by Leigh, Jo
She turned from him and walked over to the bed, but she didn’t sit. He knew she was trying to figure a way out of this, to make him leave. Not that she had a prayer.
He relaxed, debated taking off his coat, but didn’t. Instead he studied her.
The cameras in the garage hadn’t done her justice. She was a beautiful woman, classy, strong. Her long, dark hair was shiny and as smooth as her skin. She wore no makeup, at least as far as he could tell, but it didn’t make a difference. With those dark eyes, that long, lean body, she could have had any man in the blink of an eye. So why didn’t she? She carried herself like someone with money. It didn’t track that she was working for room service.
Clearly, she was hiding. From what, he didn’t know, but he’d find out.
She moved again, lifting her head, straightening her shoulders. “I would help you if I could, but I can’t. If you let the press know about me, I’ll be as dead as your friend, whether the killers think I can ID them or not.”
He held himself still, not wanting to spook her. “Why?”
“Someone’s after me. A stalker.”
“Let me help.”
She frowned. “Yeah, right. And your success rate in finding and convicting stalkers is what?”
“Pretty damn good.”
“Now, who’s lying?”
“Just tell me what I want to know, then you can play hide-and-seek all you want.”
She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “I have nothing to tell you. Nothing, you hear me? I hid. I heard gunshots. Running. By the time I looked up, your friend was dead and I was alone with him in the room. Okay? There isn’t anything more.”
Vince shook his head. “Sorry. It was a good try, but I’m not buying it.”
“Buying what?”
“You know more than you’re telling me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know how long I’ve been doing this? You know how many people have lied to me?”
“This time you’re wrong.”
He looked at her. Through her. “I’ve been wrong about a lot of things. But not this. Seriously. I have nothing else on the docket. Just you, until you tell me the truth.”
“If you enjoy wasting your time, be my guest. But you can’t do it sitting in my room.” She walked over to the door and opened it, her lips tight, her posture more closed off now than when he’d first arrived.
“You bet. I’ll leave, but I won’t be far. You can count on that. No matter where you go, there I’ll be.”
She said nothing. She didn’t even watch him as he passed her. Her gaze was somewhere else, perhaps with the stalker she said was after her, perhaps on the vision of Tim on the bloody carpet. It didn’t matter. Not a bit.
The second he’d cleared the door, it was closed, not slammed, behind him. He got out his cell phone as he headed for his car.
Surveillance wasn’t terribly effective without sufficient manpower. He wasn’t fool enough to believe he could cover her without getting sloppy. He dialed Jeff.
“Detective Stoller.”
“Hey, I’ve got an interesting challenge for you, buddy.”
Jeff’s groan was all too familiar. Vince didn’t pay any attention to it as he detailed what he needed Jeff to do. Kate Rydell was now a material witness. Since Vince was on suspension, Jeff would have to do the paperwork and get the manpower.
In the meantime, Vince would get comfortable in his car. He wasn’t sure when Kate would make her move, only that she would attempt to flee.
He was also going to look into her background. He’d soon find out if there was any truth to the stalker business or if Ms. Rydell was hiding something even worse.
* * * * *
ALTHOUGH THEY ADVERTISED Never Empty, Never Closed, there were few customers at The Pantry coffee shop. Nate scanned the tables, his gaze finally settling on an occupied booth near the far window. He walked across the diner and sat down across from his old friend. “Seth,” he said. “Good to see you.”
“Good to see you, brother.” The two men ordered coffee when the elderly waitress asked if they wanted some and spread the menus in front of them.
“I almost didn’t recognize you with the glasses,” Nate said.
Seth shrugged off his stained leather jacket, revealing a plain black T-shirt. “Good. Let’s hope no one else does.”
Nate smiled wryly. They seldom saw each other, wisely keeping their distance in case one of them went down. “You have everything, I trust.”
Seth nodded, his gaze on the menu. “I have about eight bucks. What about you?”
“Enough for a decent breakfast. Let’s splurge.” There’d been a time when Nate had never had to think about money. He’d always had plenty to spend on women and booze. Not from his work in Delta Force, but from a little locking device he’d come up with just after college. It didn’t look like much, but he’d sold the Army on the usefulness of the lock on weaponry in the field, and they’d bought the patent. The money was to be his nest egg, his safety net in case he got hurt. But it was all gone now. He’d spent a bloody fortune on Harper’s basement trauma room and Tam’s lab and equipment.
The waitress came back and they both ordered the bacon and egg breakfast. When they were alone again, Seth pulled an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket and wordlessly handed it across the table.
Nate glanced around, then flipped through the contents. Driver’s license, Social Security card, birth certificate. He held the driver’s license where the streetlight shone on it. “Damn. Your guy does fine work.”
“Computer nerd at Cal Tech. He did these, too.” He put two photo IDs on the table.
Nate stuffed Kate’s documents back in the envelope and picked up one of the identification cards. “Midtown Electric,” he read. “Damn. Where’d you get this picture?”
“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 w
ho’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?”
