by Wendy Byrne
Did that mean anything? Probably not. More than likely it was one of those physics lessons Jake had ignored leading to yet another chastisement from Petrovich about how much better a student Max was than he.
He ran through the video enough to know there wasn't anything remarkable about it. Instead, he concentrated on doing searches on both Alex Cromier and Nick Stamos. He went to a search engine within the database he utilized with The Alliance and scanned through the information.
Alex Cromier. The youngest of six children born to two career Army officers. He'd been to seven different schools before he graduated and attended New York University. Fluent in several languages, he graduated summa cum laude in three and a half years. He traveled in Europe and Asia for two years before joining the CIA the following September, the same time as Tessa. So far nothing remarkable, which kind of bothered Jake. It was almost as if the information was sanitized.
Nicholas Stamos. One of two children born to the marriage of two professors at Stanford University. Lived in California his entire life, attending Stanford. He joined the CIA the same time as Alex and Tessa, as she'd reported. Why was he living in a ramshackle apartment in New York? There was no mention of him leaving the CIA. Was he in New York on some kind of assignment? Or had he been addicted to drugs, like Tessa had heard?
What was Jake missing?
He tapped on the edge of the computer, hoping something profound might come to him. But he was lost even as he glanced over the notes on Tessa. Was there any chance Istanbul played into this whole thing somehow? He had to consider the off chance that Cleo was somehow involved as well.
Everything Tessa had said to him was validated in what he had in his file. He closed up his laptop as she stirred and sat up in bed. She looked over at him and yawned, then muttered, "Can't sleep?"
"One of the hazards of the business. I get an idea in the middle of the night and can't fall back asleep until whatever's nagging me is solved."
"You're still awake, so I guess that means you haven't figured out what was bothering you yet."
"Nope." He shook his head. "I watched the video on my laptop again and then accessed new info The Alliance dug up about Alex and Nick. They gave us very little information about you in the first place, and this stuff is equally unremarkable."
"I thought that information was classified." She straightened in bed and rested along the headboard.
"The good stuff is harder than hell to access."
She got up from the bed to stand over him, and looked over his shoulder. "This is bullshit." Her voice sounded shaky as she pointed at the screen. "Alex was an only child to a single mother. He didn't know his father, just like me."
He looked at her. "That's not what it says."
"Then it's pure fabrication. Alex would have no reason to lie to me about his family."
"The CIA is tricky. Maybe he was supposed to get close to you for some reason."
But why would Alex lie to her about his family? He'd have no reason to, unless she'd been set up from the very beginning. Why would they do that to a new recruit on a lark?
A germ of an idea began to filter through his brain. But would she even listen to his potential theory when she was steeped in denial about his info?
"No way. He was my friend." Her voice shook with emotion.
"Didn't you say Alex was a chameleon? That he was friends with everyone, everyone liked him, the life-of-the-party kind of guy, always had a story to get a laugh?" The possibility settled stronger inside him, even if he couldn't make sense of why right now.
Be a chameleon. Blend into your surroundings as much as possible. Pretend. Pretend. Pretend. Until you believe what you say yourself.
Petrovich's words trailed through his mind. But why would the CIA do something like that to one of their own? Was there a reason she was targeted? That was the million-dollar question he'd yet to figure out.
"What does it say about Nick in that bogus report of yours?"
"Has a younger sister, went to Stanford, where his parents worked as professors. Does that jibe with what you know?"
She blew out a breath. "Yep. But why would there be misinformation about Alex, then?" The vehemence in her reaction had diminished. Maybe she was considering the possibility.
"For whatever reason, it's what he wanted you to believe. Straight up, he lied to you. Did he mention anything about why he waited two years after college to join the CIA?"
"No, he went right from college, like me. Like Nick." Her voice got quieter.
"That's true for Nick, but not Alex. He graduated college in three years and then spent time visiting Europe and Asia."
"I call bullshit." She visibly trembled. "His mother was poor, like mine. He wouldn't have the money to travel like that." Her voice got louder with each word. "Why would he lie? What could he possibly expect to get from me?"
"Maybe he did it initially to see if he could fool you and adopt a different persona. Then it sort of took on a life of its own, and he continued with the charade."
Her face had fallen as her eyes got wider. She looked like he felt the first time Petrovich had sent him and Max on assignment. He'd known then the whole setup had been too good to be true. And it was.
"It's a skill he needed to develop as an operative."
"There weren't any secrets between us." Her voice softened as if regrets and second-guessing blocked the words. "I liked being an operative. I had no ambitions to be at a higher pay grade than what I was."
"But there's a notation in your file that you applied for a supervisory position."
"Where the hell did you get that stuff?" Without waiting for an answer, she glanced at what he had open on the screen, and bristled. "I never applied for anything. Your information is bogus."
"Are you sure somebody didn't misunderstand, maybe a comment you made or something?"
"Jake, we're talking the frickin' CIA. To get a grade level change you have to submit reams of paperwork. It's not like I could casually mention something like, 'Gee, I think I want to be a pencil pusher,' and voila, I get a supervisory position."
"Somebody put that information in there for a reason. It's calculated either way you look at it—whether it came from Alex or the CIA itself."
"That didn't come from headquarters." Clearly the idea of being used by Alex, or anybody else for that matter, didn't sit well with her. Not that he could blame her.
He'd never known his intel from The Alliance to be inaccurate, but either they were wrong or she was an Oscar-worthy liar—or had no clue. "That's what my information says."
"Let me see that. They must have picked up some intel from a cover Alex had constructed. Not real life. He's like me. He doesn't have family. I mean, he didn't have a family." She yanked the computer from his fingers as anger sluiced through her, evidenced by the way her hands shook. "This can't be right." Even though she shook her head, her fingers stopped fidgeting. He could see the possibility sink in.
She looked like somebody had just drowned her cat. When she plopped on the bed, it looked like the weight of the world was on her. It probably didn't feel too good to know that her best friend had been a lying sack of shit.
"We have some top-notch investigators working for The Alliance, and I asked them to gather background information on Alex and Nick."
"Pfft. I think you should ask for your money back then." She mumbled something under her breath that sounded like bullshit. "I can break into CIA headquarters and prove your intel is bogus."
"It doesn't really matter if he had a family or not." He drew in a breath. "I might do some crazy things at times, but breaking into Langley is suicide." He grasped her hand. "Besides the fact there are a gazillion cameras and security tighter than anything you could imagine, we'd get caught and no doubt eliminated if the last couple of days are any barometer."
"But I can't fathom why Alex would lie to me. It doesn't make sense."
He could almost see the wheels turning inside her head. "Where did Alex live?"
"The address I have doesn't look like an apartment." He pointed to the satellite map he'd pulled up on Google.
"Holy crap. That looks like a damn estate." She examined the photo, magnifying the house and grounds as if somehow she'd see something that would validate what he'd said.
"My people saw the apartment in Alex's name, but he bought this place about a year ago. Let's head back to Virginia and see what we can find out. I'm sure getting in there will be a whole lot easier than Langley."
Tension seemed to underlie her smile. "It's five a.m. How soon can we leave?"
* * *
Jake didn't know what he should feel. Her being a double agent seemed like a ridiculous idea, but questions still lingered in the back of his mind. And what was that whole meltdown about Alex about? The CIA could make people disappear, ruin people at the drop of the hat, encourage or disperse dissent depending on their mindset. They were the master manipulators. Even more so than Petrovich, as they had an army of people at their disposal rather than a few individuals.
Having Tessa for an assignment was his chance for vindication if he pulled it off. Keeping her safe and figuring out how or why she'd been a target was a chance he was willing to take.
Because of the nature of the assignment, he had to be in close proximity with her twenty-four seven. Unfortunately, his objectivity was disintegrating by the second. He liked her, which usually turned out to be a bad sign. And he believed her, which was another sign leading him to think he was a hair's breadth away from making a horrible mistake. Most of his abilities he felt confident about, but the most crucial one continued to be problematic. On the other hand, she was clearly hiding something from him, and it was nearly impossible to continue the pretense of innocence given their close proximity. Keeping up with the lies when there was no respite from them would prove to be challenging for anyone. Sooner or later she'd slip.
By the time he loaded their meager belongings into the car and closed the door, his head pounded. The idea he might be riding straight into a trap blinked like a neon sign in his mind.
Every time he turned around, they seemed to run into trouble. The only thing he could be certain of was that the guys in the warehouse weren't playing. They meant to harm her for one reason or another. Could it have been some elaborate kind of ruse to lure him into a trap?
Maybe he was overthinking this whole thing. He'd been contracted to do a job, and he would. Value judgments had no place in the equation. He'd ferret out the cold, hard facts and report on what he'd found.
She settled in next to Jake in the front seat. He couldn't help but obsess about what she might be thinking as she rubbed at the shoulder where she'd taken the bullet. It seemed to cause her a crapload of discomfort, even after six weeks.
Just outside New York, Jake glanced in his review mirror and swore. Maybe he was being paranoid. He sped up and switched lanes, but the dark car behind them followed. It was like they'd been lying in wait. But how?
There had to be a tracker somewhereon his car or on her somewhere. He plugged in his jammer and hoped it would work.
She turned in her seat. He could see the nerves resurface in her shaky movements. "Is that them again? How did they find us?"
Was this some elaborate game of cat and mouse? They knew his car, but why hadn't they followed them to Connecticut?
Instead of following 95 South, he got off at the next exit to see if they were still with him. Shit. He turned toward her. "They must have put something in your computer when they had it the other night. They're getting a signal from us for sure. I've done it myself a couple of times—a small chip hidden within the hard drive. Easy-peasy. But usually the smaller ones have a short range."
She yanked open her backpack and then hesitated. "I don't see how they would have had time."
He studied her expression as much as he could, considering the circumstances. Was she that good a liar? He'd been in the company of some of the best and had been fooled by them as well. Was she another example?
"Maybe they didn't want to move in until we got close for some reason." He drummed his fingers along the steering wheel while keeping a watchful eye on the car behind them. So far they hadn't made a move, but that could mean they were waiting for reinforcements.
He was missing giant chunks of information that she seemed reluctant to supply. Something happened in Afghanistan. Maybe her memory was as faulty as she claimed, or maybe it wasn't. That might be the key to solving this whole case. Because suddenly, all he wanted was to be free of this problem once and for all. He got the sensation that, like it or not, he was in over his head.
As soon as he could, he needed to contact Jennings again. He needed to let him know about the video and to dig further into Alex's past. He needed a little information in order to get even half a chance to try to figure out what in the hell was going on. Maybe bouncing some ideas off him would help fill in some of the blanks. All he knew was that somebody wasn't being honest with him—or maybe neither party was being honest, and he had to figure out who was being more dishonest.
A car pulled in front of them. She looked behind and nodded. They were hemmed in. He should have seen that maneuver coming.
"I threw a gun in your bag and mine." His voice remained level despite the adrenaline surge. No matter which way he looked at this, getting out of there unscathed would take a minor miracle.
He swerved into the oncoming lane and pushed his foot down on the gas pedal. Outrunning them was an option. He didn't have to tell her to roll down the window as they skirted past. She steadied the gun in her hand. The guy in the back seat aimed one back.
"Pull over," the guy hollered out the window.
"Who are you?" she screamed as she held the gun steady at the other car.
This whole thing had gotten crazier. The speedometer hovered around ninety, and he was still on the wrong side of the road. One error and this would not end well. Even the right move could mean this might not end well.
As far as he could tell, and without provocation, Tessa squeezed off a shot, taking out the front tire of the car next to them. The driver lost control and swerved onto the parkway and into a tree. He hadn't expected that, and apparently neither had the driver.
"Nice shot." That was either a one-in-a-million shot or she was damn good.
"Lots of time clocked at the shooting range." She kept the gun ready as she looked behind. "The other one's gaining on us. This time they won't take any chances. They'll shoot first."
Seconds after she spoke, the first bullet took out his taillight. He could only hope they weren't as good as she. The next shot pinged off the trunk.
"Any ideas?"
"Why do you keep asking me that? You're supposed to be the one in charge, aren't you?"
"'In charge' is a relative term." He made a quick turn at the next corner. Maybe he could outmaneuver them if he couldn't outrun them.
"Well, you get to boss me around." She held on to the dashboard as he peeled around the corner.
He pounded the dashboard. "I've got bad news."
"Worse than a carload of bad guys chasing after us?"
"Yep." He turned to look at her. "It looks like they hit our fuel tank."
"Are you sure?"
"Unless my gas mileage has dipped to a block a gallon, yeah." He shook his head. "We need to find a place to hide the car and then get the hell out of here on foot." As far as plans went, his sucked, but from his way of thinking, there weren't a lot of options.
"Wait." She pointed to a trailer park with a cropping of trees behind it. "Shut your lights off and don't step on the brakes until you have to. There's enough time for you to get lost in the maze here. That should hold them until we can get away."
Negotiating in the black of night without headlights was tricky. Especially when his heart was acting like a jackh
ammer inside his chest. His job required risks to get things done, but lately it felt like he'd been on a nonstop adrenaline ride.
He bumped into the side of a mailbox before he put the car in park. They grabbed their bags and slipped into the field. Assuming the guys might have night-vision capabilities, they needed to get as far away as quickly as they could.
A car screeched around the turn in the road. The brakes squealed as the car stopped suddenly.
Jake looked back and spotted them backing up. "They weren't fooled. It won't be long before they spot us. We're going to have to evade them until Jennings can send a car."
She hesitated as if she didn't believe him, and turned around. "How did they—"
"We're going to have to figure that out, but right now it doesn't matter." He grasped her hand and yanked.
Run.
Run.
And run some more.
The tree line hovered in the distance but within reach. The bad guys would be on them in seconds. The crack of a rifle reverberated in the air. He needed to figure out a plan. Fast. Or they'd both be dead. Not going to happen.
Think.
Her breathing was getting more and more labored. There wasn't a doubt in his mind she couldn't run much longer.
He could sense their presence crawling up his back. Another shot rang through the night. This time a whole lot closer.
"If they've got infrared tracking, we're toast."
"Way to…fill…a…gal's head with hope." The last word came out on one long breath.
"The woods are pretty thick. With a little luck we should be able to avoid them. After that, I'm out of ideas."
She shook her head and smiled. "I'm still pissed about those jerks taking my C-4."
"I know. I was looking forward to blowing something up." The banter between them seemed to keep his mind off the trouble they were in. At least for a few seconds.
