by Jeanne Adams
That did set off alarm bells. “Beg pardon?”
He laughed in that velvet voice, and once again, she could almost feel the sensuous sweep of his hand at her back, the whisper of his breath on her skin. “Just dinner, Ana. I’d like to get the details of your misadventure. The fact that you were…what did you call it? Targeted. Yes. Interesting terminology. The fact that you were targeted after you left here is a huge concern for me. On the hacking, were they aiming for your files, do you know? Or was it a random attack?”
“We don’t know yet.” Ana let her head fall back onto the high-backed office chair. “No rhyme or reason to either. Or both. Not yet. There are enough issues that I’m embroiled in to keep IAD busy checking leads for a week.”
“They’re already on it?” He sounded surprised.
“Yeah, because it’s me. I’ve been in some trouble. That’s why I’m on cold cases,” she admitted. “But, on the shot and the hack, it may not be me. Like I told IAD, there are a lot of people who drive a vehicle like mine. Any one of them could be the target. The hack? There are fifteen other agents working cases in this division, most of them active, unlike what I’m doing.” She closed her eyes, wishing she knew more, felt less. “Any one of their cases could have triggered the hack.”
“Hmmm. I’m not hearing a lot of conviction in your voice about those options.” He let silence fall between them for a moment. Then he used his sexy voice at its most persuasive. “I think it sounds like dinner’s just the thing you need. Want me to pick you up at the building, or at home?”
“I’m sorry, what?” Had she agreed to dinner? She didn’t remember agreeing.
“Dinner. A meal. A discussion. You did your homework, Ana,” he said. “You know what my specialty is. If you have any more info on the hack, I may be able to help. We can also run some probabilities between us, as to whether the targeting is related to Dav.”
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea, Gates,” she prevaricated. Part of her really wanted someone—no, scratch that; not just anyone, Gates—to take her to dinner, make sure she got home. She wasn’t sure she could trust herself to drive anyway.
Her car. Crap, she wasn’t going home in her own car tonight. They wouldn’t be done with it yet. Plus, she’d have to get the window fixed, report it to insurance.
“Ana? If you don’t want to run probabilities, that’s okay. In fact, we probably shouldn’t. We can pretend it’s Friday,” he said, referencing the date they’d already made. “Just let me take you to dinner, make something in your day go right.”
How could she refuse? “A lot went right today. The meeting with you and Dav. That was good. I enjoyed it.” She had to admit that. It was true.
“Did you, now?” He sounded pleased, a bit smug. “Just because of all that lovely data, right? You can tell me, I know about this data stuff.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” She nearly giggled at his teasing. Of course, that was probably incipient hysteria. “Like I’d share my secrets with you.”
“Afraid I’m better than you? I can take you, Agent. Bet ya’.”
“No, I’m not afraid,” she said, just a little stung. She was afraid. A bit. Not so much of his computer prowess, but he was a magnetic, powerful personality. He affected her in equally powerful ways.
Not what she needed right now.
Maybe never. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to handle that kind of intensity turned her way. It was business now, even with the teasing. What if it turned personal? Hell, it was already personal; he’d nearly kissed her. She got the shivers, the so-bad-it’s-good kind, every time she heard his voice. She had to keep her cool, her distance from Gates. He was trouble in all kinds of ways.
“Then it’s settled. I’ll pick you up in three hours, there at the building. We’ll go someplace for a nice quiet meal, and then I’ll get you home. I’m sure they’ve arranged for protection for you, yes?” His cadence was enough like his boss’s that it surprised her, coming as it did in his crisp New England accent.
“I’m sure they have or will, yes. Which means they’ll know you and I had dinner.”
“I’m not worried, are you? It’s a working dinner, Agent Burton.” His voice was a low rumble of humor. “I have some additional information for you, of course. So, since I’m going to be in the city, and you are in the city, we’ll have a dinner meeting.” He laid out the logical explanation without batting an eye.
“Practice that line much?” she drawled, finding a bit of her old spark. It helped that she enjoyed the sarcasm as a change from the edgy panic that was a constant companion.
“Absolutely every chance I get,” he popped back, and she laughed.
“In that case, Mr. Bromley, I accept. I’ll bring my case notes, and we’ll compare…techniques.”
“We’ll see to that, Agent,” came the brisk reply. “Excuse me a moment.” He moved the phone away so that she couldn’t catch what he said to whoever had interrupted. She wouldn’t want the tone she could hear used on her, however. Remembering his discussion with Dav’s nephew when she visited the estate, she decided it didn’t take much to push his bullshit meter into the red zone. After a brief pause where she could hear nothing, no voices, he came back to the phone. “So, Agent,” he said, in that melted-chocolate tone, “I’ll look forward to seeing you in three hours.”
“Gates,” she began, suddenly unsure.
“Yes, Ana, I know. See you in a bit.”
And he was gone. Just like that. Revved her up and left her hanging.
Wait. What did he know? Had he realized she was wavering, thinking of backing out?
“Damn it,” she cursed softly, not wanting anyone to hear her frustration. Then again, most of them were still placing their lunch orders.
No sooner had the thought formed than Caldwell popped into view. “Hey, Burton. Since lunch is on the boss, you gonna eat something besides a salad for once?”
“I don’t always eat salads,” she protested, surprised he’d noticed.
“Sure you do. Nearly every day. Hey, I’m an operative, I notice these things.” He lowered his voice in mock severity. “I notice everything.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a comic parody of a leer. “So, now, I’ve got your order, we’ll get some good fattening grub into you so you can work.”
“Uh, about that. Change it to just fries and a drink, will you? In all the craziness, I forgot I’d had lunch. Now I’ve got a dinner meeting,” she said, absently. What did Gates know about her?
“Ooooh, dinner meeting,” he teased. Someone called his name, and he shifted into a more serious mode. “Coke and fries, got it,” he scribbled the order down. “Hey, you should let the boss know you’re going walkabout, though. With a mark out,” he used the shorthand for marksman, “you need eyes on you.”
“I was just going to tell her. Thanks though,” she said, smiling at him.
“Sure. No worries. Hey, fries in and dinner out. We’ll get some meat on those skinny bones yet.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she pretended to grouse at him. “Get out of here.”
He scooted away, laughing. Reluctantly, Ana picked up the desk phone and buzzed Pretzky.
“Yes. I will check in with the security detail,” Ana assured her. “Yes, I’m sure San Francisco’s finest will be up to the task. Dinner. Yes. A meeting. Well, he’s outside the city. Yes. Coming in for another meeting, wanted to follow up…” Ana sighed and decided to see if playing a trump card would help. “I’m going for one reason, Special Agent. Mr. Bromley mentioned a Russian connection related to the old art-fraud case. I want to interview him about that without being too obvious. If there’s a connection between my visit to Mr. Gianikopolis and our computer security breach this morning, especially a Russian connection—yes, Georgian—I want to root it out.”
By the time Pretzky was done with her, the Coke was on her desk along with the steaming fries. Caldwell had dropped them off with an amused expression for her trials with the boss.
Fitting into the offi
ce had only taken the expedient of getting shot at. Evidently, for this crew, it made you one of the team.
It took her most of the Coke and another promise to check back with the office when she got home before she got off the phone.
When she pivoted to her left, she saw that Pearson was standing at her cubicle entrance.
“Computers are back up on safe mode,” Pearson began without preamble. “Also, wanted to say thanks. Your bomb about dinner got me out of Pretzky’s office. I had shit to do, so…appreciate it,” she said with a grin. “Hot date.”
“Hope you make it,” Ana said, checking her watch.
“Nah, no worries. My kid’s with his grandma for a few more days. She took him to Disney. Even if I’d had to put the date off till tomorrow, I’d be okay.”
“How old’s your kid?”
“Seven. He’s great.” Pearson was about to say more when Ana’s phone rang. “Go on and get that. See ya tomorrow.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Ana said, picking up the phone. She’d been in the office almost four months, and this was the first she’d heard about Pearson having a kid. It explained the Disney comment though. “This is Burton.”
“Back off.”
Two words and the line went dead.
Jurgens called him at eight on the office line in his home office. Jurgens was the only one who had it.
“Problem?”
“Ja. Perkins fucked up. The computers were compromised. He threatened her, called from a pay phone.” Annoyance surged in Jurgens’s voice, an unusual occurrence. “That phone is compromised. It’s outside the Agency. They monitor it. They will be talking to him shortly.”
Closing his eyes, he sighed. What the hell had made him pick Perkins? What an idiot. Well, flawed tools pretty much guaranteed a flawed job. “Repercussions?”
“Ja. Issues. We will need to monitor them. A messenger will drop something later.”
“Good. That job we discussed, let’s see to that. I’ll call Perkins.”
“Now? He’s alone, at home.”
He sighed. He needed to finish a proposal for the county. It was due at noon the next day. Well, sometimes you just had to make time for these things. “Yes. Give me a moment to get a disposable. I’ll call him. You can act then.”
“Ja.”
They clicked off, and he opened the bottom drawer to get a GoPhone from the desk drawer. He needed to procure some untraceables soon. He hated to be that obvious; it was much safer to skirt the law than break it outright.
He pocketed the unit and strode into the kitchen. His wife was clearing away the dishes and making a snack for their son’s preschool the next day.
He kissed her cheek. “I’m going to run over to Staples real quick. I don’t want to run out of ink for the printer at two a.m. if it takes me that long to finish this bloody proposal.”
She frowned for a moment. “But I thought—” she began, and he remembered that she’d bought ink cartridges at Costco. Ever thrifty, his Caroline.
“Color. You got the black and white, so that’s good. I’ve got charts and graphs. You know.”
Her face cleared, and she smiled. “You worry too much, honey. But okay. Take it easy out there, it’s raining.”
“Will do,” he said, closing the door behind him.
He dialed as he drove to the Staples. It wouldn’t do to come home without the ink now.
“What?” Perkins answered the phone, his voice shaking. “I didn’t call you.”
“Idiot,” he stated calmly. “In this case, you should have. What the hell happened?”
“Nothing happened,” Perkins lied. “Nothing.”
“Perkins, don’t be an ass. Would I be calling if nothing happened?”
“It was a fluke,” he began, protesting his competence. “The computer virus should have just corrupted her files. I didn’t know she’d been shot at, I didn’t know anyone had a hit on her. How could I know? That wasn’t me, the shot. I just diddled the files, trying to get her off the scent.”
There was a small popping sound through the phone, and he heard the thump of the other man’s body collapsing onto some hard surface. He quickly held the phone away from his ear as Perkins’s phone clattered to the floor.
He smiled, relieved. At least Jurgens could be counted on.
Right.
Now to find someone competent to monitor the situation. Perkins was a terrible liar, but he had truly been concerned enough about the new searches to act rashly. The idiot. Now what might have passed off as a cursory review would be amped up to a full-scale check. Perkins’s death might or might not be a factor, but either way, Perkins had put the operation in jeopardy and he never allowed that.
Problem number two, though, was the shot. Had his rival on the East Coast gotten wind of the investigation as well? If he’d stepped back into this to muddle the works again…
There was a faint rattle of sound from the phone, and he put his ear back to the receiver.
“Well?” he demanded.
“Done and done,” Jurgens said with satisfaction. “Last deposit?”
“In thirty-five minutes, same Swiss account. You’ll transfer the money out by morning this time, understood? And dispose of the phone.”
“Ja.”
“One more thing.” There was a waiting silence, so he continued. “Perkins mentioned a shot at the woman. Were you aware of it? Oh, and any suggestions on a new monitor for the situation?”
“It is possible.” Another silence. “A second messenger will come.”
“Good.”
The line went dead, and he walked into Staples to get ink.
Chapter Nine
“We’ll trace the call, but it probably won’t register.” The internal security geek qualified his answer. “Too short.”
“Thanks.” Ana hung up, and went to report the latest to the boss. She had to call McGuire and Hines before she headed out as well. If she’d stirred this much insanity up by making phone calls, she needed to warn them as well.
She didn’t want to tell her boss about the call, but if she let it wait till tomorrow, Pretzky would fry her ass.
“Back off what?” Pretzky mulled. Ana was pretty sure it was a rhetorical question, so she kept quiet. “I’m thinking this isn’t about Rome, Burton. How ’bout you?”
Reluctantly, Ana agreed. “There are ways it might be, but they’re a stretch,” she finally said. “And the first closed case I finished here is just that, closed.”
“Yeah, with that perp dead, that isn’t a bone to pick.” Pretzky paced back and forth in the small office. “Your dinner date cancel?” she said, turning suddenly to face Ana.
“Uh, no.” Ana checked her watch. “He’ll be here in about twenty minutes. He’ll pick me up downstairs. On the call though, I wanted to be sure and follow procedure, let you know.”
“Good, good,” Pretzky muttered. She shot Ana a sharp look. “You’ve had a shitty ride, haven’t you, Burton? Pretty shitty day too.”
Ana wanted to cry. Instead, she managed a laugh. It was watery, and weak, but it was a laugh. “Yeah, that’s an under-statement though.”
Pretzky nodded. “When one of us screws up, it’s bad. May seem like a little thing, but you and I both know those little things have a way of turning into one damn all mess. Been there, done that. Go finish up, and get out of here. Ring me here when you get in tonight.” She handed Ana a card. Neatly printed on the back was a telephone number. Ana looked up at her.
“That’s my personal cell. I want to know you’re in and okay.”
“Thanks. Will do.” Ana kept her voice clear and sharp, even though the gesture made her want to crumble into a heap of quivering goo. Personal gestures, closeness, had that effect these days, no matter how hard she worked to shut them out, keep them at bay.
Or maybe it was just this day.
“Don’t mention it.”
“I—” Ana began. Pretzky forestalled her.
“Seriously. Don’t mention it. I got a har
d rep to maintain.” She kept her expression bland, but her eyes twinkled.
“Got it. Good night.”
“Uh-huh.” Pretzky was already on the other side of the desk, reaching for a folder.
At her desk, Ana looked at the card. It was the number, nothing more, but somehow it was like a mini-lifeline. A connection.
That alone made her want to weep again, a luxury she wouldn’t—couldn’t—allow. If she started, she might never stop. Straightening her spine, she cleared her throat and dialed McGuire first. He’d been the friendlier of the two agents who had originally worked on the case.
“That sucks,” McGuire said bluntly, when she filled in the details of her day. “Related to the case, you think?” Before she could agree or disagree, he was moving on. “You’re gonna let Hines know too, right?”
“Yes, he’s my next call. Or did you want to call him?” Ana asked, thinking the former partners might want to talk.
“Nah, you go ahead. Me’n Hines weren’t close. Fact is, that case is the last one I worked before I retired. My partner got out couple of months before I did so I got paired with Hines. Still, he should know.” Ana got the impression that McGuire didn’t think much of his former partner even now. Then again, if they’d only worked the one case, and not solved that one, it probably grated on the retired agent.
“I’ll let him know. Thanks again, McGuire.”
“Good to be in the loop,” he said, a dark tone infusing his voice. Ana wondered if that was a reference to Hines and if the other man had been one to keep the details to himself. They hung up, and Ana dialed the Oregon number for Hines.
“He’s out of town,” Hines’s secretary told Ana when she asked for the Senior Special Agent. “He had business in Washington State today, he said.” The woman offered to give Hines a message, or give her Hines’s cell number. Ana took the number, and left a message for Hines to call. She wanted anyone connected with the old case to have a fair warning.