AWOL with the Operative

by Jean Thomas

  “We would appreciate that,” Eve said, thanking him warmly for his offer.

  “Sure. Name’s Howie.”

  Apparently not interested in learning their names, which was just as well, Howie saluted them with a careless wave and wandered back inside the sawmill.

  Prepared to wait for the guy, Eve and Sam perched themselves in the sun on a low pile of lumber. She waited until they had relieved their thirst from the bottles and finished the last of the crackers before she turned to him with her observation.

  “You didn’t ask him where you could find a phone.” Which, since her cell phone had been destroyed by the enemy, would be their quickest method for communicating with the outside. “Why not, Sam? I would have thought contacting your squad supervisor in Chicago to let him know we’re still alive and safe would be the first thing on your agenda.”

  He shook his head. “Bad idea.”

  “Because?”

  “We’re not safe. We’re still at risk.”

  Eve hadn’t forgotten the threat of Victor DeMarco, their need not just to be constantly vigilant but to keep moving.

  “From DeMarco, yes. Except he hasn’t a clue now where to find us.”

  “But he could pick up our trail, if I were to inform the Chicago division where we are, ask them to help us get home.”

  “How?”

  Sam hitched himself around to face her. “Has it ever occurred to you, Eve, that DeMarco and his people just happened to know things they weren’t supposed to know? Like that Charlie Fowler was turning on him, his whereabouts and that you were joining him there? And after Fowler’s death that a special agent was sent to bring you back and planned to take you by bush plane? They learned all of this and acted on it.”

  Eve stared at him, understanding what she should have considered long before this. “You think there’s a mole in your division, someone who’s been feeding DeMarco everything he needed to know. Who?”

  “Haven’t a clue. All I know for certain now is something I should have decided on long before this.”

  “Which is?”

  “That I’m not trusting anyone in the bureau, even my squad supervisor. I’ll get you to Chicago, but I won’t hand you over for FBI protection until the informer is revealed and taken out.”

  “What about getting help from the Canadian authorities?”

  He shook his head. “They’d insist on contacting the bureau.”

  “So we’re on our own until we get to Chicago?”

  “You mind?”

  “I’ll try not to complain about it.”

  In one regard she did mind. Feeling the way she did about him, it wasn’t easy being alone with him. Not when she had to endure this perpetual longing for a man who no longer wanted her. Had there been other agents dispatched to them, or even just one more special agent, it might have eased the strain between them.

  Or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe as long as he was anywhere near her, she would continue to be frustrated, whatever the company.

  They were quiet for a moment. Sam went on looking at her. Whatever he was thinking, his gaze made her uneasy.

  She ended their silence with an abrupt “I have another question.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You asked Howie about a bus or a train. No mention of a plane.”

  “That’s right. Air travel to Chicago would be a lot more convenient. It would also be a problem, what with tighter security in the airports and me with no documents. We can’t afford to have any questions raised about our identities.”

  Relating to what he was saying and the urgency inherent in it, she nodded. “Information that could get back to the wrong people.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So we travel by bus and train.”

  “We do providing we can cover the fares.” He eyed her shoulder bag. “How are you fixed for funds? And I don’t mean credit cards.”

  “No, I realize that using a credit card leaves an immediate electronic trail for anyone who might be looking for it. As for cash, I have a few hundred in here.” She patted the side of her bag. “Both Canadian and American dollars. And if that isn’t enough…”

  She hesitated.

  “What?”

  “There’s something I haven’t told you. I guess because I’ve been ashamed to share it.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “It wasn’t just the paddles and the first aid kit I brought away from the cabin. The dead man in the living room… Sam, I stole the money out of his wallet.”

  Which, considering how the mere sight of him sprawled there on the floor had been so awful, hadn’t been an easy thing for her to do.

  Sam stared at her for a few seconds in silence. Then, head thrown back, he whooped with laughter.

  “It isn’t funny.”

  But she enjoyed the sound of his laughter. It was the first honest mirth she had heard out of him since he had recovered his memory. It was an encouraging sign that, somewhere beneath the darkness, he was still capable of a lighter mood.

  “And you feel guilty about it. Hell, Eve, it was a smart thing to do. So how much did you get? And remember, you’re talking to a guy who hasn’t got a red cent on him.”

  “I didn’t stop to count it, but there’s probably several hundred more.”

  “Which, added to what you already have, means we should make out okay.”

  If we’re careful, she thought.

  “I’ve got a long bed in the pickup,” Howie said when he joined them. “Want me to carry your canoe with us?”

  “Thanks for the offer, but we arranged for someone to collect it later on,” Sam lied.

  Howie told them along the way that there were no trains out of Dalroy. They would have to wait to board a train until the bus reached one of the larger towns on its route.

  The young man, cheerfully refusing any payment for obliging them, dropped them off at a café that also happened to be the bus depot. Learning that the second bus of the day out of Dalroy wouldn’t arrive for another hour, they settled themselves at a corner table.

  The meal they ordered was the first decent food Eve had eaten since leaving the Yukon. Whatever her cooking skills, she was thankful that their dinner here involved nothing like beef jerky or powdered milk.

  Sharing a seat on the bus once they boarded was another matter. Sam slept without interruption as they traveled through the night. Equally exhausted though Eve was, she found it difficult to rest with his head lolling against her shoulder.

  He was much too close to her. Experiencing this physical contact, however innocent it was, was far too arousing. There was so much to be aware of—the masculine scent of him, the heat of his body against hers, the sensual shape of his bold mouth. All of it as effective as an aphrodisiac.

  She was relieved when early the next morning the bus set them down in a small city along a rail line to the south. There was time before the next train to find a discount store where they bought changes of clothing for themselves, a few necessary toiletries, including a razor for Sam and a baseball cap for Eve.

  “Your hair is too noticeable,” he’d decided. “You need to pin it up under something, now that we’ll be traveling through populated areas. I don’t want you arousing any curiosity, and having someone remark about seeing you. Word has a way of traveling.”

  He was being overly cautious again, but after having been snatched by the enemy back at the cabin, Eve understood his concern. They cleaned up and changed in the restrooms at the train depot, where Sam shaved off his whiskers.

  They looked far less like two people who had just emerged from the wilderness when they boarded the train. In fact, Eve was convinced they could have been any ordinary couple. They certainly elicited no special interest from any of the other passengers, unless you counted the women who couldn’t help eyeing Sam in his snug new jeans. And that, given his blatant sexiness, was certainly understandable.

  Sam, however, continued to exercise alertness. Not that their long journey toward the border
ever posed any risk. Except to her heart.

  Pleasant enough to her, never anything but concerned about her welfare, Sam gave her no reason to complain. If only…

  If only what, Eve? If only there wasn’t this barrier he’s so careful to maintain between the two of you? He on one side, you on the other.

  But that’s just the way it was now, and he wouldn’t let her penetrate that wall, no matter how hard she tried. Not emotionally.

  Although it might just be her imagination, she sensed sometimes that he still desired her. But if that were true, he never expressed it by either word or action, preferring his own dark thoughts over her company.

  Aching for him, equally alone with her sore heart, Eve couldn’t wait to have this whole journey behind her, including whatever happened in Chicago, so she could make some effort to put her despair behind her.

  Chapter 10

  Sam had managed to pick up a travel guide at one of their train stops.

  “What did you learn?” Eve questioned him after he spent a silent half hour consulting it as they rolled through the grasslands of Saskatchewan, where the snow was gone without a trace.

  “Our destination for crossing the border.”

  “Which is?”

  “I’ll let you know when we get there.”

  He watched those expressive eyebrows of hers, which seldom failed to register her moods, lift with a mix of puzzlement and irritation. “Why do you always have to make a mystery of everything?”

  “Because I like to be sure before I commit myself.”

  Those eyebrows drew together with impatience. He could see that impatience warring with her stubborn pride. Pride must have won the contest, because she ended up turning her head away in silence.

  That was on the day coach of the train hours ago. They were no longer seated on the train now but at the table of a Nordic-themed café in the sizable town of Calhoun along the Canadian-U.S. border. The table where they were drinking coffee was located beside a front window overlooking the ports of exit and entry a few hundred feet away.

  Eve was no longer able to maintain her silence on the subject. “All right, so why did you choose Calhoun for us to leave the train?”

  “You notice all the shops in town?”

  “How could I help not noticing them when you had me walking up and down the streets checking them out?”

  “Lots of bargains in them, weren’t there? Some of it the kind of merchandise Americans can’t get across the border, and plenty of traffic in those shops buying it. Just as the guide said.”

  “And that matters how?”

  “Day traffic, Eve. They drive over from the Montana side in the morning, and by late afternoon they cross back.”

  Eve cast her gaze in the direction of the two border ports, where both the Canadian and American officers were anything but busy at their stations. But before much longer…

  Sam could see her eyebrows now expressing understanding.

  “The officers at the American gate will soon have all they can do processing the traffic back through to the Montana side,” she said.

  “So occupied,” he added, “they won’t have time to waste on anyone who doesn’t look either suspicious or have the right documents.”

  That, anyway, was what Sam was hoping for.

  Eve went on looking at the American gate. Then, suddenly and in alarm, her gaze cut back to him. “Sam,” she remembered, “you don’t have those documents. Your passport and FBI credentials were destroyed in the plane.”

  “No, but you do have the proper identification to go through the gate.”

  “What are you telling me? That you mean to send me on to Chicago on my own?”

  “I’d never do that—not unless it turns out there’s no other way.”

  “Then how—” She caught herself with realization. “You’re going to sneak across the border. That’s what you intend to do, isn’t it?”

  “If I can manage it, and if I wait until dark I should be able to slip across.”

  They were already talking in low tones, even though no other table near them was occupied. But Eve dropped her voice to an urgent whisper as she leaned toward him across the table.

  “Sam, that’s dangerous. There could be electric fences and border patrols. You’ll be caught.”

  It wasn’t a moment for amusement, but he couldn’t prevent a smile. “Eve, the Canadian-U.S. border is thousands of miles long. How do you imagine it could ever be fenced, especially in sparsely populated, rough terrain like this? As for patrols, there aren’t enough of them to go around, except in sensitive areas.”

  “Even so, it’s risky. Especially with that leg of yours.”

  “Will you stop worrying about the leg? It’s not a problem.” But there was one that did concern him. “You’re the one who’s at risk.”

  “What are you thinking now?”

  “That the bureau has to be wondering whether we’re still alive and, if so, where we are. They could have issued a general bulletin to be on the watch for us, and if your name should turn up on a list at that gate…”

  “They’ll be too busy to consult it. Isn’t that what we’re counting on? That I won’t be stopped and held?”

  “I’m hoping that’s the case. Look, Eve, I wouldn’t ask you to do this, if there was any other way.”

  “There is. I can go with you, sneak across the border with you.”

  He shook his head emphatically. “Absolutely not. If I should by any chance run into a border patrol, they’ll be armed. And if they’re not trained professionals, they could end up shooting first and asking questions afterwards. No, you’ll be much safer at the gate out there.”

  “I don’t like any of this, Sam.”

  “I don’t, either, but that’s the way it has to be,” he insisted. He looked around. “We’re going to start attracting attention if we go on sitting here. I think we’d better blend in by going back to those shops. Besides, we need to make you look as innocent as possible when all the American day-trippers crowd in here, like you’re one of them. That means carrying some packages. Come on,” he said, rising from the table, “let’s pay our bill and go shopping for a few bargains.”

  Sam had regretted her reluctance when they’d left the café. He felt even more sorry for her when she had to pass up a set of expensive kitchen knives in one of the shops.

  “What I wouldn’t give for these,” she said, admiring the set longingly. “They’re just what I’ve been looking for and can’t find in St. Louis. Don’t say it. I know. I can’t afford to spend the money on them.”

  They ended up buying several cheap souvenirs for her.

  By the time they returned to the ports, it was late afternoon and cars were lined up at the Canadian exit gate, each waiting their turn to go back over the border.

  “I didn’t think about this,” Sam muttered. “They’re all in cars, and you’re on foot. That could make you a noticeable exception.”

  It was Eve who devised an acceptable story for herself.

  “If they ask, I’ll tell them I didn’t want to bother with a car I wouldn’t need. That a friend dropped me off on the U.S. side and is picking me up when I come back through.”

  Sam considered her plan. It was simple but sound. “Good enough.” He hesitated before going on with a solemn “Eve, there’s something else. If I shouldn’t make it across—”

  “But you will! You have to!”

  “But if I shouldn’t, you’ll have to go on to Chicago by yourself.” He gave her some essential instructions. “Don’t try to travel straight through. Keep switching from trains to buses to confuse anyone who might be on your trail. When you reach Chicago, head directly to this lawyer your father told you about. If Fowler hadn’t trusted him completely, he would never have mentioned him to you. You know his name?”

  She nodded. “Alan Peterman. Charlie had me memorize both that and his address.”

  “Good, because I’m relying on him to help you. No contact with anyone else unt
il he makes certain it’s safe for you to turn yourself in for secure protection.”

  “Sam, none of this is necessary. All I need to know is where we’re going to meet.”

  He had thought earlier about trying to locate a public phone, maybe even buying a prepaid one, in order to find a room somewhere where they could safely rendezvous. But this action would have involved his making inquiries, maybe a number of them, some of which were certain to be remembered. Not to mention the possibility of leaving the kind of trail he didn’t want to chance. He’d rejected the idea without even mentioning it to Eve.

  His gaze strayed now to the scene across the border. He was thoughtful for a moment. She was waiting with an expression of expectancy when he turned his attention back to her, dangling the sunglasses in her hand by one of its stems.

  “It looks like Elbow Bend on the other side is almost as big as Calhoun. I’m sure there are motels over there. Find an inexpensive one, out on the edge of town if you can. Get a single room and wait for me there.”

  “How on earth are you going to know which motel and which room?”

  He looked at the baseball cap under which her rich, russet-colored hair was tucked. “When it gets dark, tie your cap to the doorknob outside your room. It may take me a while to search for the right motel and the right door, but I’ll find you.”

  Find her? Hell, if he failed to make it across the border, this might be the last time he would see her. The thought of parting from her here, of sending her off on her own, tugged at his gut.

  He hated the idea of watching her walk away from him. As if it might be the last time they would part from each other, he stood there imprinting her image on his mind. Her lush mouth, creamy complexion, luminous green eyes, the shallow cleft in her chin.

  He could bear looking at those. But not that sensational body. Not when over these last few days he’d fought himself to keep his hands off her. To do otherwise would have been fatal.

  All he could manage was to remind himself how relieved he would be when this whole thing was done with. When he could safely hand her over and walk away. Eve didn’t need someone like him, all messed up inside, complicating her life. She was too fine of a woman for that.