Identity Crisis

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The CIA agent arched an eyebrow at Ray. “Since when do you send your spinners into the field?”

“Since never. And I’m not going to start now.”

“It isn’t fieldwork, it’s research,” Kristie protested. “At a public event with a bunch of cactus lovers. What could possibly go wrong?”

“We all read Salinger’s file,” Ray reminded her. “The guy’s a pervert. He’s got a closet as big as my office filled with sex toys! I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

“What file did you read?” Kristie demanded playfully. “They aren’t sex toys. Just costumes.”

“Just costumes? That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

She laughed. “So he makes his girlfriends dress up for him. I’ll bet rich guys do that all the time. Poor guys, too, for that matter. It’s not perverse. Just healthy fantasizing.”

Ray’s eyes narrowed, and she knew he was picturing the contents of the closet as described in the CIA’s file: harem-girl outfits, mermaid fins, angel wings. And of course, the staples, from leather and metal to silk and satin.

“Salinger’s not going to try anything kinky at a public event,” Jane murmured. “And Kristie’s right about one thing. She’d notice things my operatives might miss. We need to be dead on with this one, Ray. The security of the whole intelligence community depends on it. If she’s willing—”

“I am. It sounds safer than the Laundromat, which is where I usually spend Saturday afternoons.” Kristie flashed a confident smile. “I give you my solemn word I won’t do anything to jeopardize the operation.”

“It’s settled then. Get us your cover story by tomorrow morning and we’ll arrange for this Melissa to be admitted. What’s your preference? Press pass? Fellow cactus lover?”

“Press pass. We’ll say she’s a reporter from Sacramento, flying down to cover the event.”

“Good. You’ll need to use a different last name for her, since you’ve apparently used Daniels before. You can fly out with us Saturday morning. After the show, we’ll debrief you and then send you back, safe and sound.”

“Make arrangements for two,” Ray advised. “I’m going with her.”

“That’s not necessary,” Kristie began, but Jane interrupted them both with a cheerful, “Don’t worry—we don’t let civilians walk around unescorted. She’ll have at least one baby-sitter. Maybe two. I want them to be my people though. It’s been six years since you did any fieldwork, Ray. Let us handle it. I promise we’ll take good care of your girl.”

Kristie grimaced but didn’t say a word until Jane had left the office. Then she turned to Ray and smiled in sincere apology. “Don’t be upset. I’ll be careful. I promise.”

“As Kristie, you’re careful. But as Melissa—” He gave a weary chuckle. “Can you picture her at a garden party? She’s too flamboyant. The whole idea is to blend in.”

“I’m going to put her hair up. And tone down her makeup. She’ll do great. I promise.”

He hesitated, then exhaled in apparent surrender. “Just try not to get yourself killed, okay? I’ve got plans for you.”

“What kind of plans?”

“For one thing—” his demeanor grew tentative “—I’m going to stop taking my problems out on you.”

“Pardon?”

“This is the long-awaited apology, so sit back and enjoy it.”

“Oh.” Kristie gave him a sympathetic smile. “It’s not necessary, Ray.”

“Sure it is.” He hunched toward her, his expression sincere. “The other morning—when I lost my temper with you after you had just saved Lizzie Rodriguez’s life—it wasn’t you I was really mad at.”

“It was Colonel Payton, right?” she guessed. “Because he ordered you to give me a commendation? I’m still mortified about that.”

“You deserved the recognition. But yeah, it was tough to take, coming from him.”

Kristie nodded. “Everyone knows SPIN is your creation. It’s unfair that the president lets that—well, that Neanderthal—interfere with your judgment.”