Saving Madrid

By Laura Kitchell

Twenty-seven days Madrid had been on this mission. Twenty-seven days Julia had spent as his contact. Twenty-seven wonderful days.
The report printed. "Target acquired. Contact made. Exchange to take place at thirteen hundred hours Berlin time. Will report back at fourteen hundred hours and wait to receive exit instructions. Madrid."
Nearly a month on assignment and it would end today. A sad disappointment made her feet drag on the way to the coordinator's office. As much as she wanted him out of danger, she would miss their exchanges. He always asked her opinion and genuinely valued her advice. Nobody else did that.
An instant message with Madrid across the center blinked at her from the upper right corner of her monitor screen. Grinning, she held a breath and clicked it.
"Hello, beautiful. Got any advice for me today?"
Julia beamed. He called her beautiful and didn't know what she looked like. She had never seen him, either. She liked to imagine he resembled James Bond – the Sean Connery version.
"Where's the exchange?" she asked.
"Schützen Straße."
Checkpoint Charlie area. "Not a lot of carpet in those older buildings," she typed. "Wear shoes with soft rubber soles. If you have to run, you'll have extra traction on linoleum and tile, and they won't hear your footfalls."
"As always, you're a wealth of practical information. Can't say the same for my usual contact at the embassy. I'm glad he took a long vacation and gave me the chance to work with you. You've saved my hide more than once."
"That's why I'm here." She stared at her reply, fingers poised above the keyboard.
Sinking teeth into her bottom lip, she tapped her thumb below the spacebar. He'd called her beautiful. Definitely not professional. In fact, their IM exchanges had become anything but professional this past week.
Holding her breath, she quickly typed, "Please be careful," and hit Send.
When his response didn't come right away, her stomach fell. She shouldn't have done that. He probably thought her a softhead. But then, when it came to him, she sort of was.
His IM popped into the upper right corner. She slowly eased the cursor into place then cringed as she clicked. Here it came – a polite but distant goodbye.
"Sorry, beautiful. When you mentioned running, I remembered I haven't eaten. I put some noodles in the microwave. Got to get those carbs. I'll be careful, I promise. It's nice to have someone who cares. Everyone always seems so focused on the goal, sometimes I get degraded to a tool in the process. Even in my own mind."
She wilted with relief. "In your own mind, huh? That's far more dedication to the cause than anyone could expect."
"Maybe so, but I can't help it. I've been doing this so long, it's become who I am rather than what I do. You're a pro. You know what I'm talking about."
She was? She did? She wished the powers that be recognized her potential. She had aced every exam, passed every physical trial, and exceeded every standard set at training camp. Even now, she continued training in a dojo near her apartment, strength trained two days a week, and kept her skill with a gun at its sharpest every weekend at the practice range. Yet they'd stuck her at a desk, typing letters and filing folders because the camp psychiatrist reported she didn't fit the psychological profile of a field operative.
Releasing a heavy-hearted sigh, she typed, "This could be the last time we talk. Your goal will be achieved in a couple hours and you won't need me anymore."
"Don't scare me like that! Where are you going?"
Julia frowned. Going? He sounded angry. Didn't he realize she was a nobody? "I'm not going anywhere, Madrid."
"You better not. I need you."
She stared at those last three words until the world around them faded. If only they meant something more personal. I need you, too, she thought, swiveling from the monitor to address the mundane task of archiving the waiting

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laura Kitchell
• Release date: Oct 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310360190

Laura Kitchell

Laura Kitchell lives in Virginia and was published for the first time in 2007. She became a member of the Quality Novelists Coalition in 2013. She is a member of Romance Writers of America and Chesapeake Romance Writers. Connect with her on Facebook at [e-mail] and visit her website at laurakitchell.com.

Book preview

Covert Affair

Book Three: Saving Madrid

by

Laura Kitchell

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or deceased, is entirely coincidental.

A Quality Novelists Coalition E book

Ebook Version by Smashwords

Covert Affairs Series

Book Three: Saving Madrid

Copyright© 2014 Laura Kitchell

ISBN: 9781310360190

Cover Artist: Lara Nance

Editor: Karen Webb

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

Quality Novelists Coalition  QNC. All rights reserved.

Dedication

For my mother, my biggest fan. For my dedicated team, Karen Webb and Lara Nance. For Sara, my best friend in the world. And a special thanks to the members of the Quality Novelists Coalition who work so hard to make sure my readers get a first-rate book every time you buy my stories.

Chapter One

Julia stared at her computer screen. Eight a.m. on the dot. Any second now. She tapped the toe of her sensible pump on the linoleum under her desk. When the phone rang, she jumped.

Hello?

You sound out of breath. Did I make you run to your phone?

No, sir. She couldn't very well tell the mission coordinator he'd scared her with his call. He'd think her a wuss.

Has Agent Madrid reported?

No, sir, but I expect his email any moment. Any second now.

Bring me his correspondence the moment it arrives.

Yes, sir.

She replaced the receiver and turned her attention to her email inbox. In bold, Madrid's report waited. Her heart leaped. She double-clicked on the subject header, Report Twenty-seven. Twenty-seven days he had been on this mission. Twenty-seven days she had spent as his contact. Twenty-seven wonderful days.

While the report printed, she read, Target acquired. Contact made. Exchange to take place at thirteen hundred hours Berlin time. Will report back at fourteen hundred hours and wait to receive exit instructions. Madrid.

This was it. Nearly a month on assignment and it would end today. A sad disappointment made her feet drag on the way to the coordinator's office. As much as she wanted him out of danger, she would miss their exchanges. He always asked her opinion and genuinely valued her advice. Nobody else did that.

While waiting for her boss to read the report, she half hoped he would tell her she'd have a chance to meet Agent Madrid. She had been his lifeline, after all. Maybe she could meet his flight, or help with his debriefing.

But no. The man gave her a curt nod, handed her a file and said, Archive this. Let me know the moment Madrid confirms receipt of the package.

Yes, sir. I'm invisible.

Leaving the stark office, she resisted the urge to run to her desk. She dropped the folder next to her printer and typed her security code to bring her dozing computer to life.

An instant message with Madrid across the center blinked at her from the upper right corner of her monitor screen. Grinning, she held a breath and clicked it.

Hello, beautiful. Got any advice for me today?

Julia beamed. He called her beautiful and didn't know what she looked like. She had never seen him, either. She liked to imagine he resembled James Bond – the Sean Connery version.

Where's the exchange? she asked.

Schützen Straße.

Good Lord. That was the checkpoint Charlie area. Not a lot of carpet in those older buildings, she typed. Wear shoes with soft rubber soles. If you have to run, you'll have extra traction on linoleum and tile, and they won't hear your footfalls.

As always, you're a wealth of practical information. Can't say the same for my usual contact at the embassy. I'm glad he took a long vacation and gave me the chance to work with you. You've saved my hide more than once.

She had? That's why I'm here. She stared at her reply, fingers poised above the keyboard.

She wanted to say more but didn't want a reprimand for her lack of professionalism. Sinking teeth into her bottom lip, she tapped her thumb below the spacebar. He'd called her beautiful. Definitely not professional. In fact, their IM exchanges had become anything but professional this past week.

Holding her breath, she quickly typed, Please be careful, and hit Send.

When his response didn't come right away, her stomach fell. She shouldn't have done that. He probably thought her a softhead. But then, when it came to him, she sort of was. Did he regret their more casual conversations? Would he—

His IM popped into the upper right corner. Her heart thudding in anticipation of his giving her a cold dismissal, she slowly eased the cursor into place then cringed as she clicked. Here it came – a polite but distant goodbye.

Sorry, beautiful. When you mentioned running, I remembered I haven't eaten. I put some noodles in the microwave. Got to get those carbs. I'll be careful, I promise. It's nice to have someone who cares. Everyone always seems so focused on the goal, sometimes I get degraded to a tool in the process. Even in my own mind.

She wilted with relief. In your own mind, huh? That's far more dedication to the cause than anyone could expect.

Maybe so, but I can't help it. I've been doing this so long, it's become who I am rather than what I do. You're a pro. You know what I'm talking about.

She was? She did? She wished the powers that be recognized her potential. She had aced every exam, passed every physical trial, and exceeded every standard set at training camp. Even now, she continued training in a dojo near her apartment, strength trained two days a week, and kept her skill with a gun at its sharpest every weekend at the practice range. Yet they'd stuck her at a desk, typing letters and filing folders because the camp psychiatrist reported she didn't fit the psychological profile of a field operative.

Releasing a heavy-hearted sigh, she typed, This could be the last time we talk. Your goal will be achieved in a couple hours and you won't need me anymore.

Don't scare me like that! Where are you going?

Julia frowned. Going? He sounded angry. Didn't he realize she was a nobody? I'm not going anywhere, Madrid.

You better not. I need you.

She stared at those last three words until the world around them faded. If only they meant something more personal. I need you, too, she thought, swiveling from the monitor to address the mundane task of archiving the waiting file.

* * * *

Julia paced next to her desk. She shoved her hands in the pockets of her skirt to keep from wringing them. The clock on her computer said twelve minutes after ten o'clock. Madrid was in trouble.

Has he reported?

She startled, nearly tripping on her own toe. The mission coordinator had come to her desk. He never did that.

No, sir. Damn her shaking voice.

Come with me.

She followed her boss to his office. If he gave her another file to archive, she’d strangle him.

Close the door, he said, moving to a tall narrow file cabinet behind his desk. He lifted a red folder from the top drawer and offered it to her.

The door was closed. He would to fire me. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea. She could take her savings and go to Berlin, find Madrid, and not have to answer to the agency. They didn't believe in her, anyway.

Wiping a sweaty palm on her skirt, she accepted the file. What's this?

Your mission orders.

What? Heart pounding, Julia flipped open the file and read the coversheet. Top Secret: Operation Madrid. A rescue mission. You knew he wouldn't succeed?

We hoped he would, but we had to prepare in case he failed.

Maybe she'd strangle him for sending Madrid on a suicide mission. Why me? She was just his glorified file clerk.

Madrid requested you…in the event he needed back-up. There's a pass in the folder that will allow you into the sublevel. They're waiting for you.

He had personally