She didn’t think she could, but when the soup hit her tongue she discovered she was ravenous.
“Bomb blast on your boat is a federal investigation involving too many agencies to name. All members of Special Forces community have been told to ramp up personal security.”
“I shouldn’t be wasting time or resources like this.” Matt’s jaw firmed.
“You gave us an advantage that we needed to run with,” said Rooney. The female agent turned her clear gaze on Scarlett. “Have you given any thought to just disappearing?”
She felt her eyes bug. “I-I can’t. I have a job, a scientific reputation—”
“Which will mean zip if you wind up dead,” said Matt.
She folded her arms. “So if you had to give up being a federal agent…you’d just be okay with it?”
He raised his brow. “I’d have considered the risks before I took the law into my own hands.”
Rooney had effectively reminded him that this whole situation was Scarlett’s fault. Great.
“You know why I did it. No one would listen to me. My plan was to call Dorokhov and then see what he said when he put the phone down afterward. That was it. No State secrets. No great invasion of privacy.” All three operators exchanged glances. “I had to see if I could find any information that would prove Dad innocent before…” she trailed off, not wanting to think about the other battle her father faced—a more personal one as cells metastasized throughout his body. She closed her mouth. Nothing she said could change what she’d done. “I made a mistake. I’m sorry.”
“If it’s any consolation, I’d have done the same thing. Except I wouldn’t have gotten caught,” said Parker.
Scarlett rolled her eyes. “I’ll bear that in mind next time.”
He grinned at her. “Your transmitter looked interesting. How does it work?”
“It powers itself by parasitically picking up any available electromagnetic waves—not a unique feature, obviously. Output frequency mimics the nearest source within the room—generally a cell or laptop. Hops on a cellphone or Wi-Fi network to transmit data when anyone within range is online or makes a phone call.” She crossed her arms. “But rather than silicon I built the chips using Gallium Arsonide.”
Parker’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Which has switching logic hundreds of times faster.”
“Exactly.” Scarlett nodded. “The speed at which the chip operates makes it virtually invisible to electronic detection—”
“I hate to break up your geek-fest, but Scarlett can show you her circuit diagrams some other time,” said Matt coolly. “The fact that Maidstone isn’t dead is going to create a major headache for the person who tried to kill him.”
“We can use that,” Rooney murmured.
“What do you mean?” asked Matt.
“I doubt the killer thought Maidstone would be found alive, let alone that you and Scarlett would be the ones to find him. When they find out, they’re going to wonder if Maidstone told you anything.”
“We might be able to smoke him out with false information.” Matt’s gaze turned inward.
“So we need a plan ready to go for when they ID the print.”
“You could dangle me as bait.” Scarlett tucked her hair behind her ear. She’d kill for a hairbrush.
Matt shook his head. “No way.”
Rooney tilted her head to one side. “I’d vote for that plan, but the trouble is we don’t know if the spy or the Russians would fall for it. If it’s the Russians, we’re back to massive international incident and no clue to ‘Marlon’s’ true identity.”
“So how do we find out who the real spy is?” Scarlett asked.
“We’re searching Maidstone’s bank accounts for any indication he took payouts.” Parker pulled two beers from the fridge and handed one to Matt. He held one up for her but she shook her head.
“Someone hid that list of ciphers in my father’s desk. Someone, probably the same person, had to persuade Maidstone to switch the traces of the polygraph test and falsify the results.”
“Who was assigned the case? Who searched the house after his arrest? Shouldn’t they be our major suspect pool?” asked Rooney.
“Ridley Branson was on the team—I remember him being in our house and looking scarily fierce,” said Scarlett.
All of the expressions in the room grew hard at the mention of the top counterespionage officer in the FBI. If he were corrupt, what would that do for morale?
“I’ll get the names of people who conducted the search ASAP, but we can’t limit the suspect pool.” Parker stared at her until she wanted to look away. “Some of the information passed on was high level clearance but not all of it was specific to counterintelligence. And the real spy could have broken into your residence and planted evidence just before they set your dad up to take the fall. It’s not that difficult. Frankly it could have been anyone from FBI HQ or the surrounding field offices. Not forgetting the Agency.”
“CIA?” Scarlett whispered.
Parker took a drink out of his beer bottle, wiped his mouth before answering. “Aldrich Ames was CIA. The Agency works closely with the FBI on espionage cases. Someone there would know the status of the investigation and all the likely suspects.”
It was overwhelming.
“So we can’t rule out anyone at this point,” Matt agreed. “The only clue we have that never made the previous investigation is Stone’s suspicion of Dorokhov. His name was never in the files—why not?”
“Someone kept him out of the official investigation,” Rooney interjected.
“Which again points to someone close to the case.” Matt frowned. “Dorokhov has to be involved, because as soon as Scarlett tried to bug his office there were multiple attempts on her life, and more telling, the hit on Maidstone.”
“Was he ever suspected as a spy handler?” Rooney asked.
Parker shrugged. “Not on any available electronic document I can find. But the guy rose too far too fast to be anything except a senior member of the SVR. His reputation is squeaky clean on paper—the Russians excel at rewriting history to suit their purposes.”
Dorokhov had kidnapped her friend. “Did he hurt Angel, do you know? Did you talk to her?”
No one said anything for a long moment. Rooney stepped in. “No. But I’m sure it wasn’t a pleasant experience.”
A wave of hot then cold rolled up her spine and down her arms. “When can I talk to her?”
“As soon as the danger’s over,” Matt said firmly.
Whatever had happened to Angel was entirely Scarlett’s fault, and the knowledge seemed to reverberate around the room. No one would meet her gaze. She’d never forgive herself for getting her friend mixed up in this.
“So our best clue to Marlon’s identity is on life support?” Scarlett said, feeling miserable.
“There are lots of clues, we just have to find them.” Parker opened his laptop and started tapping away. “I’ve set up some computer programs looking at signals from cell phones associated with government agencies and GPS units for Bureau cars that might have pinged towers in Maidstone’s neighborhood today. If something pops we might get a head-start on figuring it out. Nothing yet.”
“Given the now mandatory polygraphs and background checks, this person has been beating the system for years.” Rooney watched the screen over Parker’s shoulder.
“Easier to do when you have one of the top polygraph technicians in your pocket.” Matt sounded pissed.
Scarlett couldn’t keep quiet any longer. She thrust her bowl away from her as she processed the conversation they were having. “So are you guys actually saying you believe my dad might have been set up?” All three of them looked at her, but her gaze stayed on Matt. “You really believe me?”
His eyes went from cool hazel to warm green.
“I believe you, Scarlett,” he said softly.
“Really, really?”
His lips twitched and she remembered the moment she’d first seen him. Humor sp
arkled in his eyes, but his mouth tried to pretend it wasn’t there. He nodded.
She threw her arms around his neck and hung on so tight he probably couldn’t breathe. She didn’t care that the others were watching. She didn’t let go. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
He wrapped his arms tight around her waist and hauled her closer. She inhaled his warmth and strength. He spoke to the others over her head. “But proving it without getting killed is going to be a bitch.”
* * *
As Matt’s arms closed around Scarlett for the third time that day he knew he was screwed. He had a mother who depended on him for everything and a career that mattered. But somehow Scarlett had snuck under his guard and gotten him involved. Not just because he was on the case, but because he cared what happened to her. He cared that they found out the truth about her father, and not just because it was his job. He cared. Full stop. Period.
Shit.
When she found out he’d lied to her face repeatedly about Angel LeMay being found safe she was going to freak. It wouldn’t be a loud freak. It would be a silent withdrawal and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to regain her trust. He’d been following orders—yeah, that’s not gonna fly after you kissed her. If someone within his organization was undermining national security, he was damn sure he was going to do his best to stop them—even if it involved deception. Unfortunately Scarlett wouldn’t see it that way.
She pulled out of his arms, which was just as well. He’d already gotten way too involved and now Rooney and Parker knew it too.
“You guys should catch some sleep,” Parker said.
Rooney nudged him with her elbow. “Unfortunately, we need to spend some time with my parents, whether we like it or not.” She twisted her lips. “Dad’s selling the place in the New Year and it’s supposed to be our last ‘family’ time together. A final goodbye to my sister.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, and for invading your home like this.” Scarlett sounded small and sad and alone. Damn.
Rooney’s smile had a razor’s edge to it. “Oh, don’t worry. I said my goodbye to my sister when we found her.” A hint of vulnerability swept over her features and then was gone. Parker wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
“Anyway, we have twenty-plus bedrooms. It’s not like we don’t have the space. But I need to give them a few hours. And so does Alex.”
The guy pulled a face. “Here I thought I had the perfect excuse to avoid the whole Christmas thing.”
“In which case you don’t know my parents very well.”
“I need to grab a shower, then we’ll start going through names,” Matt offered. “Let’s see who’s still alive. Narrow down the list while your programs crunch data.”
Parker nodded and they followed him through a servant’s staircase and along the west wing. He turned on the lights as they went and Matt felt Scarlett relax beside him as beautifully decorated hallways failed to reveal any blood spatters or curdling visions of horror.
Parker opened a door and indicated they go ahead. “It’s a two-bedroom suit with its own bathroom. Windows are secure and there are locks on the external door.” He held Scarlett’s gaze when he said the last, clearly trying to reassure her. She bit her lip and nodded. She looked like a stiff breeze would snatch her up and sweep her away. Time to get her to rest.
A laptop sat on a desk.
“The house Wi-Fi password is written on the pad of paper over there. So are Frazer’s FBI passwords so nothing looks too suspect coming from this location.”
“How did you get Frazer’s passwords?” asked Matt.
Parker shrugged. “It’s what I do. I’m seeing how long it takes for him to figure it out.”
“He’s going to kill you.”
“I’m giving him a demonstration in cyber-security.”
“You hack mine?” Matt asked him.
“I didn’t get your password, but I got into the system through a backdoor and read your private email,” he admitted.
Matt shook his head. “Why do we even bother?”
“I contacted the company and pointed out the potential for breaches. I even sent them a patch they can use to plug the hole if they want.”
“You could have charged them big money for that,” said Matt.
“I have money.” His smile was sharp. “Next time they have a problem I’ll be the first person they call.”
Matt wasn’t fooled. “Bet you a twenty you can’t guess my password before we crack this thing.”
“I’ll take that bet, but I should point out I don’t ‘guess’. Don’t be tempted to check your email or social media accounts right now.” This to Scarlett. “The window to solve this thing is closing.”
Scarlett let out a startled laugh. “But I wanted to update my Facebook status to ‘Still avoiding the Russians who are trying to kill me.’ Hashtag, ‘feelinghunted’, hashtag ‘MerryChristmas’.”
“Except you don’t have Facebook.”
Scarlett’s brows rose in obvious surprise.
“Could be worse,” Parker said quietly.
“Seriously?”
“You get to hang with a gorgeous guy,” Parker’s lips quirked, “and Special Agent Lazlo.”
“Funny.” Matt held the door for the guy and jerked his head, but at least Scarlett was smiling again. Alex Parker’s eyes were serious as they connected with his on the way out.
He got it. They needed to talk. Alone. He also needed to have a discussion with Frazer, but not in front of Scarlett. He gave the man an almost imperceptible nod. He’d persuade Scarlett to get some sleep, and then find him.
* * *
Raminski didn’t know why they still had the girl, but he knew better than to ask questions. He’d left his boss enjoying the embassy Christmas party, which should easily last another couple of hours. He entered the room and scanned the figure sitting cross-legged on the mattress. Dried blood smeared her face. Her cheek was red and swollen. But she was still fully clothed and didn’t cower away in fear. Hopefully that meant no one had raped her when he’d been gone. He’d purposely only left one guard on duty, not wanting to give a duet the opportunity to tag team should they be so inclined.
She still wore the blindfold, but he wore a nylon mask just in case she did something stupid like try to see his face. She was certainly determined enough. It was better for everyone if she couldn’t identify him.
“I have a present for you. Open your mouth,” he whispered in a low, gravelly voice. She had to be hungry by now.
Her lips twisted with disgust. He gently took a handful of hair and tugged her head back. “I’m not here to hurt you, Angel.”
He almost smiled at the stubborn tilt to her jaw. He put his thumb on her chin and exerted just a little more pressure to get her to open her mouth for him. “There.”
He popped a grape inside and watched her demeanor change from disgusted to surprised. He fed her another, and she swallowed it greedily.
“Why are you doing this to me?” Her husky voice scratched over his body like sharp, painted nails. She opened her mouth eagerly now, like a little bird. His grip on her hair changed until he was cupping the back of her head, soothing the sting with his long fingers against her scalp. The pain from the beating Mikhail had inflicted was evident in the stiff way she moved. In her sharp gasp as she grabbed one of her ribs.
He put another grape in her mouth, but this time his fingers lingered. He traced her bottom lip, then bit another grape in half and rubbed the broken, bleeding fruit over her lips like gloss. She licked the juice off. He could see her breathing was a little uneven, didn’t deceive himself that it was anything but fear.
“My parents will be worried about me.”
“Yes,” he conceded.
“It’s nearly Christmas.”
“Yes,” he said again.
“How long will I be here?”
He hooked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. She didn’t pull away.
“You said I could go
home if I told you the truth. Are you asking for a ransom? Daddy will pay.”
He said nothing, just fed her another grape. She chewed and swallowed and he found himself entranced by her lips, which were full and a natural, deep red.
“My father will pay, you don’t need to threaten or hurt me.” Fear trembled in her voice, almost overtaking the calm. Maybe she sensed his attention had wandered to her body.
He tutted. “I only made promises about what happened if you lied to me.”
“Your promises sounded like threats to me.”
“Then you weren’t listening.”
“Then why aren’t I home yet?” she snapped. Her voice broke, but she recovered quickly. “Are you going to kill me?”
He kept silent. He’d done many dubious things for his country. Killing her was still a possibility in this duplicitous game of cat and mouse.
“If you do…will you promise me something?”
“You want more promises?”
She ignored his teasing tone. “Don’t let it hurt. I’m not good with pain.”
He flinched. Fed her another grape. He didn’t know whom he was tormenting more. Him or her.
“I won’t hurt you,” he promised.
“I guess I’ll just have to take your word for that. Won’t I?” She smiled. With her blindfold and bound hands she looked like some erotic lover but that was his fantasies taking over. Fantasies where she hadn’t been drugged and snatched from her own home, beaten, and kept captive.
He was a fool for treating her any better than a stray dog. Getting attached could ruin everything. She’d reeled him in like a salmon on a line—and he hadn’t even put up a fight. The phone in his pocket vibrated. He stood and moved away from her.
The text message had him staring at the screen wondering what the hell he was going to do now.
Raminski did not like this. He did not like this at all. Dorokhov had ordered him to bring Angel to him. Maybe she was being released, but his gut was telling him no.
He knew what the man would do to her. But there was nothing he could do to stop it that wouldn’t get them both killed. He picked up the black sack and put it over her head. “It would be best if you didn’t struggle.”
Cold Light of Day Page 19