LITMIR.BIZ

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for this promotion, your own newsmagazine, and yet you’re always in my office wanting me to send you back into the field.”

      She knew what he was saying. Understood that she wasn’t fulfilling the commitment she’d made to Ty and the network when she’d said she’d take the anchor position. But anchoring just wasn’t as exciting as she’d thought it would be, she craved the adrenaline rush that being in the field gave her. She missed the excitement and camaraderie of waiting at the assignment desk to see what kind of story she’d be given. She missed the unpredictability of always doing something new.

      “What did they demand in exchange for the hostages? And who are ‘they,’ by the way?”

      “The terrorists didn’t name themselves. It’s odd—no one knows if they’re Q’rajn, or part of the Kemeni rebels, or some new group. They want a total U.S. pullout from the region in three weeks time.”

      “That’s not even realistic. There’s no way the government will go for that. They don’t bargain with terrorists, anyway.”

      “We know.”

      “Come on, Ty. Let me go down there and see what I can find. I’m the best investigative reporter you have.”

      He rolled his eyes. “Every one of you thinks that. There’s no ego like the investigative reporter ego.”

      She bit her lip, staying quiet. She knew her boss well enough to know that he’d give her a shot if she didn’t push him into a position where it didn’t look as if it were his decision.

      “This has to be the last time you leave the anchor desk. Do you remember your latest contract negotiation, when you lobbied for this job? A show of your own where you could bring cutting-edge stories to the viewers at home?”

      “I didn’t realize that I’d be bringing them stories that other people researched, Tyson. That’s not me. You know it’s not.”

      “I know, Patton. That’s why I cut you some slack usually, but this has to end.”

      She jumped up from her chair. “Of course, when I get back from Berzhaan, I’ll stay put.”

      “I’m going to hold you to that.”

      She nodded, knowing she was going to have make a few changes to make that happen. To be happy with the choices she’d made.

      “I’ve already started working out the details for my trip. I hope to get out of town tonight.”

      “You need to get your shots up-to-date. And don’t tell me they are. I had Anita pull your file before I went to my meeting. You haven’t even had your required yearly physical.”

      “Ty, that’s a waste of time. I’m healthy has a horse.”

      “Whatever. No examination, no Berzhaan. And I’m not budging on this. Immunizations and yearly physicals are mandatory for all staff members going out of the country.”

      Tory added the exam to the growing list in her head of what needed to be done. She hated the time it would take. She needed to contact AA.gov to see if Andrea had been doing anything extra for them while she was in Berzhaan. Now Tory had to focus on a stupid physical. “I’m healthy, Tyson. You know I am. What if they can’t get me in?”

      He reached for his phone and hit the intercom button. “Anita?”

      “Yes, Tyson?”

      “Does Ms. Patton have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon?” Tyson asked. He had a pen and pad of paper in one hand. He passed the pad to her.

      “Yes, sir. With Dr. Waters in twenty minutes. She should leave now if she’s going to be on time.”

      “Thanks, Anita. Do you have the address?”

      Anita rattled it off and Tory wrote it down. She was going to really be pushing it to reach the doctor’s office on time. Tyson disconnected the intercom and raised one eyebrow at her.

      “Thanks, Ty.”

      He nodded. “Bring Andrea back and get the story. We can’t have our competition making us look like idiots.”

      She left his office and went back to her own, grabbing her purse and her cell phone. She saw that she had voice mail, a message from Ben. He sounded tired, and hearing his voice made her miss him.

      She’d seen a photo of him in the Daily Globe with two British heiresses at a polo match. Despite the fact that his family knew they were dating, to the rest of the world, Ben had to appear to be the playboy he’d once been. It was the perfect cover for him. She understood. Knew the job he did was demanding and worthwhile. Her twinge of jealousy at seeing her man wrapped around two tall beauties wasn’t something she should feel—but she did.

      Voice mail wasn’t the same as talking to him. She missed him, and she didn’t like that. She wasn’t used to depending on anyone else and a part of her resented the way she felt about Ben. The hold he had over her emotions unsettled her, because it was something she couldn’t control.

      But she didn’t have time to think about Ben or their relationship. She had a meaty story to sink her teeth into. This story was going to be the kind of challenge she’d been longing for, after sitting behind the anchor desk and interviewing politicians and heads of state.

      Russ Dorn felt alive for the first time since he’d received the news that his only son, Private First-Class Thomas Russell Dorn, had been killed in the line of duty in Berzhaan. The terrible weight that had pressed down on him every day, as he’d sat in front of his computer reading the newswire stories about the continuing effort to bring peace to an area that didn’t want it and the climbing death toll, had fed his own anger and need to do something.

      In an Internet chatroom he’d found other likeminded individuals who had also lost children in the Middle East. They’d formed a loosely organized group, at first to support one another. Over time, it had grown into an action group. Their mission was to prevent other parents from having to experience what they did.

      They’d been to Washington, D.C., too many times and had come away frustrated. The death toll from the Middle East action continued to rise, and the grief of the parents continued to grow. Nothing short of serious action would stop the deaths.

      The door opened and Larry Maxwell walked in wearing desert camouflage and an AK-47 slung over his shoulder.

      “The package has been acquired,” Dorn said. “We’re set to meet the rest of the team in-country.”

      “Berzhaan. Damn. I never thought I’d leave the U.S.A. again,” Larry answered. “Well, this place looks good. We’ve got to move if we’re going to make our rendezvous. My plane’s waiting.”

      Larry had more money than God. He’d arranged the difficult parts of their transport, namely, getting in and out of countries with the hostages.

      “Just wanted to be sure we had everything ready before we brought ’em here.”

      “This place is just as you said.”

      This place was empty, much like his life had become. Russ remembered that when Betty had been alive it had been a comfortable retreat. Not anymore.

      Larry nodded. Both men walked through the room one more time before stepping outside. The desert was hot and dusty, different from places where he’d seen action when he’d been in the military years before. The desert terrain didn’t even come close to resembling the jungles of Southeast Asia, but being with these other men and functioning together as a unit brought that memory into focus.

      He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the small hunting shack that he’d had on his property for more years than he could count. Larry went around back to double-check that area, and Russ fought against memories of the first time he’d brought Tommy out here. Damn. Sometimes he could still see his son on the ramshackle front porch, leaning against the beam and watching the sun rise over the great expanse of desert.

      Betty

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