The voice of Kira Miller coming from the opposite side of the clearing.
“Drop your weapons!” commanded Kira as she calmly entered the clearing, not wearing either glasses or makeup to alter her appearance. She was unarmed and protected by nothing more than a black sweatshirt and tan jacket.
An image flashed across Desh’s mind of the sweatpants Kira had provided, which he had unceremoniously thrown into the hall. But he was still wearing the gray sweatshirt from the night before. She must have bugged both garments. God, she was clever. She told him she had placed a bug in the sweatpants, knowing he would have changed back into his own pants anyway, but she also knew he would keep the sweatshirt on longer, because she had destroyed his shirt. Like a master magician, she had diverted his attention in one direction while she had continued to operate in another. So she was still listening in when he had read the GPS coordinates of this clearing to Connelly. How had he become so inexcusably sloppy!
“I repeat,” said Kira firmly. “Drop your weapons. Now!”
The soldier nearest to Kira shook his head in dismay. “Are you out of your mind! What are you threatening us with, girl power?”
“Girl power. Very witty,” she said sarcastically.
“Who are you?” said another of the soldiers, his eyes widening in wonder.
Smith had been as stunned as Desh by Kira’s sudden arrival, but finally snapped out of his trance. “Don’t let down your guard,” he instructed his team. “This girl is dangerous. Don’t let her appearance and lack of weaponry fool you.”
The commandos nodded, but found it hard to take her seriously even so. Desh knew from their reactions they had no idea who she was.
“I’ll be damned,” continued Smith. “Kira Miller in the flesh. It’s nice to finally meet you. But I must say I’m surprised you would just walk into our hands like this after proving so elusive for so long.”
“Mr. Smith, I presume?”
“That’s what I called myself last night, at least. Which means you must have been listening in to my conversation with Desh.”
“Maybe,” she said. “On the other hand, maybe I was just paying attention when you shouted your name a minute ago loudly enough to wake the dead.”
“Also a reasonable possibility,” he conceded.
“I need you to order your men to drop their weapons.”
“Or what?” said Smith contemptuously. “Have you invented a super weapon you can activate with your mind that can disable us all? I doubt it. If you had something like this you would have used it already.”
Kira’s eyes burned with a steely resolve. “I don’t need a weapon to get what I want. Either you and your men lay down your weapons—” She paused for effect. “Or I commit suicide.”
The commando nearest to Kira smirked. “That’s the dumbest threat I’ve ever …” he began, but stopped in mid-sentence as he noticed the expression on Smith’s face. Smith wasn’t laughing.
“I can have you captured and pacified long before you could kill yourself,” said Smith.
“Really?” she said smugly. “I have a cap on a tooth with cyanide enclosed. I bite down on it with all of my strength and I die very quickly. And you can’t have that, can you? Because if I die, you’re next. Your boss would serve your brains as an appetizer at his next dinner party.” She paused and motioned to Smith’s men with her head. “Tell them, Smith. You obviously didn’t expect me here or you would have warned them already. Tell them what happens to them if they accidentally kill me.”
“She’s right,” said Smith hurriedly, realizing they knew nothing of the stakes and couldn’t risk that they would decide to take matters into their own hands. “None of you are to take any hostile action against her if there is any chance—any chance—that it could result in her death, accidental or otherwise. Am I clear?” he hissed.
“Clear,” responded his men in turn, looks of disbelief across the board.
Desh watched her performance in awe. She was the most remarkable woman he had ever known. She had waltzed into an elite group of heavily armed commandoes without even flinching and was attempting to pull off a plan more audacious than any in his memory.
“Good,” said Smith. He turned once again to Kira. “As for you, you’ve watched too many old spy movies. A suicide tooth? You’re bluffing. And even if you aren’t, you’ll never go through with it.” He pulled a tranquilizer gun from his pocket and raised his eyebrows. “I can have you unconscious in a few seconds,” he said smugly.
“Even think of pointing that at me and I crack the tooth. You might think I’m bluffing, but are you willing to bet your life?” Kira cast a furtive, nervous glance at the tree line in Desh’s direction and nodded ever so slightly.
Her nod jolted Desh out of the trance he was in like a cattle prod. “Even if the tooth isn’t real,” he thundered from beyond the clearing, taking the cue she had given him. “I sure as hell am! I have a gun trained on her head and an itchy trigger finger. I’m happy to be the instrument of suicide for this psychopathic bitch!” he spat hatefully.
“Jesus, Desh!” said Smith in alarm, the smug look vanishing from his face as he realized he had neglected to factor Desh into the equation. “Back off! She could be our only hope of stopping the Ebola attack. You kill her and you’re sentencing millions of others to death as well.”
“I don’t believe that and you know it!” growled Desh. “I think killing her ends the threat. So I’ll tell you what. Have your men drop their weapons and hug the ground or I put a bullet through her head.”
There was no response.
Desh fired, missing Kira’s head by inches.
“Do it!” he thundered. “Or be prepared to bend over and kiss your ass goodbye when the powers that be discover you allowed her to be killed. I’ll at least die a happy man knowing I stopped her.”
Desh could tell that Smith’s mind was racing, weighing the possibilities.
“You have ten seconds,” said Desh forcefully. “Nine. Eight. Seven. Six—”
“Do what he says!” ordered Smith anxiously. “Now!”
His men were incredulous, but did as ordered: they dropped their weapons and fell to the ground.
Smith remained standing.
“You too, Smith,” demanded Desh. “On the ground. You and I need to have a nice long chat.”
Smith shook his head. “I’m really not feeling all that chatty,” he said.
And then, before Desh could react, Smith pointed his tranquilizer gun at his own leg and pulled the trigger.
PART FOUR
Reunion
Kira Miller took the lead as they hiked through the woods. Desh was close behind, his .45 trained on her back, while Connelly and Griffin brought up the rear; all four staying alert for possible ambushes. Their destination was Kira’s SUV, rented under an assumed name, which was parked at a campground a half-mile distant and which could not be immediately traced. They were in an untouched section of the woods, blazing their own trail, and their progress was slower than Desh would have liked. Kira had used a small GPS device to find the clearing, and she consulted it periodically to be sure they were taking the most direct line to her vehicle possible.
Desh fumed silently. How had he let Smith slip through his fingers! Smith had known they couldn’t wait until he regained consciousness to interrogate him, and dragging his unconscious body along as they made their escape would be equally foolhardy. As expected, the man had carried no identification. Shit, thought Desh for the third time. He had been so close to finally learning what was going on and who was pulling Smith’s strings. It was maddening!