Page 54 of Dalla's Royal Guards
Debra stood immediately, surprised. The Director of CIA Operations seldom ventured down to her floor. He was either locked in his office upstairs, at closed-door briefings in the White House, or—when he was feeling especially smug—out playing golf with people who wrote the rules the rest of the world was expected to follow.
“Director Kindred,” she greeted, neutral and crisp.
Adam lifted a hand, a subtle motion for her to sit. “Debra.”
She sank back into her chair, one brow arching with curiosity. When he motioned with his fingers, her fingers hovered over the open file on her desk before she closed it and slid it toward him without a word. He picked it up and flipped it open.
The nameMark Hammerstared back at him in bold type above a red-stampedDECEASED.
His gaze flicked up to meet hers.
“Simdan?” he asked.
She nodded. “He and Allison Turnwell.” She gestured toward the second folder neatly waiting beside the first. “Both operatives for Bronislav. Hammer was a mercenary. Turnwell was a bit of a surprise. She worked for MI6. She was also a very accomplished hacker with an interesting history. They were killed trying to abduct Prince Jameel Saif-Ad-Din of Jawahir and a woman named Junebug Rain. Not much is known of Rain—suspiciously so. Same cause of death for Hammer and Turnwell. Not a pleasant way to die.”
Adam opened the second folder. A clean black-and-white of Allison smiled up at him. The background report was brief—deliberately so. Redacted lines interrupted almost every paragraph. MI6 had not been happy about their agent’s moonlighting activities.
“Knife wounds?” he asked, his voice low.
She nodded again, then motioned to the third file at the edge of her desk. “And if you’re here, I assume you’re interested in Bronislav, too. Another knife wound, only from his own blade. It wasn’t self-inflicted.”
His eyes moved to the folder labeledAndrius Bronislav.Before he could reach for it, Debra leaned back and folded her arms, her tone dry. “Want the whole stack while you’re at it?”
She motioned to the small but tidy pile of files sitting off to the left, the stack she had quietly built over the last few years—pieces of a puzzle no one wanted her solving.
Adam’s lips pressed into a thin line. Without a word, he reached out, gathered the entire stack, and placed it neatly on top of the ones she had already pulled.
Debra watched as he shuffled through the pile, his expression growing more concerned when he noticed some names attached to the folders—including Cosmos Raines and Tansy Bell. Her expression changed from curious to disapproving when he re-stacked the pile and rose with it in his hands.
Debra’s chair scraped softly against the chair mat under her as she stood, her frown deepening when she realized he wasn’t going to return the files.
“Director… I’ve spent a considerable amount of time investigating the information you have there. I would like to know what in the hell is going on.”
He didn’t meet her eyes.
“You’re to drop it,” he said instead, his tone clipped. “The case is closed. That’s an order, Debra. Drop your investigation.”
Her jaw dropped. “Closed? You expect me to drop everything I’ve uncovered? Adam, I’m close to finding out what is going on. There are too many unanswered questions. Too many inconsistencies to ignore what has been happening for… for decades, maybe longer!”
Adam shook his head. “Some questions should never be answered.”
He paused at the door, hand on the knob. His voice dropped, almost too soft to hear.
“For your own safety, Debra… let it go.”
Before she could respond, he opened the door and walked out, the echo of the latch clicking shut behind him louder than it should’ve been.
She stood frozen; her heart pounding. It was rare for Kindred to get involved in fieldwork. Rarer still for him to show fear. But that’s what she’d seen in his eyes.
Fear.
Debra pushed through her bewilderment and slowly lowered herself back into her chair. Her fingers trembled slightly as they reached for the drawer beneath her desk. She slid it open and pulled out a plain file with a simple, penned label.
OPERATION REBIRTH
She opened it.
Her breath caught as her eyes landed on the first page—four names, printed in black ink:
