Hot Pursuit by Christina Skye Page A

Is that clear enough, sailor?”
    Jack didn’t move. “Yes, sir.”
    â€œIt had better be. You won’t get a second chance.” The file closed with a snap. “Dismissed. Report to the lab for a toxicology briefing. We just got data on a newly weaponized form of ricin hitting the streets.”
    â€œAir or water dispersed, sir?”
    â€œAir.”
    Inhalant; the worst kind. A thousand times more deadly than botulin toxin.
    â€œAye, aye, sir.”
    Jack saluted and strode out, fighting to hold his anger in check. If he hadn’t gone in, Rains would be in a black body bag right now, their one and only existing trail of evidence destroyed irrevocably. Admiral Braden knew that as well as everyone else on this mission. The only thing that kept Jack quiet was the knowledge that Rains’ two Federal handlers had already received far more serious reprimands, followed by immediate transfer.
    Not to Alaska, but somewhere damned close.
    A body loomed up before him. Jack snarled when broad shoulders blocked his way. He started to shove past, but a hand gripped his shoulder. “You have a reception problem, Broussard?”
    Jack relaxed slightly. “Sorry, Izzy. I didn’t see you.”
    â€œYou didn’t see anyone, ace. Was Braden that bad?”
    Jack gave a dry laugh. “You don’t want to know.”
    Izzy’s dark features tightened in annoyance. He dropped some coins into the coffee machine and watched a cup fill with tepid liquid. “I suppose he’d prefer that you let Rains take a bullet?”
    â€œThe alternatives didn’t come up. But there was some discussion as to whether I had psychic abilities for predicting the robbery when it hadn’t happened yet.”
    â€œOuch.” Izzy passed Jack the cup of coffee. From experience, they both knew the drink would resemble dishwater.
    Jack studied the cup, frowning. “I shouldn’t have gone in, not without clear sign of danger.”
    Izzy said nothing.
    â€œI could have blown the whole mission.”
    Izzy stared back, still silent.
    â€œMission directives,” Jack said tightly. “Discretion. By the book.”
    Izzy crossed his arms. “Discretion, hell. You exercised the judgment you’ve trained night and day to develop and you made a hard call. It’s what they
pay
you to do, damn it.” He bought a cup for himself and then stood, coffee forgotten, glaring down the corridor. “You want to know about the first man you took down? According to my search, he had priors in six other states, three of them for armed robbery. Currently he has outstanding warrants in California and Arizona. The man you shot at the window? His specialty happens to be late-night assaults and taking hostages. He’s been locked up four times before, but this time some lunatic let him out on parole. The fact is, all of those guys were highly dangerous, Broussard. You and I know that. So does Admiral Stiff-Ass Braden.”
    Jack gave a crooked grin. “Anytime you want to argue my case, I’ll sign you on.” He stared at the coffee, his smile fading. “But this time Braden’s right. I should have found some other way.”
    â€œSometimes there
isn’t
another way. Let me tell you about a man I used to know.” Izzy moved to the only window, framing flat fields and cold sky. “He was doing his job, minding his own business when he saw a truck pass. He followed because something about that truck didn’t feel right, and a few miles down the road he saw a man being dragged out of the back.” A muscle moved at Izzy’s jaw. “Then five other men appeared. They took out ropes. They were getting ready to nail the man to a wooden wall, and no one who saw them was going to lift a hand to stop it.”
    Jack felt something twist at his gut. He’d seen the scars on Izzy’s wrists, the old slashes of knives and deep rope burns. Izzy never