Smoke And Mirrors

By Annagail Lynes

A sniper is on the loose, killing people aboard the frontline Freedom Alliance StarVessels. The sniper had now struck a member of Colonel Jessa Masters' crew, badly injuring him. Can Jessa figure out who the sniper is and stop him before he kills again? What does the sniper have to do with that incident nine years ago at the Freedom Alliance Admission Office? Could it be the same one? Or is Jessa's mind playing tricks on her? This is the 4th Novel in the Jaguar and Peacock Series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jun 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9781300757641

Book preview

~one~

Peacock, I need your help!

General, what are you doing here, I greeted the balding man dressed in a dark-blue military uniform, who stood outside the door of my quarters aboard the USS Liberty.

I raked my eyes over him, starting at his head.  His remaining hair--tousled.  His uniform--crumpled.  Usually Lieutenant General Graham's uniform and appearance looked impeccable.  He wouldn't tolerate a hair to be out of place or a wrinkle to wreak havoc on his spotless image. 

Something is definitely wrong!  And in that moment, Jessa Strazzer Masters, wife, mother and commander of the USS Liberty, took a back seat to Peacock Masters, Federal Agent.  I smelled trouble, and I intended to find out why.  Graham, you look like you haven't slept in days.

When space travel became commonplace, Earth's Armed Services joined forces, establishing the Freedom Alliance.  Each branch functioned on its own as it always had but came under the rules and regulations set forth by the Freedom Alliance.  Now in 2152, fifty-two years after the Freedom Alliance came into existence, some members didn't agree with its rules and actions any longer.  Seeking to create a one-world totalitarian government on Earth and its colonies on other planets, they broke away and formed the Crimson Fleet.  Thus sparking a war with the Freedom Alliance.

In addition to commanding the USS Liberty, the flagship of the Freedom Alliance, my husband and first officer Nate Masters and I also solved cases for the Intergalactic Intelligence Bureau (IIB)—an covert organization based on Earth.

I haven't, he muttered, hands deep in his pockets.

And you probably haven't eaten either, I added, stepping to the side to allow him access to my quarters.  Joey and the kids have already headed off to school, but Jag and I are still having breakfast.  Why don't you come in, and we'll discuss whatever is bothering you over something to eat?

Graham marched into my quarters, glancing back at me.  I'll come in, but I am not sure about eating anything.

I followed him in, realizing for the first time that I still wore my baggy gray jogging suit I ran in this morning.  A month ago, I had to buy a larger size.  I found it difficult to keep the last one over my increasing stomach.  I moved my fingers through my dark hair, which I pulled into a ponytail before the run.  It must have been disheveled by now with strands of hair flying everywhere. 

I exchanged a troubled look with Nate, who sat at the head of the table, as I took my seat next to him.  So, what's going on, I questioned, picking up the bagel off the plate in front of me.  I tore off a piece and popped it in my mouth while staring at Graham.

Peak, Jag, I need your help.  He pulled out a chair and sank into it.  He then looked from me to Nate and back again.  Over the last week, nine people have been killed aboard various StarVessels bordering the front lines of the war.

Graham, also worked for both the Freedom Alliance and the IIB, and exclusively referred to us by our codenames.  Nate—Jaguar and me—Peacock.  Being partnered for over a decade, Nate and I called each other by our codenames as well.

Do you have any leads on who committed the murders?  Any clues left behind?  Do you think the shootings were random or connected?  I fired questions while pouring myself a glass of orange juice from the pitcher on the table.  Holding it in the air, I turned to Graham.  Would you like some orange juice?

He picked up the empty glass in front of him and thrust it out.  The kids left this morning, nibbling on toast in one hand and carrying their QuanPads—handheld devices  that maintained the memory of a Quantum computer--in the other.  They didn't even stop to drink juice from the glasses I set out for them.  At least, General Graham will get use out of one of them, I thought to myself, pouring the liquid into his glass. 

Peak, you might want to let him answer one question before you ask him another, Nate admonished, looking over his plate at me. 

The investigators have found nothing.  Absolutely nothing to tie these nine victims to each other.

Graham traced the top of his glass, studying his orange juice as if it held all the answers he sought. 

That's terrible.  You know we'll do anything we can to help.  I tilted my head, scrutinizing his face for clues to what went on in his mind.  Graham, if this was just about the nine people, you wouldn't be here, and you wouldn't have gone without sleep for more than one or two nights.  I sipped my orange juice, peering over the glass at him.  One of the people shot by the sniper was someone close to you, I surmised, replacing the glass on the table without taking my eyes off Graham.

He wore the same look I’d seen so many times on the faces of those I told his spouse or her significant other had been injured or killed in the line of duty.  First the blood drained out of his face, then he clamped shut his eyes, trying to wake up from his nightmare.  His face twisted in pain.  After the reality set in, his face hardened, darkening with a pain so deep.  The anguish--written on his face.

When I looked into his eyes, tears welled up in mine because I so deeply identified with what he felt as I had experienced it when my first husband, Ben, died in a car crash.  Although I had found love again and remarried Ben's brother, I still carried the pain of that night with me every day.  Bri--is she--  I could barely get the words out; my body stiffened in anticipation of his answer.  Sabrina Stetson and I met on one of my first assignments.  Over the years, we worked together countless times, becoming good friends and rewarding contacts to one another, even saving each other’s lives when needed.

Graham shook his head, lifted up his glass of orange juice and sipped it.  No, she isn't one of the nine.  She is the one he shot that managed to survive.  He reached across the table and grabbed a bagel from the platter in the middle.  If you call being in critical condition surviving.  He split the bagel, not looking at me.  And since Doctor Manning is the best doctor in the Freedom Alliance, I brought her to him.

So, you didn't come here to see us, after all, I stated, pushed out my bottom lip and feigned a pout. 

Actually your intuition and, Graham said, waved at Nate and caught his gaze for maybe the first time since Graham arrived, Jag's experience are why I brought her to Doctor Manning instead of requesting that he come to her.  Graham bit off a piece of the bagel.  I also need to be surrounded by my family.  I know you aren't my family by blood or marriage, but I consider you my family nevertheless.

I extended my hand across the table and covered his hand with mine.  I waited until he looked up at me questioningly.  Reggie, just like my parents and brothers, are my family by blood.  Nate, Joey and Colin are my family by marriage.  You, Graham, and Bri, just like Remy, are my family by choice.  His hand clutched my hand, holding it for a few moments.  We will do anything to help you and Bri, you know that. 

After catching a warning look from Nate, Graham let go of my hand.  Peak, I want you, Graham began, then regarded Nate, and you too, Jag, turning back to me, to take over the investigation of these sniper attacks.  Besides Bri, you two are the only agents I have complete trust in.

As Peak said, Graham, we will do anything to help you, Nate voiced, putting down his bagel.  So consider Jaguar and Peacock on the job.  He twisted his head to cast me an imploring smile.  Right?

Definitely.  I glanced from Nate to Graham.  You know that I never pass up the chance to work.  I put my hand on my stomach, feeling Lizzie and Danny kicking as if they tried to score the winning touchdown in a tied championship football game.  Apparently Lizzie and Danny don't either.

Graham leaned back in his chair, nibbling on his bagel.  Remember when Peak was nine months pregnant with Reggie, he recalled, glanced at Nate and held his hands about five inches away from his stomach, and she single-handedly took down the Balosko Brothers.  He laughed so hard that he wiped his eyes before continuing, She was handcuffing them when her water broke.

She wrestled them to the ground.  She finished handcuffing one while she held her foot on the back of the other one.  That's when the dam broke, Nate joined in, chuckling.  Glancing over at me, he added, Thanks to you, the Balosko Brothers are afraid of pregnant women to this day.

How was I supposed to know that Reggie was going to be two weeks early, I retorted, breaking off another piece of my bagel.  For once in her life, she took after me.  She has always been laid back, going with the flow.  She is definitely Ben's child. 

For the first time since Ben's death, my heart didn't ache when I mentioned his name.  I didn't think about how he died or why he died.  Instead his memory left a peace, a warmness, in my heart.  I remember the day we met, the day we married and the days we spent together, how happy we were.  Thinking about him now brought a smile to my face where before it had left a frown.  I am all for calculation and thinking things through, and I will encourage her to do so, but sometimes you have to rely on intuition and instinct.

That's why you two, Graham remarked, gesturing from Nate to me and back again, work so well together and are the exact agents we need to nip this sniper situation in the bud.  He stretched leisurely, yawning.  Jag is calculated yet knows how to rely on the instincts of his partner, who has a unique combination of logic and intuition.

Why don't you give us the case files while you settle into the VIP quarters and catch some sleep, I proposed, pushing back my chair.  I cleared the plates and bagels from the table and disappeared into the kitchen.  Upon returning, I pushed my chair closer to the table and stood behind it.  I rested my hands on its back.  Or you can sleep in our bed because Graham, you aren't doing Bri or anyone else any good by depriving yourself of sleep and food.  I watched his lips slowly inch up at the corners.  Isn't that what you always tell me?

He moved his chair away from the table, standing up.  Did I ever tell you how annoying it is when you are right, he asked, walking over to me and kissing me on the cheek, then threw his arms around me.  After he broke away from the quick embrace, he reached into his uniform jacket and pulled out a QuanPad.  All the information we have about the sniper attacks is on that.  He threw the QuanPad down on the table.  Now where did you say that bed of yours is?

Take a right at the end of the hall, I instructed him as he proceeded down the corridor.  When I heard him shut the door, I peered over at Nate.  What do you think?

I think, glancing at his watch, throwing back the rest of his orange juice, Nate said, it's time to check in with the department heads.  I need to get the status reports for my Colonel.  He rose from his chair.  She can be such a slave driver.

I rolled my eyes, waddling toward the facilities.  Nate stopped me halfway, clutching me around the waist, planting a long, deep kiss on my mouth that woke up every sleeping nerve in my body.  I couldn't leave without a goodbye kiss to hold me over until we meet for lunch.

We better meet in my office at 1100 hours.  We have a lot to discuss concerning this case, I declared, gesturing toward the QuanPad on the table. 

All work and no play makes Peak a dull girl, Nate warned as he pecked me on the cheek again.  I'll see you then, he uttered, then flew down the hall and out the front doors. 

I, on the other hand, jumped in the shower, meditating on what Graham said about the sniper, that all of his victims seemed unrelated.  How could that be the case, I wondered, letting the hot water rain on me.  The tense muscles in my neck and back melting away.  And how was Bri involved?

I made my reeling mind still for a moment, trying to gauge my intuition.  I knew there was a connection.  I didn't know how I knew.  I just knew.  Even though I had no facts to base my intuition on.  In the past, my intuition had been right on more times than not.  In fact, my intuition was right ninety-nine percent of the time.

Getting out of the shower, I opened the door to my closet.  It had puzzled me as to why the designers of the Liberty gave the closet in the master bedroom of the commander's quarters two entrances--one from the hallway and one from the master bedroom's closet.  As far as I was concerned, an efficient person would set out her clothes and take them into the facilities when showering. In this instance, with the General napping in my room, I was grateful for the extra entrance to my black flight coveralls and other clothing.  After donning my uniform, I returned to the restroom.  I ran my hairbrush through my wet, dark hair, French braiding it and pulling it through a navy blue ponytail holder.

As I inspected my reflection in the mirror, my CommLet-a wrist-worn communication device that didn’t activate until it verified its user's thumbprint--chimed.  Colonel Masters, this is Major Rodgers.  We have a, er, situation.

Elizabeth Meadows, my previous science chief and part of the Solomos crime family, assisted her family in committing murder and conducting a drug ring on the Liberty.  She