Indiscreet Ladies of Green Ivy Way

by Kress, Alyssa

  Olivia cocked her head. "She didn't trust you to protect it." Her tone said she didn't blame Anja.

  Gideon laughed. "No, she didn't, but I would have. I took an oath to. And God knows what kind of trouble she's in now."

  Olivia's chin came up. "What kind of trouble could she be in?"

  "Well, she's on her own, wherever she is. Has nobody to watch her back. More importantly, she has nobody to protect this highly dangerous research she was stupid enough to take with her. Olivia, you can give somebody a terrible disease just as easily as you can cure one."

  Olivia pressed her lips together, regarding Gideon like he was the terrible disease. "Stupid?" she queried. "I wouldn't consider anybody stupid who was smart enough to avoid trusting you."

  This was too much for Gideon to bear. It was a hot knife slipped between the ribs. Anja could trust him. She should have trusted him. And so should Olivia, by God. Whatever he'd kept from her, he'd done for her benefit, and for the benefit of the love they had for each other. He slowly rose from his seat. On an even level then, he regarded her steadily. "I have to do my job," he told her. "I have been doing my job."

  "Did that job include pretending you wanted to reconcile with me?" Olivia wanted to know. "Just in order to get information about Anja?"

  "Including that," Gideon replied, unapologetic. "If I'd had to, which I didn't. Finding information about Anja from such a peripheral person as yourself was a long shot. I used it as an excuse to see you again, not a reason." He clasped his hands behind his back. "I love you, Olivia. I don't know how many ways I can say that, or how to show you, before you get that through your head."

  Olivia's eyes grew very wide. "You love me? Well you certainly have an extremely strange way of showing it. You have an extremely strange way of being in any kind of relationship, let alone a married one."

  "No." Gideon unclasped his hands. He hit them on the soft back of the easy chair. "No, I don't have a strange way of showing it. I have a strange job, yes, one that makes me want to protect you and keep you far, far away from the messes I get involved in...which is one of the ways I show you how I love you, by the way."

  Olivia shook her head. "Keeping me in the dark is how you show me you love me?"

  "That's right." Gideon crushed his teeth together.

  "Well, then." Olivia drew herself up. "Your idea of love and mine are very different."

  "I guess so."

  They glared at each other a moment longer, emotion crackling around the room like high voltage electricity. Then, not trusting himself another minute, Gideon turned and stalked out.

  It wasn't until much later that he remembered the dropped call from Dash. By that time he was too angry and depressed to rue the advance warning he might have gotten from the message detailing Dash's own disastrous interview with Shana.

  It wouldn't have helped anyway.

  ~~~

  A Caribbean storm could be an awesome thing. Anja sat on the dirt floor of a cave about two miles outside of town. Shivering, she wrapped her bare arms around her upraised knees and watched the rain pour down in sheets.

  She would be the first to admit that things were in a bad way. First of all, she'd completely underestimated Hagar Subrahmanyam. The woman was not only more clever than Anja had imagined, but more unscrupulous. Only Hagar could have betrayed her.

  Because of this miscalculation, Anja had lost all of her hard-won research. She'd been on the run for two days, unable to shake her pursuers.

  However, there was an up side to the situation. She had not been caught. Her dangerous secrets had not been exposed. The world was safe. And with this storm, as cold and miserable as it was making her, she was guarded from further pursuit. She sniffed and peered at the deluge swamping the jungle below.

  Nobody was going to look for her in this rotten weather.

  Anja had no sooner sighed with relief at this thought than she heard a sound that wiped her faint smile right off her face. Dogs barking.

  No, Anja thought. It simply was not possible. No dog could be tracking her in weather like this. No human being would want to be behind such an idiot dog. Why, the rain threatened to wash out the terrain from under one.

  And yet, the sound of dogs barking was impossible to deny.

  Anja jumped up. Her heart started racing. But — where could she go? The track she'd used to come up to the cave was now a slippery slide of mud. Streams would be swollen to the size of raging rapids. It was madness — madness — for anyone to go out in this.

  Still, it might just be possible, if she were very careful, to edge along the ridge of the hill. Perhaps she could evade her captors yet.

  But Anja didn't get the chance. Just as she faced the opening of the cave, about to brave the elements, a group of figures resolved themselves from the gray. Several men and two dogs were somehow climbing the muddy hill. The dogs were barking like mad and straining at their leashes.

  Anja backed up, but she'd been spotted. The group closed in on her position. They formed a wall about the opening of the cave. Nobody among the men dressed in black slickers said a word, but the dogs barked in clear threat.

  Then, as Anja stood there wondering what was going to happen next, one man emerged from behind the wall. His slicker was white, and an old-fashioned safari hat — also white — drained the water into a curtain around the edges of his broadly smiling face.

  "Dr. Andropov," he said, superbly genial. "So we meet at last."

  Anja felt her brows draw together. Given the dogs and the grim visages of the men surrounding her, this was hardly the reception she'd been expecting. It was almost...fawning. And now that she looked at the fellow, she wondered if she hadn't met him somewhere. She frowned. "Who are you?"

  He tsked. "Remiss of me." In the midst of the torrential downpour, he removed his hat. Rain instantly slicked his straw-blond hair flat, but he was still smiling as he said, "Sebastian Archibald Hollister, III, at your service, madam."

  No, the name was not familiar, but the face — Meanwhile Anja raised a pair of haughty eyebrows. "Are you, indeed, at my service?" She gave a pointed look toward the wall of men around her. "It looks as if you expect me to become at your service." She turned back to him with a sneer. "Much good may it do you. I destroyed my laptop, which held every scrap of my research."

  Sebastian Archibald Hollister, III, merely chuckled. "What do I care about your laptop computer? It is you I want, my dear. You, and your brilliant brain." He laughed with clear delight as he returned the safari hat to his head. "Brilliant! Whatever you destroyed, you can easily recreate — or make even better."

  As unobtrusively as Anja could, she swallowed. The man was obviously insane, but not stupid. He was right. Given enough time, she could recreate the virus. However... She drew herself tall. "You are naïve, indeed, if you think my brain, brilliant or not, is going to be at your disposal." She'd grown up in Soviet Moscow. She knew how to avoid being controlled.

  But Hollister only smiled. "Come. We need not begin on an antagonistic footing." He scratched the side of his mouth. "I did not, after all, take Dr. Hagar Subrahmanyam's offer to sell you to me." He spread his hands. "I'm here to deal with you on a — on a plane of equals." He smiled. "We have, after all, a common goal: to develop your virus as a highly effective therapy for disease."

  Anja frowned at him.

  Hollister beamed while placing one hand over his chest. "It's true. I want your virus to be used for wholly therapeutic reasons — by as many people as possible. Indeed, the more people who use it the better. Given its probable effectiveness, top market price will be very high, indeed." His smile managed to widen.

  Was he only after money? Anja was wondering if Hollister could be telling the truth when he stepped forward to take her arm. He had a limp grip, something she could easily have shaken off — if it hadn't been for the circle of men in black slickers and the pair of snarling dogs.

  "Come," Hollister told her, his voice cloying. "We must get out of this rain, my dear. It wou
ldn't do for my prize to catch pneumonia." He chuckled.

  With a glance at the men in slickers all watching her, Anja allowed him to lead her toward the trail.

  Equals, my foot. The dogs were still snarling at her. She was most certainly in the power of Sebastian Archibald Hollister, III, who was definitely not her friend.

  As Anja stumbled down the trail, she grimly calculated her chances of getting out of this. Considering that her main chance rested with Gideon being man enough to reconcile with his wife — a prospect Anja had originally calculated as highly remote — the possibility seemed very slim, indeed.

  Anja swallowed and wondered if there was any way, any way at all, she could solve this problem herself.

  Unfortunately, this prospect as well, she had to calculate as highly remote.

  ~~~

  It wasn't Girls' Night In. In fact it was a Friday night, but they were all gathered in Olivia's living room anyway. Instead of a meditation candle in the center of her polished coffee table, there was a pitcher of daiquiris. Olivia knew she was working on her second. Brittany was still on number one, but Shana had downed more than anyone could count.

  "All right," Brittany spoke, after what had been a long, alcohol-concentrated silence. "Are we going to talk about it?"

  "Talk about what?" Shana lifted her glass and studied how many inches she had left.

  "You know what," Brittany returned, with a warning look.

  Olivia hefted her own glass. "I, for one, do not intend to talk about that man."

  Brittany shot her a disgusted look. "I don't want to talk about the — well, about our personal lives. I wanted to know what you learned about Anja and this wonder drug of hers? Isn't that why we're here?"

  Olivia lifted a finger and opened her mouth, then decided it was probably better not to contradict Brittany. Why admit they were there to drown their sorrows?

  "Shana?" Brittany asked.

  Shana started. "What?"

  "Exactly," Brittany replied, and her look turned accusing. "What did you learn from Dash — about Anja, that is."

  Shana's eyes widened. "Well, frankly, after I tossed my brandy decanter at the man he wasn't in the mood for conversation."

  "Did you hit him?" Olivia wanted to know.

  Shana clucked disgustedly. "The man has the reflexes of an alley cat."

  "Too bad."

  "Yes. Too bad," Brittany hummed. "You missed a chance to find out something."

  Shana waved a hand dismissively. "Didn't matter if he had talked. I wouldn't credit a word that came out of the creature's mouth. Do you know he claimed he was a good guy? A good guy!"

  Olivia shook her head. "Gideon said the very same thing. Can you imagine? Why, that man wouldn't know the truth if it came up and hit him with a sledge hammer." Olivia slid a finger along the rim of her glass. "Which, come to think of it, is something I'd really like to see. Gideon hit by a sledge hammer."

  "Peter claimed he was a good guy, too," Brittany said. "He said they're all part of some secret agency that protects technology of the kind Anja was developing." Slowly, Brittany set her daiquiri glass on the coffee table. "Frankly...I believe him."

  Shana made a rude noise.

  Brittany's lips thinned. "I do. Anyway, he seemed to think Anja could be in some danger, maybe get abducted. There are a lot of bad guys who'd be interested in whatever it is she was developing."

  "It's called a vector," Olivia remembered. Amid the haze of fury and hurt remained the few bits and pieces she'd learned about Anja's research. "Apparently it's a man-made virus that can carry instructions via DNA into the body. Gideon claimed you'd be able to cure all sorts of diseases..." Olivia's brows drew down. "Or give them."

  "Give them?" Shana's expression of daiquiri-aided rage sobered considerably. She set down her glass. "That sounds...big."

  "Very big," Olivia had to concur.

  "So." Brittany looked from one to the other. "You agree Anja could be in some danger?"

  Olivia blinked.

  "That is, if some bad guys found out what she was up to, and where she was...it could be bad," Brittany continued.

  "I'd have to think about that," Olivia said slowly. She could possibly think better when the alcohol had drained out of her system. "But if what the fellows are telling us is true — "

  "That's a big 'if,'" Shana put in.

  "But if it's true," Olivia went on. "Then...yeah. I guess Anja is in a vulnerable situation."

  The expression on Brittany's face said she'd gotten exactly the statement she'd wanted. "So you admit she could probably use some help."

  "Oh, no." Olivia shook her head. Even inebriated, she could see where this was going. "She doesn't need help from the men. She didn't trust them, and I, for one, don't blame her."

  "Neither do I," Shana said. "Blame her, that is."

  Brittany bristled. "The men aren't that bad — " But apparently seeing Shana's and Olivia's reactions to this statement, she let it go. "All right," she challenged. "Then what do you suggest?"

  "I suggest..." Olivia lifted her glass, then had to stop. She'd been so busy being angry she hadn't thought about what she should do. She lowered her glass and straightened her shoulders. "I suggest...treating this situation with intelligence, and with respect for the intelligence of Anja, which none of these men have thought to do. It was their pushiness and stupidity, in fact, that probably triggered this situation in the first place."

  "Now, I'm not knocking your idea. I think it's just peachy." Shana tapped the rim of her glass with a forefinger. "But exactly what does 'treat it intelligently' mean?"

  Olivia lifted her brows. "We contact Anja, and talk to her. We find out what would make this drug safe. She seemed to think there was something would make it so. So let's find out what."

  "Talk to Anja," Brittany muttered, frowning.

  "Talk and listen," Olivia amended.

  Brittany gave her a skeptical look. "Exactly how do we go about talking to Anja? We don't even know where she is." She huffed a laugh. "Even the guys don't know where she is."

  "Or so they say," Shana added, darkly.

  "No, that much I believe," Olivia put in. "If the men knew where Anja was, they wouldn't have gone to so much trouble to get their hands on those clues."

  Brittany sighed. "True."

  Shana narrowed her eyes. "Agreed. They went to an awful lot of trouble."

  "And they're professionals. I imagine they've got all sorts of ways of tracing people," Brittany mused.

  Olivia frowned. She didn't want to admit defeat here. Contacting Anja, discussing the whole situation with her, and doing so behind Gideon's back, held an awful lot of appeal. "The clues," she murmured, and curled a finger against her glass. Her eyebrows jumped. "The clues!" She turned to Brittany. "When did Anja give you that perfume?"

  "Oh..." Brittany tilted her head. "Maybe three or four weeks before I last saw her."

  "Three or four weeks," Olivia repeated, and felt a spark of excitement. "And you." She looked at Shana. "When did Anja give you your recipe? For chicken, wasn't it?"

  "Yeah." Shana laughed. "Like I would cook something as complicated as chicken. But when did she give it to me...? I'd say it was even before she gave the perfume to Brittany. Over a month ago."

  The excitement inside of Olivia bloomed. "She was planning to go," she told the others. "She'd been planning it for some time."

  Shana perked up. "You're right. If she gave me that recipe code months ago, she was already feeling nervous, and making plans to stow things safely."

  "What if," Olivia asked the others. "What if she was already planning where she was going to go?"

  Brittany gaped at Olivia, but Shana's eyes went wide and bright. "Oh, my God," she whispered. "Oh, my God."

  "What?" Brittany asked. "What, what, what?"

  Shana turned to her. "The recipe Anja gave me. It was called 'Caribbean Island Chicken.'"

  The three women stared at each other in astonishment. Olivia could feel sparkles of exci
tement running through her. "She told us where she was going." Not only that, but she'd wanted them to know. They should know, and not the men.

  "Okay, okay." Brittany held up her hands. "I hate to rain on your parade. But do you know exactly how many islands there are in the Caribbean? Must be dozens. If she was trying to tell us where she was going, wouldn't she have been more specific?"

  "Not if she didn't want it to be too easy to figure out," Olivia countered. "Too open to any ol' passing male's eyeball."

  "Like the passing eyeballs of a low-down rotten skunk," Shana agreed. She nodded toward Olivia. "Maybe we each got a part of the puzzle. What about your clue, the plant? Anything about that which might have been directed to us?"

  Olivia's excitement simmered down as she considered the houseplant Anja had given her. "I can't think of anything, besides its hideous appearance, that is. It didn't have a name attached to it, like your recipe."

  "Yes, it did," Brittany said. Her eyes were now the wide ones.

  "Excuse me?"

  "Your plant does have a name. It's called Mother-in-Law Tongue."

  "Well, yes, but — " Olivia let out a breath of frustration. "How does that help?"

  Shana raised a brow. "What's your mother-in-law's name?"

  Olivia was about to protest that Anja couldn't possibly know her mother-in-law's name, but then she remembered. Anja knew Gideon. Her brows flicked down as it briefly occurred to her that Anja had been just as deceitful as Gideon in concealing this connection. But Olivia brushed the thought aside. Anja wasn't married to her. "My mother-in-law's name is Maria," she told them.

  Shana clapped. "Now all we have to do is check a map. I will bet you there's an island in the Caribbean named Maria. Have an atlas in the house, Livvie?"

  At the ranch house, yes, but Olivia certainly hadn't packed their coffee table books. She started to shake her head, but then stopped. "Do you need an atlas," she asked, "or could you look it up on the Internet?"

  "Now you're talking," Shana applauded, but added acerbically, "except you don't own a computer."

  "I do today." Gloating, Olivia pointed to the foot of her armchair. "Gideon left his laptop behind yesterday. And before you ask, I did boot it up. There was nothing of any interest on it that I could tell."