Operation Zulu Redemption: Act of Treason - Part 4 by Ronie Kendig Read Free Book Online Page B

it?”
    “I need her to be with me.”
    Boone pointed to Nuala. “You have her. That’s more than enough.” He went back to work setting up the surveillance equipment.
    Annie met Nuala’s gaze, not surprised to see the flush filling her face. “Sorry,” Annie said. “I didn’t mean to discount you.”
    “Oh, you didn’t,” Nuala said, lifting the D
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sign from the door and putting it on the outside.
    Nuala was beaming. Positively beaming that Boone had noticed and affirmed her. Annie couldn’t help but smile that in the middle of what felt like a crumbling mission and team, there was the innocence of Nuala’s attraction to Boone. At the same time, Annie found it irritating. Lives were at stake.
    But Annie knew what it felt like to be a girl looking up to her handler. That’s how it had started with Trace—her desire to make him proud. Make him notice her.
    With two earpieces, Rusty came toward them. “Okay, we’re ready for you to head out.” He nodded toward the window, where a sheer curtain muted the sunlight. Two large devices were aimed out the window. One was a long-range scope, the other a powerful microphone receiver.
    If finding and meeting with Ballenger had gone simply and effectively last time, they wouldn’t be here in a surreptitious manner or skulking about a gorgeous British tourist hot spot.
    “Remember, we’re not here for anything other than to find him, talk to him, and get information,” Boone said, his expression dark. “Nuala, you got a nose for trouble. You sniff it, bail.”
    The girl breathed in his praise once more, lifting her shoulders and nodding with a thrust of her chin. How could Boone not see this beautiful girl? Of course, his mind was still weighted with the death of the girl he loved.
    Did he love her? Or was it like it was with Trace, where he could get what he wanted then—to borrow Boone’s word—bail?
    Annie hated herself for thinking that. The thought was birthed from her own pain. Her own tragedy. The one she’d carry alone and to her grave. He didn’t need to know. Wouldn’t know.
    “I’ll want a high vantage,” Nuala said. “Down by the pier, I saw some sidewalk cafés that had balconies. I think we’d be able to see the apartment building. Watch for him to come or go.”
    “Good,” Boone said. “Go with it.”
    Impressed with Nuala’s uncanny ability to act natural and scope a place at the same time, Annie made her way down to the lobby with Nuala. When they stepped back onto the bricked path bustling with tourists, Annie hesitated.
    Nuala didn’t—she headed to the right and snapped photos as she went.
    With a hop-step to keep up, Annie chided herself. She was letting herself get distracted with heart matters. Time to get her head in the game. Put her heart on the shelf.
    Nuala had them seated at a wrought-iron table in less than ten minutes, with the narrowest part of the English Channel to their right, which faced France, and the building that housed Ballenger’s flat looming to the left. Cantilevered windows allowed fresh air into the apartments, but also dated the structure. It was older, a throwback to the ’70s with its sleek, harsh lines and lots of steel and glass. They ordered orange marmalade scones and tea. Soaking up the sun was a nice benefit of working a mission, but after a full lunch their skin was turning pink—okay, Annie’s was turning pink. Nuala had this gorgeous, enviable bronze glow that went well with her almost olive complexion.
    “Okay,” Nuala said. “Ballenger’s flat, supposedly, is on the third floor, end closest to the channel.”
    Annie cautiously sipped the steaming tea as she let her gaze hit the spot. And realized a fatal flaw in their plan. From this angle, Boone and Rusty couldn’t see it, right? “The view is blocked,” Annie said, glancing at the apartments, then the water so a passerby would think she was referring to the building.
    “Negative,” Boone said. “We’re