Final Winter

Another kiss on the lips, and Brian knew that was not a ‘wanna spend the night?’ kiss but a ‘come on, get your ass out of my house’ kiss. Adrianna said, ‘That’s where we’re at, Brian. The war isn’t over there, it’s right here. In Bloomfield, or in the airstream over our cities. And this is a war we have to win. Have to.’

He reached up, touched her cheek. ‘Okay. You got me, boss.’

‘Good.’ Another smile.

And as Brian turned to go out into the evening, he said, ‘Oh. One other thing. You also have me for tomorrow, to support you. Got it?’

‘Seven a.m., Brian. Seven a.m.’

~ * ~

Adrianna Scott folded her arms and from her kitchen window watched Brian Doyle make the short walk to his parked car. He did have a nice ass, she thought, smiling. Then another thought came to her, about what had just happened this evening, and she was surprised at the spike of guilt that shot through her. She’d thought that guilt was something she had under control, over the years of experience and training, but there it was. Guilt at having lied to poor Brian Doyle, her own personal New York cop.

She hoped that when the time came he would forgive her.

~ * ~

Brian Doyle got into his car, tossed the shoulder holster, gun and coat next to him, and backed out from the parking space. He looked up at the lit windows of Adrianna’s place, and thought about the day just gone and what had happened up in Bloomfield. He guessed he should have offered to spend the night — on the couch, of course — pistol within easy reach, because he had a thought of another nameless holy warrior breaking into her home tonight, to do her harm.

But hell, she was CIA. Trained in counterterrorism and God knew what else. She could take care of herself.

Still… there was a feeling, and as Brian headed back to his own place he knew what that feeling was. Guilt. At having lied to Adrianna tonight and on many other occasions. Brian had lied before on the job, often and with great gusto, but this particular spate of lying… it stuck in his craw.

He hoped that when the time came she would forgive him.

CHAPTER TWELVE

It was now seven p.m. on Monday. Tiger Team Seven — a/k/a Foreign Operations and Intelligence Liaison Team Seven — had been meeting for twelve hours, and now, finally, it was done. The arguing had gone on, back and forth, back and forth, throughout the long day, and at one point Adrianna had had tears in her eyes, and so had Darren, her NSA guy. Voices had been raised, hands had been slammed down on the conference-room table, and now Adrianna had called a halt. It had gone on too long. Her mouth tasted like it was filled with fuzz, her legs had been quivering off and on all day, and now she held her knees firmly together.

It was time.

She said, ‘My friends… we’ve talked and debated our response to Final Winter for the whole day. This evening, at midnight, I need to make a recommendation to the Tiger Team director. I need to tell him what the group feels, what our response to Final Winter is going to be. So the question before the house is: What is your reply to this question? Do we or do we not recommend that our response to Final Winter should involve the covert immunization program? Monty?’

His dark brown eyes looked at her, unblinking. ‘Yes. Without a doubt. I don’t see how else we can do it.’

She nodded, switched her focus to her cop. ‘Brian?’

‘Yes.’

‘Nothing else to add?’ she asked.

‘Enough talk. You’re just going to have to sell it to the Director later on. That’s when the talking will resume.’

‘True. Darren?’

The tears were back in the eyes of her NSA representative. ‘I…God help us, yes. We can’t allow the population to be exposed to what’s being planned. Not doing anything is worse than what we’ve outlined.’

The shaking in Adrianna’s legs resumed, no matter how hard she pressed them together. ‘Victor?’

His face was pale and sweaty, and it looked like his hornrimmed glasses were about to slide down his nose. He played with a few keys on his laptop and said, ‘Before I answer, I just want to reaffirm one thing. All right? Just one more thing.’

‘Victor…’

‘It will only take a second, Adrianna. Please. Can’t you give me one more goddamn second?’

‘Say your piece, doc,’ Monty said. Adrianna kept quiet. The doctor said, ‘The very first field trials on the airborne vaccine show that in one one-hundredth of one percent of cases there will be an acute reaction. And in the majority of those cases the reaction will lead to respiratory seizure and death, especially among the elderly, the very young, and those with deficient immune systems, like AIDS patients or cancer patients undergoing treatment.’