“How did it go?” Linette asked Pohl once she returned to her office. The question was a formality. She could tell from his expression Sasha had turned him down.
“Seems your alum has no need of the income I can offer.”
Linette took her robe off, hung it up. “I warned you that might be the case.”
“I wasted my time, Linette. You know how much I hate doing that.”
She met his gaze, unfazed. “At least you haven’t wasted your money.”
Pohl tugged at the sleeves of his jacket, first the left, then the right. “And you have not earned a finder’s fee.”
“It appears so.”
He glared, and she did her best to not let him see her discomfort.
“I’ll be in touch.”
Linette shook his hand and stayed on her feet until after he’d left her office.
Once gone, she sank into her chair and opened the bottom drawer. In the back, behind several files, she removed a flask and twisted off the top. She poured herself a drink into the empty coffee cup on her desk.
Sasha stood in the doorway of Brigitte’s studio and waited until she noticed her before motioning toward the locker room.
It didn’t take long for the woman to find her.
“How did your meeting go?” Brigitte asked once she was at her side.
Sasha shook her head. “I didn’t take his job.”
The other woman smiled. “Good. Being a spy is dangerous work.”
“You really think that’s what he recruits?”
“Isn’t that the job he offered?”
“No. More like a hired gun.”
Brigitte stopped smiling. “What?”
“Those weren’t his words, but I knew what he was suggesting. If I wanted to shoot at people, or be a part of a team that did that kind of thing, I’d have joined a military.”
“I always thought his recruiting was more legitimate than that.” Brigitte regarded her with remorse. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
“I am. I came here to find some kind of direction in my life and I now realize that answers aren’t here. Time for me to move on.”
Brigitte shifted on her feet. “I’m going to miss you. You’ve been a bright light in the last week.” She moved in for a hug.
Sasha stiffened. “I’m not a hugger.”
“Too bad.” Brigitte wrapped her arms around her anyway. In her ear, she whispered, “Watch your back with Pohl.”
Sasha stood back. “I will,” she paused. “Miss you, too.”
Brigitte’s eyes glistened and Sasha felt an unfamiliar knot in her throat. “You have my number,” she said.
“Be well.”
Claire was exactly where Sasha asked her to be nineteen minutes after her call. In her school uniform, minus the jacket they were required to wear during the fall, the young woman leaned against the brick building as if bored. In her hand she held a package of gum.
Students moved around them, some watched if only because Sasha wasn’t dressed like staff and had burned her uniform the day she left Richter.
“Hey.” Claire greeted her, pulled a stick of gum from the package. She lifted it toward Sasha. “Want some gum?”
Sasha shook her head.
Claire wiggled the package. “You sure? It’s fruit flavored.”
She glanced at the package, noticed a zip drive.
Clever girl.
“Maybe for later.” She took the drive, placed it in her front pocket. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” Claire picked up the bag at her feet.
“Listen. I’m leaving.”
The girl stopped smiling. “I knew that was coming . . . when?”
“I need to pack my bag, say goodbye to the headmistress.”
Claire looked away. “So . . . when I’m outta here, maybe we can . . . I don’t know, hang out?”
“I’m not good at—”
“I’ll need a job. Maybe you know someone?” Claire interrupted, making that lump in Sasha’s throat constrict. She liked the kid, reminded her of herself. “I guess if Creepazoid is still hiring . . .”
Sasha stopped her with a stare. “You have my number.”
That was all the girl needed to hear. She winked and pointed one finger toward her. “See you on the outside, then.”
Once Sasha turned around, she let her grin show.
Thirty minutes later a knock sounded on Sasha’s open bedroom door.
Linette stood in the doorway, a smile on her face. “I heard you were leaving.”
Sasha zipped her duffel and grabbed her leather jacket. “I am.”
“Without saying goodbye?”
“Of course not.”
They took each other in. “Just because you didn’t take Pohl’s offer doesn’t mean you need to leave.”
“Yes, it does, actually. If I stayed, I’d spend all my energy trying to figure out why you work beside that man.”
Linette stepped inside the room. “He’s found many jobs for our students over the years.”
“Employment that can get a person killed.”
“Joining the military can end the same way. Law enforcement. You can’t be a humanitarian in a third world country without the risk of being kidnapped and used for—”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
Linette moved to the window and stared beyond the pane. “Do you know there are military departments that recruit through video games? Stealth drones fly over countries and drop bombs from half a world away. Richter trains many skills, as you know, but it takes a certain personality that can take on the challenge of that kind of job and still be a whole person.”
“How do you know if the students that left to do those jobs are whole, Linette?”
“I don’t. Any more than any other dean or principal or headmistress in any other school. What I do know is Richter has a ninety-six percent graduation rate for high school. Eighty-nine percent for college, and of that, seventy-seven percent are employed before they walk on my stage to grab their diploma.”
Sasha shook her head. “So that’s why you break bread with Pohl? To keep Richter in high standing?”
“Pohl is given very limited access to the graduates to even interview. I thought since you came back searching for a future, you’d appreciate the opportunity. I was wrong.”
“Defending myself by any means necessary isn’t something I’m opposed to doing. Using those skills to earn a living . . . or worse, keep from being bored . . . not me.”
Linette lifted her chin. “Your stay with us wasn’t in vain, then. At least you know what you don’t want to do. I’m sorry I miscalculated your need and invited Pohl to talk to you.”
Was she? Was that sincerity on her face, or a woman trying to hide behind a mask? “I can’t fault you for that.”
“I hope you won’t find fault at all. But I can see from your eyes I’m asking too much.”
Sasha tried to smile. “No, Linette. You’re doing your job. The students here are safe and much more likely to take care of themselves out there. No one knows that better than me.”
Linette looked around the room. “Well, I won’t keep you. I’ll let the staff know you’ve left and won’t be returning. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you survived your father, and that your benefactor made you financially independent enough to say no to Pohl’s offer. I’m sure you’ll do great things in your life.”
“Thank you.”
Sasha couldn’t stop the disappointment in her chest as she watched a woman she’d considered her protector for years walk away.
Chapter Thirteen
AJ’s phone rang, singing “Bad to the Bone” at an ear-piercing volume in the silence of the library.
Several people turned to him, giving the stink eye and muttering under their breath.
AJ couldn’t get his phone out of his back pocket fast enough.
He didn’t have a picture of Sasha in his phone, just her phone number next to the name he called her in his head. Sex on a
Stick.
“Miss me?” she asked once he said hello.
“’Bout damn time.” His curt words were said in a harsh whisper. He held the phone to his ear with his shoulder and gathered up the papers he’d been writing on. “Where the hell did you go?”
The phone sounded like it was cutting out, then he heard her.
“Are you laughing at me?”
“Get over yourself, Junior. I’m on my way. Check out of the hotel and return your rental car.”
He closed the windows he had open on the library computer and filled his arms with paperwork.
Heads turned and watched him as he walked by. “I feel sorry for whoever marries you. You’re more demanding than any woman I’ve ever met.”
“Ha. That will never happen.”
Yeah, AJ didn’t see her married either. Outside the library, the cool autumn wind blew through him. “Where am I meeting you this time?”
“The subway. Alexanderplatz Station. You have an hour.”
AJ turned on his heel, headed back toward the hotel. “That doesn’t give me much time.”
“Make it work.”
She hung up.
Thirty-eight hours of no contact, and when she called, nothing but demands.
This pace is getting old.
But damn it was good to hear her voice.
Sasha looked at the road behind her.
Richter was a mile away, but if you peered above the line of the trees, you could see the rooftop of the clock tower. Something told her she’d be back. Only the next time might not be on such friendly terms.
Sasha placed her phone in the inside pocket of her jacket and kicked over the bike. She made it half a mile before she sped past a lone person walking down the side of the empty road.
One look in her rearview mirror and she slammed on the brakes. A turn of the wheel and she skidded next to the pedestrian, cut the engine.
Sasha ripped off her helmet and yelled, “What the hell are you doing?”
“You can say I’m going AWOL, but I prefer early leave.” Claire jostled a backpack higher on her shoulder and grinned.
“Does the headmistress know you’ve left?”
“Probably not yet.”
Sasha shook her head. “Get on. You’re going back.”
“No, I’m not. You see, recording private conversations between men who hire killers and, well, anyone . . . might be grounds for punishment at the school, but it also happens to be illegal in Germany. I can’t imagine Mr. Pohl would like to hear that a student on campus knows his agenda. So I think, for my safety, I’d be better off out here.”
“He will never know.”
“Can you guarantee that?” Claire asked.
Sasha knew she couldn’t. Her gut twisted.
“That’s what I thought.” Claire approached the bike, tugged her other arm through her backpack, and secured it with a clip. She took the helmet from Sasha’s hands and placed it over her head.
Sasha’s mind raced for an argument.
“Since you got me into this mess, you can make sure I’m safe before trotting off to wherever you’re going.”
“The only mess is you running away.”
“I didn’t run. I hopped over the fence after leaving a little note for Linette. Walking past Checkpoint Charlie would have resulted in an inquisition. One, quite frankly, I wanted nothing to do with. Especially since Pohl was still poking around.”
“I thought he left.”
“Nope. He was down in the range. Just seeing him there made me puke a little in my mouth. So I left.” Claire turned her head. “Now if you don’t mind . . . I’d like to put some distance between me and the school before anyone knows I’m gone. I don’t really trust my roommates to keep their mouths closed about the boiler room. All they ever did there was watch YouTube videos.”
Sasha ran a hand down her thigh, fingers clenched. She cussed in three languages before giving up and kicking over the bike.
“Hang on.”
Arms clung to her waist, and Sasha put some distance between the runaway and a recruiter of killers.
AJ stood on the sidewalk above Alexanderplatz Station and searched the people walking. His gaze caught every dark-haired woman. He thought of the blonde wig and switched his search for that.
Too many women.
He glanced at his watch. An hour . . . on the nose.
He searched the crowd again.
He saw her. Her head popped above the others because of her height. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, dark sunglasses covered her eyes.
But it was her.
His gut stirred.
She leaned over and started talking to someone.
AJ’s gaze narrowed on a teenage girl. Dark brown hair, wide eyes.
Sasha stopped in front of him.
“Who the hell is this?” he asked.
“Baggage,” Sasha said without humor.
“Hey!” The girl elbowed Sasha and turned to him. “I’m Claire,” she said, pleased with herself.
“Sasha?”
She pushed past him and headed downstairs to the trains. “I’ll explain later.”
AJ had no choice but to follow.
Claire fell into step behind Sasha.
A train pulled in as they reached the bottom steps. They pushed into the crowded car and held on to steel poles to keep from falling into the people standing next to them. He had a hundred questions but held each one in.
Claire, on the other hand, didn’t. “So, are you the boyfriend?”
AJ laughed, looked up to see if Sasha heard Claire’s question. Her blank expression said she’d missed it.
“No.”
Claire glanced at their mutual companion. “Huh.”
They rode in silence; the noise of the crowd around them filled the air. On the third stop, Sasha motioned for them to follow.
She immediately dragged them toward the bathrooms and stopped him at the door. “Wait for us.”
“Again with the orders.”
Only he did.
When they stepped back out, Claire was wearing Sasha’s jacket and a baseball cap. Sasha had tucked her hair into a red pixie cut wig, and a long light gray sweater went all the way to her knees.
He took one look at her and grinned. “I like the red better than the blonde.”
She muttered something in a language he didn’t speak.
Claire laughed.
“Should I change?” he asked.
Sasha looked him up and down. “No one is looking for you.”
Claire shrugged, and once again they followed Sasha out of the station.
“Now where?” AJ asked.
Sasha marched as if on a mission. Her long strides ate up the sidewalk; her head was buried in her phone. AJ looked over to see her on some kind of airline app.
“Sasha?”
She lifted the phone to her ear and hushed him with a finger in the air. “It’s me.”
AJ listened to one side of the conversation while Sasha took care of whatever agenda she was on.
“Is Blake’s still an option? Great. I’ll need a passport . . . no. I’ll send you a picture. American. I’ll make it easy, Amsterdam, Victoria Station.” She stopped and looked between both him and Claire. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have so much extra help.”
Claire leaned in. “At least I’m no longer baggage.”
Sasha turned and started walking again. “Precautionary. I’ll fill you in when we get there.”
She disconnected the call and stopped in front of them. She directed her phone at Claire and pointed toward the side of a white building. After making the girl remove her baseball cap, she snapped two pictures and sent them into cyberspace.
“I take it the papers are for her,” AJ said.
Sasha stared at Claire. “Even if she had hers on her, we couldn’t use it.”
“Linette keeps all of them.”
“I remember.”
She started walking again, this time close
to the side of the busy road. At an intersection, she waited. As a bus pulled around a corner, AJ watched as she dropped her cell phone into the road.
“What the?” Claire said.
A double stomp later, and Sasha bent down to pick up what remained.
Someone on the street said something AJ assumed was a gesture of sympathy for the loss of an expensive phone.
Sasha shrugged, turned the device over in the palm of her hand, and removed a SIM card.
On the move again, she tossed the phone in a nearby trash can, the SIM card made it into a city drain.
They worked their way to the Hauptbahnhof station and Sasha told him to purchase three tickets.
“Let me guess . . . Amsterdam.”
“You pay attention, Junior. I like that in a man.”
Claire’s amused laugh reminded him of his sister when they were kids and he’d been busted by their parents for some offense or another.
“How long before we have what we need for our baggage?”
“Hey . . . I’m the help.”
AJ ignored the girl.
“Before the last train leaves.”
“You’re kidding.” He knew illegal passports could be bought, but that quickly?
Sasha stepped closer, tapped a finger to her chest. “Professional.”
That same finger tapped his sternum. “Amateur.”
The purr in her voice shouldn’t be a turn-on.
He stepped farther into her personal space. “I’m going to find something I’m better at than you and turn the tables.”
“I look forward to it.” She slid past him, her shoulder grazing his as she marched into a convenience store.
Claire laughed and followed her.
AJ was reduced to jockeying tickets on the next train to Amsterdam.
Chapter Fourteen
So many things could go wrong.
By now, Linette would realize Claire was gone and probably started a search. How far would she reach? How long would it take before the girl’s roommates sang and the boiler room was found? Would they reveal the information? Or was that smoke blown by Claire to make her cooperate?
Sasha watched Claire from across the aisle in the coach car on a westbound train. She took in the world around her like someone who’d been cooped up in boarding school for most of her life, with wide eyes and open ears.
Say It Again (First Wives) Page 11
