Читать книгу Midnight Remembered - Gayle Wilson - Страница 14

Reactivated.

Paige stared at the screen, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. As she tried to think what else that word could possibly mean, she fought a surge of emotion she didn’t want to feel, not after all this time.

She had started her search as soon as she’d gotten into the office this morning, trying to discover what had set Steiner off. Something must have come to light fairly recently that had made him question Stone’s disappearance. Something that had made him call her in. Something that had made them plant a listening device in her apartment. Something.

She had spent most of the day scanning page after page of the tedious situation reports that had come in about Vladistan during the last four months. Because of her work in Sector Analysis, she was already familiar with most of this material. And on closer examination she had found nothing that might be construed as having anything to do with Josh or with the nerve agent he had been carrying when he’d disappeared. The computers had been next, and she had cross-referenced everything she could think of that might apply to the region, to the rebellion, or to that particular mission. And again, she had come up empty.

It was only then, an exercise in nostalgia perhaps or maybe because she had run out of ideas, that she had tried to access the old External Security Team files. Unbelievably, she had found that the access codes had never been changed. The files themselves were intact, even though the team hadn’t even been in existence for more than two and a half years.

The bureaucratic mind works in mysterious ways, Paige had thought, as she typed in Joshua Stone’s name. When the file came up, she had discovered the reactivated notation. And the date it had been made was less than four months ago. She scrolled through the whole thing, trying to find more recent additions or changes, but there were none.

Which made no sense, she thought in frustration. Why activate a dead file and then do nothing with it? Or was the reactivation simply a clerical error? Did somebody key in the wrong access number? Things like that happened, even at the CIA.

And she might have been willing to believe they had in this case, if it hadn’t been for Steiner’s questions yesterday. If you put these two things together, they had to mean something. Something obviously connected to Joshua Stone’s disappearance.

Reactivated. There was nothing else there. Nothing after that one entry, which had brought a dead file back to life and out of limbo where it should have remained. Why would someone reactivate a file and then not put anything in it? That made no sense. Unless…

When the explanation hit her, producing a rush of adrenaline so strong her hands began to shake, it all made sense. Because it fit the pattern. And the bureaucratic mind-set. Joshua Stone had been a member of External Security, and she knew what had happened to the other operatives on that team.

As far as she could tell, she was the only one who was still working for the agency. After the fiasco in Vladistan, she had requested a move back into Sector Analysis. Griff had tried to talk her out of leaving, but the transfer had gone through.

Then Cabot had been killed, and the elite antiterrorist team he’d assembled stood down. Since she hadn’t been a member long enough to have participated in any of the black ops missions the EST was famous for, Paige couldn’t represent any threat to security, and she had been allowed to stay in the CIA.

The other agents, however, had been destroyed—at least on paper. And then they had been carefully resurrected. Recreated as totally different people, their original identities erased. Their agency records had been purged, so that no one could ever trace those men, or what they had done, back to the agency.

In most cases, their names had been changed and they had been relocated. At least a couple of them, like Jordan Cross, had had their physical appearance altered as well.

Now she was looking at the agency’s file on Joshua Stone, a man who had been presumed dead before the team was disbanded. It had been reactivated, brought back to life less than four months ago. Then nothing had been added to the folder, so maybe…

Paige closed the file and backtracked. There was no “list all” feature on these kinds of secure files, so when she reached the main directory, she typed in the date when the designation on Stone’s file had been changed. Then her hands hovered over the keyboard as she stared at those numbers, almost afraid of what she might find. Finally, holding her breath, she hit Search.

And was bitterly disappointed when there were no results, other than in the folder she had just closed. There was no other file with a matching date in this entire section of the records. There shouldn’t be any recent dates, of course, since the team was no longer in existence, but that didn’t explain why someone had changed the designation of Josh’s folder.

She couldn’t be wrong about this. It fit. It made sense. Maybe she was just rushing the bureaucracy, giving them more credit for efficiency than they deserved. After all, it might have taken them a while to decide what to do.

She typed in the following day’s date. And when there were no results for that one either, she typed the next date in the blank. Then the next, working methodically now.

And finally, ten days after somebody had brought Joshua Stone’s file back to life, there it was. A matching date. In the middle of all the inactive folders of a now-defunct, highly secretive special operations team was a brand new file. A new name. But not a new man, Paige knew with absolute certainty.

“Joshua Stone,” she said softly. “Fancy meeting you here.”

NOT MUCH DOUBT, Paige thought, her eyes focused on the man seated across the crowded restaurant. Not much doubt left at all, despite the obvious physical changes.

This was the closest she had come to him. Close enough to study his features. However, even at a distance, his mannerisms had seemed heart-stoppingly familiar. The set of his head. The understated, almost elegant power of his body. Something about the way he used his hands. Even their shape.

She knew in her heart that this was Joshua Stone. The blue-black hair was threaded with gray, and then there were the scars, slightly reddened as if they were still fairly new. One crossed his right brow, causing a break in its thick black line. The other ran from the corner of his lips, slanting downward across his chin to disappear under his jaw.

Even the structure of the bones seemed slightly altered, as if they had been broken and then put back together, the fit not quite as perfect as it had once been. His nose had definitely been reshaped, molded into something less arrogant. The result was no less compelling or attractive, but it was different.

She had been trailing the man who called himself Jack Thompson for almost two days, but she hadn’t approached him. She had told herself that she wanted to be sure she wasn’t mistaken. That this wasn’t some kind of bizarre coincidence. That’s what she had told herself, although she had known the truth about who he was, almost from the moment she had seen him again.

Now there were no more excuses. The only thing left in doubt was what she wanted to do about what she’d discovered. Because she knew that no matter what Griff Cabot had believed three years ago, Joshua Stone wasn’t dead.

She didn’t know where he had been during those years, but there was no mystery about where he’d been the last couple of months. He had been living in Atlanta, working for one of the international brokerage firms headquartered here. Paige had wondered if the company was a front for the CIA or if it was simply a legitimate business that had some reason to cooperate with the agency by placing one of its ex-agents—an operative the CIA wanted to hide—on its payroll.

She didn’t suppose that really mattered. It was just something to think about instead of all the other things she’d been trying not to think about since she’d discovered Joshua Stone wasn’t dead.

She looked down at the unappetizing salad in front of her, wondering why she had ordered it. Because other than eating, there isn’t any excuse for being here.

Josh had eaten in this small neighborhood café both of the nights she’d been trailing him. He had stopped in on his way home from work. Having tried it now herself, she couldn’t say much for his choice.

She poked at a piece of lettuce with her fork, finally spearing it, along with a piece of ham and a small slice of cheese, on the tines. She dipped the combination into the watery looking salad dressing, and then raised the fork to take a bite. She looked up as she did, directly into Joshua Stone’s eyes.

She wondered if he felt anything remotely resembling the jolt that had given her, even from across the room. She looked down quickly, but she was forced to admit that this must have been what she was hoping for when she had come in here tonight. Hoping he would notice her. Hoping he would make contact, despite whatever rules the CIA had set up for his relocation.

She supposed that what the agency did with members of the EST worked like Witness Security. Contact with anyone from their former life would be forbidden. Even with a former partner.

She realized that she was still holding the forkful of food halfway to her mouth. Pretty telling, she supposed, but after all, Josh should understand. It wasn’t often one was confronted with a ghost.

She wondered what he was thinking. That this was an accident? A fluke? Or that the agency, maybe even Steiner himself, had sent her?

She put the fork down on her plate, unable to make herself take that bite. And then slowly she raised her eyes again, prepared now to make contact with his.

Josh was eating, his concentration seemingly on the newspaper that was folded to fit beside his plate. Just as if he hadn’t seen her.

But he had. There was no doubt in her mind about that. Which must mean that he didn’t want to acknowledge her. Not in so public a place. And he was probably right about that.

She knew where he lived. She could approach him at his apartment building. Or maybe on his way home, which was even safer, because it would give him the opportunity to decide where they should talk.

As she was thinking all that, the question she had been trying to deal with was still stirring in the back of her mind. For the past three years, she had tried not to think about Josh Stone because she had believed he was dead. Had he ever, during all that time, thought about her? After all, he had always known where to find her. Which must mean…

She turned her head, looking out at the street through the rain-streaked plate glass window beside her. Which must mean, she continued doggedly, no matter how painful she found the conclusion, that Josh had consciously made the decision not to try to see her again.

That decision would have nothing to do with whatever rules the CIA had set up for his disappearance. Joshua Stone didn’t play by the rules. Few of Griff’s agents ever had. That characteristic was almost a requirement for the EST. If Josh had wanted to contact her, he would have. And since he hadn’t, she would have to assume he hadn’t wanted to.

She could deal with that. She could deal with almost anything, she decided, feeling anger build again, as long as whatever was going on with Joshua Stone and the CIA didn’t get her called into Steiner’s office for the third degree. Or didn’t make the agency bug her apartment.

She wanted an explanation for those two things. A truthful explanation, which she would never get from Steiner. Eventually, she damn well would get it from Josh Stone. After all, she thought with a trace of bitterness, he at least owed her that.

While Josh finished his dinner, and he didn’t hurry over the meal, Paige drank the rest of her coffee, savoring both its warmth and the subtle stimulation of the caffeine. She couldn’t keep her gaze from touching on him occasionally, and after a while she stopped trying.

His eyes were still locked on the newspaper he had brought in with him, acting as if he were completely unaware that Paige was sitting across the room. Of course, Josh was better at this game than she was. He always had been.

As soon as she saw the waiter bring his bill, she signaled for hers. She handed her server a ten, without taking the check he presented and waving away his attempt to make change. She slipped into her coat and headed straight toward the door, making no effort either to avoid or to pass near Josh’s table.

He had made it clear by meeting her eyes that he was aware of her. And he had made it equally clear, by ignoring her, that he didn’t want them to be seen together.

When she stepped through the door, she realized the rain that had plagued the Georgia city for most of the past two days had finally stopped. However, it must have dropped ten degrees while they’d been eating. She turned up the collar of her coat, holding it around her throat with one gloved hand.

She began to walk the three blocks to Josh’s apartment, her eyes searching every foot of that distance for somewhere she could wait for him. It would need to be out of public view and yet within hailing distance of the sidewalk where he would pass. An alley or a recessed doorway. Actually, anything hidden or relatively sheltered from the eyes of passersby would do.

She could always wait beside the steps that led up to the front entrance of his apartment building. That was almost as public as the restaurant, however, and she suspected Josh wouldn’t be any more eager to be seen with her there.

Finally, having found nothing better, she went down the short flight of stairs that led to the basement entrance of his building. She leaned against the damp concrete block wall, not fighting the memories the feel of it evoked, and looked up at the steps he would have to climb to reach the front door.

She wasn’t sure he would notice her standing down here. And she still wasn’t sure she would speak to him if he didn’t. Actually, she admitted, she wasn’t sure about much of anything.

Except that Joshua Stone wasn’t dead. And that he had never sought her out during the three years that had passed since she had last seen him that night in Vladistan.

WHEN PAIGE finally heard footsteps, unconsciously she pressed more closely against the wall, her body hidden in the shadows as she listened. The footsteps passed by the front entrance and then by those that led down to the alcove under the stairs where she was hiding. She looked up in time to watch the man whose steps she’d been listening to walk by. It wasn’t Josh, and she took a breath in relief.

Maybe he had stopped off somewhere on the way home to do some shopping or an errand. Or maybe he wasn’t coming home because he suspected she would be waiting for him. And maybe a whole hell of a lot of other things, none of which she would have answers to unless Josh gave them to her. He obviously didn’t plan to do that unless she approached him and asked for them.

What was wrong with her? she wondered suddenly. What was she doing here, waiting for a man who had made it clear he didn’t want to see her? For some reason, she closed her eyes, fighting the sudden sting of tears. And she couldn’t understand why she had this ridiculous urge to cry.

After all, the reason she was here wasn’t personal. Their former relationship had impinged on her professional life. She was convinced that someone had bugged her apartment because of her association with Josh Stone, and she wanted to know why. She wanted answers that made sense. Answers from him.

The footsteps that approached this time didn’t move past the entrance. She opened her eyes, ears straining to follow them. When they started up the front stairs, her heart jolted again, as strongly as when Josh had met her eyes across the restaurant.

And those reactions, after three long, silent years, made her furious. Not at him, but at herself. Using that anger, Paige stepped out of the shadows, looking up at the man climbing the stairs. At the man she had known as Joshua Stone.

Perhaps he noticed the movement. Or maybe the intensity of her stare made some kind of psychic impact. Whatever drew his attention, Josh looked down, again right into her eyes. Despite the distance between them, she could see his widen. Then they narrowed slightly, just as they used to when he was trying to figure something out. And this one shouldn’t be too hard.

She didn’t say anything, and neither did he. Their gazes held for maybe twenty seconds, and then he came quickly down the stairs he had just climbed. He glanced over to where she was standing a couple of times as he made the descent. To keep an eye on her? Afraid she’d disappear? she wondered, not even bothering this time to deny the corrosive bitterness she had fought during the last two days.

But disappearing wasn’t her act. That’s what he did. What he had done, she amended. He had just…disappeared.

Josh walked over to the top of the flight of steps leading down to the covered basement entrance where she was standing. He stood a long moment, unmoving, still looking at her.

“You were in the restaurant,” he said finally.

She nodded, not trusting her voice to sound anywhere near normal. And, damn it, she wanted it to. She wanted it to sound calm and rational and unemotional.

“Were you waiting for me?” he asked.

How about for three years. Which wasn’t completely fair, she admitted. Most of that time she had believed Josh must be dead. So that didn’t constitute waiting, exactly. Besides, they had made no commitments. Not even…

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “Are you in trouble?”

“Steiner’s asking questions about you,” Paige said.

Despite her fear that her voice might betray her reaction to seeing him again, to being this close to him, the statement had sounded perfectly natural. Cryptic, perhaps, but at least she didn’t think her tone gave away her inner turmoil.

“Steiner?” he repeated, as if puzzled by the reference.

“He took over when…” Paige stopped, suddenly unsure, maybe because of that seemingly genuine puzzlement, exactly what Josh had been told.

“You know about Griff,” she said, not phrasing it as a question. If this was an agency hide, and everything she had found in the computers indicated it must be, then of course, Josh would know about Cabot’s death.

They became aware at the same moment that someone was walking toward them. A man and a woman were approaching, moving toward him. Josh turned his head, openly watching them, which surprised her.

The couple walked passed the entrance, deeply engrossed in their conversation. Josh waited until their voices could no longer be heard before he looked down at Paige again. Even in the dimness, his eyes were as blue as she remembered them.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “Those names don’t ring any bells. Maybe you’ve got me mixed up with somebody else.”

She supposed she should have been expecting that denial, but she hadn’t been. Maybe he was part of some witness security deal, with the formal constraints that imposed, but he was also her partner. Her lover. Or he once had been. And he owed her more than this. They all did. From Steiner on down.

She had been lied to throughout this entire deal, and it infuriated her. She’d spent so many damn hours during those three years regretting the things she had done. Regretting even more the ones she hadn’t done. Too many hours lost out of her life to be fobbed off with this crap.

“I don’t think so,” she said almost mockingly. “I don’t think I’ve got you mixed up with anyone else.”

He took a breath, his lips pursed slightly. She tried not to remember what they felt like moving over her skin in the darkness. Tried and failed, and for some reason that made her even more furious.

“Look—” he began again, his voice still reasonable, not reacting to the obvious anger in hers.

“Your name is Joshua Stone,” she said, interrupting whatever lie he intended to offer. “You were a member of Griff Cabot’s External Security Team. You and I were on a mission in Vladistan when you disappeared. That was three years ago. And then, less than four months ago, they put you back into the computers as Jack Thompson. I’ve seen the file, so ‘You’ve got me mixed up with someone else’ won’t work, Josh. Not with me.”

“Vladistan?” he repeated, and she wondered why he had picked that out of all the rest. “In…Russia?” he questioned.

“A republic of the former Soviet Union.” Paige corrected. She sounded like some geography professor.

“Who is ‘they’?” he said, ignoring the lesson. “Who put me back into the computer?”

He had asked those questions in exactly the right tone. As if he really didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. Of course, Josh had always been good. So damn good at everything.

“The company,” she said. That was the nickname for the CIA that almost everyone who worked for the agency used.

“Debolt?”

Which was the name of the firm he was working for here in Atlanta. Again the tone of his question held exactly the right note of confusion. She laughed, mocking his skill. The sound of her laughter almost prevented her from hearing his next question.

“After the accident?” he asked. “Is that what you mean?”

“What accident?”

The word had shocked her for some reason, jerking her out of her very satisfying anger. But the concern in her repetition was the wrong response, and she regretted it as soon as she had given it voice. She had wanted to convey her absolute certainty that she knew who he was and knew that he was lying to her. And then she had bit on that ploy like an amateur.

“The wreck,” he said. “Is that what this is about? Insurance or something? If so, maybe you’ve got the right guy but the wrong name.”

There was enough information there, and the tone reasoned enough, that she had to stop and think about what he had said. Accident. Wreck. Insurance. Wrong guy. Except, of course…

“Not Debolt,” she said again, rejecting the scenario he had just dangled in front of her. “The CIA. And you know what I’m talking about, Josh, so let’s stop playing games. Maybe you’re only doing what they told you to do, but don’t expect me to buy it. Maybe I didn’t spend as many years in special ops as you did, but I spent long enough to know how to do a computer search. Joshua Stone dies, and Jack Thompson is born. It’s all there. Right in the External Security files for anyone who wants to look for it. And I think that means you’ve got a problem.”

He said nothing for a long time, his eyes still considering her face. Trying to read it, maybe? She didn’t care if he was. She was telling the truth. A truth he needed to hear. If she could find him, then a lot of other people could as well.

“I think you’d better come in,” he said. “We need to talk.”

The strongest emotion she felt when she heard that invitation was satisfaction. She had forced him to listen to her and to stop making those ridiculous denials. She started up the basement steps, expecting him to lead the way over to the street-level set of stairs and up to the building’s front entrance.

Instead, he stayed where he was, watching her face until she reached the top. When he still didn’t move, she stopped beside him, looking into his eyes. She didn’t know what she had expected to find in them. Embarrassment that he’d tried to put her off like that? Admiration that she hadn’t bought that cock-and-bull? Maybe even some memories.

They held none of those things. They were interested. Reflecting the same deep intelligence she remembered so vividly, but nothing else. Not even, it seemed, an admission that they had once been more to one another than professional associates.

“I take it I’m supposed to know you,” he said.

Just when I was about to give you some credit, Paige thought. Her mouth tightened in frustration. She broke contact with his eyes, looking past him, focusing on the row of cars parked across the street. An exercise in gathering control, like counting to ten. And then it became something else.

“They’re taping us,” she said, her eyes coming back to Josh’s. “Someone in a car across the street is filming us.”

“Filming?” he repeated, turning around and staring at the car that was parked along the opposite curb, its motor running.

What Joshua Stone had just done was against everything Paige had been taught when she’d been brought over to Special Ops. Griff’s people were carefully trained. They had to be because the things they were called on to do were not only dangerous, but potentially embarrassing for their government as well.

And one of the cardinal sins was to have your picture taken. To have your face caught on camera. That was especially true while you were on a mission, but the rule applied at any time. Any place. And Joshua Stone, the best agent she had ever known, had just blatantly violated it.

As shocked as she had been by his turning toward the man who was video recording their meeting, she was even more surprised when he began walking toward the car. The camera was still pointed toward them, still filming. Josh stopped at the near curb and looked both ways before he stepped out into the street, not even seeming to hurry.

Was he going to ask them to stop shooting? Or was he going to try to get the tape? Which called into question, she supposed, just who Josh thought the two men in that car might be.

Paige’s guess was that they were from the agency. Either they had followed her here, which probably wouldn’t have been too difficult, despite the routine precautions she had taken, or they had already been running surveillance on Josh.

She couldn’t quite figure out why they would be doing that. Why would the CIA be keeping tabs on one of their own? Especially on someone who was no longer working for them? That almost made it seem…Almost made it seem…

Her mind was racing again. And even as it did, Josh reached the car. He opened the door and said something to the man with the camera. Paige was too far away to hear the words, but the man lowered the recorder and looked up at Josh, answering him.

She was already fumbling to open her purse where her weapon was, her hand moving almost without her volition. She had started toward the street when Josh reached out to take hold of the camera, as if he intended to wrest it from the man who was apparently reluctant to give it up. Paige began to run, closing the distance between her and her former partner.

Her gun was in her hand, but she prayed she wouldn’t have to use it. If the men in that car were fellow agents…

And then the guy with the camera came up out of the front seat, still holding onto it with one hand. With the other, he was reaching into his pocket.

Paige’s heart rate accelerated, knowing she was going to have to make a decision about whether to shoot within the next ten seconds or so. It was a decision she didn’t want to have anything to do with. One she didn’t have enough information to make. And one that would inevitably be influenced by what had once happened, a long time ago, between her and Josh Stone.

She stopped, gripping the semiautomatic with both hands, willing them not to shake. She drew a bead on the chest of the man who was struggling with Josh over the camera.

Her concentration, however, was on his other hand. And then, moving almost in slow motion, that hand began to come out of his pocket, bringing something with it.