Page 16 of Redeeming Meg

“Loch Ness, we’ll keep airwaves open as much as we can,” Meg told them, “but may end up going dark if necessary.”

“Roger that,” Del said.

“Godspeed,” Flynn said. “I look forward to buying some of you a drink upon your return.”

And kicking the rest of you in the ass, it went without saying.

With that, the comms went silent.

“There was a small armory here in the west wing,” Tessa told them. “Should we check it in case anything was left behind?”

“Yeah, let’s,” Spence said, motioning her to accompany him.

When they’d disappeared, Meg chewed the inside of her cheek, staring into the basement where the next underground trip awaited. “What do you say we call a truce? Just for this mission.”

He’d rather have forgiveness, but maybe this was the first step toward that. “The mission comes first.”

She gave him a measured glance. “I want your word that if things go belly up like they did previously with Hagar, you will not put me ahead of the others.”

So that’s what she meant by a truce.

He couldn’t do that. “I thought you were the leader.”

“I am, and that’s my order.”

Arguing with her was stupid, but he couldn’t help himself. “A team without its leader is not a team. The success of the mission depends on you. Every one of us knows that and accepts it. Jessie did, too. “

She raised a hand as if to shield herself from his words. “From here on out, we do not speak of her. Not until this is over and everyone is safe back at Langley. The stakes are too high.”

She was right. Their total attention had to be on the present, not the past. He gave a resentful nod. “A truce until we’re all back on US soil. Then, you and I are going to have it out. Once and for all.”

He dug a flat, black carrier from his jacket pocket and laid it on one of the dusty desks. As he unzipped it and brought out the contents, he felt her slip up behind him.

“What is all that?” she asked.

“Spence isn’t the only kid with a bag of magic tools.” He picked up a sleek, silver device, slightly bigger than a lipstick tube. “Meet Vishie IV, the latest development in mini-lasers, courtesy of Del and R&D.”

“Looks like a kitchen torch. Does it melt things?”

She’d probably enjoy that. She always had a thing for fire. “It’s a non-lethal laser designed to temporarily blind targets. Aim, fire, and they’re blinded long enough for you to make a move. Won’t cause permanent damage, just enough to impair their vision up to five minutes.”

She twisted the tube, inspecting it. Then held it up and fired the laser using the button on the side of the wall. The beam flashed a strobe of colors on the dingy paint. “And the range?”

“Effective up to twenty feet,” he told her. “Less than three, and you’ll risk burning your target’s retina.”

She nodded, twisting it closed and slipping it into the pocket of her army green jacket. That damn thing.

He couldn’t believe she still wore it but understood the significance. It had belonged to her dad, a former Delta force member. He’d died before he got to see his only daughter graduate from The Farm and become one of the CIA’s most trusted and valuable weapons.

Meg was always collecting souvenirs of those she’d loved and lost.

“What else?” she asked, fingering what looked like a compact handgun with an unusual muzzle.

He handed it to her. “Ultrasonic weapon. It will admit a targeted, high-frequency soundwave that disrupts the inner ear. The target will feel nauseous and disoriented and may even end up incapacitated. Perfect for crowd control and close quarters, and while the effect is nearly instantaneous, it’s short-lived, so timing is everything.”

She gave him a look that suggested she wanted to use it on him. He grinned, letting her know he could read her mind and knew she never would do it. He placed a set of earplugs to protect herself from the weapon.

She found a place for those and the weapon. “Where are your toys?”

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