Chapter Twelve
Carol finished off her bowl of stew. The second time around, for dinner, it was better. Andy had said as much, something about the flavors marinating.
“More?” he asked.
“No, thank you.”
Their voices sounded strange after so much silence.
They’d hardly spoken all afternoon. Not by design, they just didn’t need to speak to communicate. The silence soothed her, as did Andy’s presence.
She stared at the checkerboard someone had carved into the floor of the lodge. She and Andy used beans in lieu of game pieces. So far they were at a six to six win ratio. She was willing to stop while she was ahead. The last time was a draw.
The patterns of the beans left in stalemate taunted her.
Sort of like her current situation with Andy and the Company.
She and Andy had moves, options on hand, but nothing that would put them closer to their end goal.
Uncovering those within the CIA who were working against the Company and their mission.
She could see several moves on the proverbial game board of current events if there were just one more row of squares on one side or the other. Wiggle room, so to speak.
Carol picked up two differently colored beans and rolled them between her fingers, as though she could toy with her thoughts.
“So far, our only point of reference is Charlie. We know he wasn’t entirely hostile toward his brother. They might not have liked each other, but maybe…maybe they worked together? What was it his brother did for a living? I can’t remember, but he traveled quite a bit. Charlie did things in-bounds, playing in the Company sandbox, and his brother was perhaps involved.” She moved the two beans together, hopping the others as though they were stacked.
Andy turned on his hip, watching her, but offering no other comment.
“So Charlie does everything in the sandbox, where no one would suspect him, and his brother is the…go-between? He’s the outside connection?” Carol placed the dark-colored bean off the board and gestured at two lighter-colored beans located diagonally on the edge of the board. “What if it’s non-company people? What if that’s our missing link with Charlie?”
“It would explain why Charlie’s brother might have been in Hong Kong. Charlie could have used him.” Andy scrubbed a hand across his jaw.
“We still don’t know why Charlie wanted out like that. Maybe he was leaving? Wanted to become an outside guy? Mitch said Charlie’s family wanted nothing to do with the body. Maybe the real reason was that they knew…something? More than what we thought?”
“When we get the data back from the algorithm, we make a list of everyone involved, boil that down to a short list and then begin looking at family.”
“If it’s family… Sleeper agents?”
“It wasn’t just a Cold War–era concept, but it depends on how far back we think this goes.”
“If I had my files still, I bet I could put a timeline together.”
“The algorithm will help with that.”
“Yes, but how much time will we lose waiting on it? What about the others? I hate not being able to do something, to tell the others.” She sighed and pushed her hand through her hair.
“They can handle themselves.”
“I know, I just… I don’t like doing nothing.”
“Sixty percent of spy work—if not more—is doing nothing.” Andy chuckled.
“How do you do it?”
“We all have our ways.” He lifted a shoulder.
“What do you do?”
Andy stared at the wall across from them. He had a marker in his hand, fiddling with the cap. Was this a secret? Some sort of spy craft he couldn’t share with her?
“I draw faces on water bottles and I talk to them.” He turned his head, spearing her with an I dare you sort of stare.
“Faces. On water bottles. Okay.” She nodded as though he’d told her something profound. “Did you get the idea from Cast Away?”
“I knew you were going to say that.” He shook his head and stared at the checkerboard.
“No, I’m serious.”
“I was doing a four-month gig in the mountains of—doesn’t matter. Anyway. I’m holed up in this, basically a box. For four months. I started talking to myself, which is fairly common. But…that makes you question your sanity.”
“And talking to a water bottle is better?”
“It’s about focusing your thoughts and words, not just saying whatever comes to mind. You don’t vocalize your thoughts the same way you carry on a conversation.”
“I see. It engages the brain.” And conversation with someone—even an imaginary person personified by a bottle—would create a sense of connection. Maybe that was how Andy did it. Spent so much time alone.
Carol didn’t know if she could do it.
She was quiet and more comfortable on her own, to be sure, but even she needed companionship. She had a few friends, she sometimes enjoyed the awkward visits with her mother, being out and about.
“Would a nose job be enough to throw off facial recognition?” she asked.
“Depends on how much accuracy they set the recognition for, if they find out you get a nose job, that sort of thing. It’s a start at least. What would you do?”
“It would have to be a significant change.”
“Not necessarily. The software measures the distance between predetermined points. You change the distance of a point and you throw off the recognition. For you?” Andy stared at her a moment. “Shorten the nose, give it a bit of a…turned-up end.”
“So I look more stuck-up?” She knew what people said about her.
“You aren’t out to make friends. You want to stay alive.”
“I know.” She sighed and stared at the checkerboard. “I can’t shake the feeling that we’re missing something obvious. Something close to us. You know Irene used to think Hector was the leak?”
“Which is ironic.”
“Why?”
Andy stared at her.
“What am I missing?” Carol frowned.
“Irene’s people… They often end up dead.”
“What?”
“During my career with the Company, a number of field operatives I’ve worked with have died while carrying out her orders. Makes a person think real hard about listening to her.”
“That’s—no. That’s crazy.”
“Is it? Rand used to work with her. So did I. We were both moved.”
“Irene cares about her people. She’d do anything for them.” Carol paused, her mind whirling. Someone close to them… What if…?
“What?”
“Hold on.” Carol held up her finger. “Name the last person who died.”
“John Rush.”
She knew that name.
His files had been declassified to a point. She’d read the reports.
“How do you think he died?” she asked slowly, dreading the answer.
“I don’t know the particulars of the mission, but I heard he was killed in South Korea during an op Irene organized.”
“John Rush’s file was one of the ones I studied. He hadn’t worked for Irene in over a year prior to his death.”
“What? No.” Andy sat up. “He was on a mission for Irene.”
“No, he wasn’t.”
“He was. We all talked about it.”
“We all, who?”
“Some of us.”
“I’m telling you now, he wasn’t working for Irene.” Carol crossed her legs under her. “Let’s work this out. Pretend with me, please? What if you’re right? What if Irene sent John to South Korea, knowing he’d die there? Where does that put us?”
“It would be easy for her to send people after us. She’d know our moves. What we plan on doing. She’d be one step ahead of us the entire time.” Andy grimaced. “Fuck.”
“Okay, now, what if I’m right? What if someone has been using an agent’s protocols for a while now? What if it wasn’t just a one-time thing with y
ou? What if Irene didn’t send John to South Korea?”
“Then who did?”
“And how did they make it appear as though Irene did?”
“Contact protocols,” Andy said without hesitation. “We rarely meet face to face. Every time we do there’s the chance for detection. If someone knew her contact protocols they could pretend to be her, issue orders, and that was it. There’s a…process, even, for working with one-off contractors.”
Carol leaned forward. They were on to something now. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer, but she had to go there.
“Who else would know those protocols? How do you decide on them?” she asked.
“I…don’t know. Irene set outs and …I have no idea how it’s handled within the Company.”
“I don’t, either. Sarah or Rand might. Irene, Mitch, and Hector would.” Carol bit her lip. “It’s got to be someone close to us. Someone we aren’t…seeing? Suspecting?”
“Irene could be in serious danger. If she’s not responsible for those agents’ deaths, then…” Andy stared at her.
“Someone is setting her up to be responsible for their deaths. Is there any way to warn her without blowing our cover?”
“Possibly, but it’s still a risk.”
“If we lose Irene, we’re cut off. Mitch is still figuring out what to believe. Hector…I don’t trust him like I trust Irene…”
“If we hiked to my contact’s place, they could probably get us a secure enough line to Irene, but it’s a risk. If things go bad, we’d need to be ready to run. Which means you’d have to make the trip with me. If I’m blown I couldn’t come back here, and you don’t know how to survive out here by yourself.”
“Then what do we do?” She swallowed.
“The algorithm needs to run some more. Tonight is supposed to be clear. At sunset we’ll set out, which will put us at my contact’s cabin in the dead of night. Less chance someone will spot us. We should sleep now. Rest a few hours.”
How far did this go?
How big was it?
…
Andy stared at the back of his eyelids, refusing to bat a lash or draw a deeper breath.
Carol fidgeted, her every movement sending tendrils of awareness through him.
He kept telling himself that if they lay there long enough with the fire banked, she would go to sleep. That was—what? An hour ago? His internal clock ticked off the hours, tallying up how long they still had until setting out for the mountain diner.
She needed rest.
The trek would not be easy on her, and if they were discovered they would have to keep running.
Andy needed to give up his optimistic view of seeing Carol back to her real life. She was right. It was likely gone, their window of opportunity gone. It made the future that much more uncertain.
He wanted to protect her. To ensure her continued safety. But he also had to accept that it could very well not be with him. He…wanted her too badly. Her presence jumbled his priorities, shuffling her to the very top.
Then there was also the issue of how deep the Company had their tenterhooks in him. He couldn’t very well disobey orders if they told him to bring Carol in. If he did, that put his brothers and aunt in jeopardy, plus Andy could always be tossed back in prison. The leverage he had likely wouldn’t be enough. His pipe dream of setting up a private support system with Carol at the helm was dying almost as quickly as he’d thought of it.
He needed a plan for her.
Unfortunately, his plans didn’t hold as much water as hers.
She was right in prioritizing a new identity, changing her physical appearance, and getting new travel documents. It would go a long way in helping her disappear, even from him.
If Carol was going to survive she needed to vanish. Even he couldn’t know where she’d gone.
He resisted the urge to clench his hand on her arm or reach for her. The problem here was him. He’d grown attached to her, and he didn’t want to give her up.
“Are you asleep?” Carol whispered.
“Not anymore.” He didn’t open his eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“What’s on your mind?” He’d been listening to her shift, mind whirling, completely restless, for more than a while now.
Carol sighed. The sound was more strangled and stressed than normal.
He cracked open an eye and peered at her face turned toward him in the dim light of the lodge. She’d held herself together well given the circumstances. He was proud of her, and scared for her.
“What’s bothering you most right now?” he asked.
“We haven’t…talked about it.”
He didn’t need to see her clearly to know Carol was blushing. He could hear it in the way her voice tightened, the way she tucked her chin in. She was likely staring at the mattress now rather than his face.
Sex.
She wanted to discuss sex.
He knew it was coming. That at some point hashing out their mutual attraction would be necessary if the op ran long. They’d reached that time, and he didn’t know how to proceed. Not with his head so jumbled.
Typically, when he slept with a woman he knew her for maybe a day, and that was it. He didn’t stick around. Hadn’t since… God. The girl he’d dated while on leave. It’d been a bad relationship full of regrettable decisions, but they’d both known the temporary nature of it.
Did Carol understand that just because they’d had sex it didn’t mean anything? It couldn’t. Neither of them could afford to place too much value on the other’s life. If they did, they were creating another vulnerability.
“What would you like to discuss?” Andy kept his question vague. There was no need to create further issues if all she wanted was a performance evaluation.
“Andy.” Her tone was sharp, irritation infusing each syllable of his name.
“There’s clearly something on your mind, so why should I put my foot in my mouth when you’re already chewing one bone?”
“Maybe this is normal for you, but I don’t just sleep with everyone.” She huffed.
“Nothing about this is normal for me,” he said softly. And that was where the danger lay. He knew how to do his job, how to gather intelligence, how to wait and watch, how to kill, but he didn’t know how to handle her.
“I just…” She sighed again and pulled at her ponytail.
Carol was brilliant. A smart woman like her could take the facts and assemble them into a bigger picture. He couldn’t coddle her. They couldn’t afford it.
Andy rolled to his side, propping himself up on his elbow. Carol stared at him, her wide eyes catching some of the light.
“We’re attracted to each other, and given our circumstances that can complicate things. Ideally, it won’t. We have enough complications already without adding to them.”
“Agreed,” Carol whispered.
“My decision to meet you playing the role of Mark wasn’t thought out well enough. It laid the groundwork for what has happened between us. I own that I’m responsible—”
“You didn’t kiss me first.” Carol stared at the mattress.
“I might have.”
Those three words must have caught Carol off guard. She glanced up at him, lips parted. He lifted his hand, cupping her cheek, and swiped his thumb over the full bit of flesh. Even now he wanted to kiss her again. Feel the way she unfurled in his arms, let down those walls. It would be a mistake to be with her again. Every intimate touch, the deepening connection, bound him tighter to her.
He leaned closer, until he could feel the caress of her breath and see the lighter flecks of brown in her eyes.
“I’m not blind to you. You don’t intimidate me. I…recognize you.” He could kiss her right now. He could feel the attraction, like a thread winding tighter and tighter around them. “We can’t be more to each other, Carol. I can’t be your Achilles’ heel, and you cannot be mine. Understand?”
“Yes. Of course. That makes sense. Your brothers…
They’re already a pressure point, aren’t they?” Her pulse fluttered against his palm.
“Yes.”
“Would they go after my mother?”
“In their shoes, if the roles were reversed, it’s what I’d do.”
“Is she in danger now?”
“Maybe.” He stroked the baby-fine hairs at her temple, marveling at their softness.
“Is faking my death an option?”
“It would be part of the plan, yes.”
“If I appeared to die, would that still put my mother at risk?”
“Maybe? We don’t know how these people work to be able to anticipate how far they’re willing to go. Your mother isn’t a typical target. She’s the widow of a company hero. They can’t go after her without substantial risk to themselves. I wouldn’t worry too much about her right now. Our focus is you.”
Carol leaned into his palm.
He was the last person who should be comforting anyone, and yet, he was the one she trusted.
Andy wrapped his arm around her waist and she scooted closer, tucking her head under his chin and clinging to him.
“You need to get some rest.” Andy’s voice was more ragged than he’d like.
“I know, just…give me a minute? Please? You’re all I have right now. I need to fall to pieces for a moment.” Her voice cracked, the watery quality putting out an all-points bulletin that tears were incoming.
Andy wrapped his arms around her, hugging her closer, and kissed the top of her head. Her shoulders shook, but the sounds of her crying were muffled by his shirt. He stared into the flames flickering in the stove. If it was the last thing he did, he’d make sure that Carol appeared to die. And then he’d stay as far away from her as he could. It was the only thing he could do for those he cared about.
…
Georgia studied the cars in the lot. They were rugged all-terrain vehicles. Two semitrucks whose hauls had been disrupted by the storm. The mountain pass had opened maybe twelve hours before, but so far the only people making use of the open roads seemed to be the locals. The main road fifteen miles north was better maintained than this backwater, antiquated path. Which was why it was perfect for Andy.
The cameras along the motorway were few and far between. They’d had to pick and choose where to set up their surveillance, which she didn’t like. At least the satellite overhead might cover what they couldn’t.
Assassin Games (Tarnished Heroes) Page 17