Chapter 20

When Carol and Tomas returned, just before sunrise, Doug was shocked, and alarmed, to see that Carol was sporting a bleeding lip and had blood crusted around her nose, not to mention what looked like the beginnings of a nasty shiner. Tomas looked no worse for wear, but had a grim expression on his face.

“Carol, what the hell happened?”

Carol sat down on the bed and shook her head. “Should have known better...”

Carol and Tomas had piled into the rental van and headed out, Carol filling Tomas in on what he needed to know and where they were going.

“Susan Steiner, age forty-three, married, no kids, Supervisory Special Agent, Secret Service. She’s assigned to the Dignitary Protection unit, DC central. We have ... history, and not a good one. She says she can get me the home address on our spook, and all of my other contacts came up dry, so I don’t have a lot of choice.”

“Any chance this is a setup?” Tomas had asked, keeping his eyes peeled as they drove into the city.

“Always a chance, but I doubt it will be one, at least not like you are thinking. We were ... um, close, once. I think this is her way of fucking with me, so the danger is more of a personal nature.” Carol admitted, her eyes on the road.

“Ah ... so, even worse than an ambush.” Joked Tomas.

The address they were seeking was a typical, upscale DC brownstone, taller than it was wide and nestled in among dozens of similar homes along the street. The proximity of the seat of power and the flow of money made these homes worth their weight in gold in today’s market, but when compared to similarly priced homes in other parts of the country, they were mediocre at best.

Carol drove past the block just once, slow enough for them to scope things out, but not slow enough to attract attention. She found a parking spot further down the block with a semi-decent view of the front of the building and pulled in.

“No comms, so dial this number and leave the phone on.” Tomas said, giving her his cell phone number. “You got a safe word?”

It took Carol a second to respond, pushing the phrase around in her mind for a moment before she realized what he was really asking. He wanted a word or phrase that would notify him she was in danger, needed backup ... not at all what first came to mind, she thought with a blush.

“Help?” she joked, then shook her head. “Let’s go with Ranger.”

Tomas just grinned.

“Look, you might hear some info that I would appreciate not being shared with anyone, personal stuff.” Carol said uneasily, looking over at the swarthy soldier.

“No problemo, chica. What happens on the mission, stays on the mission.” he said with a nod.

When the front door opened to her knock, Carol stood silent as she took in sight of the woman in the doorway. She was mid-forties but took good care of herself, working out religiously. She wasn’t as strong as Carol, or as buff as Stella, but she was an Amazon by anyone’s standards. Standing an inch over six feet, she was solid and strong with long blond hair and a set of DD’s, fake that softened her appearance.

“Carol, darling, it is so wonderful to see you again,” the woman gushed.

Carol found herself picturing, in vivid detail, what was under the silk dressing gown and found it hard to reply.

“Susan. How is your husband?”

The woman’s face tightened, her eyes glaring for a moment.

“I guess the old rules don’t apply anymore, do they? Harold is fine, off with one of his mistresses for the evening.” her voice icy, unforgiving.

“A lot has changed, Susan. Look, you know why I am here, and it isn’t to rekindle an old flame. Are you going to invite me in?”

Once inside, the woman became the soul of grace once again as she escorted her guest into a well-appointed salon. There, on the low table between the brocade couches were two glasses of wine and a small platter of hors d’oeuvres.

Carol shook her head, remembering the old dance. Susan had invited her here the first time, ostensibly to discuss career opportunities, and it had started just like this. The seduction had been child’s play, Carol having a fetish-like appreciation for tall, strong women, something that had not changed in the intervening years.

They had wound up in bed, and spent many nights and a few weekends that way over the year that followed. The sex started vanilla, but as things progressed, Carol found that Susan had a sadistic streak and it became more and more about control instead of passion.

When Susan had pushed too hard, too fast, and tried to bring their clandestine relationship out into the open, ordering her around at work, Carol had woken up to see how unhealthy the relationship was, and how unlikely that the woman would ever leave her husband. She was a plaything for her boss, a position that she found increasingly untenable.

“Sit, Carol, tell me what you have been up to.” Susan said, folding herself gracefully to sit, half-reclined, on the loveseat.

“Susan ... I need that info, but I am not going to sleep with you to get it. I have a wife, a healthy relationship, and I am happy.”

“Oh come now, can you honestly tell me that you don’t think of me, of us?”

“I do.” Carol admitted, unwilling to tell her that memories of their relationship kept her focused on Stella, determined to be the woman her wife needed. Susan was a fantastic bad example.

Susan stood and stalked around the low table, seating herself next to Carol. She reached up to stroke Carol’s cheek. But when Carol deflected the touch, and scooted further away, Susan’s face turned hard, her eyes flashing.

“Don’t be like that, Carol. You know we were fantastic together. I get all wet just thinking about the way you would moan into the pillow as I...”

Carol turned and poked Susan in the chest with one thick finger, hard enough that it was sure to leave a bruise and definitely hard enough to shock the woman, stopping what she was going to say. Susan’s eyes were wide, surprised.

“Stop right fucking there. I told you, this is business. Either give me the fucking address or don’t, but don’t go there. Look, I wanted this to be nice, to be friendly, but you fucking owe me. Give me what I want and I will walk out. We never have to see or talk to each other again. If you don’t, those nice love letters you used to leave in my locker get sent to the Washington Post. Are we clear?” Carol’s angry tone left no room for misunderstanding, even if Susan had somehow managed to miss the snarl on her face or the anger in her eyes.

Susan stood and, shocking Carol who though the woman didn’t have the guts, backhanded Carol across the face, rocking her back in her seat.

Carol, bouncing off the cushions, slammed a fist into Susan’s stomach, doubling the older woman over. Then grabbing her by the hair, she yanked and, extending one leg, tripped Susan so that she sprawled across the carpet at her feet.

“You fucking bitch!” Carol growled, dropping down and planting a knee in the middle of her back, yanking her head upwards by the hair, one hard fist ready to deliver a devastating blow to the unprotected face of her ex-lover beneath her.

“We’ll have to hide the body.” A cool tone cut through the rage in Carol’s mind and her head snapped up. Tomas was standing there, silenced .22 in hand, but he seemed relaxed except for his eyes. Carol could see that he wasn’t joking.

The rage seemed to leach out of her and she let Susan’s head drop to the carpet, but not without a little push, bouncing her forehead off the floor just once.

“I didn’t call you.” Caro4l snarled, looking up at the Tomas.

He just shrugged, a grin on his face. “I was bored.”

Carol shook her head, then leaned down so her mouth was right next to Susan’s ear. She whispered, her voice harsh and unyielding.

“Where is the info? You get one chance, and then you go out of here wrapped in that rug. They’ll find your rat-gnawed corpse in a dumpster a couple of block away.”

“My purse!” Susan sobbed, the terror in her eyes real.

“Listen very carefully, Susan. If I hear that you tipped him off, or that you told anyone, anyone at all about this, I will be back. The newspapers will have a field day with the info I can give them, once your body is discovered. Not that you will care, being dead, but your husband will find that my files also contain a lot of information on his preference for under-aged whores.” Carol paused, breathing heavily, her anger ramping up again.

“You should have let me go quietly the first time around, instead of trying to ruin my career because I walked away from you. You are a vindictive bitch, your fucking power games are going to get you killed one day, maybe sooner than you think if you fucking cross me,” she snarled, digging her knee in to the helpless woman’s back and grinning at the groan of pain.

She stood and stalked over to where Susan’s purse lay, shaking out the contents onto the floor in front of the weeping woman.

Sorting through the pile, she pulled out an envelope with her name on it, glanced inside, and then stuck it in her pocket. As she straightened, she saw a thumb drive laying, almost hidden, among tubes of lipstick and eyeliner, and slipped that into her pocket as well.

Carol laid it all out for Doug, holding nothing back. It was cathartic, in a way, though it revealed more of herself that she was really comfortable with, especially with Fillipe listening in, but she felt like she had to.

Doug shook his head, laying a hand on Carol’s shoulder.

“Do you think she will take the warning?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, she is used to always having the upper hand, always being in control. She was just about a basket-case when we left.” Carol said tiredly, looking to Tomas who nodded in confirmation.

“Carol’s a badass, Ramos. That chica was pissing her panties.” Tomas said with a chuckle.

The address that Carol had gotten was outside of town, in an area known for old money estates. That was good news and bad news. The up side was that they could probably get there and get away without worrying over the ever-present DC traffic issues. The bad side was that there were almost certainly alarms and guards, and a strange vehicle lurking around was more likely to draw attention that in the city itself.

A quick internet search located the address and the satellite view gave them an idea of what they were facing. A brainstorming session let them put together the shell of a plan, though it was hard to make anything firm without more assets, more intel.

Doug shrugged. He had done more with less.

“Carol, your data says that this guy is a Deputy Director for Middle Eastern Affairs. What I am hoping is that he is not high enough in the company hierarchy to be assigned full-time protection. Probably a driver and body guard tops, right?”

Carol nodded thoughtfully. “Things have changed since I left DC, terror attacks, threat levels are higher. Someone like that would not have had real protection before, but now? I just don’t know.” She sat there staring at the image on the screen, toying with the thumb drive she had taken.

“Carol, what’s that?” Doug asked, pointing to the object in her hand.