Was that a flicker of response?

"Chester isn't talking yet," John went on. "But he will. You know he will. He hasn't got the balls to hold out very long. Especially if they offer him a deal for cooperating. He'll sing like a choir boy and sell you down the river. You know it's true."

"You're lying. You haven't got him." Rodriguez's hand fisted on the table.

There. Now that was the kind of response they were aiming for. They were getting to him at last. Rodriguez was clearly angry.

John was lying, of course. Chester was missing, too.

"Sorry. It's true."

John pulled out his smart phone and flashed a photo of Admiral Chester looking a lot worse for wear, sitting behind bars. Wolf was pretty good with Photoshop and had whipped up the image at John's request.

"How long do you think it'll be before he tells us everything?" John holstered his phone and glanced at Matt. "We've got a bet going around the team. I've got him spilling what he knows around lunchtime." John glanced at the clock. "Doesn't give you a lot of time to get in on the deal before him. If you talk to us, they may go easier on you."

Matt noted the lack of anyone from the legal side of things. They hadn't called anyone from the judge advocate general office-JAG. They wouldn't let a civilian lawyer anywhere near this. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Knowledge of the contagion was something that had to be kept limited. It was beyond top secret. It fell into the world of the blackest of black ops. There would be no showy trial. No mixing with a general prison population for this man.

No, Rodriguez was most likely going so deep in a hole that no one would ever see or hear from him again. He didn't seem to realize it, and that gave them some leverage. For such a book-smart man, Rodriguez was sadly inept when it came to real-world living.

Even now, the scientist was eyeing John as if he was on the verge of talking. Matt watched the telltale hand on the table. It remained clenched.

A loud thump sounded as that beefy fist came down hard on the table. Frustrated anger showed on Rodriguez's face. He'd cracked. Finally.

"Chester was supposed to be on a charter flight out of Dulles Airport. I was to be on another from Fayetteville."

"Destination?" John prompted.

"I don't know. We were just supposed to board the planes, and the rest would be taken care of. We were to rendezvous all together to plan our next step."

"So there's somebody else pulling your strings," John mused aloud. "Who?"

"Oh, no. I won't give that up until I'm certain I have a deal. I want to talk to a lawyer." Rodriguez's hand unclenched, and he sat back in his chair, apparently at ease. He knew he's just pulled the ace from his sleeve. He'd given up Chester, but there was an even bigger fish he could give them.

Maybe the man wasn't as inept as Matt had thought.

"No lawyer, but I'll arrange for you to speak to someone with the authority to give you the guarantees you're looking for." Matt spoke for the first time during this interrogation. John stepped back as Rodriguez's attention was redirected to Matt. "First though, I want details about the flight. Airline. Flight number. Everything you know about it."

Rodriguez seemed to consider his options, then sat forward in his chair again, resting both forearms on the table.

"Praxis Air. Charter from Fayetteville airport. All I had to do was make a call when I felt the operation was in trouble and they'd pick me up anytime, day or night. It was all pre-arranged." Rodriguez's passive expression turned to one of disgust. "I called last night and was in the process of gathering my things when you showed up. I should've left earlier."

"Yes, you should have," Matt agreed. He stood and nodded to John.

John would handle the rest of the interrogation from here. Matt had to act on the information they'd just gotten. It was probably already too late, but they had to at least try to capture Admiral Chester at the airport. Matt would need help on this one. He flipped open his phone as he left the room and strode down the hall.

Once the call was made and MPs from the Washington, D.C., area were on their way to arrest Admiral Chester at Dulles Airport-if he was still there-Matt made another call. This time, he needed Sarah. She was a former cop. Her skills would be needed in dealing with the Fayetteville airport.

She would head the small team tasked with grounding the plane that had been arranged for Rodriguez. He wanted her to question the pilot. Unless that's how Bev had gotten away. In which case, they had to find that plane ASAP.

They also had to trace the arrangements that had been made to keep that charter flight open at Rodriguez's beck and call. There had to be a paper trail on that somewhere. It was a lead that had to be acted on at once.

Matt set the wheels in motion, utilizing the members of his team to the best of their abilities. It had been a long night filled with danger and combat. It looked like it would be an even longer day spent tracking down tangos and paper trails. Thank goodness he had a strong team that could handle all facets of this mission. They'd just gotten a lot closer to their goal of shutting down the bastards who were attempting to sell the zombie contagion technology to the highest bidder.

It would be a good day-no matter how exhausted he was.

"Admiral Chester was apprehended on the tarmac as he attempted to board a charter flight out of Dulles," Sandra reported. She'd taken over on comms that morning to interface with the MPs that had been ordered to catch Chester if at all possible.

Damn, it was good to see her. It had only been a few hours, but he needed his Sandra fix in the worst possible way. Even with everything that was going on, he needed a minute just to touch her hand and smile.

"How are you doing, sweetheart?"

"I'm tired, but otherwise okay. There's too much going on to sleep now." Her bright eyes filled with enthusiasm, reminding him of why he'd come down here. "I figure when this is all over, I might hibernate for a month or two to catch up on all the sleep I'm losing, but it's a small price to pay."

The communications console was set up in what Matt had come to think of as the War Room in their new building. It was the large, open office area that led to his new private office. He had assigned positions around the big, open space to every member of the noncombat portions of the team and had state-of-the-art equipment installed.

The communications console had been the first thing up and running. The monitoring station for all the sensors they'd installed around the base perimeter was located here, too. All information needed by the team filtered through this room, and the boards were always manned, which made it one of the safest places in the new headquarters. A good place for Sandra while he went out to take care of business.

She was probably out of danger now that Rodriguez had been captured, but he wasn't taking any more chances with her safety. She was his now. She'd agreed to be his wife. That was something special. He wouldn't let her come to harm, not while he lived. She would just have to get used to his overprotective nature. He figured they had the next forty years or so to work on that. Thank God.

"So where is Chester now?" he asked, trying to focus on the task at hand.

"The MPs in Washington put him on a plane bound for Fort Bragg. He'll be arriving shortly. Some of our guys are going out to meet the plane and escort him back here."

"Perfect." Matt felt an immense sense of satisfaction. At least they'd managed to get Chester. That was a coup in Matt's book. Now they had to build the case that would sink him for good. Chester couldn't be allowed to wriggle out of this one.

"You haven't heard the best part yet." Sandra's eyes shone with excitement.

"Tell me," Matt smiled; her mood was contagious. Or maybe he just felt this happy sensation anytime he was near her. He'd heard love could do that kind of thing, though he'd never experienced it himself before.

"He had a briefcase full of incriminating documents and a change of clothes in his overnight bag...alongside about a hundred thousand in cash and forged identity papers."

Oh, Matt liked the sound of that. Apparently, Chester had made a big part of their case for them. The admiral wouldn't be going free anytime soon. Not if Matt had anything to say about it.

Their mission at Fort Bragg was nearing completion. With the capture of Rodriguez, there was a good chance they'd effectively ended the zombie problem that had plagued the base for so long. Of course, the threat still existed of the technology being sold to a foreign power. If Rodriguez was to be believed, there was someone else pulling the strings, orchestrating the show from afar.

Matt knew he'd have to track that person down and end this once and for all before his mission was complete. They had a lot of investigative work ahead of them to pick up the trail and find the puppeteer who was running this farce, whoever he or she turned out to be. The immediate danger of zombies at Bragg was probably over, which meant they could, and most likely would, relocate to wherever the clues led.

Matt's mood was one of immense satisfaction, tinged with renewed conviction. He would track down everyone involved in this sinister plot. He'd taken on this mission and had every intention of seeing it through to the end. Only now, he'd be doing so with Sandra by his side.

Something he couldn't have foreseen when he'd first taken on the job, Sandra had become a beautiful complication in his life. One he wouldn't trade for the world. She completed him in the most basic of ways.

He grabbed her and hugged her close, laying a kiss on her that held all his joy and triumph. She returned it with love.

His heart melted all over again. Would he never get enough of this beautiful, sensitive, adventurous woman? She was his match in every way. The perfect mate to his independent spirit. He knew they didn't have time for more and backed away, letting her go by slow degrees.

"Have I told you how much I love you today, Sandy?"

"I believe you just did." She grinned up at him, her eyes still a little dazed from their kiss.

He loved that look. He'd keep it on her face at all times, if he had to spend the rest of his life perfecting the skill.

"Let's blow this popcorn stand. I want to be alone with you."

"Can we do that?" She looked around the room in surprise. "I mean, there's a lot to do."

"Don't I know it. But I think we can steal a few minutes for ourselves. We deserve it. And hell, I'm the boss. RHIP, sweetheart. Rank, most definitely, has its privileges."

He tugged her by the waist, moving her toward the door at the end of the open office area. It led to his new private office. The one with that memorable leather wing chair and the over-stuffed couch.

She gasped when she realized where he was leading her, but didn't protest too loudly.

"Tell me something, doc. Do you make house calls?" He tilted his head and looked speculatively toward the open door to his private domain. "Or in this case, office calls?"

The grin on her face was all the answer he needed, but she leaned in and kissed him for good measure. She then stepped out of his arms to precede him into the room with a slight sway in her hips that was clear invitation.

"You know I do, Commander." The saucy wink she sent him over her shoulder made his heart race in anticipation.

He followed her into the office and kicked the door closed.

They had a lot to do, but it could wait. Loving his woman would come first, last, always...and forever.

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"Hello?"

Katie froze at the sound of the familiar male voice. Then her head whipped around. The main door was open, but the metal security screen was closed and locked. It would be hard for people to see inside and impossible for anyone to break it down, but, oh boy, could she see out.

It couldn't be. It couldn't be. It couldn't be.

She repeated the refrain as she stared at the outline on the other side of the steel screen. Dark hair, broad shoulders, and relaxed stance. She'd know that body anywhere.

That would teach her to want fresh air. If the stifling heat hadn't bothered her, she'd be hiding in the storage closet and ignoring him right about now.

"Can you hear me?" He looked right at her as he said it. Clearly he knew she was there. Could see her, despite the promises in the sales brochure about the door providing protection and privacy. It didn't seem to be doing either at the moment.

With wet hands dripping on the floor beside her sneakers, she stood there. "Uh..."

"Not sure if you can see me." He waved his hand. "We met at the Armstrong-Windsor wedding."

Met? Now there was an interesting word for what they did. "Oh, I know who you are."

"Yeah, I guess so." Eric chuckled in a rich open tone that vibrated down to her feet.

She could hear the amusement in his voice. Figuring out how to take it was the bigger issue. She rubbed her hands on the towel hanging out of the waistband of her khaki shorts and adjusted her white tee to make sure everything that should be covered was. "What are you doing here?"

"I can explain if you'll let me come inside."

Talk about a stupid option. "No."

After a beat of silence, he spoke up. "Really?"

He sounded stunned at the idea of being turned down. Apparently the big, important man didn't like it when people disagreed with him.

That realization was enough to make her brain reboot. While running held some appeal, it wasn't very practical. They lived on an island, after all. And she needed to know how he'd tracked her down. "I mean, why do you want to come in?"

She could see his broad shoulders through the thick safety mesh and the way he balanced his hands on his lean hips. He was a man in control of his surroundings, even though this part of town didn't fit him at all. He wore tailored suits and walked into a fancy high-rise office every day.

Many of the folks in the Kalihi neighborhood never ventured near the expensive restaurants and exclusive communities around the island. This was a working-class area with an increasing crime rate, older and lined with warehouses, a little rough. A place where words like "redevelopment" were thrown around but never brought to fruition. In other words, not the place where one would expect to find Eric Kimura.

"I wanted to talk with you," he explained.

She'd been afraid he would say that. "Okay."

He pressed his face close to the screen. "And people are starting to wonder why I'm screaming into a door, so could we take this inside?"

Last thing she needed was for him to be mugged. She tried to imagine explaining that bit of news to the cops...and to Cara.

"I'm coming." Katie rushed over, jangling the keys in her hand as she tried to find the one for the top deadbolt. "Here we go."

Eric didn't hesitate. The second she opened the screen, he pushed his way in and closed the solid door behind him. The controlling move should have made her nervous. Instead, she was strangely intrigued. Hunting her down took some work. Stepping into this neighborhood at five o'clock, which probably qualified as the middle of his workday, created a bit of mystery. Clearly he wanted to find her. Now he had.

He held out his hand. "Eric Kimura."

She stared at his long fingers before sliding her palm inside his. "Oh."

The corner of his mouth kicked up. "But you knew that, right?"

"Pretty much." The feel of that smooth skin against hers brought a rush of heat to her cheeks. She looked down at their joined hands, wondering at what point long turned to too long and she had to let go. "I watch the news now and then."

"Ah, yes. Not always the most flattering place to pick up information about me, but not a surprise." He frowned as if the notoriety didn't sit all that well with him. "So, do you have a name?"

"I figured you knew it since you tracked me here and all."

"I have my sources but the exact name was tougher."

Yeah, he had something all right. "Katie Long."

"The caterer."