by Wendy Rosnau
"I'm not fighting it any longer."
"What do you mean by that?"
"There's no time to explain. I'm off to Greece."
"Will you see your father?"
"He'll be at Simon's birthday party. That's one of the reasons we go this time of year."
Sly hit Stop again. The Chameleon would be at Simon Parish's birthday party in two days. A smile parted his lips. He didn't need to play Eva's game any longer. If he stuck close, she would lead him straight to the Chameleon.
Eva… Without warning his thoughts returned to her, and he soon found himself back on deck scanning Lesvago with a pair of high-powered night-vision binoculars. Knowing where her bedroom was located, he watched the dark window for several minutes. He didn't know what he expected to see, movement maybe, some sign that she was all right.
He never did see any movement, and after an hour he sailed the Hector back to the caverns where he had been successfully hiding out since he'd arrived. He went to bed in a sour mood, and fell asleep with Eva's husky voice teasing his subconscious. Soon he was dreaming she was in his bed, her lips pressed against his.
But instead of him kissing her, she was the one doing the kissing. She was astride him, caressing him with her hands and telling him how much she needed him.
She stayed with him all night feeding the dream and fueling his need. Before dawn, he blinked awake drenched in sweat, with his hand wrapped around his cock.
He let out a labored groan, slid his hand to the base of his hard shaft. Groaned again. Determined to rid himself of Eva and the solid ache that had awakened him, he began to move his hand in an age-old rhythm.
The next morning during breakfast, Sly received a message from Bjorn that read "Athens 4:30, gate C. It's raining in D.C. and I'm cold." Translation, Athens 3:30, gate B. The rest was just Bjorn being Bjorn. He hated cold weather, and complained about it every time the temperature dropped below fifty when all his aches and pains surfaced, reminding him how close to forty he was.
Sly flew from Mykonos to Athens, anxious to learn what was in the file Eva wanted so badly. His flight was a jackrabbit flight and he was in Athens in twenty-five minutes. As he made his way to gate B, he kept a watchful eye out for anyone who might be following him, but he was fairly confident that his cover as a tourist was still intact. But underestimating the Chameleon, or Parish, would be a mistake. One he didn't intend to make.
Bjorn was the second passenger off the plane. He was no longer using his cane, but he still had a slight limp.
"Here, I'll get that." Sly took Bjorn's bag.
"Jesus, I hate flying," his friend grumbled.
Sly slung the duffle on his shoulder. "I've rented a boat to take us to Mykonos. That way we'll be able to talk without any ears listening."
"And there is much to talk about, Sly."
Bjorn's comment, and the look on his face, kept Sly on edge the entire cab ride to the harbor. They set sail quickly, and were en route back to Mykonos within thirty minutes of leaving the airport. Miles from nowhere, Sly cut the engine and asked, "Do you have the file?"
"No."
"No?"
"I'll explain in a minute. First of all, I followed up on the house staff that took care of Eva when she was a kid. She did have a private tutor. The woman was a live-in." Bjorn checked his notes. "Carolyn Hunter. She's dead. Some kind of freak accident once she was let go, after she moved into a small apartment. The police report stated she fell in her kitchen and hit her head. Then there's the cook and housekeeper, Helen and Lida. They're also dead. A car accident. And the gardener and his son Tony, they're dead, too. Boat accident. Drowned while fishing on the Chattahoochee River. Looks like our Eva has a deadly effect on people she comes in contact with."
"What else?"
"That's not the only dead end."
Sly grunted his acknowledgement of Bjorn's pun,
"Sorry. I couldn't resist. Okay, when I got into the database, Paavo Creon's file was already gone. I checked the date log. Three weeks ago someone tapped in and pulled up Creon's file. Everything's gone."
"Was there an access number used to get in?"
"Yes. On that day six people accessed records."
"Who was it?" Sly asked, already knowing the answer.
"Merrick's access number is on record that day. He signed in the afternoon of the third of September."
"That was two days before we left for Castle Rock." Sly looked out to sea trying to make sense of it all.
"You get anything out of our little Eva?"
"She gave Merrick the information that sent us to Castle Rock."
"She was the informant?"
"That's right."
"The little bitch. She set us up."
"In a way, but not really."
"Sully's dead. We got our asses nearly shot off. What do you call that?"
"Don't look at me like that. This is complicated. She claims Merrick refused to give her the files after she called him and told him who she was. She says he didn't believe she was Eva Creon, so she offered him the compound location as a way to convince him."
"Which means he believed she was dead like the reports claimed."
"That's right. After we got back from the mission and reported our findings, Merrick knew she was telling the truth, and agreed to give her Paavo's file in exchange for the Chameleon's location."
"And to think I liked her."
Sly could hear the same disgust in Bjorn's voice that he had felt when she'd told him she was Merrick's informant. He said, "You're a good profiler. You liked her in the beginning for a reason. She's likable, and I don't think she thought we would see action at Castle Rock."
Bjorn was about to light his cigarette. He stopped and locked eyes with Sly. "Did I hear you right? You like her?"
"She's lived with a lunatic for four years. Her own father put her in that situation. I don't know why, but you can't hate someone for trying to survive hell, can you?"
"Low blow, Sly."
"Just the truth."
"Have you considered she's playing you, Sly? What do we really know about her? Before you take this any further you better find out what she's after. Where her loyalty is. Get in her face, make her talk."
"And if she won't talk, do I put her in a dark closet with a mouse for ten hours, or hang her in a clothes chute with a belt around her wrists?"
"You've been listening to the tapes. If not by force how about using your charisma? Why not seduce her?"
"I can't do that."
"Sure you can. I've seen you disarm a woman before, Sly. You've got a look in your eyes when you're on the hunt. Women like that. They like the strong, mysterious type. Your charm got us out of Vienna in '98, remember? And into Bangkok in '99. Use that charm on our little Eva. Draw her in, set her up, and use her. By the look on your face, you find that distasteful. And that, my friend, can only mean one thing. You've allowed your feelings into this. Am I right?"
"There's something about her," Sly agreed. "She's a victim. I have a hard time victimizing a victim."
"Here's what I know. I know a man can't fight his feelings. He might not be able to act on all of them, but denying they exist is pointless. Sometimes these things don't make sense, and over the years I've decided they don't have to. Using her is the only way, Sly. And if you do it right, she'll enjoy it. And in the process, you'll get what we need to catch the Chameleon, and you'll both have a memory."
Sly swore, then asked, "What did you find out about Merrick?"
"I did get into his file. Made a copy."
"And?"
Bjorn bent over and pulled up the Velcro strap on his duffel bag and retrieved a disk. "Merrick's carrying around a lot of baggage. He has been for a long time."
He handed the disk over to Sly. "This is for you. I'll give you the five-minute version if you want."
"Go ahead."
Bjorn reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notebook. "I did tail him for a few days. He lives a pretty boring life outsid
e the office. He's got an apartment in Somerset, and a country home north of Rockville where he spends his weekends. Saturdays seem to be his special day."
"Meaning?"
"He leaves his house about three and goes to a flower shop, buys two dozen roses, then drives to Pleasant View Cemetery." Bjorn paused, then added, "He goes there to visit his wife."
"Wife? I didn't know he was married."
"Neither did I. Johanna Merrick has been dead fourteen years."
"That's a long time."
"…to be delivering roses," Bjorn finished. He took another cigarette from his shirt pocket and lit it. "He talks to her."
"Talks to his dead wife?"
"Ja. He sits on a bench and talks to her. He spent over two hours with her Saturday."
Sly frowned, not sure what to make of the information. He had always felt that Merrick was living with some black monster eating away at his insides. Was this it? "How did she die?"
"This is where it gets sticky and a little gray. It seems someone kidnapped her."
"For ransom?"
"No, not exactly. It was more like someone wanted to play a little game."
The word game had Sly raising his eyebrow and sitting a little straighter.
"It came as a riddle sent to him on e-mail. A riddle with pictures of his wife tied up on a bed. She had C4 wrapped around her."
Sly reached out, stole Bjorn's smokes and lit up. "So she was wired to blow. Keep going."
"The e-mail showed her crying and begging Merrick to save her. There were two clues sent to solve the riddle as to who had kidnapped her. If Merrick managed to type in the correct answer it would cancel the detonation. If not…" Bjorn rubbed his jaw, sucked the life out of his cigarette, then tossed the filter overboard. "I'm sure you know how this story turns out. Merrick ran out of time and his wife died while he watched it all on the computer screen."
"God!"
"There's more. The riddle was signed, 'the Chameleon.'"
Sly cut the engine on the boat. Finally, he said, "I need to talk to Merrick."
"That makes sense," Bjorn agreed. "There's something else that I want to run by you. Aren't you curious who the messenger was who sent you that information about Eva?"
"You think it was Merrick?"
"Yes, I do. After we got back from Castle Rock we were all reassigned. Our tours were up and each of us was offered a new job according to our expertise. All except you. Merrick offered you a desk job shuffling papers, which you rejected. Everyone knows you should have been offered a job as a marine cartographer. He knew you were upset about losing Sully, and Jacy almost ending up the same. He knew with a little push you'd be off and running, looking for answers because you're so goddamn loyal and bullheaded."
Sly considered what Bjorn was saying. He picked it apart, ran a number of cross thoughts into the mix. He said, "He wanted me out of Onyxx to do his leg work for him. He's been leading me every step of the way since I walked away. It makes sense."
"You bet your ass it does. He's still at the Agency after fourteen years. Why, because he can't let go. And every time the Chameleon slips through Onyxx's fingers, it reopens the old wound. He wants him and he wants him bad. More now than ever because medically he's a mess."
"Meaning?"
"Merrick's got a brain tumor."
"A tumor?"
"Ja. He needs an operation, but he's been putting it off."
Sly got out of his seat and stared across the water. "He's feeling frustrated. The Chameleon's still on the loose, and he might die before he gets his revenge. Then one day out of the blue Eva calls and says she's Paavo Creon's daughter."
"And Merrick believes he's been blessed with a gift from God," Bjorn added.
"She offers him information that he can't ignore and we're off to Greece to check out Castle Rock."
Bjorn supplied, "He sent you that envelope of info knowing you'd end up on Eva's tail."
Suddenly Sly was back in the seat turning the engine over and spinning the boat around.
"What the hell are you doing?" Bjorn asked.
"You're going back to D.C."
"I'm what? What for?"
"To tell Merrick I want a meeting with him, here. And make sure he brings the file on Paavo Creon."
"I just got here, Sly."
Sly ignored the sick look on Bjorn's face. "I could call him. He gave me a private number, but that's what he's expecting and I'm not going to do this his way. He's going to have to play it my way from here on out."
"He gave you a number where you can reach him?"
"I should have picked up on that as suspicious. I admit, I didn't."
"So I show up in his office and tell him what exactly?"
"You don't show up there. You're going to stake out his apartment and kidnap the son of a bitch."
"I am?"
"At gunpoint."
"That should strengthen our relationship."
Sly shrugged. "I wasn't aware you cared a damn about relationships. Aren't you the guy who just told me to use Eva Creon?"
"I hate flying," Bjorn grumbled. "You know I hate flying. It took me ten hours to get here."
"And it'll take another—" Sly calculated the time back and forth, figuring in the kidnapping "—twenty-five hours to get back here. Give or take an hour."
"I can't sleep for shit on an airplane. That means thirty hours without sleep."
"Eat a pill. You'll sleep."
"I took this profiling job to keep my feet on the ground, and normal working hours. I—"
Sly cut him off. "The quicker you get going the quicker you'll get back with Merrick. After that you can keep your feet on the ground. I don't think you'll need to force Merrick to board a plane, but if he gives you any trouble at that point, tell him I'm so close to the Chameleon that I can smell him. That should bring him here on the run."
* * *
Chapter 10
« ^ »
Simon kept the location of his birthday party a secret until they docked on the island of Santorini. From the upper deck of the Ventura, Eva surveyed the volcanic city of Fira. It was after dark, and the island was lit up as bright as an evening star. The petrified lava varied from fire red to purple, and it gave the city a magical glow.
So this was where Simon's party was going to take place, where her father would join them in a rare appearance that happened only once a year.
She had hoped to have read the file by now. But time had run out. She wasn't sure what to do now. Her options were to do nothing and go back to Atlanta with Simon when the time came, or tell her father what she'd been up to this past year and see what kind of a response she got.
She felt like a pawn in a chess set. If she didn't make a move she would never get out of the box. She couldn't imagine living with Simon one more year.
"What are you thinking?"
Simon's arm slipped around her shoulder and Eva willed herself to relax. Last night he had held her while he slept. He had never done that before. There was a reason behind it. She didn't know what, but experience told her she had only to wait to find out.
"I love this island," he said. "It's always been one of my favorites."
He usually didn't like people to look at him, but he suddenly gripped her chin and forced her to meet his red eyes. "I want you to stay here, on board the Ventura, tonight," he said. "I'm going ashore to see how tomorrow evening's party plans are coming along. I'll be back in the morning. You'll join me for breakfast at eight sharp. Be waiting for me … here. Wear the strapless dress, and the white sandals to match. Hair up. No jewelry. Not too much makeup. Red lipstick."
Eva kept her eyes locked with his. "All right. I'll be here in the morning waiting for you wearing white, and looking exactly as you wish."
He suddenly pulled her into his arms. "I don't know how I could have resisted kissing you all these years, but I no longer have the willpower. Germs or not, I'll have your lips on mine, sweet Eva. I'll have them now."
The request was
so unexpected that Eva froze. Last night he had held her while he slept, something that had never happened in four years, and now today he was telling her to kiss him. What was going on?
"Eva…"
She came to her senses quickly. Knowing Simon never asked twice for anything she leaned in, angled her head and pressed her mouth to his cold, thin lips. His response was delayed and horribly awkward, as if it had been years since anyone had kissed him, if ever.
He stepped back from her after the flat kiss was over. He smiled, kept the smile with him as he walked away. He even looked back before taking the gangplank to see if she had moved.
She hadn't, she was still trying to make sense out of the changes in Simon that had virtually taken place overnight.
Sly boarded the Ventura with the knowledge that at any moment one of the guards patrolling the yacht might spot him and put a bullet through his skull. Slipping past them as stealthily as a pirate, and just as surefooted, he found the stairway that led below deck and disappeared.
The passageway was empty, lit by small clear lights. He moved quickly, his jaw set and his mood black, as black as the drysuit he wore.
Within minutes he located Eva's stateroom and disappeared inside. She wasn't there, but then he knew that. She was up top with Melita.
He removed his diving attire, then ransacked her room waiting for her to show up. When she didn't come after he'd gone through the entire room, he stretched out on her bed. Sucking on his sour mood, he dozed with one eye open and an ear to the door.
At eighteen minutes after midnight, she stepped into her stateroom wearing the same lavender skirt and white blouse she'd had on earlier when she'd kissed Parish before he'd left for the evening.
The stateroom was dark, save for a small amount of moonlight that shone through two windows. Sly left the bed, and without making a sound, slipped into the hall that led to the bathroom.
He heard her sigh, watched as she stretched. Her fingers found the zipper at the back of her skirt and she slid it down. The skirt fell from her hips with ease, and she stepped out of it. The buttons on her blouse, she worked at slowly. She walked to a small table and turned on a mood light, offering him a better view of her sweet ass, half-hidden by the bottom edge of her blouse.