Read Burned (Vanessa Pierson series Book 2) for Free Online

need you on this response team.”
    She nodded, grateful for his support. She’d been half afraid that her NOC status would preclude her participation on the team. Typically, the CIA dreaded sharing a NOC with any foreign service.
    “Was
today
the work of Bhoot?” the DDO asked.
    “Yes . . .” Vanessa said. But she heard the hesitation in her voice. Even as focused as she was on capturing Bhoot, as much as she wanted to say absolutely that he was behind the attack, she couldn’t ignore her doubts. She knew her tendency toward obsession when it came to Bhoot—she couldn’t let that throw her off track. “But I don’t know for certain.”
    “Yes or you don’t know?”
    “If this is Bhoot’s work, if he’s willing to risk this exposure in order to avenge our attack on Iran, I don’t understand why he didn’t inflict more damage. What’s the payoff for him? It doesn’t make sense to me.”
    Vanessa tapped her bare feet against the Persian rug. She rubbed her palms restlessly against the hips of her jeans. She said, “What can you tell me about their chief of ops—you said his name is Fournier? He’ll head up the team?”
    The DDO straightened his tie; it was already perfect. “Marcel and I brushed shoulders during my time in Paris. He made his way up through the ranks, against the odds. He’s not the usual Sciences Po elite type. He’s tough and he’s smart—and a bit of a cowboy. Butwhen you meet him, don’t let that give you the idea he’ll tolerate free-thinkers on his team—he will not.”
    Vanessa nodded—no way she would let on that she’d already had her first introduction to Marcel Fournier and that it hadn’t gone so well. If the DDO found out, he could pull her from the team.
    A sharp cough from Hays, his signal to interrupt: “Sorry, we have a new link coming in on this call.”
    A face materialized on screen and Vanessa found herself staring at an extremely displeased Allen Jeffreys, deputy national security advisor, his square features and clenched jaw hardened, while the corners of his oddly soft mouth pulled down sharply. Given his position, she wondered how he had ended up on this call, especially at this very early stage of the response . . . it struck her as odd.
    “Sorry to come in late,” he said. “But I’ve been in meetings with the president, who considers this top priority for our resources. But first, I’m sure Phillip has expressed our relief that you’re safe.”
    “Yes, sir, we are,” Jack said. “Thank you.”
    “The president has asked for a briefing from me after this call. How much do we already know?” he asked, and Vanessa could almost swear he was singling her out. He said, “To me, this is probably the doing of your so-called Bhoot. And it seems he went to a hell of a lot of trouble to mess with your operation—and to create Sturm und Drang. Why the hell haven’t we killed that son of a bitch yet?”
    Vanessa stifled her first impulse to take a step back because it almost felt as if Jeffreys had entered the room physically. She could not completely suppress her instinctive dislike of the man. “Is that a question?” Vanessa knew she was overstepping boundaries, but she didn’t care.
    Someone inhaled sharply—it might have been Jack.
    Jeffreys’s lower lip on the left side of his mouth curled under and Vanessa actually saw his pupils contract. “I am asking you if youbelieve Bhoot ordered this attack. You were there, it was your operation, I assume you have an opinion that may carry
some
modicum of substance.”
    She took a deep breath, weighing her next words carefully and stalling—praying Chris or the DDO would interrupt. “My sense is that Bhoot is—could be involved but—”
    “Don’t worry, Jeffreys.”
    It was the DDO interjecting, and Vanessa was grateful, relieved even, that he had cut her off.
    She knew as well as anyone that it was highly unusual for someone of Jeffreys’s stature—such an overtly political player—to