Page 12 of Operation: Reckless Angel

“Or he’s transacting new business,” Garcia said. “What kind of vibe did you get off him, Crash?”

“That’s just it. I didn’t get anything dangerous or sketchy off him. Now his sister, she’s the one who threw off a sketchy vibe, and that’s not just because she appears to now be passing herself off as Lisa O’Connor. I think we need to look harder at her.”

“Unless she was at his place when the CIA intercepted the chat, Cameron Woods is still the target,” Lambchop reminded him.

“We don’t really know if she is Briana Woods or Lisa O’Connor though, do we? Those two women look a lot alike in their Army ID pictures,” Roth said. “I mean, I think the woman I met is Briana Woods, but I can’t be sure after seeing the two women’s ID pictures.”

“It’s Briana Woods,” Garcia said. “I ran enhanced facial recognition between the two ID pictures and the driver’s license picture.”

Echo

At sixteen hundred, Roth exited the townhouse and walked across the street to Woods’ unit. The door opened after he knocked. Both Woods and his sister exited, sliding their winter coats on. They didn’t invite him in. His sister looked even more beautiful than she had earlier that morning as her hair was styled and she had a light coating of makeup on, not that she needed any to catch his eye.

“Hello, Cam’s sister. It’s nice to see you again,” he greeted with a smile, curious if either would introduce her and which name she’d go by.

“The pleasure is all yours,” she replied sarcastically, but she did flash him a gorgeous smile, the only indication she may be joking.

He returned her smile with an inviting one of his own. “Sebastian Gibson,” he said, pointing to himself. “In case you forgot.”

“I didn’t,” she said, flashing him that million-dollar smile again. Her emerald eyes sparkled in the waning sunlight.

“Unlike yours, her memory is incredible,” Woods said.

“You’re just jealous,” she said, elbowing him playfully.

“You’re really brother and sister?” Roth asked. “You really don’t look much alike.”

“She’s a clone of our mom,” Woods said.

“And Cam looks just like our dad,” she echoed.

“Are there any more of you?” Roth asked, already knowing Garcia’s investigation found no more siblings.

“No, they stopped after having me. Why continue when they already created perfection?” she joked.

“More like they were exhausted because you never slept,” Woods replied. “Dad always said you were destined to be a nighttime D.J.”

“And are you?” Roth asked. “A nighttime D.J.?”

“No, but I do like music.”

She didn’t volunteer what she did do for a living and Garcia was not able to find reported income from either Lisa O’Connor or Briana Woods since the women left the Army. Roth had known a lot of MPs over the years, and he never would have pegged her as one. Many sought a career in law enforcement after they left the military, but he could not see her as a cop of any kind.

They cut between two buildings in their neighborhood and wove their way through an apartment complex before walking through a patch of dense brush and a line of trees and finally coming out into the back parking lot of The Kickstarter. It had taken ten minutes to walk there. As they rounded the building, coming into the front parking lot, Roth glanced at the dozen or so cars already parked in the lot, looking for one of theirs. Lambchop was to be in the lot some place, keeping watch as backup, in case Roth needed him. He didn’t think he would.

As the three of them pushed through the front door, Roth glanced back over his shoulder and saw the Suburban pull into the lot. Evidently, walking was faster than driving, go figure. Inside, they took a high-top table along the far wall parallel to the bar, which was already packed with patrons. Woods and his sister sat on one side, Roth on the other. Cam woods held his hand up to one of the bartenders. “Three draft specials, Lily.”

“Sure thing, Cam,” she called back with a husky voice.

A few minutes later, she came out from behind the bar and brought three glasses over, filled to the top with the amber liquid. “Here you go, boys,” she said, flashing both Cam and Roth smiles. She slid one in front of his sister. “And here you go, deary. Let me know when you want to order your burgers.” She turned and returned to behind the bar.

“To Tuesdays,” Woods said, lifting his glass into the air.

“They’re better than Mondays,” Roth said, and then drank a healthy gulp. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched the woman. She sipped hers.

She caught his sideways gaze and raised her eyebrow inquisitively.

“Your brother said you don’t live around here and are heading home in a few days,” Roth said.

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