"That's not what I…" Rex started to say.
Kelly cut him off. She was a real pro. "New neighbor? Where did you move in?"
"Across the street. But that's not what I…" He tried to change the subject.
Kelly smiled. "In the old cougar's house?" She walked over to the window and looked out.
"Well, yes. Wait, did you say cougar?" Rex looked puzzled.
Kelly nodded. "Oh yeah. The old lady who mowed the yard in a bikini. I never thought she'd leave." She turned to me. "Remember how she did that when we were kids?"
I nodded, taking the cue. "She was always on the prowl." I looked at Rex. "Did she leave anything weird behind?"
"I've never even been inside that house," Kelly said before he could answer. "You'll have to have us over when you're all moved in."
"Kelly can bring you a tuna noodle casserole," I added quickly.
Kelly smiled. "I make a mean tuna noodle casserole, Detective."
Rex looked from one of us to the other. "Okay, so you grew up here. But that doesn't explain why I can't find any record of you anywhere."
I frowned. "Yeah. I don't get that either. I'll have to look and see if I can find my old report cards or yearbooks or something."
"I probably have a yearbook," Kelly said, her eyes going up and to the left as she thought. She would've made a good agent. "It'll take some time to dig those out. But I'll bring them over when I do."
Detective Ferguson looked at me. He knew he was beat. Which made me a little sad. I really liked him. But my cover came first. We could plan the wedding later. And obviously, Kelly would be my maid of honor.
"Fine," he said. He looked pissed. "Let me know when you've got something."
I held the front door open for him. "Will do. Thanks for stopping by."
I watched him walk across the street to his house and go inside. A few minutes later, I watched as the SUV backed out of the driveway and he drove away. I let out a huge breath and collapsed on the couch.
"What was that all about?" Kelly sat down next to me.
"Me not being prepared," I said morosely.
Kelly got up and walked to the door. "A Girl Scout should always be prepared, Merry."
I gave her a look. "Just see if you can find one of the yearbooks. I'll fix it."
With a nod and a wink, Kelly left. I dialed Riley.
"We might have a small problem," I said.
CHAPTER TEN
Riley promised to have someone at Langley work on inserting me into the system. It was sloppy and late, and it wouldn't fool Rex. He'd know the documents weren't there when he looked for them earlier, but he'd have a hard time proving that. Which meant he'd be discredited if he brought it up to anyone in his department.
That was sad. I didn't like hurting his career. I'd done that to other people before. A few of the people I'd turned to give me information—their careers were damaged when I'd left that country. But I didn't care then. All I'd cared about was getting sensitive information out of them and using it to my country's advantage.
I wondered how many people were ruined because of me. It was all just part of the job—I knew that. And some of them were either bad guys or spies themselves. But what about the others? The businessmen, the secretaries to important officials, the people who had to stay behind when I left. The people who had to keep hidden what they'd done. The people who would be punished if they were ever found out. What happened to them?
Some may have lost their jobs. Others might have lost much more. That idea was chilling. You can justify a lot when you think what you're doing is necessary for serving your country. I'd never really thought about that. Probably because I didn't want to think about that.
But now I did. Because now I lived across the street from the person I was screwing over. And for what? To cover my ass because I wanted to keep living here?
I wanted to keep living here. Wow. That's it. I wanted to stay somewhere for once in my life. And Rex was in my way. And I was doing to him what I'd done so easily to others all over the world. It just came so naturally that I felt guilty about it. Would it be possible to look into things…to see if I could help anyone I'd hurt? There was something in that idea that made me feel a little better.
Kelly eventually dropped off one of our yearbooks, and I sat down with it in the kitchen. It was from middle school. There I was, with glasses and braces, grinning like an idiot at the camera, my arm around Kelly. Back when I thought being teased for having braces was the worst life had to offer (because I didn't yet know that the worst is being stabbed by an agent you thought you'd turned, in a dirty alley in Krakow at four a.m.).
Unfortunately, the yearbook listed me as Finn Czrygy. They couldn't fit Fionnaghuala on the page, but everyone had just called me Finn since kindergarten. I wasn't involved in much, just yearbook committee and the school newspaper. My picture was only in the yearbook four times. Each time my real name was mentioned. I'd have to fix that.
The agency would take care of faking my birth certificate, school records, etc. But I'd promised Rex a yearbook, so I'd have to do that myself. I was hoping to drop it off and offer some sort of apology. Something like, Sorry to mess with you, and you were right, but I can't have my cover blown, and will you whisk me away someplace romantic? Okay, not that, but something like that.
"Lana!" I shouted back toward her bedroom, "I'm going out to run a couple of errands." She shouted back a mumbled okay from her bedroom. I'd heard a blow dryer running earlier. I guessed she'd spend a few hours on her hair.
I backed my dented car out of the garage and headed for the nearest art supply store. I was pretty good at forgery. It takes patience and a lot of time to get it right, but there was something satisfying in it. Maybe this could be my hobby? But what would I forge now that I'm retired? Receipts for Oreos? Wait…that wasn't a bad idea…
Half an hour later I was back home. I dumped the contents of my bag on the breakfast bar. One Exacto knife, some large, glossy photo paper, glue, and thread gave me all I needed to try to reproduce the four pages I needed to replace in the book. I also bought a printer/scanner. It took a few annoying moments to upload the software to my laptop. But once it was done, the rest was pretty easy.
All this stuff can be pretty much done with Photoshop. It's not hard after you've had one thousand hours of training, just time-consuming. I had to make the new pages identical to the old pages. Kelly's book was old, and the pages were turning light brown. I'd use tea to age the new pages once I'd done all the scanning, cutting and pasting, and matching the font to retype "Merry Wrath" every time there was a "Finn Czrygy."
The hard part was making the photos on the page look the same as the others in the book. Scanning kind of made them look lighter. But I'd done a lot of work with the graphic software once on assignment in the Andes. It had been freezing, and I didn't have Wi-Fi. So I spent my time learning Photoshop. It took forever. But my main job was listening in on transmissions, so I had lots of time. I was a graphic design pro by the time I moved on, and my Spanish improved dramatically.
"What are you doing?" Lana's voice was right next to me, and I jumped backward.
"You scared the hell out of me!" I snarled. I hadn't even heard her in the hallway.
"Sorry." Lana pouted like a poodle who thought it could get away with something.
I shook my head. "It's okay. I was working on my backstory." I looked at her for a long time. I guess if she was going to live here and know about everything else, I should probably bring her up to speed. So I filled her in on the visit from Detective Hottie and my attempts to fix things.
Lana studied the yearbook. I was still working with the pages, so I didn't care if she had it. Soon, I'd need to sew the new pages into the binding. But for now, what the hell. She probably didn't have a yearbook back in the orphanage.
"This is you and Kelleeeee?" She pointed at the photo of us together.
I nodded. "Yup. Seventh grade at Herbert Hoover Middle School."
"Y
ou look happy," she said. "So you are going to try to make Rex think this proves you grew up here?"
I looked up at her. Something in her voice got my attention. "What, you don't think it'll work?"
She closed the yearbook and handed it back to me. "I don't know. Maybe. He might let it work because he likes you."
I dropped my wireless mouse on the floor. "You think he likes me?" I tried to think when Lana had met Rex. I couldn't come up with anything.
"I don't know." Lana shrugged. "I see him looking at the house a lot."
"That's it? That's all you've got to go on?" I shook my head. "He's probably just keeping an eye on me."
"Maybe. But it looks to me like he likes you."
"How could you possibly know that from seeing him look at the house?"
"I have always had knack for knowing how men think. It's what made me good as a spy."
I sat there, thinking. I really hoped she was right. But then, it made me feel worse for lying to him.
"How did you justify lying to people, back when you were in the business?" I asked. "Did you ever wonder what happened to the people you used?"
Lana shrugged. "I liked being a spy. And people only gave up information because they thought they were using me. That made it okay."
"Using you?"
She grinned. "They thought they would have sex with me if they told me what I wanted. That's how they used me."
"And did you have sex with them when they told you what they wanted?" It was rude to ask, but I was curious.
Lana shook her head. "No. Most of the time I didn't have to. Most were happy just to be seen in public with me. Others needed a little cuddling and kissing."
"Most?" I asked, feeling a little ashamed for pressing the matter.
"There were a few times…" Her voice trailed off, and her eyes grew dark. "But that doesn't matter anymore. I'm not a spy now."
"No one ever asked me to have sex with them in exchange for secrets," I mused out loud. "They just wanted money or stuff." I felt kind of bad about that. Why didn't they want to have sex with me? I wasn't repulsive. I was pretty damned close to better-than-okay.
Lana patted me on the shoulder. "That's a good thing, Finn…I mean Merry. You should not feel bad about that."
I watched her walk back down the hall and wondered. Did Lana feel bad about it? Why did she do it then? But then I thought about the orphanage. I'd do anything for a better life too. I shoved these thoughts aside and went back to my work.
Two hours later I was done. I had to admit—it looked pretty damn good. I'd marry me after seeing this. All I had to do was take it over.
My phone buzzed. I answered it.
"Wrath," Riley said quietly, "we have a little problem."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I walked into the tavern downtown, looking for my former boss. It was packed with the dinner crowd. A mom-and-pop place, it was dark with dull décor, but it had the best burgers in the state. I wondered if Riley knew that. He didn't seem like a burger guy to me, unless it was made of tofu. The thought of tofu burgers made me shudder. I was an Iowan. Burgers made of plant matter didn't exist on my radar—something I was very grateful for.
Riley was seated in a booth in the back. He was facing the rest of the interior, including the door. Damn. I wanted that spot. It was ingrained in spies to pick the spot where we could see everything. You never wanted your back to the door.
I sat down opposite him and felt uncomfortable. But with two spooks, what could you do? Someone had to sit with his back to the door. In this case, it was me.
"I ordered for both of us, something called a Reuben Burger," Riley said with a frown. Uh-oh. It must be bad news if he's eating real food.
A frazzled looking waitress chewing gum stopped by just long enough to drop off two bottles of beer. She was busy and probably wouldn't even remember that we were here. That's why Riley had picked this place. We'd stand out in a salad joint—mainly because I would be dramatically crawling across the floor, begging for greasy food.
"The Reuben Burger is famous here. They make their bread fresh every morning." I took a long drink of beer. It was nice and cold.
"Just trying to fit in," Riley said. He looked worried. Something bothered him enough to go all undercovery on me.
"So what's up?" I asked, taking another drink.
"You know, I've been in shitholes all over the world. It always amazes me when I find them here in the U.S.," Riley snarled.
Wow. It must be worse than I thought.
"This is a good place," I said defensively. "The owners have had it all their lives, and their kids work here." I indicated the two young men working the bar. "It's clean, and the food is great. So give it a break, Andrews. Why am I here?"
Just then the waitress dumped two baskets full of beer-battered French fries and the biggest burgers Riley had probably ever seen. The Reuben Burger truly is a work of art. Half a pound of corn-fed Iowa beef, piled high with corned beef, smothered in melted Swiss cheese, and topped off with fresh, authentic German sauerkraut. The buns were made of rye bread. I took a huge bite and savored it.
Riley watched me, bug-eyed, before picking up the bun and staring at what was underneath. I went up to the bar and grabbed a small plate, which I brought back and filled with ketchup. I dipped a couple of fries, ate, and washed it all down with beer. Heaven.
"I'm not going to talk to you until you at least take a bite," I said. His snobbery was bothering me. He'd picked the place, after all. What did he expect them to serve? Bean sprouts? I was pretty sure they still tarred and feathered you here if you asked for that.
Riley shot me a look before lifting the huge burger to his mouth and taking a fairly plausible bite. His expression changed from horror to surprise. He chewed, swallowed, then ate a couple of fries.
"That's pretty good," he said. "I owe you an apology."
"Whatever." I rolled my eyes. "What's wrong?"
Riley held up two fingers. "Two things. First, the Middle East office picked up some chatter about you. Al-Qaeda's considering a jihad against you for Ahmed's death."
"What?" I wasn't quite sure I heard that right. "For a moment there I thought you'd said Ahmed's friends have called for a holy war against me."
"They're just considering it. I thought you should know," he added.
"Okay…" I said slowly as I tried to digest this information, "next you'll be telling me the Colombian Cartel is coming after me."
There was a brief pause as Riley smiled weakly, "Actually…"
"Oh come on! Really?" I slapped my hand on the table. I was more angry than anything. If I was smart, I would've been terrified. But I wasn't. Smart, that is.
He nodded. "We're on top of it. We have some inside guys trying to spread misinformation. Hopefully, they'll give up on the idea before they start auditioning hit men."
"Hopefully?" I just stared at him. "We can't get a little more concrete on that? Like maybe definitely or absolutely?"
"I'm working on it. I don't want you to worry about it. Think of it as something that's being taken care of."
I grumbled, "I'd rather think of it as something that didn't happen at all." Great. Now I also ran the risk of being hunted by two different kinds of terrorists. Which is fine if you're actually still an employee of the CIA, but not so great if you are retired. Maybe instead of getting a cat, I should get an attack dog. Or two.
"What's the other thing?" I asked. "You said there were two things you had to tell me. I'm hoping this won't be as bad as having al-Qaeda and the Colombians after me."
Riley sighed. "I don't think you're the target," he said, looking at me as if that piece of news would upset me.
"Oh good. So this will all blow over and go away then," I said, taking another bite of burger.
He shook his head. "It won't. Not as long as Lana's at your house."
I dropped the burger into the basket. "What? You think Lana's the target? But that's ridiculous. She showed up after Ahmed and Carlos. Who
ever is doing this didn't even know she was coming here."
"I've found several connections between Lana and all three dead guys." He shrugged. "Several," he repeated—which was unnecessary since I'd heard him the first time. "I haven't found a secure connection on all three to you."
I frowned. "It still doesn't make sense. Why make it look like they are targeting me?"
"Red herring," he said.
"You know, you use that phrase too much." I pointed a fry at him before eating it. I thought about asking the waitress to bring me some mayonnaise. I liked dipping my fries in mayo. But that would probably give Riley an empathetic heart attack.
"The bad guys—let's call them X— wanted us to think of you as the target. They wanted us to worry about and fuss over you. Then, while we were focused on that, they'd go after Lana."
I shook my head. "No. I still come back to the fact that Ahmed showed up dead at the camp, where Mr. X knew I'd be. Then he threw Carlos in front of my car. Lana didn't even come into play until after that."
"Mr. X?" Riley asked.
I shrugged. "It's more sinister than just X, don't you think? Or Dr. X. That might be better."
He rolled his eyes. "I don't understand how the murders of Ahmed and Carlos are involved either," Riley said. Half of his fries were gone now. "But the connections are there, and they are hard to refute."
I sighed. "Okay, what are the connections?" I didn't really think this Monsieur X (kind of a French twist to that one) was after Lana. But Riley must've felt he was being ignored, so I'd hear him out. I hoped this didn't mean I wasn't still getting a forged backstory from the CIA. I was kind of looking forward to that.
Riley held up one finger. "Number one, Lana had a connection to Ahmed. The Russian mob had sent her to the Middle East on two separate occasions to serve as a liaison. We don't know what she did there, but in each case she entered Ahmed's safe house and left a couple of hours later."
I nodded. "Okay, so that makes sense. The Arabs love blonde, blue-eyed bimbos. I can see where that might work. But maybe she didn't even meet with Ahmed. They wouldn't risk exposing him like that. Chances are she met with underlings."
Merit Badge Murder Page 8
