by Diana Layne
“Yeah, those black sneakers on the floor by your feet. Does he have any others?”
“No, I don’t think–”
“Check his bag to make sure. I’ll head on out to the car, hurry up.”
“Wait, why are you taking his shoes?”
Tasha opened the door. “Since you don’t want me to kill him, I’m trying to keep him from following this time.”
MJ scrambled to go through Ben’s bag. She found a pair of flip flops as Tasha walked out the door. “There’s still his car,” MJ pointed out, following Tasha.
“Yep. That there is.”
MJ was closing the door when she stopped. “I could take the keys. With the new car anti-theft devices, it would stall if he tried to wire . . .” Yeah, but then how would he get back to civilization. She found she didn’t like the idea of stranding Ben this time, even if he did have medicine, food and water.
Tasha opened the trunk on her Porsche, true to its peculiar engineering, the trunk was in the front where the engine should have been. “Nope. Not necessary. His car’s not going anywhere.” She tossed in MJ’s bag and Ben’s black Rockports. “Toss in those flip flops as well.”
“You rigged his car not to start? I didn’t realize you knew anything about cars.”
“I know how to keep one from going anywhere.”
“What did you do? Pull the spark plug wire? If he doesn’t know how to fix it, he’ll be stuck here. Our phones don’t work in this area.”
“Like taking his keys wouldn’t leave him stuck.”
“I know, I thought of that after I said it.”
“We won’t be gone more than a day or two. He’ll last being stuck if he can’t figure out how to save himself. Get in.”
MJ opened the car door and was greeted by ferocious yapping and a bundle of fur with sharp pointy teeth flying at her. She thought she heard Tasha mutter, “shit” but there wasn’t time to process if it was real or imagined. The teeth snapped, barely missing her thigh. MJ jumped back, prepared for a second assault. “What the hell?”
“Cy, get back in here. She’s a friend.”
This time MJ heard Tasha clearly, and obviously so did the creature. The little black fur ball masquerading as a dog stopped the attack, hopped back into the car and sat, but still kept its teeth bared, a low growl in his throat.
“Nice dog,” MJ said, not meaning a word. “Cy’s going to ride behind the seats, right?”
“No, you two will have to share.”
“Terrific.”
“C’mere, Cy.” Tasha took the dog and held him while MJ got in. The now-docile dog licked Tasha’s cheek.
“Will Ben be able to fix the car and drive? Without his shoes, he can’t very well walk, and besides he’s still recovering from that gunshot."
“You really care for the guy.”
“He’s a good guy.”
“No guy’s good.”
Tasha had a point, although MJ wouldn’t go so far as saying no guy was good, still she had good reason to be leery. How had they become so close so fast?
“He’s a Vista agent,” she reasoned, as much as for herself as with Tasha.
“So was Keith.”
MJ narrowed her eyes. “That’s a low blow.”
“Truth hurts. And you of all people should know not to trust anyone. I don’t.”
Unfortunately, Tasha reiterated MJ’s thoughts. Had a pretty face, hot body and great sex suckered MJ again? Ben’s whole story of the wife and baby could be fiction, for that matter, designed to gain her trust and sympathy. Shocking that she was still so naïve, but her instincts had insisted Ben was a good guy. With Keith she hadn’t even thought to question.
Tasha handed MJ the dog and backed out of the driveway, but then stopped the car on the dirt road. “Fasten your seatbelt.”
MJ pulled the belt over her lap. Cy, his muscles tense, snapped at her. “Watch it, dog. I’ve been known to kill for less.” Cy scuttled back over to Tasha.
“Sorry, buddy, you gotta sit with her for a minute.” She passed the dog back to MJ and picked up a black box that resembled a garage door opener remote. “It’s a good thing you came in a rental and not your Mustang.”
MJ realized what Tasha held in her hand. “What the–”
Tasha pointed the remote toward Ben’s car.
“Tasha, no!”
Too late.
A small explosion rocked the car. Flames shot up out of the hood, burning bright.
“I would’ve hated to do that to your little classic car.”
MJ’s mouth dropped open, for a minute refusing to work. “Holy shit, you blew up the car."
“Pretty, isn’t it?”
“Pretty? When those flames hit the gasoline line–”
Another explosion cut her off. But not as bad as she was expecting.
“I drained the gas tank, not much left.”
Enough that the car was a total loss.
Tasha drove off. “Good thing you hadn’t parked closer to the cabin.”
“The cabin.” MJ twisted around. “Ben’s out cold, what if the cabin catches on fire?”
“I calculated the angle, and there’s no wind tonight. The cabin will be okay.”
“But the trees. They could burn–”
“With all the rain yesterday?” Tasha ticked off points on her finger. “And it’s been a wet autumn. The car’s on an inch layer of gravel. It’s a small contained explosion, it will be fine.”
MJ couldn’t stop staring behind.
“Besides," Tasha added, “I also left a fire extinguisher on the front porch.”
“But he’s knocked un–”
“Listen, those blasts would’ve waked the dead. And Ben wasn’t dead.”
Sure enough, Ben stumbled outside, fully naked, his hand held to his head.
MJ slumped in relief. “He’s okay.” At least if the cabin caught on fire, he could get away. Maybe not far with no car, no shoes, but he wouldn’t burn to death.
“Damn, do you love that guy?”
That startling thought jolted through MJ, but she immediately dismissed any idea of love. “Don’t be stupid. He’s just a–”
“Nice guy,” Tasha finished. “We’ve been there already. He’s good for sex only. Good in bed or not, I sure hope you’re not stupid enough to fall in love again.”
“No, absolutely I won’t. And no more sex. I didn’t mean for that to happen. If you’d gotten here sooner, it wouldn’t have.”
“Good thing I got here late then. You looked like you were enjoying it too much, after he finally got your clothes off. Probably needed a good fu–”
“You couldn’t know that. Unless you had night vision gog–”
Tasha picked up a pair of night vision goggles from between the seats, dangled them on her fingers by the strap.
The distinct sensation of bugs crawled over MJ. Tasha had watched them. “You are so twisted.”
“Life’s more fun that way.”
What felt almost special now felt tainted. MJ resented that intrusion.
“Listen,” Tasha explained. “How many times when you were working did you walk into a situation blind? I wasn’t going in there until I knew what I was getting into.”
Of course MJ knew the rules of operation, but it was as if Tasha were explaining to ease MJ’s distress. No, that was too weird. Tasha never cared about anyone but herself.
“And what exactly are you into, Tasha?” MJ took the opening to change the subjects. She didn’t want to think any more about Ben and what they’d shared together. File that in the back of her brain under mistakes that won’t happen again.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Coyness from you? The senators who drop dead in your path and then smile for the camera. Remember?”
“Any proof it’s my path?”
Tasha hadn’t lost the ability for doublespeak but MJ played along, figuring it would get faster results. “Maybe the photographs you sent to my email?”
“What if I’ve take
n up photography as a hobby?” Tasha deadpanned.
Now she was pushing it. “Photographing dead guys?”
“There’s probably a market somewhere.”
“I think your business is doomed to fail.”
“Don’t be too sure.”
“True, dead people do seem to follow after you.” MJ absentmindedly patted the black furball in her lap. “Jeff pulled out some big guns to make me find you. Sent Ben, who’s not a slouch of an agent.”
“I’ve heard he has issues.”
“Yes.”
“Broke down after a job gone bad?”
“There were reasons.”
“Always are.”
“That’s not all. They threatened to stop my adoption.”
Tasha cast a sideways glance. MJ expected to see surprise, but instead she saw satisfaction.
“Drastic,” Tasha mused, gaze back on the road. “I must be pretty close to someone’s toes.”
“I don’t want to lose my daughter, Tasha. If they have no proof, what makes them think it’s you?”
“What did the photos tell you?”
“Not much. Most looked like they were sleeping.”
“Anything else in common?”
MJ ground her teeth with the twenty questions, she felt like she was back in school with her annoying geometry teacher who lived to belabor a point over some stupid theorem. “They were all naked.”
“And . . .”
God save her. MJ consciously opened her mouth and took a deep breath to release the tension in her jaws before she answered. “And you’re one of the only female agents who’ll have sex with a target first. So you are killing them.”
“Did I say that? I’ve only been tying up loose ends.”
“They’re loose ends? From when? Another job?”
“Most of them are taken care of now.”
“There’s more?”
“Unfortunately.”
“And you came to me now because . . .”
“I need help?”
“You?” MJ had never known Tasha to need or ask for help from anyone. “Nope. Not buying it. Give me another reason.”
“Because you were looking for me. Which proved my theory, that sooner or later someone from Vista would figure it out and send you after me." Tasha paused. “And because you needed to know.”
“And your theory is?” MJ would ask what she needed to know later. That sounded personal, and she wasn’t sure if there was something she needed to know that she really wanted to know. Better to stick with the business side. Tasha’s theory.
“My theory is right obviously.”
“Don’t be deliberately obtuse,” MJ snapped, her patience fraying like a hair ribbon Angelina had gotten hold of once and used as a teething ring. “What is it?”
“Vista has a leak.”
MJ’s irritation vanished, replaced with an amazed disbelief. “A leak?”
“Now who’s being dense? Leak, spy, mole.”
“I know what a leak is.” It was something MJ would have never given serious consideration to, and why not? Because Ed had founded the company? Did that mean that every operative was steadfast and true? Keith was living, no, make that dead, proof that was flawed thinking. “What would a leak at Vista have to do with you and old senators?”
"Okay, leak is probably the wrong word," Tasha conceded. “Hm . . . conspirator, co-conspirator, would be more accurate.”
Irritation was climbing back up on the scale, but only to ward off the serious sick feeling swirling in her stomach. She knew she didn’t want to know but she asked anyway. “What are you talking about?”
“If you hadn’t gotten yourself shot, you might’ve made it to Ed’s funeral–”
“Like I wanted to get shot?”
“And then,” Tasha continued as if MJ hadn’t said anything, “You would’ve been there with me to go through the papers Ed left behind.”
Obviously this was going to be another long drawn out Tasha-style explanation. MJ kept playing, pretty certain now she wasn’t going to want to hear the ending so delaying wasn’t such a bad thing after all. “What sort of papers?”
“Papers that told of a conspiracy to assassinate Reagan.”
“Reagan? Former President Reagan who hasn’t been president in like a hundred years?” MJ was beginning to think Tasha had totally lost it and here MJ was stuck in the car for absolutely no reason when she could be back in Texas with her baby.
“That’s the one.”
“Conspiracy theories to assassinate President Reagan are old news, and hello—who cares? He’s not president anymore. He’s not even alive anymore.”
“Apparently there really was a conspiracy, and our fathers were working on busting up the conspiracy.”
“Why would CIA investigate? Why not the FBI—unless it was an international threat?”
“Yes, of course. It involved Russia.”
“So, your father being from Russia would come in handy.”
“My father and your father both worked confirming the intelligence." Even in the dark, MJ saw Tasha’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, her white knuckles illuminated by the dashboard light. “Apparently the conspiracy thing had legs.”
“And these senators were involved?”
Tasha nodded. “According to the notes Ed left.”
“Okay, the senators and Russians working together to assassinate President Reagan. What? They wanted to stop the arms race?” MJ struggled to remember the history. She’d only been a girl. Reagan had some idea to end the cold war terror with Russia by building up a massive supply of weapons.
“Exactly,” Tasha said. “These senators—and others—were worried Reagan was going to bankrupt the country. Or pull us into a nuclear war."
“So their solution was to snuff the President.” MJ nodded, the senators were as whacked as Tasha obviously. “Totally makes sense. Right.”
“At the time, as far as senators go, they were young and ambitious, the bottom line is they hated all of Reagan’s policies. But he was wildly popular with the people. Guess killing him was the easiest way to keep him from getting re-elected.”
“Yeah, I can see that. Good plan,” MJ said, her voice heavy on the sarcasm. “Kill the president, conspire with the Russians, get someone you want in power.”
“You never know how some people think, why they thought killing would take care of the problem.” Tasha sounded as sincere and serious as a Reagan supporter might have been.
MJ blinked, then turned to stare at Tasha. “You’re kidding right? Aren’t you taking the same path killing these senators?”
“Did I say I was killing anyone?”
“Cut the bullshit. You’re here aren’t you?” MJ warned. “So spit out what you know and convince me why I shouldn’t turn your ass in and get back to my daughter.”
“Heard anything on the news about senators being murdered?”
“So someone’s keeping it quiet because this person was involved and doesn’t want anyone to know?”
“Exactly. And this person is powerful enough to manipulate Vista, or it’s possible there are still several players left.”
Several players? “And you plan on tracking them all down?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Why? What on earth would motivate you to track down these guys? This is old news...history. It doesn’t affect us today. Why can’t you let the past stay in the past?”
“The senators didn’t stop the plan to kill the President because they were almost caught. Intelligence hadn’t pinpointed all the players yet.”
“And yet their plan was never executed?”
“Right.”
“So something stopped them from carrying out the plans. Our fathers might not have found all the players, but they must’ve gotten close enough that the senators got scared.”
“Yes, they got scared all right.”
“But why do you care?”
“Because our fathers did stop the plan, jus
t not the way they’d intended.”
Now, MJ was thoroughly confused. “Okay, they stopped the plan, good for them. The free world was saved.”
“My, aren’t we snippy. I thought you loved your father.”
MJ twitched at the insult, but refused to let Tasha guilt her. “Of course I did. But he’s been dead over two decades now. I have another life.”
“Aren’t you the least curious how they stopped the plan?”
MJ sighed. Stuck in a car with Tasha in the middle of the night over a thousand miles away from Texas reviewing CIA career highlights seemed only to be another time-wasting endeavor, regardless of how much MJ loved her father. But what choice did she have? “Okay, how did they stop the plan?”
“By dying.”
MJ gasped as if a front snap kick had just landed in her solar plexus. She struggled to breathe.
Tasha, ever the one for drama, let the tension drag out, MJ noted with a small observing part of her brain.
“What . . . ?” MJ squeezed out when she could talk again.
“Those men killed our fathers.”
Chapter 17
“No!” MJ’s world tilted. The air was suddenly too thin to draw into her lungs. Her head spun as fast as if she’d done a succession of tornado kicks in a row. “Car wreck,” she whispered, her throat closing. “Our fathers died in a car wreck.”
“Most definitely yes. Both our families died as a result of that car wreck. But it wasn’t an accident.”
“It was deliberate?” Reality took on a Twilight Zone quality. Someone killed her parents. All those years as an orphan because of men with insane ambitions. The dangerous career thrust upon her, Keith’s betrayal, nearly dying, losing her ability to have children or a normal life because of men with insane ambitions.
The path of her whole life was because of men with insane ambitions.
The thought of it... The thought was almost too much to grasp. Unconsciously, MJ tightened her grasp on the dog in her arms. He yelped.
Tasha scooped Cy into her lap, then reached behind her seat, pulling out a big brown envelope and tossed it in MJ’s lap. “Everything I’m telling you is in there.”
MJ picked up the envelope and stared at it, as if by osmosis the information would transfer itself to her brain. “Who helped them?” she heard herself ask in a tiny voice that couldn’t possibly belong to her.
