“I don't know. He's a bit of a puzzle at times.”
“My thought exactly. But I can't afford puzzles. I have to know—I have to trust him.”
“Then you'll have to make up your own mind.”
“But you trust him.”
He nodded. “But it's always been instinct. I'd rather have him in my corner than anyone except my wife.”
“And he said she wanted to cut his throat.”
Galen nodded. “Elena doesn't forgive and forget.”
“And she has something to forgive?”
“Oh, yes.”
“But you don't agree with her?”
“Not entirely.”
“You're not going to talk about it.”
“It wouldn't inspire you with confidence.” He started the dishwasher. “Suppose I fill you in on all I know about Judd's background instead?”
“I'll take whatever I can get.”
He started to wipe off the countertops. “Well, I guess I should start with the North Korea debacle. . . .”
The kitchen was clean and the dishwasher was humming through its cycle when he finished speaking. He gave her a puckish grin. “And that's all you'll get out of me. You can beat me. You can tear out my fingernails, but I won't—”
“Shut up, Galen.” She was trying to digest everything he'd told her. “I don't know much more than when I started about how he thinks, do I? You don't know anything else about him?”
“Let's see, he's mentioned he was an Air Force brat and grew up all over the world. He speaks six languages fluently. I guess going into the service was a logical step for him.” He turned to face her. “You're right, all this isn't going to help you. You're probably going to have to rely on instinct, like me.”
“That's scary.”
“It depends on the instinct.” He smiled. “I'm going to call Elena and then I'm going to bed. When Judd comes back, tell him I've spilled my guts to you. I wouldn't like him to think I'd go behind his back.”
She watched him leave the kitchen and then moved toward the front door. A cold blast of air struck her as she went out on the porch.
“You should put on a coat if you're going to be out here very long.” Morgan was moving down the walk toward her. “It's almost freezing.”
“I thought you might be lurking on the porch.”
“I don't lurk. I did what I told you I'd do. I needed to familiarize myself with the area.” He climbed the steps and opened the front door. “You never know when it might come in handy. Get inside. You're having problems with maintaining body temperature anyway.”
“Not anymore. I'm fine.” But the warmth of the room felt good as she went inside. “Galen told me to tell you that he spilled his guts to me.”
“Not a pretty phrase.” He took off his coat and hung it in the closet. “Not a great thing to do. But I expected you to squeeze it out of him.” He turned to face her. “He probably knew it wouldn't make any difference in the long run.”
“Is that why you left us alone?”
“Yes. Do you feel better now?”
“Why should I feel better? You're already in so much hot water that I have no hold on you.”
“Sorry.” He studied her for a moment. “What can I do to help?”
She stared at him and then laughed incredulously. “I believe you really mean that.”
“I do. I want you comfortable with me.”
“Then tell me about that man in the sketch. Tell me about the man who shot Ken down.”
He didn't answer her for a moment. “I ran into him several months ago in Fairfax, Texas. I was sent there for a job and I saw him earlier that night.”
“You're sure it was him?”
He nodded. “That night is pretty well engraved on my memory.”
“Did you see any of the other men?”
“No. But that doesn't mean they weren't there. The place was a beehive of activity.”
“What kind of beehive?”
“Labs. I thought it was a damn strange place for Morales to be.”
“Morales?”
“The target. Juan Morales, big-time narcotics and arms dealer. At the time I speculated that maybe the Fairfax factory was purifying heroin or manufacturing crack or ecstasy.”
“At the time? Not now?”
He shook his head. “You want some coffee?”
“Am I going to need it?”
He shook his head again. “Nothing very horrific happened that night. Well, I guess it might be to you. My orders were to take out Morales at the hotel in town and retrieve a briefcase he was carrying. It was supposed to be jammed full of money. I couldn't get a shot at the hotel, so I followed Morales to this little textile factory on the outskirts of town. He was met at the gate by your shooter in the sketch. There was lots of security, so I waited outside. When he came out, I followed him back to town, got an opportunity, and took my shot.”
“You killed him?”
“I don't miss. Since I didn't get a chance to do the job before he went to the factory, I thought I'd better check the briefcase to make sure he didn't give the money to the man who met him at the gate.”
“And?”
“No money. Just three sets of engineering plans with interesting notations. Strategic locations where to place explosives to bring down the structure. They even had suggestions as to what kind of explosives would work best.”
“What structures?”
He shook his head. “I don't know. There were no names. The plans were labeled Z-1, Z-2, and Z-3.”
“What did you do with them?”
“I did as I was ordered. I took the briefcase to Al Leary, my CIA contact, and told him the job was done but there was no money, only the plans. I could tell he wasn't pleased that I'd opened the briefcase, but he covered it almost immediately. Two days later I was sent to North Korea. The rest is history. I didn't even connect the two jobs until I saw the story about Arapahoe Dam on the news.”
She stiffened. “What?”
“Two of the diagrams were of multistoried structures. But one of the plans was a dam: Z-1.”
“Jesus.”
“But the report on Arapahoe Dam was that no sabotage had been detected. Particularly no explosives. It could have been coincidental.”
“And you did nothing?”
“I'm on the run. Was I supposed to go to Colorado and investigate a disaster that was probably natural?”
“You could have told someone, called—”
“Who? The CIA? If Arapahoe Dam was Z-1, then maybe the fact that I had had a look at those plans was the reason I was set up and sanctioned. FBI? Too chancy. They work pretty closely with the CIA these days.” He met her gaze. “I decided to preserve my neck. I'm not one of your heroes. I'd spent years doing the dirtiest job on earth to form some sort of barrier between my country and the ugliness out there. All I got for it was a stab in the back. I opted out. If you don't like it, too bad.”
“You can't opt out. That doesn't solve anything.”
“It solved the question of whether I lived or died.”
“Past tense. Does that mean you're not opting out any longer?”
“The question is moot. I've been sucked into this and I've got to act or be pulled under.”
She made a rude noise.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Don't try to give me that guff. You've had choices all along and you know it. You took the job Logan offered because you wanted to find out if Z-1 and Arapahoe Dam were the same. You just don't want to admit it to me.”
“Why?”
“I don't know. Perhaps you're afraid I'll think you're not as cynical as you claim you are. Don't worry. I'm not about to make that mistake. Everyone has a right to one lapse.”
His lips twitched. “I'm glad I haven't ruined my reputation. You'll tell me if you believe I'm pretending to be heroic like all those role models you grew up with?”
She found herself smiling back at him. “You can bet on it.” He looked wa
rm and approachable, and she suddenly wanted to reach out and touch him. She glanced away hurriedly. “How long do we have to stay here?”
“It probably won't be for more than a few days. Safe houses don't stay safe for long when there's a massive search. I'd like to stay here until we get a report from Galen on Fairfax. He's going to send a man down there to see what he can find out. When we move, I'd like to have someplace to go and a reason to go there.”
“And you think that will take only a few days?”
“It better not take much longer. We're running out of time.”
Panic rippled through her. She had never felt this hunted before. Even that time in Iran, when she had been on the run, there had never been this sense of overwhelming odds weighing in against her.
“It's going to be okay.” Morgan's gaze was fixed on her face. “It's a big country. It's much easier to get lost in a country this size. And people aren't as suspicious. They're like you. They want to believe that everyone is good.”
“And you think that's naive.”
“Yes, but I also find it heartwarming.” He smiled. “And we've already established how cold I am.” His stare was suddenly intent. “I need all the warming I can get.”
She couldn't look away. He wasn't cold. She could feel heat move through her as— She tore her gaze away. What had they been talking about? “It's not naive to want to see the best in people.” She moistened her lips. “What are we going to do until Galen contacts us?” Shit, she wished she could take the question back. Stupid. Stupid.
But he didn't respond with a double entendre as she'd thought he might. “Suppose you let me try to see the best in you.”
“What?”
“I said I wouldn't draw you unless you gave me permission.”
“You're not going to get it. I hate sitting still.”
“Then don't. But you're still weak enough to let me have time to occasionally catch you at rest. You give me my time and I'll take you with me when I go scouting every day. That should allay the boredom for both of us.”
“Aren't you afraid I won't keep up?”
“Maybe. But then I'll just have to slow down. Because I won't leave you here alone.”
“Give me back my gun.”
“It's in my duffel. Get it whenever you like. But what good would your gun have been against that rocket Jurgens lobbed into the lodge? Our best bet is guerrilla warfare if they find we're here.”
“Not run and hide?”
“Run, stop, strike, run. Doesn't that suit you better?”
She was about to tell him no and then decided he was right. “If it's the only way to survive. I don't want to be caught like a rat in a trap. It's not fair.”
“What is?”
“But this arrangement's a little lopsided. If you draw me, I want a favor from you.”
He shook his head. “No photographs.”
“I wouldn't even try. You're not that pretty.”
“Jesus, I hope not.”
But a face that held that many secrets would be fascinating to try to capture. “I'd probably end up with a photo that resembled a stone wall. No, you once told me that if I got away from you that you'd track me, that you were good at it. Well, I want you to teach me how to do that.”
“Why?”
“I've been in a couple situations where it would have come in handy. I'm not a complete novice. My dad took me hunting from the time I was a little girl. I'm pretty woods savvy.”
“But why tracking?”
“I remember a few years ago in Turkey there was a child who wandered away from the village when I was photographing her parents. It took us four days to find her. She was dead. She'd fallen down a slope into a river. If we'd been able to find her sooner, it might not have happened.”
“I should have known. Another way to save the world.”
“No, just a three-year-old little girl. Deal?”
“You can't grasp much in a few days. I had an Apache teacher who devoted months to teaching me, and it still took—”
“I'll learn what I can learn. It might help. Deal?”
He smiled. “Deal.”
“Then I'm going to bed.” She turned to leave. “I'll see you in the morning.”
“Good idea. You've had a big day.”
“A terrible day.”
“I wish I could tell you that the worst is behind you. I won't do that.”
No, he'd offered her comfort, but not at the expense of honesty. “I didn't ask you to. Good night.”
She didn't turn on the light in the bedroom as she took off her pants. The shirt was too much trouble with her bad shoulder and she was too tired to bother. She just pulled the cover over her and plumped up the pillow.
It had been a terrible, frightening day, as she'd told Morgan. A day of terror and revelation and a wild mixture of emotion. A day that had drawn her closer to Morgan than she was comfortable with.
She shouldn't be that surprised. In life-threatening situations, sexuality often raised its head. She had experienced it once before with a young doctor on the flooded plains of Bangladesh. It had vanished as quickly as the danger.
But it hadn't been this strong.
It didn't matter. She could handle it. And Morgan was clearly not going to pursue that intimacy. Jesus, she was actually disappointed, she realized in disgust. All she needed was to jump into bed with a man like Morgan.
Except there was no other man like Morgan. She had never met anyone this complex, and the more she learned about him, the fewer weapons she had against him. His ways were not her ways, but it was difficult to condemn a man who—
Stop thinking about him. If she had to stay awake, think of something that would help her get out of this predicament.
Z-1. No, the picture was bigger now. Bigger and more bewildering. If Z-1 was Arapahoe Dam and that target had been destroyed . . .
Wouldn't Z-2 be next?
“What's the progress on Z-2?” Betworth asked. “You haven't got much time, Powers.”
“No problem. We'll meet the deadline.”
“But with what kind of success?”
“I think you should know that I'll follow through. The only reason there's been any delay is that you told me to go after Graham.”
“But that's not an excuse now. I gave that assignment to Jurgens.”
“And he hasn't been too successful, has he?”
“He'll get her. You concentrate on Z-2.” He hung up and leaned back in his chair. Keep calm. Everything would go as planned. He was handling all the details with his usual skill. Jurgens would find Graham and Morgan and take them out. Everything would be—
His phone rang.
“I can't find him, Betworth.”
Runne.
“For God's sake, why haven't you returned my calls?”
“I need to find him. I've run out of leads. You get me one.”
He drew a deep breath. No excuses. The arrogant, fanatical bastard was giving him orders. “Perhaps if you'd returned my calls, I could have given you some assistance.”
“Can you?”
He wanted to hang up on him. That would be a mistake. Runne was a wild card, but Betworth had plans for him. Besides, he might be the one who could bring in Morgan. “He was in Colorado a few days ago. He might still be there, but I doubt it. Wherever he is, he's with a woman, Alex Graham.”
“You're sure?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Can you send me a photo of her?”
“I don't have to. Pick up a newspaper. Don't you ever read a newspaper or watch television?”
“No.”
“Well, she's very hot. So it won't do any good to give you addresses or phone numbers.”
“Then what good is she to me?”
“It's pretty obvious Morgan isn't going to abandon her, so that makes her an albatross. She'll slow him down. He doesn't have to slow down much for you to catch him, does he?”
“No, but fax me the information anyway. I'll call you back an
d give you the fax number in the town I'm in. I might be able to go through her people to locate her.”
“I told you, everyone's searching for her.”
“That doesn't make any difference. They'll stop, they'll hesitate, they'll wonder if they'll get caught if they go too far. I have the advantage. I don't care.” He hung up.
“Okay.” Judd gazed out over the mountains. “I'll give you fifteen minutes' head start. You take off and hide from me. Get going.”
“You're tracking me?” Alex said. “How am I going to learn anything?”
“You make the trail and then we go back over it and see what you did wrong.”
“What I did wrong?”
“Sorry, wrong phrase. I'm used to hunting prey who don't want to be found. But it's the only way I know how to teach you. Take it or leave it.”
“I'll take it.” She took off running down the slope.
“Found.” Judd pulled Alex out of the brush. “You must be getting tired. You were really clumsy that time.”
“Thanks.” She grimaced. “That's the third time. I'm getting depressed. If it's that easy to track someone, why couldn't we find that little girl?”
“It's not easy. It takes practice. There are all kinds of things that obscure signs. She might have wandered in the shallow part of the river for a while. Rain could have washed the signs away. Children don't weigh much, and her feet probably made little impression in the grass. If she walked for a long time in the mud, she might have picked up enough of it on her shoes to form a pillow of mud. That makes it almost impossible to identify a human footstep except by the stride. A large animal might have walked over her prints and destroyed them. Or maybe you were at the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“What does that mean?”
“The angle of light.” He studied her face. “You're tired. We'll go over your mistakes and then go back to the house.” He turned away and moved up the slope. “You dislodged rocks over there.” He pointed. “You flattened ground cover when you first started down this hill, and the color is a little different.” He pointed again. “You broke the stem of that plant when you went into the bushes.” He knelt down. “And here's a clear footprint.”
“It doesn't look clear to me.”
“See the curve where your toe pushed into the ground?”
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