Getting old stank.

Scanlon filled a cup with steaming java as the next aviator in a green flight suit streamed into the room on the television. "That's Tech Sergeant Mason 'Smooth' Randolph. He's all about finesse on the ground and in the air."

Don mentally scanned the files he'd read. The flight engineer also pulled gunner and loadmaster duties. These dark ops test aviators could fly anything, anywhere, even swapping out positions without hesitation. Of course, working in the test world meant being able to fly a new aircraft or an old one with cutting-edge modifications and write the manual-if the aircraft didn't crash and burn first.

Scanlon gestured with his coffee cup toward the TV screen. "Watch your women around Smooth. He uses that same finesse with the ladies."

Don's eyes shot straight to Paulina, who was adjusting the volume on the telecomm monitor. d.a.m.n, her a.s.s looked great in those pencil-thin skirts, and it appeared the young sergeant had noticed, too, as she walked back out the door. Don frowned as Scanlon continued.

"Lastly, Deluca brought in the expertise of Captain David 'Ice' Berg. His a.n.a.lytical genius is invaluable in synthesizing data."

"A navigator, right?"

"That's what he started out as, then later trained to be a fire control officer. He and Deluca haven't worked together often. He's stepping in for the nav Deluca usually flies with, Chuck Tanaka." Scanlon's face went dark.

Don trod warily. Tanaka's h.e.l.lish experience overseas had rocked the CIA world. Two and a half months ago, Tanaka had been kidnapped in Eastern Europe by a group selling military secrets to the highest bidder. Vince's test unit had been instrumental in breaking up the ring while locating and rescuing Tanaka. But not before the man endured two weeks of torture. "Tanaka's still in the hospital, correct?"

Scanlon topped off his coffee with an overly controlled precision. "He's actually right up the road in Maryland at Malcolm Grow Medical Center at Andrews Air Force Base. Being here in D.C. gives me a chance to check in on him."

Tanaka had a long road ahead of him. No doubt he would spend some time on a shrink's couch. Don's hand dropped to his BlackBerry.

Why couldn't Jayne understand it was guys like Tanaka who suffered from PTSD, not him? So he'd flown combat missions. The stress had been intense at times, but he dealt with it fine on his own. He still was, d.a.m.n it. She was just looking for ways to blame him for the past rather than owning up to her part.

Paulina returned, cutting his thought short as she es corted in Congresswoman Raintree, Congressman Mooney, and two representatives from the NSA. Don settled into his seat along with everyone else, careful to keep his eyes on Paulina's face and nothing else.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. And welcome to our air force contingent in Cleveland. For those of you I haven't met yet, I'm Special Agent Paulina Wilson. Thank you, Colonel Scanlon, for sharing some of your people with us for this operation. We realize how undermanned units are these days and appreciate your help in getting to the root of this terrorist threat."

The T word always sucked the air right out of a room.

The commander wrapped his hands around the handheld device linked to the main computer with Vince's PowerPoint presentation. "We go where we're needed."

She nodded.

Was that a hot pink bra peeking from her navy blue jacket when she adjusted her notes on the podium?

Don forced his attention back to her face-okay, her eyes rather than her Angelina Jolie pouty lips.

"I understand you've all read the briefings on our situation in Cleveland and understand the time crunch we're facing in making sure this hearing runs without incident. We've taken every precaution to guard the congressional aides already in Cleveland, but we hope you understand they don't have the clearance to be brought into the loop yet."

Paulina took a step back. "Now I'll turn over the floor to Major Vince Deluca, so he can outline his plans."

Even on the small screen, Vince dwarfed the podium. "Thank you, Agent Wilson. My plan is threefold. We'll start with surveillance prior to the hearing in hopes that we can nip this in the bud, then follow-up observation and protection at Case Western the day of the hearing."

Everyone shifted their attention to the handheld devices in front of them as Vince clicked the first slide, an image of the restored old brick factory where Shay worked. "This smaller community center in Cleveland, Ohio, reaches out to area gang members. Given evidence collected from a murdered teen's apartment, we have reason to believe gang members from this area have connections to international terrorists. And that terrorists outside of the country are using these teens to carry out a plot to set off some kind of explosion during the upcoming congressional hearing."

Don studied the two Congress members heading the hearing. Both appeared stalwart, committed. Congresswoman Raintree had prior service in the army, working with young recruits. Congressman Mooney had a well-known history of incorporating reformed troubled teens into his staff. Kids who'd grown into adults like Vince-who was continuing his brief.

"That evidence shows the teen had a connection to Shay Ba.s.sett, the nurse on staff. Monitoring her is a logical place to start. We need better surveillance in and around the clinic, something my unit is able to provide. We're focusing on the youth group meetings held by the center's activities director and nurse. There's one scheduled for tonight."

The next slide appeared of Shay and Eli, overseeing an immunization line in a cinderblock room. He was proud of his daughter, even if they'd never had a particularly close relationship. The divorce from Jayne right after Shay graduated hadn't helped matters, but there wasn't much he could do to change that now.

Vince thumbed the image control. "For monitoring these meetings, we will employ nanotechnology."

Next slide, a small mechanical . . . insect?

"We use models that look like a b.u.mblebee or spider, with a camera or listening device installed. We can fly it by remote from a control station, sending the bee or spider into a room. We'll have a lot of eyes watching the feed coming in. Our air force team will be on site checking, while also transmitting the images to the FBI and NSA representatives. Any questions so far?"

Vince waited through a string of "No," "Not so far," and "Not yet" before continuing. "If we're lucky enough to narrow our field of suspects, we'll move on to phase two. We employ a military tracker to check cell phone calls. We can do this from the ground, but it's more effective when used in flight. The radar is so precise that it can target a weapon. Civilian monitoring relays what tower the phone is pinging off of, which only offers up a twenty-mile radius. With our new equipment, we can determine exactly where the call is coming from."

Congresswoman Raintree raised a finger. "Why hasn't the military pa.s.sed this along for police use?"

"Excellent question, ma'am. They know about the technology, but like anything that's new, it costs money, lots of money, making it prohibitively expensive for regular law enforcement. We're still in the testing stage but feel confident enough in its safety to use this opportunity for a field test."

Don willed down the frustration, the downright discontent over not being in the middle of what Vince and his fellow aviators created as a regular course of business.

Raintree nodded. "Funds are definitely a concern. It's rea.s.suring to see all of you reaching across territorial issues to blend resources and work together."

"We will be using the PC-6 Pilatus," Vince continued, the slide displaying an inconspicuous small craft that could have been sitting on anyone's private runway. "It's a recent addition to the air force fleet. There's currently a squadron at Hurlburt Field, the home of Air Force Special Operations. We have allocated one from them. It's a single-engine turboprop, very un.o.btrusive, painted to look like a civilian plane. It can be flown by one pilot and one person to man the equipment. I'll be flying with Captain Jimmy Gage, while Captain Dave Berg and Sergeant Mason Randolph monitor data on the ground."

Paulina slid off her gla.s.ses and tapped the tip against her chin. "Tell me more about this plane and what makes it different from, say, a Cessna."

Vince gripped the podium. "Colonel Scanlon, would you like to answer that one?"

Scanlon took the floor. "The plane is designed for utility work, carries interesting sensors airborne, has good cargo s.p.a.ce, and a sweet maneuverability for getting in and out of small s.p.a.ces. The plane itself has already been used in Iraq. We're working from our end to improve the monitoring equipment." He waved for Vince to resume the briefing.

"That brings us to phase three, the actual congressional hearing. As you know, Congress doesn't draw a lot of security, just their scaled-down version of the Secret Service. Traditionally, they only get Secret Service protection if one of them is running for president. We're also concerned for the safety of the congressional witness, Shay Ba.s.sett, given the recent deaths at her clinic."

Vince turned toward his navigator. "Berg, how about you explain more about the workings of the nanosensor monitoring capabilities."

Berg steepled his fingers, his low-spoken words the kind that carried far. "There's versatility. We can also park the aircraft and simply use the mounted controls for nano sensors in the plane if we're certain the target will stay stationary."

Congresswoman Raintree gestured with her silver pen. "So the pluses of this method-you'll be virtually undetectable."

"Exactly," Scanlon answered while the other guests listened raptly. "The plane doesn't look dangerous or threatening. It's one of the most innovative additions we've seen added to the inventory. It's cheap and easy to fly."

Paulina shifted in her seat, a hint of pink lace playing hide-and-seek in a way that had Don looking at her more often than he wanted. "And the downside? Because in my experience there's always a downside, Major Deluca."

"Nonexistent defenses."

Congressman Mooney scrubbed a hand along his tanned jaw. "Colonel, what happens, then, if you are detected?"

"Someday-hopefully soon-we'll have radar sensors. We're actively working to make that happen. But for now, the pilot's skills with evasive maneuvers would be the only defense."

Congresswoman Raintree rolled the Cross pen between two fingers. "Do you trust Major Deluca to have those skills?"

"Without question, ma'am," Scanlon answered, no hesitation.

Congressman Mooney exchanged a look with Raintree before she, as the senior Congress member, continued, "We're pleased with what you have in place to protect our safety and the integrity of the congressional hearing. We appreciate the time and resources you're contributing on behalf of this very important piece of legislation."

Paulina stood, pink lace dipping out of sight. "Then we're a go. Major Deluca and his team will carry on in Cleveland and proceed with putting the first nanosensor in place at a teen function scheduled at the center tonight."

Don studied his old student filling the screen and hoped Vince was as good at his job as the squadron commander touted. Because G.o.d help them all if fiery Shay caught him planting that flying nanosensor bug on her home turf without her knowledge.

Shay swatted away a mosquito as she leaned into the trunk of her car to heft out another crate of soda bottles.

This gathering would be a simpler one, given what had happened to Kevin and the student. She pushed herself to move ahead, even when she wanted to shout of her frustration over the senseless deaths. Their murders drove her to bring some kind of peace to this area.

Starting today.

For the most part, the community center staff had found low key worked best for these get-togethers. The important element? Food. These kids poured out for food. Problem was, in the long run, hot dogs and pizza had a tough time competing with crack and X. For now, a buffet and a listening ear were about all she had at her disposal.

And, of course, the local police department came through with an extra car parked conspicuously out front. Anything that brought the East Side Mercenaries and Apocalypse into the same place at once warranted official observation. So far, the rival gangs had kept to a wary standoff throughout the four-hour events.

A huge, freaking accomplishment on the part of the center's staff.

Trying to balance the flat of two-liter colas, she reached to close the hood. A pair of thick, masculine arms came around from behind her and scooped up the drinks. She spun around to find . . .

"Vince?" Shay covered her confusion with bravado. "Holy c.r.a.p, has it been seventeen years already?"

He secured his hold on the sodas, arms bulging in a form-fitting black T-shirt. He smelled of a fresh shower and a scent essentially him. "I'm on vacation. I leave when the wind moves me."

"Where's a good lake effect storm when you need one?"

His deep laugh caught her off guard. "I actually came by to see if you need help setting up. Quit being an ungrateful brat and grab that grocery sack of chips."

She tugged out the blessedly lighter bag, searching his face. What was his real agenda? Because he'd never, ever sought her company without an order from her father. "You actually want to spend more time with me?"

She set her inner lie detector on high sensitivity and waited.

"Like I said, I'm here to help." He looked left, then right, giving her a clear view of the dot on one of his ear-lobes where his piercing had closed. He used to wear a small silver hoop in the old days. "It doesn't appear you're in any position to turn down an extra set of hands."

He had her there. And when it came to these kids, she would do anything for them. Her lie detector didn't catch anything but truth, although no question, he'd only told her a fraction of the story.

"Okay then. Let's put those muscles to work. But I'm warning you, the air conditioner barely works, and those oversized fans are noisy."

She guided him past the outside basketball court where Eli was cursing as he climbed up the post to replace the broken chain net. "That's our activities director and resident basketball champ."

Vince eyed the guy with blond dreadlocks and a sunburn. "I never knew Lake Erie attracted surfers."

"His look appeals to the kids." Sure, she was babbling, but it beat awkward silences. Or talk about her lingerie. "I'm the caterer for these events, and our social worker, Angeline, parks herself inside at the welcome desk where she can rest her feet. Her husband helps, too, if you can call watching ball games on his portable TV chaperoning. Parent volunteers are tough to come by, but luckily we have a few diehards who are willing to pull shifts."

His footsteps echoed behind her, biker boots heavy on concrete. She rushed past the Dumpster toward the back entrance, working like crazy to block out the memory of finding the college volunteer's and Kevin's bodies sprawled and b.l.o.o.d.y.

Once she cleared the door, she could breathe well enough to speak again. "How did you know about these weekly shindigs?"

He pointed toward the billboard on the wall. "I saw your flyer posted when I was in here last time."

Music drifted down the corridor from the DJ running a sound check. "With everything going on-a robbery, two stabbings, and police statements-you can't possibly have had time to read over the clinic's calendar."

"I'm an observant guy who likes to do his civic duty. I wear a uniform, remember?"

Just like the one her dad used to wear.

Her arms clenched tighter around the chips. "Where are you stationed these days?"

"Nellis Air Force Base outside of Las Vegas."

"What happens in Vegas . . ." She forced her grip to slacken before she turned the snacks to crumbs. "Vince, let's quit with this polite chitchat. I've got enough on my mind with a murderer running around on the loose. Straight up, why are you really here?"

"Can't get anything past you, can I?" He turned sideways to make room for a janitor rolling a stack of chairs. "Your father is worried about you after the murders outside the clinic, so I volunteered to hang with you for a while, check things out, and do some good for the community at the same time."

Her father again?

More likely Vince was making excuses for her dad, based on how he'd defended Don back at her apartment. The men in uniform always did stick together.

And, oh joy, if Vince was half as committed to pleasing her father as he'd been before, she would have a full-time job prying his b.u.t.t out of the center, a problem that would have to wait until after the gathering, since she had her hands full with the normal neighborhood problems. Like kids wanting to kill each other rather than share the same pizza.

She gestured to the line of tables covered in butcher paper. "You can put those over there."

"Shay?" he said, voice carrying even above the roar of the oversized fans.

"The faster we can get these unloaded, the sooner I can make sure n.o.body's slipping something in the drinks."

"Shay," he said again, more insistent this time.

She forced herself to meet his gaze steady on. "Yes?"

"I understand this is your job, but promise me you'll be extra careful."

The intensity of his stare unsettled her. The unrepentant flirt was easier to deal with. "I'm always careful." Sort of.

She busied herself placing the chips at the food station, her gaze skipping away and over to Angeline at the welcome table talking with three new teens.

Her stomach clenched.

The East Street Mercenaries had arrived.

SIX.

Shay checked the pack of Apocalypse members already settled in across the room. They'd noticed the arrival of the three Mercenaries but made no overt moves. The oldest in the pack smirked and looked away. The rest followed suit.

She shifted her attention back to the Mercenaries checking in with Angeline, who was busy keeping track of attendance as best she could. A record of who was where would be important if things went badly here or later in the street.