"I don't believe it," she said flatly. "There's something else going on here, something you won't tell me. Either of you."
The other woman hesitated, then gave a small sigh. "Look, I'm not cleared to tell you anything. Obviously you realize you've stumbled into the middle of something Doc and I are working on together. All I can say is that it's dangerous. Very dangerous."
Meredith threw a quick glance over her shoulder as a soft knock sounded on the door. She rose, her hand slipping into her pocket. Paige's eyes widened at the faint outline of a gun she saw in the lavender silk. Open-mouthed, she watched Meredith glide to the door on bare feet, not making a sound, then peer through the peephole.
Her shoulders lost their coiled tension, and she opened the door for David.
"We're okay," he said quietly. "It cost me another fifty francs, but I verified that our pal Henri didn't disclose anything to the chauffeur other than the fact that he brought an American woman back to this hotel. Apparently the driver still thinks it was Meredith Ames who went into the sea."
"We're close enough in appearance," Meredith said. "Maybe we can still pull this operation off."
"What operation?" Paige asked.
David walked to her side. "You aren't cleared to know. Tell me, did anyone besides this driver get a good look at you before you nose-dived into the bay? Anyone on board the yacht?"
"I don't know. There were some people—crewmen, I think—on the back deck. But I didn't see anyone else."
"We'll just have to chance it," Meredith said quietly to David. "We've taken greater risks before. Or we can take the chauffeur out for a little while."
"Right." He gave Paige's hands a little squeeze. "Come on, let's get you out of here. I'll take you back to your hotel so you can get your things."
"My things?" she asked, startled.
"You're flying out of Cannes in forty-five minutes— sooner, if Meredith can arrange it."
"Leaving? But what about my purse? My passport? I don't have any papers, or money."
"You won't need any," the other woman assured her, moving toward the bedroom with a confident stride. "I'll take care of everything."
"Let's go," David said, tugging her to her feet. "I'll write out your itinerary for you as soon as it's confirmed, and make you a list of contacts at each stop, in case you need them."
Her forehead creased as she rose, still wrapped in the soft wool of his suit coat. "How can you get me out of France with no papers?"
His mouth firmed in an effort to control his impatience as he tugged her to her feet. "I can't explain it to you. Not right now. But you don't have to worry. I'll make sure you're safe. Someone will be covering you every second until you walk in your front door. When I return," he added firmly, "we'll work through this matter of our engagement."
It was that firm, no-nonsense tone that did it.
At that moment, Paige decided she would not walk out of this hotel room like a chastened child, to be sent home to wait and wonder and worry. If there was any hope for her and David at all, if he was ever going to share this private part of his life with her, it had to be now.
Digging in her one bare and one shod heels, she resisted his efforts to escort her to the suite's door. "I'm not leaving."
"I know this is confusing for you," he said, in that even voice that made Paige's back teeth grind together. "I'll explain what I can when I get home."
"I'm not leaving," she repeated, folding her arms across her chest. "I want to know what's going on."
His jaw squared a bit at that. "We don't have time for this."
"Then we'll just have to make time."
His blue eyes hardened for an instant, and he gave her slender form a quick, assessing look that suddenly made Paige just a little nervous. How ridiculous, she thought, dismissing the shivery sensation that darted down her spine as the product of overstretched nerves. David would never use his physical strength against her. He was always so careful with her, so solicitous of her comfort.
The thought reassured her, yet somehow depressed her at the same time.
"You weren't listening before," she told him, with a tilt to her chin. "I was trying to say that marriage has to be an equal partnership. All the strength can't be on one side, nor all the sharing."
"What about all the trust?"
"I trust you. I trust you enough to believe you're not one of Meredith's customers."
"Thank you for that much, at least."
Paige's back stiffened at the hint of sarcasm in his voice. She tossed her damp hair over her shoulders in a gesture that held an uncharacteristic rebelliousness.
"Someone has mistaken me for Meredith, correct?"
"Correct. And we're getting you out of here before they discover that mistake."
"What happens if they do discover Meredith isn't me? Or I'm not her?"
"That's not your concern."
There it was again. The closed door. The sealed chamber. The locked part of himself that he refused to allow Paige into. Her mouth settling into mulish lines, she met his look.
"I'm not leaving, David."
"It's not your choice," he told her, his face hardening.
"Is that right? Just what are you going to do? Drug me and carry me unconscious aboard the plane?" "If I have to."
Paige's jaw dropped. Shock held her immobile for long, silent moments. Then the welter of emotions that had weighted her down for so many weeks exploded. Uncertainty, wrenching unhappiness, insecurity and a debilitating sense of inadequacy all erupted into searing anger.
Planting her hands on her hips, she glared up at David. "Now you just listen to me, Mr. Take-Charge-Stone-Face-Macho-Man! I don't know who you think you are or where you got the impression that I'm some kind of windup doll you can play with when it suits you, then set conveniently out of the way when you've got better things to do. But we're going to correct that impression right here and right now."
"Calm down, Paige."
"Don't 'Paige' me. And do not, do not ever, use that patronizing tone of voice with me again. Assuming I allow you to speak to me at all, that is. I want to know what's going on here."
They faced each other like two combatants, arms crossed and bodies tense. Neither one heard Meredith walk back into the room.
Maggie could see at a glance that the course of true love hadn't run smooth during her brief absence. David and Paige stood toe-to-toe, looking for all the world like a sleek, well-muscled California brown bear squared off against a delicate gazelle. He towered over Paige, his face set in hard, unyielding lines. Chin lifted, eyes flashing with a surprising bravado, she glowered up at him. The gazelle wasn't giving an inch, Maggie realized with a start of surprise.
"It's all set," she announced, drawing their reluctant attention. "A helicopter will pick Paige up at the heliport atop the Carlton in thirty minutes. She'll fly to the U.S. air base at Ramstein, in Germany, then take a transport to the States."
"I'm not going."
Her eyes widening in surprise, Maggie glanced from Paige's set face to David's thunderous one, then back again.
"Someone thinks I'm you," the younger woman said belligerently. "Or rather that I'm the person you're obviously pretending to be."
"What makes you think I'm pretending?" Maggie asked sharply.
Paige waved an impatient hand. "I admit I don't know anything about call girls or pimps or this particular line of work. But I do know David. He may be overbearing and obnoxious and entirely too arrogant in his own quiet way," she said acidly, "but he's not the kind of man to become involved with.. .with prostitution."
Doc didn't look particularly pleased with her somewhat backhanded vote of confidence.
"Besides," Paige added, with a cool look in her forest green eyes, "a call girl doesn't just whisk a person out of a foreign country aboard military transports. Who do you work for? Military intelligence? The CIA?"
Maggie and Doc exchanged silent looks.
"If you two do
that one more time," Paige stated through clenched teeth, "I'm going to throw something."
Her mind racing, Maggie assessed the situation. Obviously, there was more to Paige Lawrence than the shy, somewhat timid young woman she'd met in the boutique this morning. She was intelligent, too intelligent for her own good. She'd guessed enough to put herself in danger if those on the yacht managed to connect her with this operation. OMEGA would have to send her to a safe haven for the duration of the mission.
Assuming the mission wasn't already hopelessly compromised, Maggie thought with bitter honesty. She and Paige were close enough in appearance to be mistaken for each other at first glance, but not close enough to carry off the deception if the driver, or anyone else, had gotten a clear look at either of them.
Which was why, when Paige suggested a few moments later that she stay in Cannes and meet with whomever had sent the Rolls, Maggie didn't object immediately.
David, however, did.
"Absolutely not."
Paige ignored him, addressing herself to Maggie. "The driver thinks I'm Meredith Ames. I never managed to correct that impression before I fell into the bay. Those people aboard the yacht may have seen me. Whoever was waiting on that boat now expects me, not you."
"True."
"Why were you going there? Other than the obvious reason?" She stared at Maggie, her eyes thoughtful. "You must be delivering something. A message. Or information. Or money."
This woman was definitely too intelligent for her own good.
"That's enough," David interjected. "You've just run out of time to gather your things, Paige. I'll have them sent to you. Come with me."
"No."
"Dammit, you have no idea what's going down here." "No, I don't. So tell me."
"You don't need to know. I'm not going to allow you to-"
She interrupted him in a soft, dangerous voice. "David, if you harbor even the faintest hope that we might marry someday, which I'll admit appears very unlikely at this moment, you won't finish that sentence."
His jaw tight, Doc refrained from finishing his sentence.
While he scowled down at her, Paige fired her final shot. "I love you, David. I think I've loved you since the moment I walked into your office and you helped me sort out the mix-up on that rather expensive publication I ordered for you. I... I know you love me, too.'' She held up a quick hand when he moved toward her. "Let me finish!"
"You've just said all that matters."
"No. No, I haven't." She drew in a deep breath. "I see now that we don't really know each other. You think I need to be coddled and protected and cherished all my life, and..."
She slid Maggie a quick, sideways glance. "And I think you need a more adventuresome partner, a woman who stirs more than just your protective instincts. I want the chance to prove I'm that woman. I need to do this. For you. For me. For us."
Maggie held her breath, feeling much like a voyeur watching a riveting, compelling personal drama. She probably should've gone back into the bedroom some time ago, she told herself ruefully. But there wasn't any way she was going to miss the ending to this particular scene.
"Whatever you're doing must have some desperate consequences," Paige added softly. "For you, or for our country. I can help. I have a right to help."
When he didn't respond, she drew in a deep breath. "I'm not leaving, David. Not willingly. I'm going to deliver whatever it is that Meredith's supposed to deliver. When this is over, we'll decide who we really are and where we go from here."
Endless seconds ticked by. Outside the open balcony doors, a shrill horn honked on the boulevard below. Inside the suite, a soft breeze stirred air redolent with the scent of white carnations and tall velvet blue irises.
"When this is over—" Doc snapped "—I just hope we know who the hell we are."
* * *
Sometime later, Maggie studied the two figures on the settee as she waited for control to acknowledge her transmission.
Paige fidgeted a little, hunching shoulders still wrapped in Doc's coat against the cooling breeze. Her eyes were wide with excitement.
David didn't move. Not a muscle. Not an eyelash.
Maggie had worked with him on a number of missions in the past three years. She'd seen him up to his elbows in an Asian swamp and flat on his stomach, inching his way across a thin crust of ice that cracked ominously under his weight with every movement. She'd watched him at the high-speed computer in the control center, his jaw tight and small beads of sweat rolling down the side of his brow as he pulled together a list of possible Irish terrorists just hours before visiting British royalty were scheduled to land in Washington, D.C.
But she'd never seen him as tightly coiled as he was now.
Claire's clear voice cut through the heavy silence at last.
"Cyrene here. I've got Thunder with me. Go ahead, Chameleon."
Maggie smiled as she lifted the transceiver. She'd just won a bet with herself. She'd fully expected Adam Ridgeway to come up to the OMEGA control center once Claire had given him the startling news that Doc's fiancée needed immediate extraction. The director would make it his personal responsibility to ensure his agent's loved one was out of danger.
"The situation I briefed you on a few moments ago has changed a bit," Maggie announced, with slight understatement.
"How so, Chameleon?"
"We won't need the transportation I requested for the subject. Not just yet, anyway."
"Why not?" Adam asked sharply. "Is she all right?"
"She's fine. She's right here, with me and Doc. But she understands that she's been mistaken for me. She wants to make the contact in my place." Flicking an apologetic glance at Doc, Maggie finished her transmission. "I think we should let her."
For several long moments, Adam didn't respond. Maggie held her breath, not quite sure whether or not she wanted the director to approve this highly irregular request. What they were proposing was well outside OMEGA's operating parameters. As far as she knew, Adam had never allowed anyone other than fully cleared, well-trained agents to become involved in the organization's desperate and often deadly operations.
On the other hand, he had two of his best-trained operatives in the field with Paige right now. If anyone could keep her safe, and still pull off this dangerous charade, Maggie and Doc could. She hoped.
"Let me get this straight," Adam said at last. "You want me to authorize a civilian to impersonate a secret agent who's impersonating a call girl?"
"That's it," Maggie confirmed.
"Does Doc concur with this?"
Maggie flicked a quick glance at David's rigid face. Strange she'd never quite appreciated the phrase carved in granite before. Without a word, she handed him the compact.
David sent his former and perhaps current fiancée a cold stare.
Paige started to shrink back into the cocoon of his wool jacket, but caught herself just in time. Squaring her shoulders, she returned his look.
His mouth compressed to a thin line, David lifted the compact. The gold case looked tiny and fragile in his big hands, but he operated the transmit button with a sure, competent touch.
"Doc here. I concur. With specific conditions."
Maggie frowned. In the heated discussion that had preceded this transmission, David hadn't mentioned any conditions.
"The subject isn't to be out of our contact, not for a moment," he stated with grim emphasis. "I want to know where she is every second. She'll need a tracking device implanted under her skin. Today."
"I can have someone there in a few hours," Adam replied slowly.
"Wait a minute!" Paige protested. "What tracking device? Implanted where under my skin?"
"Don't worry," Maggie assured her. "It's just a small chip. So tiny, you won't even know it's there.''
"I won't know it's where?"
Ignoring their exchange, David continued laying out his conditions. "I'm altering my cover to provide her closer surveillance. I haven't w
orked out all the details yet. I'll get back to you as soon as I do."
"Fine."
The lines bracketing either side of his mouth deepened. "And I reserve the right to extract her without prior consultation. Anytime I deem it necessary."
"Agreed."
"Not by me!" Thoroughly indignant, Paige reached for the compact. "I want to talk to him."
With obvious reluctance, David handed her the communications device. "Press the stone in the center of the lid once to transmit, twice to receive."
She fumbled with the small gold case for a moment or two, then held the mirror up in front of her face.
"What did you call him?" she asked Maggie, peering over the lid. "Thunder?"
"Thunder," Maggie confirmed. "It's his code name."
The satellite transmissions were secure, and so scrambled they couldn't be interpreted even if they were intercepted. Still, none of the OMEGA agents ever took unnecessary chances.
Paige squeezed the small stone. "Mr. Thunder, this is... this is Jezebel."
David grimaced in disgust.
After a pregnant pause, Adam replied. "Go ahead, Jezebel."
"I just want to let you know I'm well aware of Dav— of Doc's concerns. I'll do whatever he and—?"
"Chameleon," Maggie supplied.
"Whatever he and Chameleon say. Within reason. I want to check out this implant before anyone pokes it under my skin."
"I can understand your reservations," Thunder replied. "However, Doc has made the tracking device a condition of your involvement in this operation. If you don't agree to it, you'll be out of Cannes within twenty minutes."
Whew! Maggie had felt the whip of Adam's authority a few times herself in the past. It wasn't a particularly pleasant experience, even at a distance of some five thousand miles.
To her credit, Paige didn't wilt under the force of Adam's edict. The prospect of adventure, Maggie decided wryly, must have brought out some inner qualities that she suspected the younger woman hadn't displayed very often in the past.
Paige scowled at the compact, then at Doc, then at the compact again.
"Fine," she said testily into the transmitter. "But the thing had darn well better be removable. I don't want to walk around on an electronic leash for the rest of my life."
Undercover Man Page 6
