by Duffy, Sue
“That’s Delaney?” she asked, turning to look inside the car.
“It is. The guy’s really ticked that he had to bring me along. He must be spitting tacks over this public display of ours. We’d better go.” He pulled her rapidly to the car, flinging open the back door and climbing in behind her. “Agent Delaney, you remember Liesl Bower.”
Already turned in his seat, Special Agent Mark Delaney cocked one hard-line brow at Cade. “I don’t run a dating service, Mr. O’Brien. You don’t jump out of my car like that and draw the subject into the open, then proceed to make a spectacle out of her. Don’t you understand that there’re people out there who want to kill her?”
Liesl felt Cade’s body jerk. “Agent Delaney,” Liesl began, “I’m the one who forced that little scene, and I’m sorry. Now, can we go?” Just then, though, she remembered something.
“Agent Delaney, may I go inside for just a moment? I need a word with Cass.”
He shook his head and motioned for his driver to go, then turned and looked through the back window, issuing a terse reply to Liesl’s request. “No. They’re taking her upstairs now.”
When his eyes lingered on a spot behind them, Liesl and Cade both turned to look that way. There was a car fast on their bumper and another just pulling up alongside. Delaney’s driver signaled for that car to move ahead. Now, they were sandwiched in an FBI caravan and picking up speed.
Delaney’s phone rang. Liesl watched him glance at the screen. “Delaney.” Pause. “That’s right. To the church. Full alert.”
Chapter 30
Hans parked his Mercedes at an isolated dock on the East River. Used mostly for trips to Southampton, the car sat like a prince among paupers on this squalid stretch of waterfront, sulking beneath the hostile glare of the spotlight. Hans could only hope it would be intact when he returned. He would need it more than ever then.
In the trunk was the suitcase he had packed while Jilly took her afternoon nap. When he reached the beach house that night, he would gather everything else he needed for his departure. He would remove the vile man he’d become from the lives of those he loved.
Promptly at six, a rusty trawler pulled alongside the dock, and a young man in heavy-weather gear jumped from the stern with a line in his hand and tied it into a snappy figure eight around a cleat. From on board, the captain tossed the bow line to the boy, and he repeated the maneuver at the other end of the boat. When he finished, he stood almost at attention as Hans boarded.
Hans was used to the military bearing of the young man and his middle-aged captain. He had made this jaunt upriver several times before, whenever Ivan felt the need for greater privacy than the UN apartment allowed. Hans anticipated a debriefing of sorts and a pump-up-the-troops review. He wasn’t prepared for what happened.
Descending the steps to a well-furnished salon below deck—incongruent with the grimy exterior of the boat—Hans cordially greeted Ivan and Sonya, seated and waiting for him. It appeared there was no one else in the room. He was wrong. From behind him, someone grabbed both his arms and pinned them to his sides while an accomplice wrapped a heavy cord about him, shoved him into a metal chair, and strapped him to it. Hans cried out and tried to wrestle free, but to no avail. The boat was moving.
“Anything else, sir?” one of the assailants asked Ivan.
“No. Leave us.”
Hans jerked his head toward the two men. Then he turned raging eyes on Ivan. “Have you gone mad?”
“No. You have.” Ivan stood up and moved toward Hans. “Insanely reckless! Or was it deliberate?”
“What are you talking about?”
“What happened in Charleston yesterday?” Ivan demanded.
Hans gaped in confusion. “Charleston?”
“You pretend very well, comrade,” Sonya sniffed.
Hans pulled against the straps.
“Be still!” Ivan commanded. “Anyone else would already be in the river.”
But Hans kept struggling against the straps. “I don’t know about anything happening in Charleston.”
Ivan remained unimpressed. “No. You were not supposed to. It was not your affair. So I am wondering how you knew.”
Now Hans was angry. “If you keep talking in riddles, we’ll never get anywhere! Tell me what happened in Charleston! ” His assertive tone changed the course of the conversation. Ivan turned to look at Sonya, whose acrimonious expression now turned inquisitive.
Ivan brought a pensive forefinger to his lips as he seemed to gauge Hans’s sincerity. Then he lifted a briefcase from the floor and retrieved something from inside. “This was taken yesterday morning.”
The photograph Ivan shoved in Hans’s face made him blanch. Sweat trickled from his scalp as he stared at the clear and unmistakable image of Cass standing beneath a moss-draped tree with Liesl Bower. Hans’s mind spun like a roulette wheel waiting for the ball of reason to drop solidly into place. But there was no reason behind what he saw.
He looked up into Ivan’s seething face, at the eyes that watched him back, judging Hans’s reaction. But his astonishment was genuine.
“Your stepdaughter is what happened in Charleston yesterday,” Ivan said, bending over Hans as if he were an unruly child. “Somehow she knew Liesl Bower was marked for death. And somehow, she managed to prevent it. How did that happen?”
But that was just one of two questions pounding in Hans’s head that instant. Momentarily suspending his incredulity over Cass’s involvement, he looked Ivan steady in the eye. “You tried to kill that woman again?”
Ivan straightened and strolled confidently back to his chair, lowering himself onto it as though it were a throne. He gazed arrogantly at Hans. “How I choose to deal with my enemy is none of your business.”
“Liesl Bower is not your enemy! I was glad when that piano bomb didn’t go off!”
Sonya leaned forward in her chair. “Do you think a great power rises without spilling blood? That the assets of our enemies are off-limits to us?”
“She’s just a piano player!” Hans charged. “That’s not a wartime kill. It’s murder!”
Ivan jumped to his feet. “You should be shot for insubordination! You should be hanged for treason against Russia.” He moved menacingly toward Hans again. “What was Cass Rodino doing in Charleston?” he demanded. “And who were the men with her?”
Cass went to Charleston to save Liesl Bower? Impossible! Hans refused to believe such a thing had happened. “If I didn’t know anything about this, how could she?”
“Then explain this photograph!”
“I can’t,” Hans replied emphatically. “Besides following me that night to your apartment, purely at the whim of her mother, she has absolutely no knowledge of our operation. No access to—”
The thought struck like lightning—The beach house! The files in my study! Had Cass gotten in? Why would she? Then he remembered their conversation in the diner and later in the park. Had his warnings only ignited her curiosity, and the inauguration attack fueled it? Yes, it was beginning to make sense.
He caught himself too late. He’d waited too long to finish his sentence.
“You know something more,” Ivan prodded. “Tell me!”
“I don’t know anything.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what we know,” Sonya said, her words slithering through tight lips as she stood up. “Your girl got into something of yours that led her to Liesl Bower. Perhaps she knows about the court bombing, too. Your files, a carelessly placed note to yourself, something. Whatever she has, we’ll find it before it reaches the wrong people.” She bent to look Hans in the eye. “We just missed her last night, but we will find her again.” She taunted him with obvious pleasure.
Hans didn’t disappoint her. He lunged against the restraints. “If you hurt that girl, I’ll—”
“You will do nothing!” Ivan’s voice boomed. “You are now powerless. Sonya will take over your duties as overseer. We will find your stepdaughter and end her threat to us.”
“It is a pity our man in Charleston could not take care of her and Liesl Bower at the same time,” Ivan droned on as though for his own amusement. “Andreyev and Fedorovsky eagerly await news of Miss Bower’s death. And I must accommodate my generals’ lust for revenge. It was she, you recall, who brought them down.” Ivan nodded toward Sonya.
“You will write two letters,” Sonya instructed with cold detachment. “One to your wife, telling her you are leaving her. Because of our generosity over the years, she will not want for anything except, maybe, her husband. Then again, perhaps she has already tired of you.” Her lips curled with satisfaction. “The other letter goes to your employer, announcing your immediate resignation.”
Hans’s chest grew tight, and he dug his fingernails into his palms.
“We will return your car to the garage,” Sonya continued. “We want no meddling from the police should it be found abandoned at the dock. And then, you’ll remain our guest until we see fit to dispose of you permanently.” She shook her head. “We simply cannot tolerate your carelessness.”
Ivan looked regretfully at Hans. “You would have enjoyed living in Russia. In just days, our American comrades will complete the tasks they have trained long and hard for, then immediately escape. You would have received a hero’s welcome.” He motioned for Sonya to join him as he moved toward the doorway.
She left the room, but Ivan paused and looked back at Hans. “You would have enjoyed the irony of what I am about to do. And who I am.”
The van waited in the dark, snugged against the side of a warehouse within sight of the dock. Evgeny and Ava had watched Hans park his Mercedes and wait at the end of the dock. Soon, an old commercial trawler approached and a young man stepped from inside and secured the boat to the dock. Hans Kluen boarded promptly, and within minutes the boat pulled away.
Ava alerted Mark Delaney. “Better get a marine detail out here now to tail this boat.” She gave him a brief description of the vessel. “We don’t know who’s on board, but this isn’t a routine evening for Hans Kluen. Something’s up. Could be our man waiting for him on board. Maybe not. We can’t afford to chase him off and lose our link to his sleepers. … No. We’re staying put. Kluen’s Mercedes is still here. I suspect he’ll return.” A pause. “What’s that?” She looked sideways at Evgeny. “I know. Bizarre, isn’t it? But he’s behaving himself right now.” She ended the call.
“You know I will never let you take me in,” Evgeny said calmly, not meeting her eye.
“Is that a threat?”
“Call it what you want.” He knew she was regarding him carefully.
“You’re not the first murdering spy I’ve worked beside.”
He didn’t take offense. That’s what he was.
“I can intervene on your behalf, though,” she continued. “You saved Liesl’s life and warned us of disaster. Still, I can’t guarantee your freedom.”
“No, but I can.” His answer was swift and sure.
The long awkward silence between them finally broke when the trawler returned. “It’s too soon!” Ava fretted. “Delaney hasn’t had time to scramble help.”
They watched as the same young captain’s mate jumped from the boat, walked briskly to the Mercedes, unlocked it—presumably with Hans’s key—and drove away.
“Kluen is either on board or in the river,” Evgeny said with certainty.
He fought the urge to follow the car, knowing the greater catch was probably aboard the trawler. Could it be the Architect himself? If it was, how far should Evgeny pursue him? Shouldn’t Evgeny the fugitive disappear soon? He had accomplished his mission. Now, the CIA and FBI were on the trail of this man who would destroy Russia with his imperial insanity. Could Evgeny trust them to stop it? He was beginning to doubt that.
He looked through the frosted windshield at the boat tied to the end of the dock. When someone else hopped from the boat and cast off the lines, Evgeny moved quickly. “Let’s go,” he said and quietly opened the door. Ava followed.
They skirted the warehouse and ran down an overgrown path to the river in time to watch the trawler head into the channel. With night already fallen, it was hard to identify any markings on the boat. But inside the wheelhouse, something glowed orange. “A lamp or something on the instrument panel,” Evgeny guessed.
Ava was back on the phone, describing the orange-lit wheelhouse. “Hurry,” she urged. “Fly!”
Ava and Evgeny kept watch on the river, the trawler now out of sight. After awhile, they heard the racing motors of two small powerboats coming upriver—and the unmistakable percussion of a helicopter advancing from the same direction. But they’d come too late to suit Evgeny. The trawler could have stopped anywhere along the river by now and discharged its passengers.
“Come on,” Evgeny said. “We’ll keep up.” He outran Ava to the van and threw it into drive as she climbed in. “You will have to guide me,” he said. “I do not know these streets.” But eventually, they lost sight of the boats and had to rely on crackling reports to Ava from the pursuing vessels, manned solely by FBI.
“What about the chopper?” Evgeny asked.
“It’s NYPD. They’ll communicate directly to the boats, not me.”
“And Hans Kluen?”
Ava shook her head. “I don’t think he’s in good standing with his superiors right now. Something tells me he didn’t willingly give them the keys to his car.”
Evgeny brooded. “I do not like this. The cowboys in those boats and chopper might scare Kluen and his boss into hiding where we will never find them. And I believe the hour is near.”
“The boys on the water know what they’re doing. They’ve been ordered to find the boat but not confront it. As for the NYPD chopper, that’s a familiar sight over the city. Even your Architect shouldn’t be spooked by it, if he’s in the boat.”
Chapter 31
Agent Delaney deposited Liesl and Cade at West Park Christian Church with a hefty accompaniment of attending agents. “I’m so grateful you’re back safely,” Rev. Scovall said, hurrying toward the door and locking it behind them. Just like before, Liesl remembered. “We’ve been so anxious to know how you were.”
“Anxious ain’t the word for it,” said the old man just rounding a corner of the narthex. “Try spittin’ mad.”
“Ian!” Liesl cried.
Despite his contrary words, the old man’s face beamed bright at the sight of her. “Come here, darlin’,” he said, reaching for her. She welcomed his bracing hug.
“You smell like home,” she told him, sniffing the collar of his shirt. “Like bacon and eggs.”
“Good, I was afraid you were going to say magnolias.” He squeezed her once more, then loosened his hold, keeping one arm lightly draped about her shoulders. He turned his attention to Cade. “Son, you ever tried to talk to an NYPD cop?”
“Oh no,” Cade moaned.
“Well, hear me out,” Ian continued. “Since none of you folks had the consideration to call and tell us what was going on, and I couldn’t reach any of you, I did a bit of investigating on my own.”
“Oh boy,” Cade muttered, squeezing his eyes shut.
“So I called up one of those precinct numbers and asked the young man who answered if anyone had reported a van load of people in an accident, that one of them talked Russian and might have a gun and another one was a CIA agent with one of those sticky-out hairdos and a lot of miles on her. Or if a car with an FBI agent named Delaney in it and a big guy who thinks he’s Rambo had overturned somewhere.”
“You didn’t,” Cade said with only faint hope.
“And you want to know what that guy said to me?” Ian’s face was getting redder.
“Not really, Pop.”
“He asked if he could talk to one of the nice ladies who took care of me. Imagine that. So I asked him just how many nice ladies he had taking care of him and that it seemed to me he might need a few more.”
&nbs
p; Before anyone could summon a response of any kind, a loud rapping came at the front door, and one of the agents headed for it. “It’s Delaney!” came from the other side, and the agent unlocked the door. Delaney entered with a phone to his ear, and everyone remained expectantly silent while he pulled his agents aside, issuing what appeared to be hasty orders.
Meanwhile, Jordan Winslow came bounding down the hallway and headed straight for Liesl. “Glad you’re okay, Liesl. Where’s Cass?” There was no mistaking his priorities.
“We left her at her mother’s apartment. Hans was already gone.”
“She’s there alone?” Jordan asked with alarm. “What if someone comes looking for Hans?”
Just then Delaney joined the group. “I’ve got four agents at that apartment right now,” he told Jordan.
“What about Ava and Evgeny?” Liesl asked him.
“I can’t discuss that. For now, though, we’re getting you and Jordan out of here and into a safe house. It’ll be a little cramped with your … entourage in tow.” Delaney was clearly irritated.
“I never been called an en-tour-age before. Have you, Cade?” Ian snipped sarcastically, then met Delaney eye to eye. “But I’ll tell you what, Mr. FBI, when it comes to protecting Liesl, you’d better hope your pedigree agents can measure up to me and my boy. It’s us mongrels who are most loyal … and the quickest to dismember anyone who threatens one of our own. Just thought I’d point that out to you.”
Liesl looked away, stifling a grin.
“Mr. O’Brien, my apologies,” Delaney said as he stepped away. “But if you will, sir, please gather your things—all of you, you too, Jordan—and wait here by the door. We’ll be leaving soon.”