"Hello?" I answered. "Riley?" I asked hopefully.
"No." A thick, Russian accent said. "If you want to see Riley alive ever again, you need to do exactly as I say."
Ugh. What a cliché! I swear, some of these foreign agents learn English from bad TV shows.
"What do you want?"
"I want you to meet me at noon at the school," he said. Clearly he didn't have an original bone in his body. We'd already done the school. Oh well.
"Fine. Is that all?" I asked. But he'd hung up.
"Lana!" I ran down the hall to her bedroom. "Lana!" I knocked on the door as I opened it. "We've got our instructions!" I said as the door swung open on an empty room.
Oh, right. Of course. She must've spent the night in my room. It's probably still scary to be in hers.
"Lana!" I called as I crossed the hall and opened my door. The bed was made. Lana wasn't there. I ran through the house calling for her, but she never answered. I checked the basement, the garage, and the backyard. I looked in every closet. But Lana was gone.
I pulled my gun out of the drawer and looked around. That's when I realized that the other two guns were missing. And after that, I realized that during the phone call with Aleksei, he never mentioned Lana during our conversation. Not even once.
I sat on the couch with the gun in my hand and thought about it. If this was about Lana, Aleksei would've asked me to bring her. But he didn't. He just asked for me. Either he was really bad at this and didn't realize he'd made a mistake, or he wasn't after Lana to begin with.
Damn.
* * *
An hour later, I was no closer to any ideas than I'd been before. I was tired. Exhausted. I couldn't remember ever being this tired before. More than a year ago, I would've loved something like this. But that all changed when I went civilian. I didn't really want this anymore. Granted, I had no idea what I wanted…but I knew it wasn't this.
I was in way over my head here. The only other person who knew about this was Kelly, and there was no way I was dragging her into a showdown. And if she knew Aleksei had taken Lana too, well, there'd be no way I could stop her from coming.
Was that what happened? Aleksei showed up and took Lana at gunpoint? I rolled that idea around in my head. When would he have been able to do that? Sure, I'd fallen asleep, but I was pretty sure that something like a huge Russian busting down the door and dragging Lana off would've woke me up. I wasn't that sound a sleeper.
Maybe he called her, on her cell phone? Maybe he told her he'd kill Riley if she didn't come. That made more sense. Lana would sneak out in order to get him to leave me alone. But that idea didn't jive with the fact that Aleksei still wanted me there. So why didn't he take both of us if he'd been here to take Lana? My head was spinning. Both theories had good and bad points about them. In fact, there really wasn't any way I could know what had happened until I showed up at the school at noon.
All I had was one gun. Aleksei or Lana didn't take it because I was lying on top of it, hiding it with my face.
With no handler to help me out—no headquarters to back me up—I was screwed. I thought about that for a moment. Why not call Langley? Riley still worked for them, and really, this was their problem, not mine.
But who would I call? I had no idea who Riley's chain of command was. What was I going to do? Call the receptionist and say, Hey, do you know who Riley Andrews' boss is? He's been kidnapped, and I need some backup. I couldn't do that. And there were—actually, that's classified—but let's just say there were a LOT of staff personnel in the Black Box. How was I supposed to know whose extension I wanted?
Dammit! Riley had never included me in his connections with the agency. I should've forced him to tell me more. But it never occurred to me that I'd need the name and phone number of his supervisor. Riley was just always there. And he kept saying that this was too classified to have other agents there. Too classified for me to know anything more about it. Too classified…
Why did he have to leave me out of the loop? I know I wasn't an agent anymore, but I was involved. So it was stupid not to fill me in. It's not like I was a stranger to covert ops. I would think his little cabal at the agency wouldn't mind me knowing what I was up against. It seemed kind of stupid really. But then, I'd never really pressed Riley to tell me either.
In fact, I couldn't think of a single time in the past when he'd been so secretive. We'd always been upfront with each other. I get that this was different, but he should've clued me in. My brain kept coming back to that. The more I asked myself these questions, the weirder it seemed. Riley's mistake of keeping me in the dark only made things easier for the FSB. And it was rare for Riley to even make such a mistake in the first place. It's like he was…like he was…uh-oh.
Was Riley behind all this? Gears started rolling in my head. Riley. It couldn't be. No. No, no, no, no. That was impossible. What was I thinking? Riley worked for the Agency way longer than I had. He started right out of college and never worked anywhere else. I couldn't think of one single instance when he'd so much as criticized the CIA.
Why would he risk everything to betray his country? No. That was ridiculous. I was kind of pissed that my brain introduced the idea. Bad, stupid, naughty brain! Riley would never go rogue. He was married to the job.
I felt a little flustered thinking of him. There were definitely some feelings there that I couldn't ignore. And he'd kissed me. There was an attraction on his side too. After all, I hadn't initiated that. He liked me. Right?
And yet, my mind kept coming back to that little seed of doubt. I couldn't convince myself entirely that Riley was completely innocent. Why was that? I'd always been big on trusting my instincts. They'd never failed me. Not even when all the signs pointed to something different.
Once in a Caribbean country that shall remain nameless (It's still classified.), the agent I was working with assured me that he was on my side. There wasn't even the slightest shred of an idea that Paolo was selling me out. Everything he did and said pointed to his loyalty. I'd even followed him several nights after he'd left me and found nothing even remotely disingenuous.
But I never could get rid of that sick feeling in my stomach that something was wrong. So, I kept surveilling him, even though I felt like an idiot doing so. Day after day, week after week, I double-checked all the information he gave me. It was completely solid. There were no holes in the intelligence he gave me.
And yet, I still felt weird. So I kept following him and checking up (and feeling a little like an ass). It wasn't until two months later that I caught him selling me out to that nation's government. I was behind a barrel in a warehouse down by the docks (I know, total cliché, right?) when I overheard him telling his handler all about what I looked like and how to find me. Of course, he didn't really know how to find me because like I said, at that moment, I was hiding behind a rather rancid barrel of fish.
Of course, I left the country immediately. You don't stick around once you've been made. And I kicked myself for trusting him. But on the other hand, I'd been right. My instincts had gotten me out of the jam. And I've trusted them ever since.
And those instincts told me that something was wrong here. And my thoughts kept turning to Riley. Every time.
After all—Riley could've found a way to get Ahmed, Carlos, and Midori here. Riley showed up on my doorstep out of the blue—saying the agency was worried about my involvement. Riley brought Lana here. It was Riley who got me out of the house to tell me he thought Lana was the target. Lana would've trusted Riley. She would've gone with him this morning if he'd showed up and asked her to, without a second thought.
She'd been so convinced that she'd put me in danger—she would've left with him no problem if he'd showed up in the middle of the night and asked her to help him take out Aleksei. Riley couldn't get me a gun until I insisted. Riley wouldn't call for back up.
Because the CIA didn't know Riley was here. Or, they knew he was here and didn't come because he said he'd handle it. There was no
involving the agency at this point because they'd think I was an idiot if I called. Because it was more than likely that Riley was behind it all.
And I was going to kill him.
After I got Lana back, that is.
The memory of Riley kissing me—that was all subterfuge. He was trying to sort of seduce me to keep me from suspecting anything. And it worked. Dammit! To say that I was upset would be like saying the ocean was made of water. It hurt. It really hurt. I was starting to develop feelings for the guy! And it had been a long, long, time since that had happened. How did I get sucked in so easily? Was I that desperate for a kiss?
I felt pathetic. Mainly because I should've known better. Like I said, I've experienced betrayal before. Granted, some of it was more blatant than what happened with Paolo. There was the kid in the Rio slums who sold me out to a gang for a soccer ball and a jar of pickled herring. (It's a novelty there—and it's something that should never be a novelty anywhere.) Then in Shanghai, my interpreter informed on me to the police for three and a half squid—which made no sense to me because what do you only want half a squid for? Why not go for another whole squid? Well, anyway, you get the picture.
I swallowed my pride and shook my head to clear the emotions away. There was no time for this. I needed to get my act together and focus on the facts. Emotion was deadly to espionage. I couldn't let Riley think he'd gotten the better of me. The bastard.
So I focused on what I could deal with. Aleksei worked for Riley. And in a couple of hours, Riley and Aleksei would be at the school with Lana tied up as bait—waiting for me to show up.
But why? Why did Riley hate me enough to set this whole elaborate scheme up? What had I done to make him want to target me? Maybe he always hated me? Was he behind me being outted…being retired early?
You know, those kisses weren't really all that passionate. If he hated me, I could understand why he only kissed me twice. And that was as far as it got.
That pissed me off. Riley had used me this whole time. Used me to set me up and to most likely kill me. Who knows what his motivation was? It could be anything. He was crazy. Crazy enough to hate me for no reason whatsoever (I was a model employee.) and crazy enough to drag Lana and three terrorists into it.
There was no point thinking about it anymore. He'd probably monologue like a James Bond villain once I got there anyway. I'd find out then. For now, I needed some sort of plan. I needed help. With a heavy sigh, I picked up my cell and dialed. No point in keeping secrets anymore. It was time to call in some backup.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Rex blinked at me from my living room couch. He said nothing, which made me a little uncomfortable. Maybe it was because I was decked out in full tactical gear. I looked a little like a grown up Kim Possible with my combat boots, green cargo pants, and black T-shirt. The holstered Colt probably only added to my looking like someone from a bad action movie. Or maybe it was because I'd just told him a story of espionage, Russian spies, KGB spooks, and one rogue CIA agent who was setting me up.
I was taking a risk here—involving the local police. There was always the possibility Rex wouldn't buy it and would arrest me for having an unlicensed gun and for being completely crazy. (Which I'm not sure is a real crime—but he'd probably make it become one, just because.) Why should he believe me? I'm not sure I would believe me at this point. Even Kevin out in his squad car would have a hard time buying my story. Fucking Kevin.
But Rex was all I had. I needed help. And I no longer cared if the CIA got a black eye in all of this—the bastards. They should've known Riley had gone off the grid. They were responsible for not picking up on that. And if I survived this—I was going to sue the crap out of them.
"Okay," Rex said finally.
"Okay? Okay as in, you believe me—or okay as in, you think I'm nuts and should be committed?"
Rex shook his head. "Okay, as in I believe you."
"Really?" I felt a little surge of adrenaline. Or maybe that was the three energy drinks I'd just slammed. Lana had bought them on our shopping trip. I didn't think she'd mind.
He put his hands on his knees and stood up. "I knew something was weird the moment I met you, Merry."
Well that didn't sound good. He'd thought I was weird. On the other hand, that's what made him a good detective. There were benefits to that.
"What convinces you that my story is true?" Actually, I just wanted to make sure he did believe me and that there wouldn't be an ambulance secretly waiting outside to take me to an asylum.
He sighed. "Number one—you basically don't exist on paper or online. That isn't unusual. It's impossible. Number two—your "cousin" Riley didn't seem as much a family member as a supervisor. It was obvious that he was controlling the situation. Number three—you and Lana couldn't possibly be related. You don't look even remotely alike. Also—neither Lana nor Riley had a presence on paper or online. How could all three of you be off the grid?"
"Why didn't you say anything?" I asked. Why did we think it would be so easy to fool Rex? He wasn't some third world cop who happily looked the other way. And yet, we'd treated him like that. I kind of felt a little stupid now.
"I figured it would play out eventually. And you were entertaining to watch."
Oh great. "Well that doesn't sound very flattering."
Rex looked me right in the eye. "And it's flattering to me that you guys thought you could play me like shuffleboard? At least now I get to say I told you so."
Shuffleboard? What was he, an old man in a hot, young body? I'd really have to get past that when we started dating.
"This is serious, Rex. People's lives are in danger here. My friend Lana is one of them."
"Our lives included," Rex said with a frown. "I don't like going into this with no time to prepare properly. This is not how a police force operates."
I shrugged. "It's exactly how the CIA operates. In those circumstances, you have only yourself and possibly one other agent. And you have to act immediately. Time is not on your side."
He didn't say anything for a moment. This was a big deal. He barely knew me, and here I was asking him for something impossible. I wasn't entirely certain that he wouldn't just put me in the back of Kevin's squad car and call in the National Guard. On the other hand, trusting me would be like taking a huge step forward in our future relationship.
"I'll do it." Rex sighed. "But on my terms."
I frowned. "What terms? I have to go. This is my fight. Not yours. I'm involving you as backup."
He shook his head. "It's not just about you. You're involving the community, even if it is outside of town. And my job is to 'Serve & Protect'…just in case you didn't see that on the black and white outside."
Jeez! Did he really talk like that? Shuffleboard and black and white? We'd have to work on that before we officially started dating. I had some standards after all.
"Fine," I said grudgingly. I don't know what bothered me more—that he was taking over what was really my problem, or the fact that he seemed to be more interested in protecting the public than worrying about me. Yes, I know that's selfish. I never said I wasn't selfish.
Rex walked toward the door. "I'm going to need to change before we go. You'll have to come with me. I don't want you running off without me."
He wanted me to go with him! To his house! Where he was sometimes naked! Okay! If I died today, at least I was able to see inside Rex's house, and who knows, maybe I'd get to watch him change. Kind of like the last meal for a convict on death row.
I followed him across the street to his house. Kevin looked up and stared at me. I flipped him off, but secretly, so Rex couldn't see. He led the way into his house, and I followed, shutting the door behind me.
Whoa. Rex had a nice house. It didn't look like a bachelor had just moved in there either. There wasn't a single box. The living room was completely set up as if he'd always lived there.
"Stay here," he said. "I'm going to go change."
Damn. "Okay," I said a little g
rumpily.
While he was upstairs, I snooped around his house. It was pretty impressive. His living room furniture, rugs, and drapes all matched. The hardwood floors gleamed and there was a piano in the corner. A piano? Did Rex play the piano? Maybe it was just for show. Maybe I should get a huge harp or something.
The dining room was just off the living room. A gorgeous, dark wood table was surrounded by six matching chairs. There was some sort of bronze sculpture in the middle of the table. I picked it up and examined it. There were moving parts, and one of them broke off in my hand. Uh-oh. The man lets me into his house, where he's sometimes naked, and I break his weird little sculpture before I'm here five minutes! I carefully put the sculpture back, leaning the broken piece against it in the back where it wouldn't be spotted right away. If I survived what was coming—I'd make sure to fix or replace it first thing.
The kitchen was off the dining room. It was pretty basic. Bright white cupboards and countertops. And it was clean. Did Rex even live here? Knock it off, Wrath! He's just a neat and organized guy. I heard him coming down the stairs and raced back into the living room, draping myself casually on a leather chair. My holstered gun dug into my side, but I acted as if it didn't.
Rex made his way downstairs, and I gasped. That man was way too attractive to be a cop. He had on a black T-shirt, one that fit him like it was sprayed onto his very nice, leanly muscled torso, dark green pants, and black boots. In fact, we kind of matched. I didn't know whether to be excited or freaked out by this. He was in the process of putting on a belt with a holster. It looked like he had a Glock .45. Nice.
"I called in backup," he said. I opened my mouth to protest, but he held his hands out to stop me. "This is non-negotiable. I would like us to both survive this situation."
My mouth dropped open. "You would?" In hindsight—this was kind of a stupid question. Who didn't want to survive a gunfight?
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