Person of Interest

To get her mind off the intensity radiating around her, Elizabeth took a moment to survey the room. Richly paneled walls similar to that of the director’s office several floors overhead gave the room a feeling of warmth. Royal blue commercial-grade carpet covered the floor. The array of flags surrounding the CIA emblem on the rear wall and the numerous plaques that lined the other three lent an air of importance to the environment. This was a place where discussions of national significance took place. She should feel honored to be here. Whatever she could do for the CIA was the least she could do for her country, she reminded herself.

Elizabeth clasped her hands atop the conference table, squared her shoulders and produced a smile for Director Calder. “Why did you need to see me, Director?” Someone had to break the ice. Neither of the gentlemen appeared prepared to dive in. Another oddity. What could either of these men, who possessed the power to start wars, fear from her?

Calder glanced at Allen then manufactured a smile of his own. “Elizabeth, I think you understand how important the Operations Directorate is here at the CIA.”

She nodded. Though she actually knew little about the Operations Directorate, she did comprehend that the field operatives who risked their lives in positions deep undercover and generally in foreign countries came from that division.

“The men and women who make up the ranks of our field operatives are the very tip of the spear this agency represents,” he went on, verifying her assumption. “They are the forerunners. The ones who provide us with the data that averts disaster. They risk more than anyone else.”

Again she nodded her understanding. The knot in her stomach twisted as she considered why he felt the need to tediously prepare her for whatever it was he really wanted to say. Every instinct warned that things were not as they should be.

“During the past two and a half years we’ve counted on you more than a dozen times to provide a means of escape for our operatives. Your skill at creating new faces has allowed these men and women to avoid the enemy’s vengeance while maintaining their careers. Without your help, a number of those operatives would certainly have lost their lives.”

“There are other surgeons in your field,” Allen interjected with a show of his palms for emphasis. “But not one in this country is as skilled as you.”

Elizabeth blushed. She hated that she did that but there was no stopping it. She’d never taken compliments well. Though she worked hard and recognized that she deserved some amount of praise, it was simply a physical reaction over which she had no control. Her professional life was the one place where she suffered no doubts in regards to her competence. If only she could harness some of that confidence for her personal life.

“I appreciate your saying so, Director Allen,” she offered, “but I can’t take full credit. My ability with the scalpel is a gift from God.” She meant those words with all that made her who she was. A God complex was something she’d never had to wrestle with as so many of her colleagues did. She made it a point to remind her residents of that all important fact as well. Confidence was a good thing, arrogance was not.

Director Calder braced his hands on the table in front of him and drew her attention back to him, “That’s part of the attitude that we hope will allow you to see the need for what we’re about to ask of you, Elizabeth.”

She didn’t doubt her ability to handle whatever he asked of her. In that vein, she dismissed the uneasiness and lifted her chin in defiance of her own lingering uncertainty. There was only one way to cut to the chase here—be direct. “What is it you need, Director Calder. I’ve never turned you down before. Is there some reason you feel this time will be different?”

Two and a half years ago the CIA had, after noting her work in the field of restorative facial surgery, approached her. They needed her and she had gladly accepted the challenge. She would not change that course now.

“We are aware of the relationship you maintained with Agent Maddox,” Allen broached, answering before Calder could or maybe because he didn’t want to bring up the sensitive subject. “I believe the two of you were…intimate for more than a year before his death.”

The oxygen in Elizabeth’s lungs evacuated without further ado. She swallowed hard, sucked in a necessary breath and told her heart to calm. “That’s correct.” To say she was surprised by the subject would be a vast understatement. But, within this realm, there was no room for deception or hedging. Those traits were best utilized in the field. And the fact of the matter was Elizabeth had never been very good at lying. She was an open book. Subterfuge and confrontation were two of her least favorite strategies.

Just another reason she had no life. Real life, emotionally speaking, was too difficult. If she kept to herself, she wasn’t likely to run into any problems.

But you’re about to change that attitude, a little voice reminded. She had made up her mind to dive back into a social life…to take a few risks.

If only she could remember that mantra.

Director Calder picked up the conversation again, “Three months before his death Agent Maddox was involved in a mission that garnered this Agency critical information. He was, fortunately, able to complete the mission with his cover intact.”

Elizabeth imagined that maintaining the validity of a cover would be crucial for future use. She nodded her understanding, prompting him to carry on.

“Though the group he infiltrated at the time was effectively eliminated, two members have moved into another arena which has created great concern for this agency.”

Outright apprehension reared its ugly head. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.” She did fully comprehend that there were certain elements she would not be told due to their classification, but she had to know more than this. Tap dancing around the issue wasn’t going to assuage her uneasiness.

“The two subjects involved have relocated their operation here. On our soil,” Allen clarified. “They have an agenda that we are not at liberty to disclose, but they must be stopped at all costs.”

Elizabeth divided a look between the two men. Both wore poker faces, giving away nothing except determination. She hated to say anything that would make her look utterly stupid but her conclusion was simple. “If you know they’re here, why don’t you just arrest them or…or eliminate them.”

Made sense to her. But then she was only a doctor, not a spy or an assassin. She felt certain they had some legitimate reason for taking a less direct route to accomplish their ultimate goal, though she couldn’t begin to fathom what the motivation could possibly be.

“I wish it were that simple,” Calder told her thoughtfully. “Stopping the men they’ve sent won’t be enough. We have to know how they’re getting their information to ensure the threat is eliminated completely. Otherwise the root cause of the situation will simply continue generating additional obstacles.”

Now she got it. “You need these two members of the group David infiltrated to lead you to their source,” she suggested. She’d seen a crime drama or two in her life.

“Exactly,” Allen confirmed. “If we don’t find the source, they’ll just keep sending out more assassins.”

Assassins. That meant targets.

“How does this involve me?” Her heart rate kicked into overdrive. She moistened her lips as the silence stretched out another ten seconds. This could not be good.

Director Calder turned more fully toward her, fixing her with a solemn gaze that reflected nearly as much desperation as it did determination. “In order to infiltrate this group we need someone with whom they’ll feel comfortable. Someone familiar. We have an agent prepared to take the risk and infiltrate the group, but we need to make a few alterations.”

Her head moved up and down in acknowledgement. She was on the same page now. “You want me to give him a different appearance? A new face?” That’s what she usually did. No big deal. But why all the beating around the proverbial bush?

“Correct,” Calder allowed. “But just any face won’t work. We’ll be requesting a specific look.”

“Someone these assassins know, feel comfortable with,” she echoed his earlier words.

“Precisely,” Allen agreed enthusiastically. “This part is crucial to the success of the mission. If the targets think for even a second that our man isn’t who he says he is they’ll kill him without hesitation. There is no margin for error whatsoever, Dr. Cameron. That’s why your help is critical.”

She looked expectantly from Calder to Allen and back. “What is it you need, exactly?” she asked, focusing her attention on Allen since he loved to throw around those extreme adverbs. The requirements sounded simple enough.

“What we need,” Allen told her bluntly, “is David Maddox.”

Her breath trapped in her throat and shock claimed her expression. She didn’t need a mirror, she felt her face pinch in horrified disbelief. Her fingers fisted to fight back the old hurt. “David is dead,” she replied with just as much bluntness as he’d issued the requirement. What was this man thinking?

Calder reached across the table and put his hand on hers. Echoes of the anguish she’d felt two months ago reverberated through her. “I know this is difficult, Elizabeth. You must believe that we wouldn’t ask if there was any other way.”

He was serious.

“Oh my God.” She drew away from his comforting touch. Shook her head to clear it. This was too much. “How can you ask me this?”

“Dr. Cameron, there is no other option,” Allen said flatly, his tone far cooler than before but his eyes reflected the desperation she’d already seen in Calder’s. “We need David Maddox, but as you pointed out, he is dead. So we need a stand-in. We need you to do what you do best and give our agent David Maddox’s face.”

Tears stung her eyes, emotion clogged her throat, but somehow she managed to say the only thing she could. “I can’t do that.”

Director Calder leveled a steady gaze on hers. “I’m afraid my colleague is right, there is no other option, Elizabeth.”

Chapter Three

Joe Hennessey waited with Craig Dawson in the corridor outside the conference room. He didn’t have to be in the room or even watch the proceedings to know that Elizabeth Cameron would not like the idea. Not that he could blame her if he looked at it from her position but there were things she didn’t know…would never know.

“She’ll be okay with this,” Dawson said quietly as if reading his mind.

Hennessey shrugged one shoulder. “She’s your asset, you should know.” His indifference might seem cold, but he had serious doubts where this whole operation was concerned. What the hell? He had a reputation for being cold and ruthless.

Dawson cut him a look that left no room for further discussion. He had faith in the woman even if he didn’t have any in Hennessey.

Though Hennessey hadn’t known David Maddox particularly well, he had met the woman in his life once. And once had been enough. Elizabeth Cameron had cool down to a science. Maybe she was hot between the sheets, but in Hennessey’s estimation, a woman that reserved and uptight usually thought too much. Good, hot sex was definitely no thinking matter. It either was or it wasn’t.