“Possibly, though a few generations removed. He’s a famous British boxing enthusiast. You’ve heard of Queensberry Rules?”
“Yeah, yeah, it figures it would be a Brit who decided the proper, most civilized way to go about killing each other.”
He reached over and lightly touched his fingers to her cheek. “Even though you look a bit rough, Agent Caine, all those men you rescued tonight would agree an angel saved them. The ice pack should help.”
She said, “When I’m done with it, you can use it. You’re a bit on the edge yourself.” She paused, then, “And they’d say you’re an angel, too.”
He shot her a grin with a raised eyebrow, his teeth shiny white against his soot-black skin. “Have I ever told you you’re fierce?”
She gave a small laugh. “You want to tell me what you mean by that?”
“Let’s say if you were my mom, I’d know to my core you’d keep me safe.”
She felt a warm glow all the way to her belly. “Thank you.”
Once over the bridge, he said, “What’s the fastest way to your place?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Well, yes, of course. Despite the three agents, we’re going to make certain Mr. Hodges is safe and sound and hasn’t thought of anything else useful. But if Zachery finds out, I’m telling him it was all your idea.”
10
PAWN TO D5
Richard Hodges’s house
Bayonne, New Jersey
Nicholas retraced their steps to Bayonne. Mike, her face set, stared back at the burning refinery.
“We weren’t in time, Mike, but we did good. Are you all right? No broken bones you’re keeping from me?”
“No, nothing,” she said, still staring back.
“I ask because you’re practically vibrating.”
Mike gingerly pressed the ice pack back to her cheek. “Yeah, I guess I am. I’d like to hit something. I hate what we saw tonight. So much death, so much destruction.”
He gave a humorless laugh. “I feel precisely the same way.”
She turned to face him, drawing her legs up on the seat. “I’m sorry, of course this would remind you of your past as well.”
Some things were better left unsaid, so he simply shook his head. “You’ve seen this kind of destruction before?”
So he didn’t want to talk about the huge betrayal in Kabul. She knew enough. She said, “My dad was in Oklahoma for work when McVeigh bombed the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building. I was ten. I spent hours watching it on television, and when he came home, he showed me some of the pictures his team had taken, not of dead children, of course, even though I knew of their deaths, just as I knew he’d taken out many of the really bad photos, but it was still too much. All of it brought about by a misguided madman.
“I was sixteen when Nine-Eleven happened.” Her voice rose, and she smacked the dashboard with her closed fist. “These sons-of-bitches and their bombs and attacks, it still makes me so mad I knew if I had them in front of me, I’d blow off their worthless heads.” She sucked in her breath, knew her blood pressure had spiked to the stratosphere. “Sorry, but it really pisses me off. Unlike you, I haven’t ever been in the middle of it, but I’ve seen enough.”
“Is this why you became a copper?”