We? “I'm sorry,” Decker said, “but aren't you a receptionist?”
She actually rolled her eyes as she otherwise ignored him. “When is he contacting you again?” she asked Jo.
“He wasn't specific,” she answered.
“No.” Decker looked emphatically into the rearview mirror—which was the easiest way to meet Tracy's eyes. “You're not qualified, so no.”
“You'd be there.” She was actually arguing with him.
“But you won't be,” he told her. “You're going to your friend's place, remember?”
“I can change my plans.”
“No. And stop. You said you wanted to help? Start now.”
Tracy closed her mouth at that, but he could see her protest in her eyes. It was killing her not to continue to argue.
Deck looked at Dr. Heissman. “I have several things to do tonight that take priority. If you're concerned for your safety, I'll help you access a secure location and—”
She was already shaking her head. “I'll be fine at home. Particularly if you give me something to tell him if—when—he comes back. It doesn't even have to be true. In fact, I'm happy to pass along disinformation if it'll get you to trust me.”
Never gonna happen, hon. Aloud, he said, “Maybe we can get them to trust you—if you give them information that they probably already know, but that you couldn't have known without talking to me. Like, the fact that Tess and I are both currently under investigation by the FBI.”
“What?” The doctor was genuinely surprised. “Why?”
“A former colleague of Nash's”—Decker told her the story that Tess, Nash and Jules Cassidy had come up with—“had a key to a sealed safe-deposit box, with instructions to open it only in the event of Nash's death. After he died, the seal was cracked and … Apparently Nash broke the black ops division's number one rule: Leave behind no evidence. He left a paper trail and some other souvenirs that tie him to several ‘incidents,’ some of them on an international scale. An investigation's under way to determine how much—if anything—Tess and I knew about any of this.”
She shook her head. “That's ridiculous. You don't expect anyone to believe—”
“Believe it or not,” he threw her own challenge-filled words back at her, “it's true. Your bag man will already know about it. I guarantee it. It's possible the Agency is working with the Bureau, but it's also possible that your man is collecting as much information as possible in a CYA move— because someone inside knows that the Agency is going to get looked at by the FBI next. You can let him know that Nash kept both Tess and me in the dark about all of this. And that, as far as we're concerned, we'd just as soon bury the truth with him. So if there's anything they can do on their side to quash the investigation, tell them to have at it.” He'd driven in a big circle, and now pulled into the lot of a pizzeria and put the truck into park. “We're a block and a half from your office building. It'd be best if you walked back.”
She didn't move. “You honestly expect anyone to believe that you want to bury the truth? I'm sorry, didn't you once tell me that if you found out I was still working for the Agency, you would kill me?” She looked at Tracy. “Hunt me down and kill me, I believe were his exact words.”
Tracy looked at Decker in the rearview mirror as he shook his head.
“It's time to move on,” he replied. “Isn't that what you shrinks are always encouraging us mere mortals to do? Well, I'm doing it. I don't want to know what kind of ugliness Jimmy invited into his life. He's gone and I've got Tess to think about now. I'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe. Including S-squared.”
“Sit the ef down and shut the ef up,” Tracy helpfully translated, as if the doctor—who'd worked extensively with spec op warriors—was unfamiliar with the expression.
Jo didn't even bother to glance at the younger woman, she just sat there, gazing up at Decker, a small smile on her lips. “I honestly can't tell if you're lying. I thought I could, but I can't. I mean, I know you are …” She shook her head. “We're on the same side here, Lawrence.”
“There are no sides,” Decker lied. “Because I don't want to turn this into a fight. The investigation will turn up nothing—there's nothing for the FBI to find, nothing for Tess and me to say. Nothing for the Agency to worry about.”
She finally nodded. “I'll pass that message along. But if they're going to believe that I have access to you …”
“You're going to need to have access to me,” Deck finished for her, aware that beside him, Tracy shifted in her seat. “You'll get it.” He met the younger woman's eyes in the rearview and knew that she was thinking of a different kind of access. Or maybe he was the one who was thinking about it. “I think your problem with the Agency is going to go away when my problem with the FBI ends. If not, we'll deal with it. If you need me, I'll be staying at Tracy's place for the next few days.”
“Upstairs from Tess,” Jo verified.
He nodded again. “We should touch base tomorrow,” he told her. “I'll want to see those photos.”
She nodded, too. “Is your cell number the same?”
“Yeah, but my phone's not working. If you need to reach me before tomorrow, call Tracy, but keep in mind her line's not secure.” He rattled off Tracy's number as Jo plugged it into her phone. She then started to hand him another one of her cards, but he shook his head, adding, “I still have yours in my phonebook.”
That got him another glance from Tracy, who in about five seconds was going to slide all of her warmth and softness away from him. She'd already taken her hand from his neck, a fact that made him feel far too bereft, considering.
“Do me a favor,” Decker found himself saying to Jo, “and tell Tracy here that we never slept together—that there was nothing between us.”
“We never slept together,” the doctor repeated obediently, as she opened the door and climbed out. “But I wouldn't say that there was nothing between us.”
And wasn't that just perfect?
As he shook his head, she closed the door and Tracy slid away. And Decker did the only thing he could do.
He put the truck in gear and drove.
“We need to bring more people on board.”
Tess glanced over at Jules, who was driving the van. They'd just dropped off Robin and were now heading toward the low-rent part of town, where there was an entire strip of cheap motels—one of which they were going to pick as the place they'd meet up with Decker.
And Tracy Shapiro.
That was going to be weird—seeing Tracy again after accepting her condolences at Jimmy's memorial service. And Tess didn't even want to think about how awkward it was going to be when she and Deck went to the airport to pick up Sophia and Dave, later tonight.
Sophia and Dave. It was humbling to think about all that Decker had sacrificed to protect Jimmy.
“Yes, no, maybe?” Jules prompted, and she realized she hadn't answered him. What had he said? Something about bringing more people aboard—as in telling them Jimmy was alive, and asking for their help.
“I agree.” Tess had the utmost respect for both Sam and Alyssa, and yet she couldn't help but feel anxious about leaving Jimmy without a bigger army to defend him, if need be.
“Decker's resisting,” Jules told her. “And I totally get why he doesn't want to ask Dave for help, but we're running out of personnel.”
She nodded. “I'll talk to him.”
“I could call in some favors with SEAL Team Sixteen,” Jules said. “But I'll run the names past you guys first.”
“It's okay if we don't talk about this right now,” Tess said. “I know you're freaking out about Robin. Unless it helps to talk …”
Troubleshooter Ric Alvarado had flown in from the Florida office, along with his extremely capable wife, Annie, to take over as head of Robin's security team, on and off the movie set. Ric's forte was in personal protection, but regardless of that, it hadn't been easy for Jules when Robin had gotten out of the van and into Ric's truck.
Tess knew that it hadn't helped that Robin hadn't kissed Jules goodbye. But he couldn't, because Jules was in disguise. The FBI agent had colored his hair—not drastically, but enough to make it look a naturally lighter shade of brown. He'd messed it up into a less conservative style, and with the goatee and mustache he'd grown over the past few weeks, Hawaiian shirt over a plain white beater, and drab green cargo shorts, he looked like a college student working a summer job driving a van.
The Hawaiian shirt hid his shoulder holster and sidearm as neatly as blue contact lenses and sunglasses hid the warmth of his soulful brown eyes.
He laughed now—a rueful chuckle. “I know Robin's safe with Ric and Annie,” he said.
“But it's hard when you're not right there, with him,” Tess countered. “Believe me, I'm dealing with that, too.”
“We'll be back at the house before you know it,” he reassured her.
Tess nodded. They would be—provided everything went as planned.
Except there already was a glitch. Deck's sat phone was having some kind of hardware failure and he'd yet to get his hands on a replacement. So they'd set up a plan for Jules and Tess to e-mail one of Deck's anonymous free-mail accounts with their location, upon their arrival.
They were going to a motel instead of meeting at the Troubleshooters office because Jimmy had requested they take extreme precautions. Keeping Tess's location secret was paramount. And the fact was, a hotel or motel room, with its single entrance, was always easier to guard and defend. True, there was no escape route, but if they found themselves under attack, they were the good guys. They could easily call 9-1-1 for backup from the local police.
After they connected, Tess was going to try to fix Deck's phone, but there were no guarantees she could get the job done before they left for the airport to pick up Sophia and Dave.
That was a meeting that, no doubt, wouldn't be fun for any of them. Tess would have to pretend that Jimmy was dead—something she hated doing—and that she and Decker were in a relationship. Decker would get an up close and personal look at Sophia and Dave—both of whom would have to deal with seeing Decker again.
Yes, it was going to be awkward all around, but there were a wide variety of reasons—both personal and professional—for them to not tell Sophia and Dave the truth. Everyone was in agreement about that. Well, everyone except for Jimmy, who'd wanted to bring Dave in, right from the start.
But now it was in Dave's best interest, wounded as he was, to stay out of the fight. And Tess knew Decker would be better off, too, if he knew Sophia was safe.
So she and Deck were going to have to sit down with Sophia and Dave and convince them that Dave's assault was connected to an investigation they were conducting, but that the details were need to know. And not only did Sophia and Dave not need to know, but lives could well be in danger if they did know what was going on.
They would then have to convince Dave and Sophia to get into a car and drive. And drive. Decker would bankroll them with a bag of cash and a series of bogus IDs. Which they'd use to pay for food and lodging—in order to stay under the radar. About a week in, Dave would be instructed to use his credit card—as if by mistake—in some distant city. It would keep the Agency busy, and would tie up God knows how many operators who would be sent to investigate.
Not that Sophia nor Dave would have a clue that any of this had anything to do with Jimmy.
Dave's long-term instructions would be to stay on the move, as isolated as possible, until Decker or Tess contacted them and told them it was safe to return.
Of course, they expected protest from Dave and Sophia—both of whom would be unhappy at the thought of deserting Decker and Tess in what surely was an hour of need.
But the plan was to divide and conquer.
Their first stop would be a hotel—different from the motel at which they were meeting Decker and Tracy—where they'd set up Dave and Sophia in an equally secure room, where they'd be able to talk.
It was likely that Dave and Sophia were being tailed, and that they'd be followed from the airport. That was okay. It was good, in fact.
They'd openly provision the room with food and water—as if Sophia and Dave were preparing to hunker down there for the next several weeks—and put the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door.
At which point, Tess and Deck would help Dave and Sophia slip out of the hotel, undetected, so they could make their escape while their enemy continued to watch a now-empty room.
Tess and Decker would then return to the motel where Jules was babysitting Tracy—at which point they'd all head back to the safe house.
At least that had been their plan—before Dr. Heissman appeared on the scene, going to Decker with her conveniently timed plea for help, which would delay their return. Because they were running late and there'd be no time to do it this evening, in the morning Tess and Deck were going to have to pretend to release Jimmy's ashes into the ocean. And wasn't that going to be fun?
“Why don't we just grab Jo Heissman,” Tess said now, “put a gun to her head, and make her tell us who her contacts are at the Agency.”
Jules glanced at her.
“Don't respond to that,” she said before he could even open his mouth. “I know why we don't.” That kind of coercion rarely worked. And the information that came as a result of intimidation or even torture—it was highly suspect and exceedingly faulty. “I'm just pissed off.”
“We'll get more information by working with her,” Jules reassured her. “You've got to be patient, Tess. Because what if she's telling the truth? Or what if she doesn't have a side—if she's just trying to protect herself, to stay alive … ? If we scare her or threaten her? She may decide that ours is not the side she wants to be on.”
“I know.” Tess sighed. “I'm sorry. I just want this to be over.”
“I'm with you on that,” Jules said, pulling into the potholed driveway of a run-down motel called the Seaside Heights.
It was neither seaside nor at a particularly elevated height. But it did have hourly rates, plus wireless—though only in the lobby.
Tess took her laptop with her as she followed Jules inside, the door screeching as it shut behind her. He went to the front desk as she put her computer on a coffee table that had seen better days, planting herself on an equally faded sofa.
The instructions for accessing the wireless were right there, on a little laminated card. Since her computer was already up and running, she followed the instructions and…
Bingo.
“What'dya say we splurge, sugar-pie, and get ourselves an entire night?” Jules asked her loudly, in a pitch-perfect imitation of Sam Starrett's Texas twang.
Tess laughed her surprise even as she double-checked that her computer's firewalls were in place. Zapping a quick e-mail with the motel's address to Decker's current free-mail account, she called back to Jules, “Absolutely, Pookie. And they say romance is dead.”
CHAPTER
EIGHT
You up for a walk on the beach?” Decker asked.
Tracy looked at him as they headed west, crossing the causeway into Coronado. After Dr. Heissman had gotten out at the pizzeria, she'd reached to turn on the signal jammer, but Decker had shaken his head. Which was weird, but okay. She was, as he was fond of pointing out, “only the receptionist.” Maybe he had some secret-spy reason for wanting them to be listened in on.
Except now he was heading for the beach.
The Strand, with its miles of shoreline, comfortably uncrowded during a workday mid-afternoon, would be the perfect place to check themselves for any unwanted listening and/or tracking devices that Jo Heissman might've planted. And the windswept beach itself would be a good place to talk privately if they did find such a bug.
“Sure,” she answered.
They rode in silence down past the Del, and then past the part of the beach where the Navy SEALs trained—the famed obstacle course visible over the top of the privacy fence. Which prompted her to say, “It would be nice, thoug
h, if we didn't run into anyone from Team Sixteen.”
Deck glanced at her. “Don't worry. I happen to know that Zanella's out of the country.”
Tracy actually gasped aloud. She heard herself do it, which was stupid. Because it was absurd to think that the story hadn't spread. Everyone in the Troubleshooters office surely knew about her intimate encounter with Navy SEAL Petty Officer Izzy Zanella. Or at least they knew the cheap, sordid, gossipy part where she'd gotten drunk and slept with him.
“You told me once that you and he … collided, was the word you used,” Decker said to her now.
And okay. She had told him exactly that. In a phone conversation some months ago—that a mere mortal wouldn't have remembered so accurately. “You have an impressive memory.”
He shrugged. “It's actually pretty average.”
Or so he wanted people to believe. Which brought her to what she wanted people to believe. This was, without a doubt, her chance to set her record straight. The fact that the Agency might be listening in was a bonus. Maybe someone would write up a report and spread it throughout the SpecWar community. The heading, in bold font, would read: Tracy Shapiro Not a Total Slut. “I had revenge sex with him. With Izzy,” she clarified, when she got another of those sunglass-shaded glances.
Deck drove a little faster, as if he couldn't wait to reach their destination. “You don't need to expl—”
“My fiancé cheated on me,” she told him and whoever else was listening in. “ Ex- fiancé. Lyle. He always used to say believe it or not when he was making up some excuse for why he was late. Believe it or not, we had to submit the expense reports for the Fleegerwald case. It took me a few years longer than it should have, but I finally learned that that was code for Sorry I'm late, baby, but I had to stay at the office and get a blow job from one of the interns.”
Deck glanced at her again, and she knew he was well aware that Dr. Heissman had said those very words to him. Believe it or not…
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