Pawn. Carla Cassidy

special equipment to scan containers for radioactive materials,” he continued. “Unfortunately the equipment is exorbitantly expensive and Stingray Wharf hasn’t gotten it yet.

      “The way the system works there is, shipping containers are removed from incoming ships and placed in a holding area. They are inspected and cleared only as they leave the holding area on trucks. That’s what makes the system ripe for a breach. Many of those containers remain uninspected for months.”

      “Certainly unsettling, but I still don’t see what you people want from me?”

      Once again his gaze was intent as he stared at her.

      “This is what we want from you. We want you to go to Stingray Wharf and get into those containers in the holding area and check the contents.”

      Lynn sat back in the chair and stared at him in disbelief. “Is this some kind of a bad joke?”

      “Trust me. There is nothing funny about any of this. A dirty bomb would not only affect the immediate area around the wharf, but could have devastating consequences to the entire state.”

      “I understand that,” she replied. “What I don’t understand is why you people can’t just go in and check the containers, find the dirty bomb.”

      “There are several reasons we can’t do that,” Blake said. “First of all, the security at the dock is provided by a private agency. While the agency and its workers were given initial security clearances, we’d need to do a more thorough security investigation before bringing them in on this. We simply don’t have the time.”

      He picked up his pencil and tapped the eraser on the desk. “Secondly, it’s imperative that the public doesn’t get word of the potential devastation that could take place. We can’t control the people who work for that agency. Equally as important is the potential for awkward diplomacy issues. The containers that come into the port come from all over the world. If we just go in and start ripping them open we could create all kinds of diplomatic nightmares.

      He threw the pencil down, leaned back in his chair and eyed her intently “Trust me, we have considered all options for maximum success and minimal damage. We believe the best way to proceed for the least amount of collateral and diplomatic damage is for somebody to get in and out of those containers and check them with a handheld radiation detector.”

      “Okay, but why me? Why not get somebody from Miami? I’m sure you have agents down there.”

      For the first time since she’d arrived he smiled, a cold, bloodless gesture that did nothing to assure her. “We don’t have an agent on our payroll who is as good as you at breaking and entering, picking locks and evading capture. Nobody in our employ has your particular skills, your unnatural speed and agility, your acute sense of hearing and other talents.”

      Although it shouldn’t surprise her, it did, that they knew so much about her. “So, the skills I used to commit the crimes that could see me in prison for years you now want to exploit in the name of national security,” she asked incredulously.

      His smile broadened. “Exactly.”

      “And if I’m still not interested?”

      The smile dropped from his face as if it had only been a desert mirage. “Then we’ll pursue other means in order to make sure that you’re cooperative.”

      Thoughts flew through her head. She could run. She could pack up and disappear, leave her life behind. She could take a new name and hide, but her life as she knew it would be over.

      She’d have to leave her home, her business, leave behind the women who had become so important to her and never again contact the two sisters she had only recently discovered. What kind of a life would that be?

      None at all. The only real option she had was to give them what they wanted.

      “All we’re asking for is a week, two at the most. Our intelligence has been pretty specific as to the dates. Two weeks out of your life, then we’re out of yours,” he said. “I’ll even see to it that the pending charges against you are dropped and your record is expunged.”

      “I’ve heard that before,” she said dryly. She sighed. She’d do it, only because they’d left her no real choice in the matter. “So, what are the details? How is this going to work?”

      “You leave here day after tomorrow. If the chatter we’ve picked up on is true, then we think the bomb will come into the country within the next week in order for them to hit by the end of the month or the first of October.

      “We’ll spend the next two days briefing you on the specifics and making sure you’re up to speed. An apartment near the docks has been rented for you—you’ll stay there during the day and work at night. You’ll have a contact working as closely with you as possible.”

      Her head spun as he went through the details. “I want Special Agent Nick Barnes to be my contact.”

      A frown etched across his large forehead. “I’m not sure that’s possible.”

      “You make it possible,” she replied with a note of finality. If she had to do this, she wanted somebody she trusted in her corner.

      Despite the fact that she’d been bitterly disappointed that Nick hadn’t shown up at her apartment because he’d wanted to see her, but rather because he’d been ordered to gain her cooperation, she trusted him as she trusted nobody else on the face of the earth.

      “You’re obviously a man who makes things happen, Mr. Blake. You make this happen for me. If I’m going to do this for you, then I want Nick Barnes as my contact.”

      “I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t make any promises.” He reached into the top desk drawer and pulled out a manila folder. “Inside here are aerial maps of the Stingray Wharf area and the holding enclosure. Study them, memorize them. Your life might depend on knowing the information.”

      “I’m hunting for a bomb, I’d say the least of my problem is knowing the area,” she said.

      “On the contrary, getting into the holding area will be as dangerous as finding the bomb. There will be armed men and trained dogs guarding the area. Neither look kindly on trespassers.”

      Dogs. Lynn fought a shiver that threatened to walk up her spine. She was terrified of dogs, a fear that had found its birth when a friend of Jonas’s had come visiting with his poodle. The poodle had bitten Lynn on the ankle. She’d rather face a gun than deal with a dog.

      It was only then that she realized exactly what they were asking her to do. “Trespassers? Then I’m guessing this search I’ll be conducting isn’t legal?”

      Mr. Blake frowned again and leaned back in his chair as a deep furrow tracked across his broad forehead. “These are dangerous times and there are instances when red tape and the rights of the people interfere with what is best for the country. We are circumventing the first two in order to accomplish the last.”

      “So, what I’m doing is illegal,” she said flatly. How ironic was that? That the government was asking her to do exactly what they threatened to put her in prison for. She was going to break the law with their blessing. The means justified the end.

      His blue eyes were flat, without expression as he looked at her. “Not only that, but if you’re caught, we’ll deny all knowledge of you and your actions. We’ll remind the authorities of the current charges pending against you. We’ll imply that you went back to your old ways, breaking and entering in an effort to steal for personal gain. You’re on your own if you get caught.”

      It was at that moment that Lynn recognized why they needed, why they wanted her. Her background made her an easy patsy should she be caught.

      In the eyes of the FBI, she was completely expendable should she fail.

      It was after six when she headed back to her apartment. Despite the evening hour the heat of the day shot water mirages across the highway.

      She