Page 6 of Redeeming Meg

Del’s tone returned to business, ignoring the question. “Good luck, swans. Radio contact will resume at twelve hundred hours local time. Loch Ness out.”

Outwardly, he remained stone cold, but inside, Declan raged. Every piece of this mission was its own bullet, just waiting to fire and cause irreparable damage.

Meg has to keep it together. If she wasn’t thinking clearly, who knew what poor decisions she would make?

And more than anything, she would have something to prove to herself. Despite having clean hands, Meg blamed herself for Jessie’s death.

Blamed him, too.

What a shit show.

The swans had once been the elite of the elite. Now? They were their own worst enemy.

And once more, they were going up against Mosai Hagar and his infamous death squad.

THREE

Biblioteca Nationala a României

1945 hours

“Audio check.”Meg adjusted her earpiece and mic. “Testing one-two-three.”

“Coming in loud and sort of clear, Black Swan One,” Del responded, his voice both reassuring and annoying in her ear. She’d hoped never to hear it again, but sinners in hell wanted ice water, too. “I’m picking up background noise. Can you confirm? Over.”

Mother Nature was dumping a monsoon on the city. Even the best technology couldn’t eliminate the din of the lashing rain and wind as Meg stood on the sidewalk in front of the towering concrete and glass building in front of her.

At least the storm had drenched the uprising at the embassy and sent all but the truly hardcore protestors scurrying. They’d be back as soon as the fast-moving deluge was over, and that meant Meg had to hurry, downpour or not.

“Confirmed, storm in the area. Visual check.” She squeezed her eyes tight, activating the contacts from the ‘survival kit’before opening them again. Eagle Eyes, as they were called, not only sharpened her vision but allowed Langley to see what she focused on. She pointedly looked at the Biblioteca Nationala’s sign ten floors above her. “Can you read?”

Rain hit her in the face, and she blinked. She was soaked, cold, and hungry. With any luck, she could get in and out of the embassy before Declan and Spence touched down.

Flynn would kill her for going in alone, but he would also praise her if she managed to get the red bag. It wasn’t necessarily the color red, it was simply a designation of utmost importance and the highest in classified intel.

A gruff voice superseded Del’s. “Why the hell am I looking at the library, Swan One?”

Flynn. He hated it when she went off script. Well, she had a few questions for him, too. “Why don’t you have one of the trapped State Department kids bring you the drive?”

“I trust no one but you. I repeat, why are you not at the appointed site?”

While initially gaining Flynn’s trust hadn’t been easy, it was no compliment that he was now putting the mission’s success in her hands. Regardless that the president had reactivated the division, bottom line, he believed she was his best resource to get the job done. Or perhaps, the most expendable one. “I’ll stroll through the protestors right up to the front gate and demand they let me enter. I’m sure that will work.” She snorted, the sound lost in the downpour. “Besides, getting in is one thing; getting out securely with the package is another.”

“Which is why your team will be assisting.” The irritation in his voice made her smile. “Get your ass to the embassy.”

Thanks to budget cuts and an ongoing war between the House and Senate, the place had been short-staffed. Most activities had been put on hold until funding was appropriated again, making the place ripe for an invasion.

Eastern Europe was already on edge over the Russian chess game going on with the Ukrainians, and plenty of militants and fascists were happy to rile folks up. Even the US Marine Security Guardsmen and Diplomatic Security Service had been caught off guard. They, too, were understaffed at the moment, thanks to tensions in more volatile areas.

“If you trust me, let me do my job.” What she needed was an in, an asset who knew the language, the culture, the people. The Poli?ia Româna had been called in to assist with controlling the crowd, but watching the news, she’d seen little to indicate any of them cared. Half of them were probably in Mosai Hagar’s pockets. “Over and out.”

Jogging across the expanse to the giant entry doors, she muted her mic. She would allow them to see who she was recruiting but not let them hear what needed to be said.

Inside, her shoes squeaked on the marble floor and the sound echoed up, up, up to the ceiling high overhead as she made her way to the escalators. The spirited rain lashed at the tall windows, but the hush in here was deep and comforting, as if this was the calm center of the storm.

As she rode the escalator, she spotted a lone figure at a desk on the second-floor veranda. He paid no attention to her, and she pretended to ignore him while logging his height, weight, and potential weapons.

Old habits died hard.

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