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“No hair dryer,” said Casey as she filled the larger bag with their dive equipment, weighted it down with a couple of items from the garage, dropped it into the water, and watched it sink out of view. “Dry suits may keep you bone dry, but the hoods are hell on your hair. Just run your fingers through it. You’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say,” responded Cooper as Casey searched for a place to hide the smaller dry bag. “You always look great.” In addition to being the most serious member of the team, Alex Cooper seemed to be the most critical of her own good looks.

The tarp for the Riva had been set in the corner of the garage, and Casey decided to hide the bag underneath. It contained everything the two women would need for their exfiltration: two masks, two waterproof, red-lens flashlights, and small “spare air” supplemental oxygen bottles with built-in mouthpieces for each of them. There were also restraints and a “spare air” bottle for Bianchi.

The plan was to get him back to this point, get him restrained, and get him into the water as quickly as possible. Once they had him below the surface, they would retrieve the rest of their gear, fire up their scooters, and get out of there as quickly as possible.

Casey pushed her tiny earpiece transmitter into her ear. It was about the size of a pencil eraser, and once it was in place it was virtually impossible to detect.

They tested the signal strength between them, and then outside to Rhodes and Ericsson. Satisfied that everything was ready, Casey smoothed over her rather revealing cocktail dress and said, “Okay ladies, it’s showtime.”

CHAPTER 4

Smiling, their arms interlinked, Gretchen and Alex walked into Nino Bianchi’s extravagant party.

The only thing that outshone the richly decorated palazzo was the richly decorated guests. Fit and tanned, they wore bespoke tuxedos, designer dresses, and tens of millions of dollars’ worth of jewelry. Neither Casey nor Cooper had ever seen this many good-looking people in one room before. It looked like a casting call for some high-end European soap opera.

“Let’s get something to drink,” said Casey as she steered her teammate toward a white-jacketed server carrying a silver tray with long-stemmed champagne flutes.

Drinks in hand, they wandered the ground-floor reception area, admiring Bianchi’s collection of Renaissance art. He had a lot of obvious security at the party.

“Where do you think he is?” asked Cooper.

Casey continued to admire the art. “Don’t worry. He’ll find us.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

Casey smiled. “You worry too much, Lex.”

“I’m a pragmatist.”

Casey laughed and took a sip of her champagne. “I’ve got another word for it, but as long as you keep smiling and pretend you’re having a good time, I don’t care what you call it.”

“So I’m a planner,” replied Cooper, making sure she kept smiling. “I like when things go according to plan.”

“And how’s that been working out for you?”

“Are you making this personal?”

Casey winked at her. “Don’t you go losing that smile on me.”

“I’m not like Jules and Megan. I don’t just walk into a bar and five minutes later walk out with some guy.”

“We can hear you, you know,” said Ericsson over their earpieces.

“Yeah,” added Rhodes. “And what do you mean by walk out with some guy?”

“Let’s keep the net clear,” ordered Casey, before turning her attention back to Cooper. “All I can say, Alex, is that life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.”

“That’s pithy. Did you come up with that one yourself?”

“It doesn’t matter. I just think that if you loosened up a bit, smiled a bit more, you’d find more men being drawn to you.”

“There are plenty of men drawn to me,” Cooper responded.

“What is it now? Six months since you were last on a date?”

“We’ve been downrange for a lot of that time.”

Pointing at a statue and broadening her smile, Casey said, “Not for all of it.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t exactly want to swap dating advice with you, chief.”

Casey rolled her eyes. “You, too? Why does everyone think I’m sleeping with him?”

It was Cooper’s turn to laugh, and this time it was genuine. “You can’t hide what’s going on between you two.”

“There’s nothing to hide, because there’s nothing going on,” Casey insisted.

Cooper held up her hand. “Hey, I didn’t ask, so don’t feel like you’ve gotta tell. Okay?”

“Rob Hutton is our superior officer. I am not sleeping with him. Besides, the man’s married. What kind of woman do you think I am?”

“Whatever you say.”

Casey shook her head. “You’re amazing. All of you. A man and a woman can’t be friends?”

“Nope.”

Casey rolled her eyes again. “There’s nothing going on between us.”

Cooper stared at her for several moments. Finally, she stated, “You’re such a liar.”

Casey’s cheeks flushed.

“See. You’re turning red,” Cooper said with a smile. “There is something going on between you two.”

“I’m turning red out of frustration. How’s a girl supposed to defend herself against an accusation like that?”

“Just tell me it’s not true.”

“I did,” insisted Casey.

“Tell me again.”

“Fine. It’s not true.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Casey shook her head but never lost her smile.

“My face is starting to hurt,” said Cooper. “Can we drop the fake smiles for a few minutes?”

“Nope. You catch more flies with honey.”

“You really believe men care either way?”

“They care,” said Casey. “Believe me. It’s like turning on a magnet. If you’re smiling and having a good time, men find you much more approachable. But if you stand around looking like a you-know-what, all you’re going to attract are jerks.”

Cooper was silent for a moment.

Casey looked at her. “Don’t tell me that’s some serious revelation for you?”

Cooper brushed it off. “I knew that.”

It was once again Casey’s turn to laugh. “Now who’s lying?”

Before Cooper could respond, she caught a glimpse of someone off to her right. “Contact. Three o’clock.”

Casey stole a casual glance in Bianchi’s direction. He was working the room, meeting and greeting his guests. At the moment he was talking to an aristocratic-looking older couple.

“What should we do?” asked Cooper.

“Nothing,” replied Casey. “Just stand here, look pretty, and smile. And it wouldn’t hurt if you turned a little bit more to the side so he can see your tits.”

Cooper’s eyes widened in surprise.

Casey put on her biggest, brightest smile and said, “I had no idea what a basket case you were until now. Can you at least pretend you know how to be sexy?”

“I don’t need to pretend. I’m just not as overt.”

“Which is why you haven’t been on a date in six months,” chimed in Ericsson.

“And can’t get a guy out of a bar in five hours, much less five minutes,” added Rhodes.

“Quiet,” ordered Casey. “He’s spotted us.”

CHAPTER 5


WASHINGTON, D.C.


Is this your first time in the tank?” asked Jack Walsh as they approached the outer door of the Pentagon’s ultrasecure conference room.

Leslie Paxton straightened her jacket and took a deep breath. “Yup. My first time in front of the Joint Chiefs as well.”

“If it helps put you at ease, you’ll only be meeting with the chairman and his assistant, the director of the Joint Staff.”

“For my first national security emergency, I was expecting a larger audience.”

“Don’t worry about the size of the audience,” said Walsh. “Just answer their questions as best you can. I’ll handle everything else.”

Leslie was the director of the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, better known by its acronym, DARPA, a research agency under the Department of Defense. She had worked as a senior scientist at NASA and as vice president for technology and advanced development at the Loral Corporation before being tapped for her current position. She was a tall, thin woman with long blond hair and a genius intellect.

Her agency’s focus was on generating revolutionary capabilities in order to surprise America’s enemies and to prevent them from surprising the United States. Whether it was artificial intelligence or space-based predator-style drones, DARPA was referred to at DoD as the “technological engine” that drove its radical innovation.

It was a small organization that eschewed hierarchy and government bureaucracy and prided itself on flexibility. Its eclectic staff was made up of the best researchers, thinkers, and scientists from government, universities, private industry, and even the public at large. Disciplines were just as wide-ranging, focusing on both theoretical and experimental strength.

Very little of DARPA’s research was ever performed in government labs-that was for only the most sensitive and promising activities. Most researchers worked in private or in university laboratories, which was why DARPA liked to characterize itself as “one hundred geniuses connected by a travel agent.”

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