Читать книгу Boomerang - Lynda J. King - Страница 4

Two days earlier, on Wednesday, January 6, 1988, Kate Taylor had left cold and snowy Berlin Tempelhof at 4:00 PM on an Air Force transport, reached Ramstein an hour later, and boarded another transport bound for Langley AFB. They were scheduled to arrive at 9:00 PM local time. Even though she’d slept for five hours on the plane, she was still tired. She’d begun to think that she’d never regain her old energy, but now that she was headed back to work, she hoped that recovery might be faster. The irony did not escape her.

As she gazed out the window, Kate wondered whether he’d be there when she deplaned in Virginia. Part of her wished she’d never lay eyes on him again, but then she’d never find out what had really happened a year ago in East Germany. It was the quest for this truth that kept her going. That…and revenge.

After they landed, Kate made her way into the waiting area, searching for a likely candidate to pick her up. Not spotting anyone, she kept walking, lost in thought.

“Kate Taylor?”

Spinning around, she automatically reached for the weapon she wasn’t carrying.

Damn, I am getting sloppy, letting my attention drift like that!

“Shit,” she spit out angrily at the young man in the nondescript grey suit. “Don’t come up on me like that!” She refused to admit it was her fault.

“Sorry,” he said with a slight shrug. “I’m Morgan. Holder sent me. I’ve got a car waiting outside.”

Glaring at him for a moment, she deposited her small bag at his feet. “You might as well carry this,” she said truculently. Then she brushed past him and headed for the exit. The man picked up the bag and caught up with her, and they marched out of the building and to the curb, where an official-looking black sedan was parked. Kate shuddered; she’d sat in too many black sedans recently, and none of them had taken her anywhere she’d wanted to go.

While they rode through the dark streets, Morgan glanced a few times in the rear view mirror. His passenger was in her forties, maybe five-foot-eight, and almost too slender, with very short, reddish-brown hair and pronounced cheekbones. He decided that the feature which would make her stand out in a crowd was her eyes. Framed by incredibly long, thick lashes and topped by perfect brows, they were so green that a person might mistakenly think she was wearing tinted contact lenses. At this moment she wore no makeup and looked extremely tired. Still, the package he was delivering was attractive…extremely attractive.

After about fifteen minutes, he drove into the garage of an apartment building on a residential street, parked the sedan, and retrieved her bag from the trunk. By the time he reached her side, Kate was standing impatiently next to the car. “Come on, let’s go,” she ordered.

Squelching an annoyed sigh, Morgan put his hand behind her back, intending to guide her toward the elevator. He was stunned when she flinched at his touch and made to slap his hand away before catching herself. She stared at him for a moment, a flustered look on her face, then hurried past him without a word. They rode the elevator in uneasy silence to the third floor and found number 307, where he unlocked the door and handed her the key. Pushing by him, she went in and found a one bedroom apartment, furnished in what she immediately labeled early K-Mart style.

Ugly, but at least it doesn’t smell like smoke.

“Kitchen’s stocked, and there’s a package on the bed,” he explained as he set her bag down.

Perking up at his last words, Kate walked eagerly to the bedroom and ripped open the package to find a Glock 17 with two holsters, along with two knives and sheaths.

Well, Holder, this you got right.

She laid the weapons on the bed and returned to the living room. “I guess that’s it,” she said. He was headed out when she remembered to thank him.

When he closed the door behind him, Kate remained standing in the middle of the living room, so exhausted she didn’t feel like moving. Finally rousing herself, she toured the apartment. It was bad, but no worse than others she’d had over the years. She was headed for the kitchen to find something to eat when she spotted an envelope on the breakfast bar that divided the two rooms. She stared at it for a second before walking past and into the kitchen, where she wandered around, checking her stock of food and drinks.

She’d planned to scrounge up something to eat, but the envelope had ruined her already meager appetite, so she returned to the living room, picked up her bag, and went to the bedroom to unpack her belongings. She didn’t have much. When they’d arrested her in Leipzig, she’d had to leave everything behind. She’d meant to replace her entire wardrobe in the last few months, but she’d only succeeded in buying a few things.

The bag was almost empty when she spied two items she hadn’t packed tucked in the bottom. She sucked in a breath and clamped her eyes shut. When she opened them again, the framed photo and tiny blue t-shirt were still there. She lifted both out of the bag, not knowing whether to curse or thank her friend for secreting them there. After staring at the picture for a few moments, she sighed and stood it on the bedside table. Then she raised the t-shirt to her nose, drinking in its sweet aroma, remembering the baby in her arms, fragile, precious. Tears formed behind her eyes. Emotionally and physically drained, Kate lay down heavily on the bed. She could have fallen asleep then and there, but the envelope in the kitchen was calling to her, demanding attention.

Wearily she pushed herself up and put the t-shirt in the bedside table drawer, where she also stowed the Glock and the knives. With a quick glance at the picture, she trudged into the kitchen, snatched the envelope off the counter, went to the living room, and sank down onto the couch. Still she waited, staring at it as if it held her death sentence.

Shit. I’m acting like a total coward. Open the damned envelope. Get on with it.

Ripping it open, she unfolded a single piece of paper. As she’d expected, it was from Holder, ordering her to be at Headquarters at 8:00 AM Thursday for a briefing on her new assignment.

Tomorrow!!? And nothing about what’s next?

“Fuck you” were the words that sprang to mind.

With a sigh, she asked herself rationally what else he could have said. He’d already informed her she’d be reassigned to Latin America, despite her protests that she was a Central European specialist, knew next to nothing about Latin America, and hardly spoke Spanish. “Hogwash” had been his response. Then he’d repeated the main reason for her reassignment: She’d been compromised in Central Europe and couldn’t go back without endangering herself and other agents.

Tossing the letter on the coffee table, Kate rested her head on the sofa and closed her eyes. She was about to doze off when she shook herself awake. As she was rising off the lumpy sofa, she saw that something had fallen out of the envelope onto the floor. Bending stiffly, she picked up three pieces of paper: a government identification card, an insurance card, and a federal weapons’ permit. As necessary as these documents were, to Kate they felt like claws seizing her, clutching her to this place and this time. Her throat tightened, and tears gathered once more.

Inhaling in a deep, shaky breath, she started for the bedroom and sleep. On the way, a hunger pang reminded her that she hadn’t eaten in a long time, and she veered off into the kitchen, where she made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, grabbed a diet soda, and plopped herself on a bar stool. While she ate, she heard the silence around her, and it hit her: This was the first time she’d been completely alone for…what…more than a year? Ever since they had put her in…that place. She was drifting back in time, and she shook herself, refusing to go there.

The sandwich and soda were gone. She set the plate and the can in the sink, switched off the lights and went to bed. She’d figured she was tired enough to sleep immediately, but it didn’t happen. She turned and tossed, unable to get comfortable as old injuries poked and prodded her, even though the doctors had insisted that everything was healed. At last she found a good position and lay very still, hoping for sleep, but it continued to elude her. With a sigh, she tried one more turn, and her eyes landed on the photo she’d placed on the bedside table.

Ever since she’d left her parents’ home, Kate Taylor had lived by herself, alone but seldom lonely, and she’d cherished her private space. This had changed dramatically six months ago, when she’d opened her heart to one person, then a second as she’d learned to cherish sharing her space with them. There they were, in front of her on the photo. But she would never see them again.

Kate got up and put the picture into the nightstand drawer, next to the Glock, the knives, and the t-shirt. When she lay back down, she slept a fitful and tiring sleep.

AT 7:55 AM on Thursday, January 7, Macey Sullivan was sitting with two other operatives in a briefing room at Headquarters. On the table in front of him and the others were manila envelopes. There were two empty seats, one with a matching envelope. Sullivan kept glancing at the wall clock, impatient for the meeting to start. He wondered who the missing agent was.

The door opened and an imposingly large man dressed in a rumpled black suit and turtleneck entered: Simon Holder, the senior agent in charge of this operation. He had a shock of thick, dark hair, now threaded with grey, and a powerful, taciturn face with hooded black eyes that could go from blank to menacing in a split second. His size, those eyes, and his deep growl of a voice could intimidate friend and foe, and he exuded a sense of unassailable purpose that commanded attention.

Holder scrutinized each man closely, establishing control over the room without a word. When he got to the empty chair, he scowled and looked up at the clock: 8:08. “One of you is missing,” he said levelly, sweeping his eyes around the table again. His face darkened, and he drummed his fingers on the table.

At 8:10 the door swung open, and a woman appeared. As everyone gaped, she sauntered into the room, nodding to each agent—except Holder—as she made her way around the table to the empty spot. After carefully settling herself, she looked up and locked eyes with the senior agent. Even though Sullivan was annoyed at her for making them wait, he was also impressed, for not many people could engage in that kind of sparring with Simon Holder. Of course, the feeling was nothing new; Sullivan had always been impressed by this woman.

Holder broke the silence. “Well, Dr. Taylor, it’s about time you decided to join us,” he said, voice full of irony.

Kate Taylor dropped her eyes. “I had trouble getting here.”

As Holder’s face sparked in fury at this lame excuse, she raised her head and gazed around the table, bestowing a warm smile on the first two agents. When she reached Sullivan, her smile broadened as she acknowledged their acquaintance. Sullivan basked in her attention.

“Sorry. It won’t happen again,” she said, apologizing to everyone—except Holder. Sullivan and the other team members shot uncomfortable glances at the senior agent, who had smoothed his face back into a neutral mask. They knew something was going on; they also knew that Kate Taylor had won the first round.

Before Holder could speak, a man entered and whispered in his ear. Holder nodded and left. In his absence the room was silent, and Sullivan used the opportunity to study this new Kate Taylor. They’d first met in Vienna in 1982, when they’d been assigned to take out a man the agency believed had gone rogue, Matthew Connolly. Both were unhappy about the assignment to kill a man they admired, and they were relieved when the order had been rescinded at the last second. Sullivan had always been attracted to the woman and wanted to bed her, but she’d never indicated in any way that she was interested in him. In fact, he’d sometimes wondered if she was interested in men at all; in the years before and since he’d never heard about a liaison between Kate Taylor and a man, unless it was whispers about her and Holder. To be fair he hadn’t heard of a liaison between Kate and a woman, either. She seemed the ultimate loner.

Be that as it may, he’d wanted her then, and he wanted her now, despite the fact that she looked quite different than six years ago. Back then she’d been the perfect size, not too fat, not too thin; now she was downright skinny, her face bordering on gaunt. Yet its thinness made her cheekbones more prominent, and the brilliant green of her eyes popped against the red tones in her hair. Her skin was another issue. It had been clear and ivory before, but now it seemed faded, sallow even, and small but noticeable black smudges formed half rings under her eyes.

Of course he knew—everyone in the room knew—that she’d been through hell since he’d last seen her. What really happened had been grist for the Agency gossip mill for months, but all they knew for sure was that she’d been arrested during a mission in East Germany and held in a Stasi prison for months before being exchanged for an Eastern Bloc spy. Although he didn’t know precisely what she’d endured, he could well imagine, and her looks confirmed his fears.

Once Holder returned to the room, his briefing was almost anti-climactic: They would be sent to Colombia to carry out assignments to be designated. For the rest of today they were supposed to study the information in the envelopes.

While the other agents quickly unclasped their envelopes in the briefing room, Kate collected her purse and her envelope and made her way upstairs to the library. She’d always felt at home amongst the books and journals; she also often mistrusted the information the Agency provided and wanted to learn about an issue from all sides, believing it could give her an edge. When she entered the library foyer, she was savoring the sights and smells and didn’t notice the woman coming up behind her.

“Kate Taylor! I was hoping you’d make it up here soon!”

Startled out of her reverie, Kate whirled around to confront the speaker, but instead of a frown, a grin spread across her face.

“Toni, oh, my God! How long has it been? I’m so glad to see you!” she gushed.

Toni Martucci, Kate’s best friend in the Agency, wrapped her in a huge hug. At first Kate resisted, but then she melted into Toni’s arms. “Come on, Kate. Let’s go to my office, if you’ve got a few minutes to chat?”

“Sure. Lead the way.”

When they’d made themselves comfortable in Toni’s workspace, the librarian started to say “How are you” but caught herself. It was clear that Kate Taylor wasn’t doing well, and Toni, like her colleagues, knew the vague outline of what her friend had endured. Instead she said: “It’s great to see you. When did you get in town?”

“Yesterday night. They put me in an apartment about two miles from here.”

“How is it? The apartment, I mean?”

“Like these places usually are. Impersonal but acceptable.”

“Do you have everything you need? Can I help with something?”

Kate considered for a second. “I haven’t figured out what I might need yet. We could go shopping. I don’t have many clothes.”

“Sounds wonderful, hon. You know how much I love to shop.”

They giggled as they recalled shopping excursions in the past.

“You’ll have to be my guide. I’ve been out of the fashion scene so long that I don’t know what’s in and what’s not.” Kate hadn’t meant to refer to her recent past, and when she did, she averted her eyes, hoping Toni wouldn’t follow that thread. She looked at her watch. “Guess I’d better get to work.”

“Should I ask what you’re looking for?”

“Anything and everything about Colombia.”

Toni lifted one eyebrow.

“Yep, Colombia,” Kate repeated. She pointed at the envelope she’d laid on Toni’s desk. “I want to find out what isn’t in the reports.” After Toni nodded, she continued: “The news I got in Leipzig was pretty one-sided.” She lowered her eyes again before looking directly at Toni. “You know I was in Leipzig?”

Toni started to reach out her hand but withdrew it immediately, breaking eye contact with Kate. Once more she nodded.

“East Germany’s officially on the side of the rebels, the FARC, so their media did report a lot on the war between them and the government. And about the drug cartels, too.” She laughed, tapping her hand on the envelope again. “Probably the opposite of what’s in these reports, don’t you think?”

Toni chuckled and was about to reply, but her phone beeped. “Martucci,” she answered. As she listened, she looked at Kate. “Certainly, sir. I’ll tell her.” Then she frowned at the receiver, lips pursed in irritation. “He’s a fun guy, isn’t he?”

When she’d figured out who was on the line, Kate had unconsciously clenched her hands. “A pain in the ass. What does he want now?”

“You in his office in five minutes.”

Sighing, Kate quickly outlined what she wanted from Toni, then left the library to make her way—slowly—to Holder’s office.

SIMON Holder was drumming his fingers indignantly on the desk when his secretary announced Kate’s arrival. He waved a hand at her in annoyance, and she escaped out the door. When Kate appeared, Holder looked pointedly at the clock.

“You’re late, again!” he snarled.

They stood on either side of his desk, both stiff with anger.

“Sit!”

She sat opposite the desk and waited while he took his time examining the papers on his desk, the same ones he’d been studying for the last half hour.

“First,” he said, extending some papers across the desk, “requisition a car from the motor pool this afternoon.”

Kate picked up the requisition slip, which was clipped to a driver’s license. She almost smiled, but stopped herself just in time. Instead she stuffed the papers in her handbag and gazed blankly at him.

Next he reached a small pink slip across the table. “You have an appointment at the shooting range between two and three. To re-certify.” When she began to protest, he raised his hand. “Kathryn, forget our animosity for one second. You were always very good, but even the best get rusty. We need you back in top form. Just do it!”

She’d bristled at his use of Kathryn; she hated being called Kathryn, and he did it to get her goat. Sadly she did have to admit that he was right about the shooting range, though. She could be rusty. After all, she herself had been worried that she’d lost her edge while she’d been…in that place. And afterward. Of course she couldn’t bring herself to say he was right, so she threw the slip in her bag and looked blankly at him again.

Knowing he was winning this round, he fixed his eyes on the next small sheet of paper, then shot her a glance. “You’ve got an appointment for a complete physical exam on Monday morning.”

Kate almost jumped out of her chair. “Shit, Holder! Haven’t I been examined enough in the last six months, for God’s sake?”

Again he held up his hand. “Calm down, Kathryn. I am aware that you’ve seen many doctors recently. This isn’t the same thing. We have to be sure that you’re physically capable of a dangerous mission, not whether you are capable of living a normal life.”

Her eyes continued to spark, yet once more she had to admit that his argument was viable. She’d have to give in—again. She reached for the piece of paper, gave it a quick glance…and stopped abruptly when she saw the name: Dr. Walter Stephenson. She tensed, and her stomach churned. Keeping her eyes glued to the paper to hide her turmoil, she struggled for calm. After a few moments she was able to compose her face. She raised her chin and rejected his order with a flat: “No.”

Holder reacted with wrath. “Kathryn, did you hear what I just said? Anyway, you don’t have a choice. You are….”

Leaning forward, Kate broke in. “Wait!” Caught by her urgency, he listened. “I will go to a doctor. I will not go to this doctor.” She pointed at the name of Dr. Walter Stephenson. “I want a woman. You found Maggie Fremont in Germany. You must be able to find one here.”

He knew her well enough to detect the undertone of anguish in her voice, even though she tried to conceal it. He also knew all about the abuse she’d suffered—at the hands of men. Looking over her shoulder, he stalled by clearing his throat. In truth he saw no reason to cause her additional pain…at least not unless he gained an advantage from it. Forcing her to see a male doctor would gain him nothing. He dropped his chin in assent. “If I can find a woman, okay. If not, it’s Stephenson.” At her yelp he held up a hand. “End of story.”

Resigning herself to reality, Kate bowed her head slightly and noticed her hands were trembling. “You finished? I’ve got work to do.” She avoided looking at him by making a show of collecting the materials in her lap and rising out of the chair.

“Sit down!” She sat with a clench of her jaw. He walked around to the front of the desk, where he towered over Kate. “About this morning.” When she opened her mouth, he slammed his hand on the desk. “I will not accept that kind of behavior again!”

Glaring up at him defiantly, she started to ask what he was going to do about it, but she was suddenly so exhausted that she couldn’t muster the energy to resume the battle. She turned her head away and said nothing. Caught off guard by her apparent capitulation, Holder hesitated, and Kate seized her opportunity. She quickly grabbed her bag, stood up, and slipped by him to the door. “Be on time tomorrow!” he commanded to her back.

SHE kept going until she was standing in the empty hallway. Only then did she realize how hard her heart was pounding. Her hands were still trembling, and they were cold and clammy. She needed to get to the library, her comfort zone. In the elevator she propped herself against the wall and closed her eyes. After almost missing the “ding” at her floor, she finally made it to the library foyer, where she leaned against the counter, breathing heavily.

A moment later Toni touched her arm. “Let’s go,” Toni said softly. When she didn’t respond, Toni gently shepherded Kate into her office and to a seat at the corner table. “I’m going to fix some tea. Do you want some? Or coffee?”

Kate turned her gaze on the other woman. She understood that Toni had said something, but the voices of the demons in her head were drowning her friend out. Toni grasped Kate’s hands in hers and repeated: “Do you want a cup of tea?”

Kate looked vacantly at their hands, then suddenly awakened. With a twitch of her head, she began: “I’m sorry. I….” Unable to explain, she gave up and simply nodded. While Toni was preparing the tea, Kate tried to sort through her reactions in Holder’s office. Or more precisely, to the panic triggered by the idea of being touched intimately by a man, even if he was a physician. Now, calmer and distanced, Kate was disgusted at her extreme response, more so since it wasn’t her first panic attack.

Before that place, the prison, she’d never experienced panic routed in real fear. Oh, a frisson of fear kept her on-point during missions; a tickle of fear served to stoke the excitement, and it was part of what she loved about her job, part of what made her so good. But panic? Panic was trouble.

I have to learn to control myself! I cannot live my life, do my work panicking every time a man might touch me, for God’s sake. That is weak. I cannot be weak.

Truth was, she told herself the same thing each time a panic attack overtook her, and she had not learned to deal with it. What she really wanted wasn’t to “deal with it” at all; she wanted it to disappear; she wanted to go back to the way she was before, strong and…invincible?

Toni returned holding a blue tray with a bright yellow and blue tea pot, a matching yellow sugar bowl and two blue mugs, along with a sandwich and a couple of cookies on a plate. Despite the shadows that lurked inside her, Kate smiled.

“Glad to see you smile. What is it?”

Chuckling, Kate answered: “Everything matches.”

“Would you expect any less from me? Now, what do you like in your tea?”

“I don’t much drink tea. Sugar, I guess.”

“Yep, I always remember you with a coffee cup in your hand,” Toni responded, her smile still in place.

Kate nodded, enjoying the mindless chitchat. “Guilty. But that tea smells fantastic.”

After they’d taken a few sips, Toni asked: “Do you want to share my tuna sandwich?” Looking at the sandwich, Kate’s stomach lurched, and she shook her head no. “When was the last time you ate, Kate?” Toni tried not to sound like Kate’s mother.

Kate shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t have much appetite. Don’t know why.” She actually knew exactly why, but she didn’t want to talk about it.

Toni exclaimed: “Wow! I can’t remember a time when you turned down food!” One of the first things Toni had noticed was that this new Kate was rail thin, and it worried her. She set down her cup. “Come on, Kate, it’s not healthy, not eating. You didn’t eat breakfast today, did you? How about yesterday?”

Kate looked away, not wanting to have this confrontation.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Toni picked up half of the tuna sandwich and handed it to Kate. “I guarantee this is a very tasty tuna sandwich. Try it. You’ll like it!”

Again Toni made Kate smile, as she pictured the little boy in the Life cereal commercial. She nibbled at Toni’s sandwich. It was delicious. After the first few bites, she waited, gauging how her stomach was responding. When there was no negative reaction, she wolfed down the rest. Toni handed her the other half. At first Kate protested, but then she gobbled it down, along with more sweet tea. In the end she felt very full, but it was not unpleasant.

Suddenly Kate started. “What time is it?”

Toni gestured to the clock on the opposite wall. “1:55.”

“Oh, shit. Got to go.” Swiftly Kate explained about the shooting range, then she snatched her bag, and bolted out the door.

KATE spent not one but two full hours practicing, and it felt wonderful. She was a bit rusty, but the longer she stayed, the better she’d gotten, and it pleased her to discover how good she still was. If she didn’t hate Holder so much, she might’ve thanked him for forcing her into it. She’d meant to return to the library afterwards, but she still needed to get to the motor pool. Using the phone in the shooting range office, she asked Toni to lock the manila envelope with the briefing papers in her desk for the night. An hour later Kate drove off the grounds in an almost-new, blue Ford and drove into her apartment’s parking garage at 5:30.

When she walked into her new quarters she threw purse and keys on the small table next to the door, then kicked off her shoes and shrugged out of her jacket, which she tossed on the table, too. Next she went to the bedroom and exchanged her work clothes for a t-shirt and matching stretch cotton pants. The knife she left sheathed to her leg. On the way back to the living room, she caught herself in the mirror and stopped abruptly, emotion tightening her throat. Jan had given her these clothes last summer when she was in the hospital, and she’d worn them a lot—mostly with Jan—in the days after she’d gotten out.

I’ve got to pull myself together! I can’t get all weepy every time I put on these sweats, for heaven’s sake.

Forcing herself to turn away from the mirror, she made for the kitchen and considered what she could make for dinner. Another pbj? No, something more nutritious. But nothing in the kitchen was nutritious. Then she recalled seeing a Chinese down the street. When was the last time she’d had American Chinese food? German Chinese she’d had a lot. They’d often eaten at one near their apartment in Berlin. The food was good, and the owners hadn’t minded if the baby made a ruckus.

Why the fuck did I let myself think about that?

Rude tears stung the corners of her eyes. Angrily wiping them away, she started ripping open kitchen drawers, searching for a phone book without success. Frustrated, she glanced into the living room and immediately noticed the phone on a side table. Dubbing herself an idiot, she stomped to the table and found the directory in its drawer.

The food—in five of the ubiquitous Chinese take-out boxes—arrived thirty minutes later. She ate out of the boxes in front of the TV. CNN had existed before she’d left the US, but she’d never had much time to watch. Twenty-four hour news fascinated her, but after a while the commercials annoyed her, so she surfed until she found Mystery on PBS. Tonight they were showing an adaptation of one of her favorites: The Hound of the Baskervilles. She snuggled down on the sofa, planning to revel in thinking about nothing except the famous hound…and promptly fell asleep.

At first Kate slept soundly, despite the shreds of dreams that flapped through her mind like rags on a clothes line. At some point she woke up and clicked off the TV and struggled out her pants. She started to shed the shirt, but it was too much effort. She curled up and fell asleep again.