Part 1 (1/2)
Aces High.
By Kay Hooper.
Author's Note.
I would like to thank all the readers who wrote to me with comments and suggestions about my ”Hagen Strikes Again” series. The level of reader involvement with the series far exceeded anything I've experienced before. Though it was a surprise to me, it was certainly a delightful one. Because of that involvement, several characters and elements present in this final story owe their existence to reader requests.
Some requests, for one reason or another, simply could not be worked into this story; some requests tallied with my own plans; and some requests were an enjoyable challenge. Interestingly enough, in the letters mentioning him, my mail was running almost one hundred percent in favor of a romance for Hagen. That was hardly something I had planned for my semi-comical villain-but I did my best.
I may well do another series one day, and it would have to begin the way this one did-with secondary characters walking onstage and fairly shouting, ”Hey, what about my story?”
Prologue.
The conversation had been going on for some time, and Hagen was beginning to lose what little patience he possessed. Although he gripped the phone with fingers that were tightening slowly, he managed to keep his voice even and calm as he spoke.
”What about Siran?”
”Michael's unavailable.” The cool voice at the other end of the line belonged to Daniel Stuart, director of the FBI, and from his tone it was obvious he wasn't in the mood to be helpful. ”I've done some restructuring, you know, Chief. Michael's heading my old agency, and he has his hands full.”
Hagen found it difficult to contemplate Daniel's recent appointment without gritting his teeth in rage that he himself had been pa.s.sed over for the directors.h.i.+p. Now he relaxed his jaw and tried to be polite, not his strongest trait. ”Congratulate Michael for me. How about one of your bright boys?”
”Sorry. Can't spare any of them.”
After counting silently to ten, Hagen said, ”You pulled your people off the surveillance I needed a while back and never gave me your reasons for doing so. Is that why I'm having such a hard time now, or am I imagining things?”
Daniel laughed shortly. ”I told you why then. I owe those ladies, and I'll be d.a.m.ned if I'll help you s.n.a.t.c.h Josh Long for one of your devious plots.”
”I've altered that plan,” Hagen announced.
”Good for you.”
This time Hagen counted to twenty. It didn't help much; when he spoke his voice held a definite snap. ”I don't give a d.a.m.n about Long or any of that group. I need one man, Daniel, just one good man.”
Daniel's second laugh was one of genuine amus.e.m.e.nt. ”Well, you know, Chief, your reputation's growing. Except for a loyal few that you've managed to lose, most of the agents who've worked for you swear they'll never do it again. I'm not sure if they're afraid of getting killed or getting married, but they're quite definite about avoiding you.”
Hagen ground his teeth. ”I've only lost two agents to marriage: Raven and Kelsey. The rest were one-time volunteers. And Derek, of course, but that wasn't my doing. Sarah still works for me and Michael was always your man.”
”Ummm. Still, your name's become synonymous with matchmaking. You've also gotten just a bit too well known for your habit of sending agents into situations with sketchy or deliberately false information. Agents don't care for that. Chief, it makes them nervous.”
”Daniel-”
”Look, I don't see your problem.” Daniel's voice was sardonic. ”Simply draft yourself a few people who haven't heard of you yet. There must be some out there.”
Hagen didn't bother to count. He was reluctant to disclose exactly why he needed an experienced man since he always disliked-and generally avoided- sharing the limelight with anyone, but this time he was driven to it. ”Daniel, I have good reason to believe I can finally capture Adrian.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Daniel spoke slowly. ”You always wanted him, didn't you? Even though terrorists aren't, strictly speaking, your field.”
”I mean to get him this time,” Hagen said flatly.
”Where?”
”Daniel-”
”You want one of my men?”
Hagen swore. ”Gigi's place.”
Daniel seemed to consider the matter. ”That's a h.e.l.l of a big place. A lot of people could be hurt. Maybe I should- ”
”It's my trap,” Hagen told him, ”and I'll spring it. I just need one of your men, Daniel.”
Daniel argued. In fact, he argued for a good ten minutes, hotly at times. But he finally gave in, saying, ”Well, I have one agent who hasn't worked with you yet.”
”A good man, Daniel.”
”Oh, he's good. He spent some time in Europe, but I've had him on the domestic payroll for a few years now. But you treat him like a pro. Chief, or he'll likely put a bullet in you.”
”I don't need a hothead.”
”He isn't.”
”All right, then.” With an effort Hagen kept the triumph out of his voice. ”Send him to me.”
”He's on his way.”
Hagen hung up the special scrambler phone and sat alone in his office, smiling. But he undoubtedly would have lost the pleased expression if he'd been privileged to overhear the conversation going on in a Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C. office.
”Well? Did he take the bait?”
Daniel leaned back in his chair and grinned at the man sitting in his visitor's chair. ”Hook, line, and sinker.”
One.
The water level was rising, and Skye Prescott wasn't happy about it; he was a bit feline about water and strongly disliked the clammy sensation of wet clothing. Still, he waded out into the man-made lagoon, cursing under his breath. His eyes probed the sparkling water, scanning the blue-tinted fibergla.s.s bottom. In an hour or so this theme park would open for the day, and phony log boats would enter the lagoon after a manic descent down a chute, sheeting water in all directions. He had hoped to avoid the deeper water in the area under the chute, but he realized now he had no choice. Reluctantly he circled closer to the chute, his eyes still fixed on the bottom.
The water was up to his knees, and the bottom was slippery; he had left his running shoes on, and they weren't getting a good purchase on the slick fibergla.s.s bottom. His jeans were soaked above his knees by the time he reached the area near the end of the chute. As far as he could tell, the water was clear, nothing hidden, nothing suspicious. However, he couldn't see beneath the chute; he guessed it was the danger point.
Swearing, he slowly moved toward it. He was suddenly aware of noise as a number of the rides and exhibits in the park were readied for visitors, and that evidence of activity brought a new curse to his lips. If this ride were started up, water pouring out of the chute would make it impossible to search the water at the foot of it.
Skye reached the end of the chute, and just as he bent to his task heard the sounds of water rus.h.i.+ng toward him. Instantly he moved back. He wouldn't have been too concerned if his single glance upward hadn't let him know that a large blunt-ended fake-log boat was hurtling down the chute.