t sound so urgent.”
Maybe not to Annie, Jack thought. But that was only because she didn’t know Kate. For his independent, self-assured ex-wife to ask for help at all—especially his help—meant something was terribly wrong.
“I want you to get me on the next government plane out of here,” he instructed without hesitation.
“What! Absolutely not. You can’t leave in the middle of an assignment!”
“The hell I can’t. I’ve got months of personal time built up. I’m taking an extended, indefinite leave, starting now.”
“C’mon, Jack, be reasonable. She probably just wants you to help her move or something like that. Or maybe to sign some more legal papers.”
The last comment was a not-so-subtle reminder that Kate had served him with divorce papers while he’d been in the middle of the most crucial assignment of his career.
Almost two years ago she’d sent him the documents through channels. Only a handful of people knew that Jack was CIA, and of those, only three had known that he was married. Annie was one of them, and she was still smarting on his behalf.
Along with the papers Kate had sent a letter informing him that she was determined to end their eight-year marriage, with or without his cooperation.
Receiving that package had marked the darkest day of Jack’s life. At the time he’d wanted nothing more than to fly home immediately and fight for his marriage, but his mission had been vital to national security.
The delicate operation had taken a lot of time, effort and careful planning to set up and had put Jack and several others in grave danger. The people with whom he’d been dealing were dangerous and brutal, and they’d known him by sight and had believed him to be one of them, which made it impossible for another agent to take over for him.
As much as Jack had longed to return home, he’d been unable to abandon the assignment. He’d had to choose between his personal life and his country. Though it had broken his heart, at the time he’d felt that he had no choice but to sign the divorce papers and let Kate go.
However, that wasn’t the case with this assignment.
The grim smile that tugged at Jack’s mouth did nothing to soften his tough face. For the past twenty-one months he’d abided by Kate’s wishes and stayed out of her life. But now that she’d contacted him, all deals were off.
“Just get me on a damned flight, Annie,” he growled.
“But, Jack, you’re on assignment.”
“So? You can have another agent here to take over for me within a matter of hours.”
“The brass isn’t going to like it.”
“Screw ’um. I’ve done my share. Either you replace me and get me on a plane or I’ll quit, but one way or another, I’m coming in.”
Two
Through the lace curtains covering the parlor window Kate watched the headlights of a car as it turned off the highway, about a quarter of a mile away. The vehicle cruised down the dirt road toward the farmhouse with unnerving slowness.
Her heart began to pound. This was the only house for miles around, and the land on both sides of the entire length of the road was part of the farm.
Granted, occasionally someone did take a wrong turn, mistaking the narrow country lane for a shortcut to the Broom City highway. It was also true that in the past, friends and neighbors had dropped in now and