Armed & Dangerous

By Carolyn Chambers Clark

Intelligence officer and ace motorcyclist, Captain Caitlin Stanwyck’s been handpicked for a special assignment to investigate the deaths of twenty U.S. women who died suspiciously in a U.S. Military Hospital in Germany. She'd better hurry or she could be next.

Major Keller, her old nemesis, keeps turning up at every twist and turn of the investigation, and she can’t help wonder what game he’s playing. When a hired assassin starts taking out the witnesses and puts Caitlin in the cross hairs of his weapon, she finds evidence that Keller may be drawing her into the swirling waters of seduction and deception. Can she trust him after he’s lied to her so many times?

With the clock ticking, the action takes her across Europe and Asia as she tries to unravel the mystery of why the women were killed and stay alive herself.

Buy it now and see what happens!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carolyn Chambers Clark
• Release date: Nov 16, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466008830

Carolyn Chambers Clark

Carolyn Chambers Clark is a board-certified advanced holistic nurse practitioner with a master's degree in mental health nursing and a doctorate in education. She is a faculty member in the Health Services Doctoral Program at Walden University, and she hosts http://home.earthlink.net/~cccwellness and http://HolisticHealth.bellaonline.com.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Dressed in black leather pants and jacket, Captain Caitlin Stanwyck hunkered down into her motorcycle seat and roared up the New Jersey Turnpike toward the Lincoln Tunnel. Mission: stop the terrorists.

She glanced at the clock on her bike. Fifty-nine minutes and counting.

Caitlin glanced in her side mirror and spotted a flash of white for the third time. She swore and hit the push-to-talk radio on her handlebar.

Black Panther to Station Center. White Hummer following. No front license plate. See what you can find out.

The foul smell of lethal chemicals from refineries and storage tanks along the way forced its way up her nose. A sense of doom started in her stomach, but she pushed it away.

Roger, Black Panther, the male voice from military intelligence answered. Hummer or not, find a way to get to New York. Those crazy terrorists are threatening to blow up the biggest chemical tank on the turnpike if you don't get there on time with the money.

Caitlin accelerated and squealed her motorcycle around a curve.

The rotors of a low-flying helicopter punctuated the air with flat, chopping sounds.

She wove in and out of traffic to elude the light that shined down from the chopper.

Caitlin gave the radio button an angry tap. Get that copter out of here.

Roger, Black Panther. Could be Turnpike Police. We'll tell them it's a matter of national security.

Up ahead, the entrance to the tunnel loomed dark and mysterious.

Halfway there.

Caitlin squinted into her side mirror.

The white Hummer inched closer.

She swerved around a car parked at the pay booth, and headed her cycle into the blackness.

Sweat rolled down her face and her lungs burned in the exhaust-filled tunnel. She gripped the handlebar and cranked the throttle up a notch. The sounds of traffic reverberated in her ears and echoed in the tube that ran under the murky Hudson River.

Damn that Keller. Did he ever get anywhere on time? Black Panther to Station Center. Need backup.

After a pause, the male voice answered. Intel says he should be there by now.

Your tracking info is wrong! She surged forward, zoomed around two cars, and sped ahead.

In front of her, a car squealed to a halt before it almost jack-knifed into a truck.

Caitlin swerved into the other lane to miss a pileup. She accelerated and zoomed her cycle back into her lane, missing a bus by inches.

A quick glance in the side mirror made her heart pound.

The Hummer smashed into the cars in front of it and shoved them out of the way, heading right for her.

Caitlin accelerated and so did they.

Two men hung out of windows, weapons trained in her direction.

Bullets whizzed past her and ricocheted off the stone walls of the tunnel. One screamed past her shoulder, nearly hitting its target.

A smoke grenade whizzed through the air over her head. Startled, she zoomed out of the way. The weapon landed with a bang in the truck bed in front of her, and belched bright red smoke out of the back of the vehicle.

Dust clouds settled over her, making it impossible to see or breathe.

Caitlin dropped back and shoved a finger against the radio button. Black Panther to Station Center. Still no Keller. Shot at from behind and smoked out from in front.

Roger, Black Panther. Help's on the way.

No time to wait. Over and out. She slid her powerful and penetrating .357 revolver out of her belt

Desperate, she shoved the handgun under her arm, glanced into the side mirror, took aim, and squeezed off four shots at the Hummer.

Bullets escaped the chamber. One went through the windshield and another hit the radiator. The third bullet hit a gunman's hand and his weapon fell onto the cement. The fourth bullet hit the other gunman and his body sagged back into the Hummer.

Her cycle wavered.

The gun slipped out of her fingers and sailed away. She tightened her grip on the handlebars and fought to regain balance.

Stabilized, she picked up velocity and wove in and out of a dozen cars.

Thud. Thud. The bullets made shocking impacts in her body as if a stick of dynamite went off in her shoulder and arm. The solid lead projectiles ate into skin and muscle and blazed with astonishing heat. Warm blood poured down her arm and hand.

Everything settled into slow motion and tingling sensations echoed and surged through her body. Control over her legs and arms ceased, and the bullets felt like knives twisting inside her.

Her vision fogged and her hands slid off the handlebars. The cycle skidded across the pavement.

The last thing she heard was her own scream as she tumbled onto the cement in front of a bus.

Six months later

Washington, DC

Icy fingers of suspicion crawled up Caitlin’s back at the crowded Washington DC diplomatic party. Six months ago, she'd been a total wreck, lying in a military hospital, trying to recover from her wounds after being shot in the Lincoln Tunnel. She'd recovered from that horrendous event, at least physically, but she still didn't like to think about it.

At that moment, other thoughts consumed her. Which of the guests might know the whereabouts of her missing friend, Sun Lu, or might even have killed her? If I could only return to active duty, I'd find out what really happened.

For now, until Headquarters gave her the go ahead, she’d have to be content enlisting foreign dignitaries as U.S. agents. Caitlin smoothed the silk skirt of her long white gown. The garment shimmered in the chandeliered lights, and clung to every curve of her five-foot-six-inch frame.

She worked her way around the buffet table, noticing the expressions of approval from all the men in the room, but acknowledging none of them.

Tonight she planned to remain all business. She piled desserts on her plate and inquired about the health of the Ambassador from Somalia. Inside, she fought off the constant thoughts that if it weren’t for a certain major, who would remain nameless, she might even have saved Sun Lu.

Caitlin’s internal radar flipped to full alert when her target for the evening, the assistant to the President of Zimbabwe, a man known for his attraction to young women, stepped into the line at the buffet table.

She opened her mouth to speak when a familiar voice intruded.

I’ve got important information for you, Princess. That low, smooth, resonant voice could belong to only one person.

Even without the words, she’d know Keller anywhere. Despite her anger at him, a tingle of excitement raced through her body. He stood so close to her she felt his breath warm and intoxicating on her neck.

What was he up to now? It didn’t matter. She could do nothing but smile at his compelling blue eyes, and his ruggedly handsome face. As good-looking as James Bond and twice as dangerous. And all that blond hair. It gleamed like spring wheat. How did he do that? Each hair stayed in perfect place while her rebellious shoulder-length curls strayed out onto her forehead and cheek.

I have information for you. This time, his words carried more insistence, and passion surged in his eyes, making him look so truthful, she almost believed him.

Maybe he really did have something important to tell her, but she doubted it. She still had to find out. He did outrank her. Without hesitation, she took Keller's arm and they strolled across the polished wood floor.

They passed smiling dignitaries from many countries who chatted about world affairs or nibbled hors d’oeuvres. In the corner, a string quartet seated by a red velvet curtain played Mozart.

It seemed terribly civilized, but underneath, deception swirled. She sneaked a peek in Keller’s direction. He looked dashing and bold in his tuxedo. He’d survived a record number of life-threatening missions, escaping with only a small scar on his jaw that only added to his allure.

The man had a talent for appearing out of nowhere in such a charming way, that sometimes he actually took her breath away. Like right then.

Tormented by confusing emotions, she struggled to compose herself. What's your information, Keller? And hurry up, I don't have all night.

He slid his hands into his jacket pocket. I seem to have run out of cigarettes.

What? She gawked at him. You don't even smoke.

He shrugged and grinned. I guess that's not such a problem then, is it?

I don't get it. She so wanted to slug him. Or pull him into a nearby closet and…

Don't you realize we're being watched and I can't tell you what I have to tell you? Do I have to point them out?

She glanced at the Ambassador to Chile and the Under Secretary of Transportation for Iceland who'd both turned to stare at them. Of course you don't have to point them out. Where can we go?

I'll show you, and it wouldn't hurt if you smiled about now so people think we're not so damn serious. He urged her forward.

She forced a smile and felt his muscular strength, inhaled his clean, woodsy scent.

He gazed at the men and women in formal attire and then at her gown. This is a much better look for you than the leather pants and whip.

She burst into laughter and hit him on the arm. Wise ass. You always knew how to make me laugh. One of your good traits. One of your few good traits.

He smiled. Touché. Do you like this assignment?

I love it. No, she hated signing up foreign agents. She missed her motorcycle. She missed the excitement. Most of all, she needed the danger. Not that she’d ever tell him that.

So, who’s your target tonight? Are you after that opera singer from Rome with the hair piece? Or perhaps the businessman from Nicaragua who's dating one of the male singers from that new Disney group? They shouldn’t give you too much resistance. His voice had a playful quality as if he thought their work was just a game.

My target is none of your business.

Amusement flickered in his eyes. We’re supposed to cooperate, not work at odds, Captain.

She agreed with him about the cooperation, and no matter how she tried to fight it, his voice seethed with so much raw sexuality he made her pulses race. You're so right. Let’s not let our feelings enter into this.

Let feelings enter? That’s just what she wanted. Let him plead for forgiveness, get down on his knees and beg. For what? Her love? Her body? Both?

In that instant, she couldn’t be sure. Maybe she wanted him to desire her above every other beautiful woman. Just her. Only her.

She searched his eyes for some sign of honest reaction.

He squeezed her fingers. You still listen to that Billy Joel tape?

What Billy Joel tape?

You tell me the name of it. Your father used to go rip it out of the recorder after you'd played it about a hundred times.

I remember now. 'River of Dreams.' Why do you want to know?

I'd like to borrow it and scare the pigeons off my roof.

She fought off a smile. Very funny.

Sorry, but I had to lighten you up somehow. We're still being watched.

This is my show and I’ll thank you to stay out of it. She pulled him behind a cupid fountain. Enough fooling around. Tell me what you’re doing here.

He let a cryptic smile play across his lips. I’m here about your friend from intelligence school. The one who's missing. You know, the one who saved your life?

Her heart already raced. Upon hearing his news, it did double time. The dryness in her mouth made speaking impossible.

She swallowed and slid her tongue over her lips. Sun Lu?

Yes, Sun Lu. He stared at her. His eyes sparked with interest as they trailed down the smooth expanse of her skin.

She shoved back her impatience and let out a deep breath.

Aren't you going to ask me for the password? He brought his lips so close they almost touched hers. In that moment she felt his breath spreading across her face, hot and demanding.

She whisked two champagne glasses off the tray from a passing waiter and handed one to Keller.

He clinked his glass against hers and narrowed his eyes in that way of his that made her feel simultaneously a naïve sixteen and a woman-of-the-world twenty-nine. Are you sure it’s safe here?

Safe as you'll ever be considering what you do for a living. Now give me the password.

The teasing went out of his voice and he uttered the correct words.

She gave the expected response before saying, Tell me what you have. And remember, I want information not disinformation.

Not here. He glanced around the room. "Meet me in the back booth at your favorite restaurant in thirty minutes.

She reminded herself this was just another of his games. Why should I meet you anywhere, let alone a restaurant that is probably on my dossier and available to pretty much anyone who might want to steal the information. It’s safer here and less complicated.

He grinned and his face settled into a warm, amused expression. I thought you liked cloak-and-dagger. Remember when you were thirteen and you used to flirt with me in your father's den?

Her face blazed. I did no such thing. I was trying to pick up tips on military intelligence from you and my dad. She straightened the front of her gown, and pointed to the French doors. This is not the time or the place for reminiscence. Wait for me outside on the verandah. I'll make a phone call. If you are on a mission to bring me information, I'll meet you there. If not, you'll be in jail before you know it.

I love a woman who pulls rank. He raised his glass in a toast and took a long drink before he set it on the fountain ledge. Even when it’s not hers to pull. Before she could say another word, he bowed and disappeared in the direction she'd indicated.

She hurried into the rest room at the head of the stairs and locked the door behind her, determined to find out if Keller lied about Sun Lu.

Her mobile phone glinted up from her beaded purse. She dialed Headquarters, then reconsidered and found a secure line in the office down the hall.

Within minutes she spoke a coded message that connected her with a computer, and received a response to her question. That information is classified.

Anything else I can help you with tonight, Captain?

Yes. Was Major Keller out of the country recently?

He paused. Possibly, but I’m not at liberty to say where.

She thanked him, replaced the phone on the desk and left. If Keller had taken part in her friend's disappearance, she owed it to Sun Lu to find out.

Chapter 2

Caitlin found Keller on the verandah, leaning against the railing, his profile dark against the backdrop of city lights. The night air carried the sweet scent of cherry blossoms and below them she heard the swish of tires on wet pavement. Standing beside him, she fought to hold back the tide of unresolved emotions and questions that collided inside her.

Somehow she spoke calmly. Tell me the truth. What do you know about Sun Lu?

I'd never lie to you, Caitlin, he said in a sincere tone.

She searched his eyes for an answer but found only a subtle hint of desire. Usually that would be titillating, but tonight, it only irritated her. She wanted to shake the information out of him, but settled for grabbing the sleeve of his tuxedo and tugging on it. Where is Sun Lu? Tell me.

A ruby signet ring on his little finger gleamed in the light. Did Keller have any idea where her friend was? Would he tell her if he did? She just couldn't be sure. In this cat and mouse career she'd chosen, things were rarely, if ever, what they seemed.

He turned, pulled a cigarette case out of his pocket and handed it to her. He couldn’t possibly understand what this meant to her. She opened the shiny cold object and stared at a microchip.

Take it, he told her. It contains information about your friend. At least it does according to the messenger I took this from.

Thank you. She slid the gold case into her bag. Why hadn’t the information been sent directly to Headquarters? She glanced at Keller to see if he might be lying again. Not that she’d know from his expression. I'll find her, she said, refusing to gaze into those hypnotizing eyes of his. She’d be lost if she did, and then even her vow to find Sun Lu might crumble in the fire.

Finding her. That will be difficult. He took a card out of his pocket and held it out for Caitlin to take.

You can reach me at this number for the next three weeks. Call me if you need my help.

He flashed a grin and all those perfect white teeth of his dazzled against his tanned skin.

She took the card he handed her and tucked it into her bag next to the cigarette case, grumbling her thanks. Caitlin knew she should say something gracious and charming to him for what he’d done, but for the life of her, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Her hurt still ran too deep.

He didn’t appear at all uncomfortable with his marital state, and even seemed to want to work together with her. But who could tell with him, the master at disguising his true feelings? Her father had told her so many stories about the man that she’d been in awe of him for years.

Not anymore. Not after what he’d pulled. The trust she’d had in him no longer existed.

Call me, he said, leaning so close to her ear that he set off a delightful chill of want inside her. He opened the French door and disappeared from the verandah.

Caitlin waited for a moment until he’d left, composing herself before heading back to the secure phone. Once there she dialed the number of her contact. Her message would put into motion the transfer of the microchip Keller had given her. Meet me at the usual place in forty minutes.

I'll be there. She recognized him, a voice she trusted, a case officer who used the code name, Horatio. His equipment could decipher the microchip before he gave it to Headquarters.

Caitlin rushed back to the party to find the representative from Zimbabwe, only to be told he’d felt sick and left the party. She ended up making small talk with the Dutch Ambassador.

You’re very lucky to have had a father who was such a wonderful example of what an ambassador can be, the tall woman said. I’m so sorry to hear about his disappearance and your mother’s too, my dear. But I’m pleased to see you’re following in their footsteps.

Caitlin smiled and thanked the ambassador. Her parents had never been found. Her mother and father disappeared in the Middle East on assignment, and a contact had sworn he’d seen them executed, although rumors circulated that they might have escaped and planned to stay undercover. Either way, she’d never had a chance to say good bye to the parents who’d loved her and raised her.

To block out how much she missed her parents, she brought up an aspect of the Dutch economy that kept the ambassador busy explaining for nearly five minutes. That ought to make enough of an impression in case Caitlin needed verification of where she’d been that evening. She sipped a glass of sparkling water and smiled while her mind clicked over possible ways to hand over Keller’s package to Horatio.

Half an hour later Caitlin stepped into a taxi and took out the cigarette case. The microchip filled only a small portion of its container. She couldn't read the information on the chip even if she could open the plastic casing, which she couldn’t. She fiddled with it anyway, her mind busy trying to figure a way to find her friend, Sun Lu.

No way to get inside the microchip case without breaking the seal. Someone, possibly Sun Lu, didn't want her to know what information that tiny chip carried. The special seal might even have been placed on the case to protect Caitlin.

She signaled to the driver. Stop at the next corner.

When he pulled over, she glanced out the window and saw the thin figure in a gray trench coat she recognized as Horatio, paying for a flower at a street stand. Transaction completed, he stuck his purchase into his lapel and stood in front of the carnations, shuffling his feet against the cold.

Wait for me, Caitlin said to the driver before she got out and grabbed a newspaper from behind the flowers. She paid for it and inserted the cigarette case inside.

Without exchanging a glance, she brushed against Horatio and hurried back to her ride. When she stepped into the cab, the newspaper and the case containing the microchip resided in her contact's coat pocket.

Keller had to be in this. He never acted as just a messenger. For a moment, she almost directed the cab driver to take her to Keller’s house, but that just wouldn’t do. His wife might be there. That would be a disaster.

#

Safely back home, Caitlin paid the taxi driver and picked up her mail before racing to get to the ringing phone inside her apartment. She prayed Horatio had decoded the message already and identified the location of Sun Lu. Surely it couldn’t be anywhere near Keller, although she wouldn’t put it past him.

She dumped her bag and a handful of letters on the peach settee by the door and grabbed the phone. The aroma of the blueberry muffins she’d made for breakfast still permeated the room.

Captain Stanwyck? The voice on the phone sounded firm, female, and American.

While she caught her breath, she tried to identify the speech pattern. Definitely not someone she knew. Her boss always had an assistant call and this was not her voice.

This is Caitlin Stanwyck. To her dismay, her voice broke slightly.

I have a message for you, Captain. You are to report to General John D. Johnson at National Security Agency headquarters at Fort Mead at oh seven hundred hours. Message received and understood?

Understood, Caitlin said, taking a deep breath. She had burning questions, most of them about Sun Lu and Keller, but knew better than to ask them. The woman on the phone wouldn’t have the answers. She was only a paid phone caller who had been taught to read a message or take one and hang up.

Back into real action again. About time. I'll be there, Caitlin said.

Good, and Captain, this call is classified, your ears only.

The phone clicked dead. She hung up and stared at the receiver. Undercover case officers could be catapulted to a classified top secret assignment, but it was unusual.

Could Keller have something to do with this? Of course not. That sounded ridiculous. He had no control over assignments. Still, he did have a certain charm, even with men.

Caitlin headed into the bathroom and flung her dress on a chair. The puckering scar on her shoulder and the one on her arm felt jagged and tender beneath her fingertips. Mementos of her work. Nothing to be concerned about. She pulled on a nightie and slipped into bed, only to be put back inside that tunnel by her usual nightmare. In it she spun out of control on her cycle and watched helplessly while her quarry escaped. She prided herself on accomplishing her mission. The tunnel episode had been her one failure and despite what Keller told her, she blamed him for not being there on time to take out the white car behind and the shooters inside it.

Early the next morning after a few hours of restless sleep later, she showered and slipped into a lacy bra and panties. While she dressed, she thought about the phone call from NSA, the most secret of secret agencies and what the general could possibly want with her. She pulled on a shirt and glanced at the clock. Just enough time for another phone call before she had to leave for the NSA.

On the second ring, she heard General Ruth Stanwyck's abrupt voice. Hello.

Aunt Ruth? She'd been calling her aunt more frequently now, checking in, making sure she was okay.

Caitlin, is that you? An element of enthusiasm entered her aunt’s voice. Hearing from Caitlin seemed to cheer her. Pots and pans banged in the background. She loved to cook, especially when she couldn't sleep. Lately, that had been often.

Sorry to bother you so early. Caitlin pulled on her suit jacket. Maybe her aunt had no idea about NSA's plans now that she'd retired, but with thirty years of intelligence experience, she had to know something.

She sounded older, more fragile. I haven't gone to bed yet, dear. I’m just making an omelet. What are you doing up? You never were an early riser.

Caitlin smiled and stopped to pick a yellowing leaf off a ficus plant in the living room on her way to the kitchen, remembering how during her childhood her Aunt Ruth had come pounding on their door on Saturday mornings. Time to go fishing, squirt. She'd drag herself out of bed, eager to spend time with her favorite aunt. They compared their lures, took pictures of each other's fish, giggled and pulled on their rain ponchos when they got caught in downpours. They even cooked their catches on the charcoal broiler together.

What's wrong? her aunt said.

Caitlin could never get anything past Aunt Ruth. Nothing’s wrong. Just wondering what you know about General Johnson. She dumped a scoop of protein powder into a glass of apple juice and mixed it with a spoon. The messenger had said classified, so she couldn't tell Aunt Ruth about the call from NSA. Besides, someone could be listening in to their conversation.

A loud bang came over the line that sounded like she'd dropped a pan. Her aunt shouted into the phone. Johnson? John D. Johnson?

The very one. Caitlin hoped her aunt knew at least a scrap of information to give her a leg up in their meeting.

He's one of the new breed. He took over after they kicked me upstairs. He's been blasting NSA for not keeping up with the integration of all types of communication and for ignoring its own coordination problems. I don't like his methods, but he's right that human intelligence will have to take precedence now until their new collection system is ready, and maybe a lot longer than that.

Caitlin ruffled her hair, and then smoothed it again. The bitter tone in her aunt’s voice told her niece how much she missed being in on the secrets of her nation and how she regretted having her job pulled out from under.

While Caitlin sipped her breakfast drink, her aunt continued to provide the low down on the general. Word is he’s responsible for coups in South America and the Middle East.

General Johnson sounds like a man to be reckoned with. Caitlin thought about mentioning her encounter with Keller, but changed her mind. No need to upset her aunt or herself.

I hope you're not involved in anything dangerous, dear. The general is ruthless. Be careful.

Chapter 3

Day One

Fort George G. Mead, Maryland

Caitlin stormed up to the first of NSA's cyclone fences while the misty morning still shrouded the road. Equipped with all the latest high-tech tracking devices, her vehicle still had a new-car smell. Too much of a new car smell, which was why she drove with the windows cracked open.

She glanced at the guard station and wondered what awaited her. A call from someone high up as General Johnson meant something important had happened. The idea gave her a jolt of the adrenaline she thrived on—one almost as good as the thrill she’d experienced last night when Keller had brought her the information about Sun Lu. That embrace by the fountain had topped off the evening. His lips had been so close, she could have just moved an inch forward and kissed him. He hadn’t flirted with her, but seduction had been in his eyes. He had a way of making the simplest exchange with her border on intimacy. She hated him for that.

No time to think of him now. Time to deal with General Johnson’s command

An armed guard stepped out briskly from the sentry station and waited for her to lower her window. He had the look of a figure carved from mahogany.

Do you have an appointment, ma'am? His teeth reminded her of ivory.

No, I'm here to sell carpet, she wanted to say, but that would only get her into trouble. Captain Stanwyck to see General Johnson. She whipped her special ID out of her wallet and handed it to him, wishing she'd been more gentle. Her shoulder still hurt with certain movements. After being shot off her motorcycle in the Lincoln Tunnel, she'd been taken off active duty. Tired of doing embassy parties and trying to sign up spies, she hoped this summons would bring her a more interesting assignment.

The guard compared it to a list he held in a clipboard. He stared directly into her eyes when he handed it back to her. Pull right through, Captain Stanwyck, he said and saluted.

The general must have sent special instructions.

A quick step on the gas and her car rumbled through another gate before the final guard stopped her. "Just drive straight ahead and park in front of the large building on your right. Someone will meet you and