Now what’s he doing?
“Punky?”
For a moment, she had been so engrossed in the dark-haired stranger that she forgot Camron had just proclaimed an end to her investigation. “Yeah?”
“Did I make myself clear?”
Before she could answer, the doors to the biomedical research building opened and a crowd of people spilled out into the Southern California sunlight. She scanned the crowd for a face that resembled the photo she had seen of Dr. Tan Lily on the UCSD website, but with the Audi in her way, she wasn’t sure she would be able to make a positive ID from where she sat.
Then, she saw a woman, slight in stature, who could have been a match.
But it wasn’t the sudden appearance of a woman at the center of the crowd’s attention that made her stomach drop. It was the driver of the Audi who also seemed to notice her.
“I need to call you back,” she said.
“Punky…”
She ended the call and climbed out of the Challenger’s bolstered seat, her gaze alternating between the woman—that has to be Tan Lily—and the Audi’s driver, who had also exited his vehicle.
Shit!
As the dark-haired stranger crossed Gilman Drive and made a beeline for the doctor, Punky swept back the hem of her blazer and rested her hand on the butt of her service pistol. The last thing she wanted to do was draw her sidearm in the middle of a college campus, but she suddenly wondered if SUBLIME’s intercepted messages were in reference to an assassination attempt.
Her cell phone started ringing again, but she ignored it. Punky poured all her focus into the man walking several paces in front of her, searching for some sign that he was carrying a weapon and was a threat that needed to be put down.
She rested her thumb on the holster’s lever and was prepared to release the automatic locking system that held her pistol firmly in place.
Please be wrong.
As the man reached the outer ring of people leaving the auditorium, she saw him weave through the crowd as he attempted to cut off the doctor. Punky picked up her pace almost to a jog, bumping into several students and faculty who would be caught in the crossfire if her intuition proved right.
When the man stepped in front of the doctor and reached into his coat, she drew the pistol and brought the tritium front sight post up to center mass and shouted, “Federal agent! Freeze!”
The man’s head whipped around, and a look of shock registered on his face, but he didn’t appear caught off guard — almost as if he had expected somebody to be there, protecting the doctor. He locked eyes with Punky, then his gaze dropped to the pistol she had pointed at his torso.
“Show me your hands,” she yelled. “Slowly.”
His eyes twitched toward the doctor, almost as if checking to see if she had taken the momentary distraction to make her escape, then he looked back to Punky once more. “Okay,” he said. “I’m pulling my hand out of my pocket.”
Punky recognized her body’s response to the stress of the moment. The auditory exclusion. The tunnel vision. Her heart hammering in her chest. But she slowly inhaled through her nose for a count of four and held it for another count of four. Slowly, she let out her breath in a thin stream through pursed lips as she fought to regain control of her senses.
As the world around her came into focus again, she noticed the crowd had scattered, and she was left standing with her pistol aimed at an Asian man who stood less than ten feet from the woman Punky had come to see. Dr. Tan Lily and a male colleague remained frozen in place as if any attempt to move on their part would result in certain violence. But from who, they weren’t certain, as both looked back and forth between Punky and the man standing in her crosshairs.
“Do it slowly,” she said. Her voice had developed a slight tremor.
His movement was so slow, she almost missed him removing his hand from his breast pocket. His fingers were wrapped around a black billfold that he allowed to fall open, exposing a set of credentials that were too far away for Punky to make out.
What the…
She looked from the billfold up to his face and saw a sardonic smirk crack his otherwise stoic expression, but she wasn’t quite ready to back down. “Don’t move.”
“I’m not.”
She took several steps closer, rolling her Under Armour Strikefast boots silently across the ground, but kept her pistol and gaze leveled on the stranger. He appeared at ease — despite the gaping maw of a .40 S&W pointed at his chest — and she struggled to make sense of him. He had not exhibited any of the classic predictors of violence, like facial grooming, hard looks, or a definitive weight shift, but he was still an unknown variable.
When she was within arm’s reach, she turned her body slightly and shielded her pistol as she reached out with her other hand to snatch the billfold from his grasp. He raised his eyebrows with amusement but waited for her to satisfy her curiosity before saying anything further.
With the billfold in her hand, Punky shuffled back a step before risking a glance.
Shit.
Her shoulders drooped as she read the words “Central Intelligence Agency” above a declaration that the bearer was an accredited representative of the United States government engaged in official business. His photograph, signature, and the crest of the Central Intelligence Agency spanned the bottom. Punky reluctantly lowered her pistol.
“I’m a good guy too,” he said, his smirk widening into a mirthful grin.
Punky holstered her pistol, then pulled back the left side of her blazer to reveal the gold Naval Criminal Investigative Service special agent badge clipped to her belt. “Special Agent King,” she said. “NCIS.”
“Jax Woods,” the man said. “You already know who I’m with.”
“What are you doing here?” Punky asked.
Jax turned to look at Tan Lily and her colleague. Both appeared completely stunned that a federal agent and Agency officer had descended onto their quiet campus. He turned back to Punky. “I came to see her,” he said. “Why are you here?”
For the first time since seeing Jax step out of the Audi sedan, Punky looked away from him and studied Dr. Tan Lily. She was a petite woman with a naturally athletic figure and looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties with intensely focused eyes. “Maybe we should go somewhere with a bit more privacy,” Punky suggested.
Jax nodded. “I agree.”
“Excuse me,” Tan Lily said. “Can one of you please tell me what is going on?”
Her male colleague stepped forward and partially blocked Tan Lily as if trying to protect her from them. “I think you owe us some answers,” he said, suddenly more confident with taking charge of the situation.
Punky glanced at the Medical Teaching Facility. “Do you have an office where we can speak in private?”
Her colleague answered for her. “We’re not going anywhere with you until we have some answers.”
“We’re not asking you to go anywhere with us,” Jax said, then nodded at Tan Lily. “We came to speak with her.”
But she folded her arms across her chest. “He’s right. I need to know what’s going on. Right here. Right now. Or I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Jax and Punky traded glances, and she gestured for him to take the lead.
“Ma’am, I work for the Central Intelligence Agency,” he said. Punky thought she saw a nervous look shimmer across the doctor’s face, then disappear as quickly as it had come. “One of our officers has gone missing, and we believe your husband is somehow connected.”