Page 44 of Covert Affairs

“Our favorite detective has experienced a setback. I can’t say more.” Her voice lowered, even though their phones were encrypted. “She needs you.”

He white-knuckled the device. While they hadn’t said it to her face, they’d nicknamed Vivi “Sherlock.” Not a rock star name, but a fitting one nonetheless. “Is she okay?”

“She’s under surveillance. Won’t talk to anyone. I’m hoping you can get through to her.”

Holy shit. Had she remembered something? “I’ll be right there.”

His cramping stomachfell to his knees when he saw her in the hospital bed. Her eyes were closed, lines running from various parts of her to the machine hooked up at her side. His stomach fell to his feet when he saw the handcuffs around her wrists, securing her to the rail.

He stormed into the room. “What the hell?”

Dr. Sloan glanced up, closing the chart he was reading and meeting him halfway across the floor, placing a hand on his chest to stop him. “She’s going to be okay,” Jax assured him in a quiet voice. “Those are only for her own safety. We should talk outside.”

He needed to touch her. To let her know he was there. “Get out of my way.”

Jax stared him down for a heartbeat before shifting aside. “She needs rest. I’ll fill you in outside.”

Ian walked past him, striding to the bed and taking her thin hand in his. It was cool and dry, lifeless. The cuff clanked against the metal side rail.

He leaned over and placed a hand on the side of her head. “I’m here. Everything is going to be fine.”

Jax cleared his throat from the doorway, and when Vivi didn’t respond to his voice, Ian swallowed hard and reluctantly left the room.

Jax wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “Her vitals are strong and she seems healthy by all accounts, but I believe she’s suffered some type of mental break. Her bird apparently said something right before she experienced a panic attack, then blacked out. When she came to, she tried to leave the premises and was acting completely out of it. Distant, not speaking, like something was compelling her to leave, and she had no control over herself. I had to sedate her.”

Ian blinked, processing it all. “Herbird?”

Jax nodded and explained what had transpired, how Beatrice had tracked down the pets and Parker had brought them to her right before the episode occurred. “I know this sounds bizarre, but I suspect Vivi has had someone use her own hypnotherapy on her.”

Ian ran a hand over his face. “How is that even possible? She told me you can’t be hypnotized unless you want to be.”

“That’s true, in general. I’m not sure who or how someone could use it on her, but her reaction suggests they have, indeed, planted a trigger word or phrase in her mind that causes her to act unlike herself. When I asked her where she was going, all she would say was to save you.”

“Holy fuck.” His stomach cramped so hard, he nearly had to bend over. “Is it possible that’s what caused her to walk into Lawrence’s compound that night?”

“I suspect so. Until I figure out what the hell is going on, and break whatever this spell is she’s under, we have to keep her contained here for her own safety. I was hoping that if she saw you, it might end the control of the hypnotic state.”

“Then what are we waiting for? Wake her up.”

Jax looked him over. “Take off all that gear first. If she sees you wearing a flak vest and armed to the teeth, it won’t assure her you’re not in danger.”

Right. “Give me three minutes.”

He discovered Beatrice waiting at his doorstep when he arrived at his room. “I knew there was something fishy about her not remembering what happened,” she said at the same time he asked, “How could she have been hypnotized?”

They stared at each other for a moment. “She’s too smart to let anyone manipulate her,” he insisted.

“Intelligence isn’t the determining factor. Neither is willpower. Did she ever mention Command & Control to you?”

“No.” That crawling sensation returned. “What’s that?”

“A directorate inside NSA that’s part of the President’s threat matrix team. It doesn’t officially exist because it’sthetop secret branch of the NSA. When I joined that directorate, that’s where I met Genevieve. At that time, there were only six members, and we were all under immense pressure. They brought her in to counsel us. She was bright, ambitious, and she proved herself loyal. They sent her to the CIA Farm in order to undergo training so she would have an understanding of what undercover operatives experienced in the field. When she demonstrated that she could handle that kind of pressure herself, they offered to send her on assignments. She turned them down, but ended up becoming a therapist for a select group of spies as well—those whose missions involved assassination. More patients with unhealthy amounts of pressure on them. Her methods were so successful, they opened up her services for men in Special Ops.”

He hadn’t known the details, but he’d figured as much. “And?”

“The President gets a daily hitlist—people who are direct threats to him, others in high ranking positions, the country. Those in C&C decide who gets taken out and how—it’s often made to appear a suicide, an accident, or an inside job. We’re talking leaders of other countries who might be looking the other way when it comes to threats against us. CEOs of billion dollar companies who might be financing terrorist activities. Important people in the public spotlight.”

He was following, yet not. “What does this have to do with her?”

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