Force of Fire (The Kane Legacy) Read Online Free PDF Page B

censor’s watchful
eye.
    It was an unimpressive granite
building on the east side of the Potomac, motion-detecting cameras swiveling
above every door. On Family Day, when significant others of the workforce were
allowed to 'tour' the facility, non-staff members were summarily confined to
the lobby.
    Mark thanked God he was an
analyst and worked on the seventh floor. The technical shop, which comprised
most of the facility, hailed no windows at all.
    It was a bit restrictive, but
one got used to it, much like sailors ultimately adjust to the confines of a
submarine. Only problem was, at the DOS, there was never any shore leave.
    Mark switched off the light and
pulled the door to, setting it firmly in its casing. It had been years since
he’d gone under cover. Years since his weapon had served as anything more than
a reminder of who he’d once been. He needed to believe
he was still capable, still among the best of the best.
    He opened his billfold and
tucked away his security passcard , wondering vaguely
if he’d have occasion to use it again.

 
    Ana was harshly tossed back
into the cool isolation of the room. The door slammed shut with a resounding
echo and a jingled rustling of keys. Then there was silence, a stilted,
creeping silence that made its way up her spine and nestled in beneath the
bandages covering her eyes. What, in God's name, did all this questioning mean?
    Her abductors hardly believed
her when she insisted she knew nothing of this archivo azul . She wondered what was so sacred about this
'blue file.' Something with such sinister potential, that she, a U.S.
Government contractor, would be kidnapped? And Joe – Oh God. She felt her
legs collapse in a heap below her.
    He had tried to warn her. Had
come to her hotel the very night of her arrival.
    The compromise he’d insisted on
was an alternate route, a less-traveled road along the northwestern mountains.
    She recalled with a shiver the
sharp crackle of gunfire dissecting the jungle air, the sound of his bulky body
hitting the ground in her wake. There was a dull ache inside, something
resonant yet turbulent. She pushed the tumultuous feelings aside, her thoughts
reeling to her father.
    What in God’s name did he have
to do with any of this? Her father – it just didn’t make sense.
    She tried to envision his face,
see him as the old man he’d been when he’d died. But her memories revolved
around a younger man, lightening streaks of gray just starting to ribbon his
hair. A uniform decorated with meritorious service awards disappearing behind a
closed office door. Two arms too busy with paper work to
embrace the needs of a tender, five-year-old girl.
    Ana drew her legs out from
under her and bent them up to her chest. She rested her sweat-stained brow on
the trembling shelf of her knees and thought hard, the bristly twine still scraping
against her wrists and ankles. Suddenly, something in her mind jogged. The
short man, El Dedo , kept pressing her about the
study, her father's study. His questions were so precise. How could he know,
how would he know the exact location of her father's things? Then it struck her .
 Just last summer, her mother had been burglarized.
The break-in itself had been traumatic, but the invasion of her father’s
private room had broken her mother’s heart. Ana had worried about her mother,
already in her seventies, living alone in that big house, even before the
robbery.
    Afterwards, she had tried to
insist her mother move to some place smaller, more manageable. But her mother
would hear nothing of it. She loved her home of more than thirty years and
intended to stay. She needed the space to accommodate her older daughter, Emalita , and the grandchildren when they came to visit. And
some day, she persisted, Ana would have a family and a
house of her own. Then she would understand why her mother could never leave
this place and its host of happy memories.
    Still, Ana was unable to shake
the feeling her mother was wrong