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“Department of Defense,” Seth said.
“I must’ve been in high school.” He peered closer. “Frank Foley?”
“George Hale.” Seth pushed the glasses all the way up the bridge of his nose. “Pleased to meet you.” He clipped the ID on the neck of his T-shirt.
The waitress arrived with their food, and Nate quickly secured Kate’s documents and then clipped his ID onto his flannel shirt. After dinner, they’d do one more recon on one of the offices of Omicron. While it looked like a normal building, filled with consultants and secretaries, Nate had learned that it was actually an operations center for the rogue CIA unit. Most of their operatives had either been fired from the CIA or were professional mercenaries. They worked in secret, and while Nate had discovered several maneuvers that would never have been sanctioned by congress, including two high level assassinations, all he really cared about now was the chemical weapon they’d engineered in Kosovo.
The gas had striking similarities to VX, but with VX there were antidotes. Nothing stopped this new weapon from killing. Death was ugly—the chemical bound itself to the enzyme that transmits signals to the nerves and inhibits them, making them uncontrollable. In the liquid form, the chemical takes an hour to kill, in the gaseous state, minutes.
The truly horrifying thing about it was that Nate knew there was a market for this thing. The Sudan. Nicaragua. Not to mention the Middle East. And that was just off the top of his head. There was money to be made in certain death, and the men behind Omicron had no qualms about raking it in. There was no choice in Nate’s mind. They had to be stopped before even one shipment of the gas was sold.
Halfway through the large breakfast, Seth laid his fork along the side of the plate, took a sip of the coffee and winced. “So how sure are you about this Leland Ingram?”
“Damned sure. I’ve been following him since before my return from the dead. His official title is Project Manager, but I have a feeling he’s more like Omicron’s chief henchman. If we can get inside and pull this off, we should be able to monitor everything they’re doing. We can find out the status of the gas, but, more importantly, we can scope out exactly who’s funding the operation, the man from Washington giving Omicron the go-ahead. There’s no way for us to ever get these bastards unless we know who we’re up against. This surveillance should be a big step forward.”
Seth glanced at his watch. “We’d better finish up and get going.”
Nate nodded, and the two men returned to their food. Minutes later, his plate clean, Seth laid down his fork, drank a little more coffee, and motioned to the waitress.
“You want more coffee?” she asked. Both men shook their heads, and she finished with the check and put it face down between them.
Seth slipped his jacket on, looking once again like another anonymous worker, and stood, picking up the check. He headed for the cashier as Nate donned his own jacket and fished a five out of his pocket. He met Seth outside the front door.
“Go home and get some sleep,” Nate said. “I’ll scope out the security on the building and we’ll connect at Gino’s.”
Seth stretched his neck around and nodded. He, like the rest of the team, wore the stress of their work on his face. “You sure?” he asked. “Another fifteen minutes won’t kill me.”
Nate shook his head. “Nah. One of us should be alert at Gino’s.”
SHE DIDN’T SEE the detective when she left the motel at nine-thirty the next morning, but she was certain he was around somewhere. She’d talked to Nate last night, and he had everything she’d need to start the next life. They would move on the assumption that the police would be watching, so Kate would fill out a job application as a cover. Nate and Seth were going to be doing a little surveillance of their own, and get whatever information on Detective Yarrow they could, primarily to determine if he was on the level.
The most important thing for her was to pick up her new papers. She wasn’t sure how she was going to ditch Yarrow, but she had to have the new ID.
Gino was one of the only people outside their group who understood what had happened in Kosovo, and he’d offered his place as a quasi-command post. All phone calls were taped, and if someone needed help, they’d dial the pizza parlor.
Kate fought another yawn as she battled the traffic on the freeway. Her night had been horrible. Not only had she gotten no work done, she’d gotten virtually no sleep.
She hated lying about not seeing the gangbangers. It went against everything she’d ever stood for. Not just the lying but not stepping forward, not taking a stand for what was right and just. But how could she when doing so would sign the death warrants of the people who had done so much that was right and just? If it had just been her own life…
She’d like to think she’d step forward. That she wouldn’t let herself be intimidated and cowed by punks, even if they were killers.
The night had been filled with struggles. Trying to sleep in the unfamiliar bed. Searching desperately for a way out of her dilemma, and thinking about Detective Yarrow.
The truth was, she respected him, if not his tactics. He believed in what he was doing. His friend had been killed, and he wasn’t going to let anything stand in the way of getting the men who’d done it. Yet he was the worst possible thing that could have happened to her.
She’d stopped asking why she’d been in that suite, at that moment. It was no use questioning fate. How could she have ever guessed that becoming a forensic accountant would lead her into a world of chemical warfare, covert operations and being completely cut off from everyone she’d ever known or loved? Who would have imagined getting caught up in a murder and gang warfare while restocking minibar fridges?
She kept checking the rearview mirror, but she hadn’t had enough spy training. Yarrow could have been two cars behind and she wouldn’t have known it.
Best to just get to Gino’s and let Nate and Seth take over. Maybe they could figure out a way she could stay hidden and still help Yarrow get his killers.
Her mind went back to him again. Mostly his eyes. They were such an interesting color. Not powdery or like clouds…More like blue flame. Or maybe that was just his anger.
Despite his dishevelment, he was a good-looking man. With no wedding ring. That didn’t mean he wasn’t married. If he wasn’t, he surely had a woman, or women. Men like him were chick magnets. Powerful, dangerous, commanding. Oh, yeah, he’d have them, all right. But not for keeps.
She knew his type only too well. Nate, she supposed, was her first exposure to hero wannabees. They’d gone out on a couple of dates when she’d first arrived in Kosovo. He’d been charming and funny, but he wasn’t interested in anything close to a relationship. Not Nate. She’d never have guessed what a true hero he would turn out to be. Shane, on the other hand, was, to quote a phrase, all hat and no cowboy. He’d also been a soldier, but not in the special forces. He’d talked about how tough he was, how he led his men with an iron fist. But he’d really been nothing more than a bully. She’d dumped him as soon as she’d seen his true colors.
She wondered if Yarrow was like Nate or like Shane. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to get to know him at all, nor would she want to. It was far too risky to let anyone in, for any reason. At least now, with Yarrow tailing her, he’d leave Ellen alone.
Her exit was coming up, so she got into the right lane, wondering who she would be this time. There was so much that went into changing identities. She’d have to learn a whole history, put it on like a coat and wear it all the time. She wasn’t sure how they managed it, but anyone looking into Kate Rydell’s background would find nothing suspicious. She had a good but unremarkable work history, and had paid her income taxes. No huge debts, no property of her own. A wholly unremarkable person.
Now she would become another unremarkable person, looking for another invisible job. She’d probably have to switch cars altogether because Yarrow knew this one. She’d slip away. Again. Only this time, no friends. She’d been foolish to get to know Ellen even a little. It could have gotten her killed.
There was one other car in Gino’s parking lot. She pulled in next to it, making sure she had plenty of escape room, and brought her big tote with her into the store. Of course, no one was there this early, just Gino. And Nate and Seth, but she wouldn’t actually see them. At least not in the front of the store. Probably in the bathroom, if she knew anything about her soldiers.
Once inside, things moved along smoothly. She filled out an application and Gino, all six foot six of him, slipped a packet inside her tote so adeptly that no one could have seen. Then she gave him back the application, he shook her hand and she went to the ladies’ room.
Nate was perched on the counter, Seth was crouched under the air dryer. They were in jeans and T-shirts, looking buff but not particularly dangerous. A very nice illusion.
“Did you see him?” she asked, getting right down to business.
Nate, looking better than he had the last time she saw him, nodded. “He’s in a blue Crown Victoria. There’s a Dodgers’ bumper sticker on the back left.”
She leaned against the wall, so weary she thought she could curl up and sleep on the floor. “I think he’s legit,” she said. “His friend was murdered. I saw it. He’s not going to let it go.”
“We’ll get you out. We just need you to stay with it for another day or two, okay? We’re working on a place for you.”
“The car will be clean,” Seth said as he stood up. “You just walk away from this one when we get you.”
She nodded. “I know I have to go. But isn’t there some way? Something I can do? Maybe leave a document? A testament to what I saw?”
“It wouldn’t be admissible,” Nate said.
“Maybe that doesn’t matter.”
Seth came over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. She closed her eyes, wishing for once that they were closer. Funny, they’d almost died together, done unbelievably hard things as a team, but hugging, that crossed the line.
“I’d better get out there,” she said, patting his hand before she stepped away. “You have my money?”
Nate jumped down, and she thought again about how much he’d aged since…It must have been so hard on him, pretending to be dead for so long. He traded cash for her check, endorsed, of course. “We’ll try and figure something out, okay?” he said. “In the meantime, be careful.”
“Always.” She left the bathroom, new ID and money safely tucked in her tote. She smiled at Gino as she walked into the cold November air.
Vince Yarrow was leaning on her car.
HE WISHED SHE WASN’T wearing the big coat. He wanted to see her in motion. She was a striking woman, and it wouldn’t have bothered him at all to have met her under different circumstances.
He’d heard from Jeff about thirty minutes ago. The surveillance team was in place, although the Captain had only okayed six people. Eight would have been better. The first team would already be at the motel. He wasn’t sure where Kate was going after this, but, wherever it was, he wouldn’t be far behind.
“Did you get the job?” he asked pleasantly.
“Please get away from my car. I have appointments.”
He pushed off the Toyota and smiled brightly, just to piss her off. “Great. Where are we going next?”
She looked daggers at him as she went around the front of the car.
“There’s a simple way to get me to go.”
Nothing. Not a look, not a glance.
“Maybe during the next interview, I’ll come in. Who knows, they might want a character reference.”
That got her. She spun on him, eyes narrow, lips tight. “I’m not one of the bad guys,” she said. “I didn’t hurt anyone. I didn’t see anything. You’re trying to get blood from stone.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but a flash out of the corner of his eye made him turn. Behind a large trash bin was a familiar face. The bruise was new and rather spectacular.
“Wow,” Vince said. “That looks like it’s gotta hurt.”
The reporter approached them, his camera in one hand, a small recorder in the other. “So this is your material witness?”
Vince blocked him with his body before he could reach Kate. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I figured Emerson would like to know what you’re up to.”
“Emerson told me to relax. Get laid. I’m just following his advice.”
“Bullshit, Yarrow. I know who she is.”
“You don’t know—” Vince stopped at the sound of the engine, and turned just in time to see Kate take off like a bat out of hell. Damn it.
“Oh, I like her,” Baker said. “Feisty.”
“Shut up, you asshole.”
“See you in the funny papers.” The reporter walked away, whistling, just to be a jerk.
Vince jogged to his car, cursing the reporter and cursing Kate. He had no idea where she’d gone, but he had to find her. If the gangbangers saw her picture in the paper, they’d make sure she’d never testify.
4
SHE CAME BACK AT SEVEN. Vince was sitting on the floor next to her motel door, a cold cup of coffee in his hand, a smile hiding his frustration at a day that had knocked the wind out of him. His informant Eddie, a junkie too long without a fix, had given him nothing at all, and it was only a matter of time until the Captain had his ass in a permanent sling.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
Kate didn’t look like her day had been much better. She stood in front of him, scowling. On her, it looked pretty good. “Nothing’s changed. You’re still making my life miserable. Who was that guy, and why did he take my picture?”
Vince got to his feet, his knees cracking like split kindling. “I’ve missed you. Any luck on the new job?”
“I’m not interested in chatting with you. I want you gone. Out of my life.”
“No can do. Especially now.”
She closed her eyes. “Why?”
“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but that wasn’t a guy. It was a reporter.”
She cursed, and, oddly, that looked good on her, too. “What have you done to me?”
“Me? I didn’t do a thing. The minute you give me your statement, I’m all about protection. You wouldn’t have a thing to worry about.”
“Except for gangbangers coming to kill me.”
“We should talk about that.”
She gazed at him for a long moment. He needed a shower, a shave, some sleep. She wished he didn’t.
Then she opened her door and walked silently into the motel room, leaving him to follow. She put her coat and bag away, ran a hand through that silky hair, then nodded toward the little table. “I’ve got tea and instant coffee.”
“Coffee would be great.”
“I hope you take it black.”
“Yep.” He took a wobbly seat and watched her move about the small, tidy room. Her clothes matched what he knew about her, that she’d gone from one low-level job to another, from one crummy apartment to the next. He still didn’t quite believe the stalker story. Not because it couldn’t have happened—that kind of crap was more prevalent than anyone wanted to believe—but because he’d found nothing about it in the records. No restraining orders, no complaints at all.
More than her plain sweater and beige pants, the thing that didn’t fit her was her presence. She was a woman to be reckoned with. Nothing about her was timid or weak. He wanted, more than he should, to figure out this mystery.
She brought out a heating coil and plugged it in the wall, then took two foam cups and put in instant coffee for him, a tea bag for her. The whole process took about five minutes. He continued to watch. Mostly her hands, which were strong and lean, her nails short but neat, and her face, which showed no expression other than a quiet determination.
When she handed him the coffee, she took her tea and sat on the edge of the bed. “So talk.”
Damn, he liked her. Straightforward, no games, not in the least coy. Other than lying through her teeth, she was all right. “The reporter’s name is Baker, and he’s a prick of the first order. I don’t know how he found out about you. Maybe the same way I did.”
“The videotape.”
“Right.”
“What paper does he work for?”
“The Times.”
She looked away for a moment. When she looked back, she seemed infinitely tired. “Is there any way you can stop him from running the picture?”
“No.”
“So these murderers are going to think I can ID them.”
“Yes.”
