Without Clearance

By Annagail Lynes

Federal Agent Jessa Master stands over the body of a woman. From the looks on her crew's faces, she surmises that she had been close to the dead woman. Only she doesn't remember the woman or the last few months of her life. Find out who the dead woman is and who killed her and what it all has to do with Jessa's missing memory. 2nd Novel in the Jaguar and Peacock Novel Series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jun 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9781300774372

Book preview

2

~ ONE ~

I’m sorry, Graham.  I just can’t remember the last few months, I told the bald man who appeared on the screen of my computer terminal.  I admired how handsome he looked in his neatly pressed, black Freedom Alliance duty uniform.  They somehow made his long, rugged features look less severe.  When I spied the three stars that adorned his lapel, I wondered, When did he receive a promotion? 

Freedom Alliance officers who served aboard StarVessels, such as me, wore standard-issue black flight overalls when on duty.  Those who didn’t were issued a different duty uniform consisting of a light blue cotton shirt with two cargo pockets and matching pants.

I settled into the black, leather chair in my office aboard the StarVessel Liberty.  I raked my eyes around the room.  First over the window seat I sat on when I became frustrated.  Then to the couch that I fell asleep on after working all night on a case.  Finally my eyes fell upon the door that led to my daughter Regina’s classroom. 

At least, my office looked familiar.  Sighing heavily, I said, It’s like trying to access classified files without clearance. 

It started yesterday morning.  I found myself standing over the body of a woman I didn’t remember meeting.  Although from the sympathetic words and looks from my crew, I deduced that I knew her quite well. 

She lay there in a pool of her own blood.  Murdered on my StarVessel, and I didn’t have a clue who she was, how long she’d served aboard the Liberty or if she had any family.

He put his huge hands that looked as if they had never seen the likes of pulling weeds, planting vegetables or any other back-breaking, callous-building work on his shoulder.  He rubbed the muscles in the back of his neck.  A gesture he did when something concerned him.  Probably trying to smooth out the kinks caused by biological weapons, Presidential assassins, the war between the Freedom Alliance and the Crimson Fleet and now this, one of his best Federal Agents with gaps in her memory.

Within two minutes, he seemed different somehow.  More relaxed and at peace.  What could change his attitude that fast?  Whatever it is maybe he should bottle it and sell it in every store on Earth and its colonies.  He would make trillions.

As if settling something in his mind, he leaned forward and asked in a voice as warm and comforting as a fire in the middle of a heavy blizzard, What is the last thing you remember?

I drew in my bottom lip.  I chewed on it a moment, searching my mind for an answer.  Any answer would do.

I remembered the bright lights of the car coming toward Ben and me.  I flew out the window of the mini-van.  Although every fiber of my body hurt, I managed to look back at our vehicle.  I saw Ben slumped over the steering wheel.  I recalled the painful process of learning to walk again while grieving for the husband I lost.  The elation when I took my first steps again.  Oh, and the conversation about coming back to work.

"Resuming command of the Liberty after the car crash," I replied, glancing around my desk.  Something seemed different about it.  The color?  No, it looked the same as when I saw it last.  A different computer terminal maybe?  No.  Something out of place?  No.

Where are my pictures of Ben?  I noticed the pictures on the right side of my desk.  I studied them for a moment.  Something seemed odd about them. 

A formal shot of my Intergalactic Intelligence Bureau–a government intelligence agency–partner, Nathaniel Jaguar Masters, Regina, and me set in a garden filled the first picture.  By the Secret Service personnel and the glimpse of a large familiar white house in the background, I suspected it to be the White House’s Rose Garden.  What were we doing there?

Nate wore a tux.  I exerted more energy getting Nate into a tuxedo than I did when I climbed Mount Everest.  Reggie and I donned beautiful dresses.  I didn’t even own a dress and especially not a white, lacy one like the one in the picture. 

Reaching across the desk, I picked the framed photo up and stared at it.  When did this occur?  And why are we at the White House?  I never took Reggie on our visits to the President.  Could it have been President Juneau’s birthday?  Maybe her wedding?  I didn’t know.  What I did know is that I found the whole picture to be mighty peculiar.

From what I gather, I resumed command six months ago, I added, turning my eyes back to General Graham.  He now sipped a glass of what appeared to be water.  Graham didn’t drink alcohol, especially not when he worked, so I had no reason to believe he filled his glass with anything other than water.

Have you seen Doctor Manning, Peacock? Maybe someone drugged you.  He then slammed his glass down on his desk.

Yes, yesterday, Graham.  He ran a toxicology report, but he still hasn’t given me the results.

Graham and I had been friends for many years.  When he pressed his eyebrows together and licked his lips, as he did now, something worried him.  Probably me...my mission...whether I compromised myself as an agent.  I knew he wondered if I leaked out federal secrets while under the influence of some drug I ingested.

Jaguar should rendezvous with you momentarily, he began, leaning back in his chair, pointing his stylus from his QuanPad–an electronic notepad that held the memory of a full-sized quantum computer–at me.  You probably don’t remember, but he has been teaching a workshop at the Academy for the past few weeks.  He looked over at me thoughtfully, folding his arms across his chest.  Peacock, I am sure you will be glad to have your husband home again.

My husband, Graham?  I felt as if my jaw might drop onto the floor.  Jag and I are... I let my voice trail off.  I couldn’t quite grasp that I married my partner.

The picture.  Nate in the tux.  Reggie and I in those dresses.  Oh, the picture had to be of our wedding.  We held it at the White House?  How did we manage that? 

That’s right.  Madeline Ashton, or Aunt Maddy as my brothers and I called our godmother, won the United States Presidential election!  And she appointed Mom as the head of her Secret Service.  They remained best friends since kindergarten.  But still...when did she find time to host my wedding?

I glanced down at my left hand and noticed the gold band on my ring finger.  My heart pounded.  I felt as if someone had dropped a piano on my chest from above.  What have I done?  What happened to staying single was the plan?  What happen to honoring Ben’s memory and raising Reggie on my own?

I loved Nate.  I had no question about that.  I could remember all the nights he spent with me in the weeks following  the crash that killed my  first husband, Nate’s brother, Ben.  I had remained confined to my bed, paralyzed.  By the time I came back to the Liberty, six months after the crash, I knew I had fallen for Nate.  No matter how much I fought them, my feelings for him grew stronger with every passing moment. 

I didn’t tell him because I didn’t think he felt the same way.  Nate’s lifestyle didn’t scream I want to settle down, get married and help raise my brother’s kid.  Instead he dated and dined a different girl every night of the week, which wasn’t conducive to raising an eight-year-old.   

Lately, though, I noticed some changes in him.  He spent more time with his sister, Reggie and me than with his girlfriends.  He seemed more centered, more at peace, more, dare I say, mature.

About three months ago, Graham supplied, fidgeting with the stylus.

I shook my head, picking up the picture to gaze at it again.  It’s amazing how quickly things can change in six short months.  I replaced the picture of Nate, Reggie and me on my desk.  If only I remembered...Well, Graham, I will give you the results when they come in.  I gave him a weak smile, then ended the transmission. 

I rose from my chair and walked over to the window a few feet away.  As I did, I brushed against the large curtain that concealed the marker board behind my desk.  I sat on the window seat and stared out at the stars, pondering everything Graham told me.

How could that be true?  How could I had missed out on the last six months of my life?  What if my memories never returned?  I didn’t remember my wedding.  The one to Nate.  I didn’t even know how he proposed.  Nate proposed?  That sounded strange.  Not that he proposed to me, but that he proposed to anyone at all.  Until recently, I didn’t even think Nate would ever take that plunge.  He loved me.  Nate really loved me. 

What about Reggie?  How did she react to Nate and I marrying?  I felt a wave of nausea ride my stomach.  I couldn’t remember Reggie’s last birthday–what presents she received, if we had a party, what kind of cake Joey made. 

But more importantly, I didn’t know what happened to that poor woman whose body I found myself standing over yesterday.

I shook my head.  I have to remember.  I just have to, I mumbled to myself.

You have to remember what, a familiar voice called out to me from across the room. 

I looked up into Nate’s face.  He hadn’t changed a bit.  He cut his dark hair to the end of his neck.  He had a nose that would have appeared large on anyone else but that seemed at home among his chiseled features.  Just as I did, Nate wore the same military-issued black coveralls that made his cappuccino eyes glisten as if they were diamonds setting in the sun.

He had been my rock for so long.  When my world felt as if it were crashing in on me, like now, I knew he would be my safe haven.  I rushed over to him and threw my arms around his neck.  Oh Jag, am I glad to see you!

He drew me into his arms and whispered, I’ve missed you so much, Peacock.

Nate and I referred to each other by our code names–Jaguar and Peacock.  He received his for his cat-like reflexes whereas I received mine for doing the Peacock Dance–the act of establishing a relationship with a target of the opposite sex to obtain information–so well.

I felt safe in Nate’s arms.  Maybe everything would be all right after all.  With my partner at my side, I could solve any mystery, even the mystery of my missing memory.

I’m sure I missed you too, I muttered to myself, resting my head on his shoulder.  I stared straight ahead.  I should know whether I missed Nate, but I didn’t. 

But none of that mattered right now.  Nate just arrived home, and I wanted him to settle in before we started our new assignment.  Graham had assigned us to locate the dead woman’s killer.  She had been an intelligence operative with the Intergalactic Intelligence Bureau just as Nate and I were.  And that made her death I.I.B. business.  Then, of course, there was the matter of finding my memory. 

Could there be a connection between the woman’s murder and my memory loss?  I did lose my memory around the same time Doctor Manning said she had died.

Pushing the thought away, I asked Nate,  How was your workshop?

It went well.  I think I have a knack for teaching," he replied, running his hand over the back of my head.

I’m not surprised.  I have you to thank for teaching me to be  the best female agent in the I.I.B. I smiled, remembering the day I met Nate Masters, seasoned agent.  He leaned against the door of his vehicle–an old beat-up Jaguar–how appropriate considering his code name–that he was trying to restore.  Trying being the appropriate word.

Back then, his dark hair reached to the his shoulders, and his eyes were cold and lifeless.  He didn’t like being stuck with me.    I knew he was the best, and I told myself that if I could hang in there, he would teach me to be the best too.  And he did. 

Do you remember the first day you were assigned to me, I reminisced, turning my head to look at him.  You looked like you’d rather be anywhere but with me, Jag.

He cleared his throat, which always indicated that he was about to make a confession.  I wasn’t assigned to you.  I picked you, Peak.  He put me at arm’s length, gazing into my eyes.  General Graham let me study the video tapes of the trainees, Peak.  He told me to choose which one I wanted to partner with.  And I chose you.

If that’s true, Jag, then why were you so hard on me?

He put his hand to my cheek, stroking it.  Because you were clearly the best in your class.  You have a rare natural talent for this job, Peak.  And an instinct that is rarely ever wrong.  I wanted to make sure you applied yourself.  He leaned in and brushed his lips against mine.  Electricity woke up every fiber of my body.  Then he applied a bit more pressure.  The one kiss turned into another and then into a series.

When we came up for air, as if just thinking of it, he expressed, I heard about Brooklyn.  I am so sorry, Peak.  I know how close you and her were.  When I didn’t hear from you last night, I assumed you were working to solve her murder.

Brooklyn?  Who’s Brooklyn, I wondered, staring at him blankly.  Oh!  He must be referring to the dead woman.  This Brooklyn–how well did I know her, Jag?  I struggled to keep my voice from quavering.

He let out a mocking laugh, chastising, Peak, this is not a time for jokes.

I turned my back on him, folding my arms across my chest.  I stared out at the stars again, searching for something, anything that could tell me why I couldn’t access my memories for the last six months.  I bit my lip hard to keep from crying.  I bit it so hard that