by Dees, Cindy
Katie stepped through the door and started to close the panel behind her. He spun out of hiding and she jumped violently. “Holy crap. You scared the heck out of me, Alex!”
He straightened and lowered the gun. “Where were you?”
“I went to see my uncle.”
Stunned, he burst out, “Why on God’s green earth would you go to Langley and lead the CIA right back here to me?”
“I was really careful to make sure I wasn’t tailed. I rode buses all over northern Virginia to be sure I was clean.”
“They don’t need to tail you on foot. The CIA has satellites and security cameras to do the job. We’ve got to get out of here immediately.”
She threw up her hands. “I have nothing but the clothes on my back. I’m packed and ready to go.”
He grabbed his backpack and tossed his computer into it. “C’mon. They’ll be here any second.”
She sucked in sharp breaths of pain between her teeth as he raced down the stairwell. Tough. It was her fault they had to flee this place. He ducked into the alley behind the building and used the skeleton key he’d made for the restaurant’s delivery door a few yards down the alley to open it. Katie slipped under his arm just as a whistling sound split the air. Sonofabitch. He shoved her inside and threw himself on top of her frantically.
A big explosion shook the building and stuff rattled on the shelves around them, raining down dust, but this building hadn’t been in the direct line of fire.
“Oww!” she complained beneath him. “And what was that?”
He pressed up onto his elbows and stared down at her. He registered her body’s welcoming softness and the way she fit him perfectly. He answered tightly, “That was a rocket-propelled grenade. My safe house is probably a smoking hole right about now.”
“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry—”
“Later.” He pushed up and away from her. Damn, she’d felt good underneath him. Evil seductress— “Let’s go.” He dragged her to her feet by her good arm and peeked out of the storeroom into the restaurant kitchen. Empty. They wound through the place, unlocked the front door from inside and strolled out onto the street.
He did have to admit that she made for a good cover. Anyone who looked at her saw a perfectly normal young woman who wasn’t the slightest bit suspicious or scary. If she ever decided to become a field operative, she’d make a good one. By association, she made him fit in with the normal world around them.
“Now what?” she asked on cue as they turned the corner and headed away from the mess of his life behind them. Sirens screamed in the distance. They had to be well clear of this area before it was crawling with cops and fire trucks.
“Now, we keep on walking. And we don’t look back.”
*
AS DARKNESS FELL on a long, harrowing day, Alex finished searching a cheap motel room in Delaware for surveillance devices and sat down on the bed to think. He hadn’t planned to disappear with Katie. He’d assumed she would choose to stay with Dawn if it came down to a choice between the two of them. He could respect that. The baby needed her more than he did. Although sometimes he wondered about who was neediest—
He cut off the thought before it could finish forming in his head. He did not need relationships. He did not need her. Katie was a liability. End of discussion. Which meant he had to get rid of her, and sooner rather than later.
“Uncle Charlie told me your mother’s name this morning.”
He lurched around to face her and stared at her in shock. How in the hell had she pulled that off? He’d had the best hackers on the planet digging for years for information on his mysterious mother, and Katie had...what? Just waltzed into CIA headquarters and asked? Tension stretched his vocal cords taut. “Tell me.”
“Her name is Claudia Kane. Charlie hinted that she’s dead but wouldn’t say so outright.”
“Why would he tell you her name and not tell me?” Alex demanded.
“Have you ever just asked the CIA for her identity?”
He frowned and answered evasively, “She came up during my training. But they never told me anything about her.” His mother had been the focus of a particularly nasty interrogation session involving car batteries and some of his rather tender body parts. The bastards had known he had no information whatsoever about her, but they’d tortured him, anyway, just to be sure he wasn’t holding anything back.
She shrugged. “Before we left for Cuba, I asked Charlie to research her for me. For you.”
He had to give Katie credit for being honest. She hadn’t ducked the fact that she’d visited her uncle this morning, or that she’d been asking about his mother. One thing he had never doubted about her was her honesty. She had always been straight up with him, sometimes to her own detriment. Still, this news had him reeling. His mother, that faceless ghost who’d hovered over him his entire life, had a name? Was she coming forward? Was this a first step by her to approach him? Eagerness and desperate need raged in his stomach at the idea of finally filling that gaping hole in his life. The emotions were too turbulent, too powerful, to shut away in a mental drawer. He tried, and failed to contain the glee and terror.
Appalled at his loss of control, he forced his mind back to the business at hand by sheer dint of will. Katie had asked about his mother before Cuba, huh? He blurted, “Did you inquire about her before or after that gunman took a potshot at you on the roof of the condo?”
“Before.” Katie threw him a wide-eyed look. “Do you think the attempts on my life are related to my asking about her?”
It was possible. Had the attacks not been about Cold Intent at all? Had they been purely about his mother? Which begged the question of why an inquiry about his mother had sent an assassin into action against Katie. It was hard to believe that Uncle Charlie would set up his own niece to be sanctioned for a hit.
His mother was alive and had a name. God, he wanted to talk to her. To get the answers that had taunted him with their absence for all these years. Why did she leave him? Did she love his father? Did she love him?
Alex ordered Katie, “Start at the beginning and don’t leave out anything about your conversations with your uncle, no matter how small.”
He listened intently as she described her two meetings with Charlie, the one before Cuba and the one this morning. Alex’s first impulse was to be suspicious of the information. Why would the CIA cough it up to her, when they’d refused for all this time to tell him?
This was probably part of the grand manipulation of Alex Peters the CIA seemed to delight in playing at. Or maybe Uncle Charlie genuinely wanted to please his niece. It was possible, of course, that the information was caught up in some sort of internal power struggle within the agency. The CIA made a habit of hiring wolves, who in turn made a habit of fighting over turf. Was his mother just another bone being snarled and scrapped over within the wolf pack? Or was he the bone?
The questions swirled around him so thick and fast he hardly knew where to turn his attention. He felt out of control. Buffeted by hurricane-force confusion. Why were they doing this to him? Or was this about him at all? God, and he’d thought his CIA field training had been a mind-fuck. This was a thousand times worse. Who to trust? What to think? What to feel?
More agitated than he could ever remember being, he pulled out his laptop and initiated a deep web search for information on one Claudia Kane. As he’d expected, there was nothing. As in nothing. Which was, in its own way, informative. In this day and age, nobody left absolutely zero trail of their existence. Not unless that trail had been professionally swept clean. Interesting.
If Katie’s information was correct and his mother had been an American intelligence operative, the nontrail would make sense. Hell, Claudia Kane probably wasn’t even her real name. He would have to dig into the CIA’s computers if he wanted more. Or, of course, he could always ask Peter....
His train of thought derailed. Actually, that wasn’t a half-bad idea. His father had never spoken of his mother. But then, A
lex had never asked about her, either. It had always been understood between him and Peter that she was an off-limits topic of conversation.
Thoughtfully, he activated one of the burner phones in his pack and dialed his father’s personal cell phone number.
“Son. To what do I owe this pleasure?” The connection was scratchy, but he could make out his father’s voice, speaking in English. He replied in Russian. They were both cautious of wagging ears around them apparently.
“Tell me about my mother.”
There was a long pause filled only with quiet static. Then, “Why?”
“Because I’m asking.”
Peter’s voice was heavy. “What do you want to know?”
“Was her name Claudia Kane?”
He thought he heard his father inhale sharply, but it was hard to tell over the poor connection. His father’s answer was wooden. “That was a name connected to her, yes.”
“Was she an American operative? A sparrow?”
“Yes and yes.”
“Did she target you specifically?”
“I have always believed so, but I have no proof.”
“So she didn’t attempt to blackmail you or turn you?”
“No,” Peter answered firmly. Okay, his father sounded like that was the truth. He never could be one hundred percent certain with Peter, but that was as close to sounding as if he was telling the truth as his old man ever got.
Alex asked reluctantly, “Did you have feelings for her, or was I a...business transaction?”
“I loved her. Never doubt that, my son.”
“What about her?” Alex asked heavily. “Did she have feelings for you? Or were you just a job?”
“You would have to ask her.”
“She’s still alive, then?”
“As far as I know.”
“C’mon, Father. That’s the sort of thing you’d use your position to be certain of. I deserve to know the truth.” When Peter did not reply, he added reluctantly, “My life may depend on knowing the truth.”
“What’s this?” his father burst out.
“Is she alive or not?”
“You’ll tell me what’s going on?” Peter challenged.
Alex closed his eyes tightly. That was all the answer he needed. His mother was alive. And a casual inquiry about her from Katie had elicited two sniper attacks. Not only was Claudia Kane still alive, she was still an active operative. And apparently, she or her superiors didn’t appreciate somebody poking around into her existence.
“Do you know her real name?” Alex asked quietly.
“I do not know that she has a real name. She has moved from legend to legend over the years, and never retains any one identity for long.”
“Do you know where she is now? What she’s doing?”
“I’m sorry. I do not. Last I heard, she was directing an operation called Cold something. Our source only captured the first word of the name.”
“Cold Intent?” Alex blurted. “I’d bet my life that’s it. Hell, I am betting my life on it.”
His mother was part of Cold Intent? He reeled in shock. What the hell was she doing with that bunch? Why would the woman who gave birth to him be out to kill his girlfriend? Surely, this Claudia Kane wasn’t trying to keep other women from moving in on her son. He highly doubted the woman felt the slightest inkling of maternal protectiveness toward him. Otherwise, she never would have abandoned him with his father all those years ago.
“What’s going on?” Peter asked urgently. “Tell me. I can help. You’re my son. If you’re in trouble, let me pull you out. I’ll even bring out the girlfriend and the baby safely. You have my word on it.”
“Thanks. But we’re good for now. Anything you can find out about Claudia Kane or Operation Cold Intent would be helpful.”
“Consider it done.”
Alex sagged against the cheap headboard at his back. His old man might be an ass, but blood was thicker than water. When his son was in trouble, Peter could be counted on to come through for him. Yes, there would be strings attached to the help, and they would get tugged on later. But for now, his father would do his best to help him. But against what?
Peter was speaking again. “...about that other thing. I gather your abrupt exit from Cuba means you were able to bury anything...incriminating?”
Alex wasn’t willing to give up that bargaining chip just yet. He trusted his father a little, but not that much.
Huh. And here he was right back up on that tightrope, teetering between his father and the CIA. Again. And this time a third factor was pushing and pulling at him. His flipping mother, of all people. How did he keep ending up caught in the middle like everyone’s favorite tug toy?
He shook his head to clear it. He faked making a few static noises into the receiver and disconnected the call. Jerkily, he turned the phone over, pulled the battery and SIM card out and flushed the pieces down the toilet individually.
“Well?” Katie demanded impatiently.
“Get some sleep. I need to think.”
She frowned unhappily, but disappeared into the bathroom. The toilet flushed and he heard the sounds of toothbrushing. She emerged wearing one of his T-shirts. Her legs were long and sleek, and the curves of her breasts soft and inviting under the cotton fabric.
“I’ve been honest with you, Alex, and now I need you to be honest with me.”
Aw, hell. She wanted to talk about feelings again. It was a good interrogation tactic. Catch him when he was emotionally and mentally off balance. Drop a bombshell on him that his mother was alive and then move in for the kill when his defenses were down. His warning antennae wiggled wildly. He muttered cautiously, “You need me to be honest about what?”
“Guantánamo. What happened to you there?”
He swore mentally. It figured that she would want to dredge up all that crap. It was where he’d gone off the carefully prepared script the CIA had laid out for the two of them. He answered tersely, “I was drugged. You pulled me out. We each egressed the country.”
“What drug did that doctor give you?”
He frowned. Actually, that was a good question. Dr. Doe had called one of the medications CCRE. He’d forgotten about it until now.
Quickly, he powered up his laptop and typed in the four letters. It took a little searching but finally a Department of Defense paper came up on the screen. Concentrated Cannabis Resin Extract.
“What’s that?” Katie startled him by asking from over his shoulder. “Cannabis? They gave you pot?”
He scanned the medical paper quickly. “CCRE is a highly concentrated and refined derivative of cannabis resin.”
“Why on earth would they want to get you really, really stoned?”
He grinned in a flash of unwilling amusement. But his humor faded as he caught sight of the extract’s main symptom.
Ever perceptive, Katie asked quickly, “What is it?”
He leaned back, staring at the screen. “CCRE is designed to provoke paranoid schizophrenic episodes.”
“In English, please?”
“Put in lay terms, it’s a mind-altering substance that makes a person fearful and distrustful of others. Makes them think someone’s out to hurt or kill them.”
“But I thought they were questioning you. Wouldn’t they want you uninhibited and trusting so you’d tell them everything?”
“If that were the case, they’d have shot me up with scopolamine or some other truth serum–style drug.”
“Why did they treat you like a criminal and not me?” she asked. “You’re the government employee, after all. I’m the one they should have been really suspicious of. Was it because I’m a girl and you’re a big, strong, dangerous man?”
She was as perceptive as always. He frowned thoughtfully at her. She’d asked a hell of a good question. Why hadn’t they interrogated her? The obvious answer was that she was in on the scam.
But if that was the case, why would she point it out like this? A feint within a feint to throw hi
m off her trail? Was she actually that subtle? Was he a gullible fool to have taken her at face value for all this time? Was she a great deal more than a civilian kindergarten teacher who loved him and was willing to lay her heart on the line for him openly and honestly?
God, he didn’t know who to believe anymore. The maelstrom whirled around him more violently than ever. His mother. The CIA. Katie. His father. Cold Intent. Who else wanted a piece of his soul?
An urge to scream rose in his throat. Appalled, he bit it back. Focus, Alex. Guantánamo. Follow Katie’s line of reasoning and see where she’s trying to lead you.
There had been plenty of time for John Doe, his interrogator, to get instructions from Washington. John Doe couldn’t possibly have had the rank or authority to decide to dope a U.S. intelligence operative for grins and giggles. The decision to drug him had to have come from Langley.
Why had the CIA been out to mess with him and not with Katie? Particularly since it seemed that someone within Langley pretty seriously wanted to see her dead. His suspicions from before roared to the fore once more. Was this all an elaborate head game designed to throw him violently off balance and off guard? But to what end? What did they want from him?
He looked up sharply as the computer lifted off his lap. Katie tossed a leg across his hips and straddled his lap. “What the hell are you doing?” he blurted.
“Getting your undivided attention.” She pulled at his belt buckle, and it gave way under her fingers.
She was really raising the stakes now. What was her gambit? He braced to resist her sexual advances. He’d been trained in how to handle situations like this, but the hookers in his training hadn’t been Katie. She was the one and only woman who’d ever managed to get inside his head.
He swore at himself. This was his fault. He’d let her past his guard. He’d set himself up for this. Was this what his mother had done to his father? No wonder Peter had fallen prey to her. Christ. He was lucky his old man even spoke to him, let alone raised him after this mind-fuck.
Katie wiggled suggestively, demanding his attention. He yanked his thoughts back to the woman stripping while she sat on his crotch. “So,” he commented. “You’re a sparrow, after all. I have to compliment you on your extraordinary acting talent.”