Читать книгу Boomerang - Lynda J. King - Страница 5

Friday morning Macey Sullivan and the two other agents were back in the briefing room, waiting, keeping their eyes uneasily on the two empty seats. At 8:01, Simon Holder strode through the door and, like yesterday, scanned the room. When he got to Taylor’s spot, a second of rage passed over his face before he shuttered it again and launched the briefing. For an hour he conducted business as usual. At 9:00 he stopped abruptly.

“Morgan!” he shouted to his assistant standing right outside. Morgan stuck his head in the door. “Find out if Taylor’s checked in!” Soon he returned and told his boss that she hadn’t been seen.

“Damn that woman!” Holder muttered under his breath.

“Call her. Get her over here, now!” Morgan nodded and left.

Holder waited. Sullivan and the other agents looked at their notes; at the walls; at their watches; anywhere but at Holder, who was staring straight ahead, eyebrows drawn and mouth clenched. Two minutes later Morgan reported that nobody was answering Taylor’s line.

“Damn,” Holder exploded. “What the fuck does that mean? She’s not here, and she’s not home.” He slapped his hand on the table; everyone jumped. He took a deep breath and ordered Morgan to keep trying. They went on with the briefing, but nobody was really paying attention. Five minutes passed; ten; then fifteen before Holder bellowed for Morgan to come back, demanding to know what was going on.

“Nothing, sir!”

“What do you mean, nothing?”

“Nobody’s answering, sir!”

“What?” Holder asked incredulously, staring at Morgan. Then he opened his eyes wide and looked off into space. Leaping up, he rushed out, shouting to Morgan to get his car ready. Next he ran to his office and unlocked the lower right-hand desk drawer. He pulled out a key, put it in his jacket pocket, raced back into the corridor, and punched the down elevator button repeatedly until the doors finally sprang open. By the time he reached the entrance, Morgan was holding the car door for him. As Holder got in, they exchanged worried looks.

When they reached the apartment building, Morgan double-parked in front of the building, and they hurried up to the third floor. Reaching number 307, Holder knocked. There was no answer. He stuck the key in the lock, turned the knob, and threw open the door.

THE sound at the door roused Kate. She’d been lapsing in and out of consciousness ever since the attack hours earlier. At one point she’d made out the telephone blaring, and hope had lapped seductively at the edges of her mind. But the phone had fallen silent, and she’d descended back into despair. Now hope crashed over her like a wave. She had to signal whoever it was to come in, to save her. She tried to scream, but nothing came out.

Try! I can’t let them go away! Say something!

As she was attempting to croak out a sound, she heard the door burst open and the words: “Kate! Where are you?”

“Help,” she whispered.

Then hands were ripping at the thing over her eyes and light burst in on her. She screamed as the brilliance exploded in her head, and she shut her eyes tight.

“Kate, stay with me! Morgan, find some scissors!” Holder ordered as he fumbled with the cord binding her to the pipe. A moment later Morgan was snipping at the cord, and quickly she was free. Kate immediately tried to raise one hand to her throbbing head but the effort was too great and allowed it to fall back. She kept her eyes clamped shut, shutting out the vicious light.

“Kate, tell me if you’re hurt anywhere except your head.”

She was trying to determine for herself what hurt and what didn’t when she opened her eyes a slit. Recognizing the man in front of her, her eyes widened despite the pain it caused, and tears welled up. “Why…why didn’t you come?” she asked, sorrow and accusation combining in her soft words.

“I got here as soon as I could,” he assured her.

The tears slid down her face, and she stared at him until she could stand the pain no longer and closed her eyes. “You took so long. Why did you leave me here?”

“I didn’t leave you, Kate. I didn’t know you were here till….”

Her eyes snapped open again, and she said with as much force as she could muster: “Didn’t know?” Looking away from him, she murmured, to herself as much as to him: “They hurt me.” Then to him she said: “I needed you!”

At first Holder held Kate’s stare, but then he had to break contact. With great effort he dragged his eyes back to confront hers. “Kate, I’m…I’m here now,” he stuttered, reaching out touch her face. She turned away, her lips a tight line. Distress etched on his face, he tried again: “I’m going to take care of you now.”

Tears continued to trickle down her face, and she remained silent. After a long minute, he straightened his shoulders and smoothed his face back into its blank detachment. “Tell me where you’re hurt, other than your head.”

An easier question for her was: Where did it not hurt? She was still resting on her side, so she figured the first thing she should do was to lie flat on the ground, but when she did, she was rewarded with a sharp pain below her left hip. She grunted, automatically extending her left hand toward the pain. At the same time she realized with dismay that she was almost naked in front of Holder, Morgan, and anyone else who might show up.

“Let me look,” Holder said as he moved his hand to the spot she was indicating.

“No!” she cried out.

Snatching his hand back, Holder exclaimed: “Okay, okay. I won’t touch you.”

“Please,” she said while flailing around with her fingers. Understanding her gesture, he laid his jacket over her chest, then grabbed a towel to cover her legs. She pulled the jacket up to her neck.

“Kate, we don’t have much time. Can you tell me anything about what happened?”

She looked at him, puzzled. “You already know. They took me.”

“No, I mean now, here in Langley.” He spoke very slowly, as if to a small child.

She lifted her head slightly and scanned the bathroom. “Langley? When did I…?”

“Two days ago, from Germany.”

Laying her head down to stop the pain, she wailed: “I…I don’t remember!!”

“Don’t worry! It’s because you were hit on the head. Just rest.”

Not worry? Am I losing my mind?

She breathed out and in, in and out, trying to calm herself. She did not succeed.

A siren screamed in the distance, signaling the imminent arrival of the paramedics. “Kate?” he implored.

“What?” Kate responded resentfully. A moment ago she’d dismissed Holder from her thoughts, because she needed to regroup, to reorganize her brain, to regain control. She didn’t want to listen to him.

Sensing her annoyance, Holder hesitated. Then he inhaled deeply and looked directly at her, putting his hand over hers. She didn’t pull back, but opened her eyes and met his gaze with a sigh. She waited.

“I…I have to tell you, before they get here. In Germany, when you got caught…. Things were going on here in the States, demanding my attention, but I should’ve done more.” His voice was husky with emotion, and his eyes flitted away, before he compelled them back to her face. “I am sorry,” he said simply.

She focused on him, exhaled, and shook her head ever so slightly. Pulling her hand out from under his, she withdrew into herself again.

HOLDER was rising when Morgan reappeared in the doorway to inform him that the paramedics had arrived. Almost immediately he was replaced by a male paramedic. Catching sight of him, Holder protested under his breath: “Oh, shit.” He intercepted the man before he could reach Kate and guided him back into the living room, where a second paramedic, a woman, was dumping gear on the coffee table. When he saw her, Holder murmured: “Thank goodness.” The man started to speak, but Holder cut him off. “Not you,” Holder said in his most officious voice. “She wants the woman,” he said, pointing at the other paramedic.

The two paramedics exchanged glances, then the man waved his hand, and she gathered up her gear and made for the bedroom. After asking Holder her name, she knelt down and said: “Hi, Kate. I’m Ann.”

Drawing in a sharp breath and forcing her eyes open, Kate cried: “Jan?”

No, Jan isn’t here. I’m an idiot.

“No, my name’s Ann,” the paramedic said patiently, opening her kit. “I need to you to tell me where you’re hurt.”

A tiny smile flickered over Kate’s lips. “Everywhere.” For ten minutes, Ann examined Kate and initiated treatment, eventually announcing they would transport her to George Washington University Hospital. At that news Kate pursed her lips and squeezed her eyes more tightly together. She’d spent far too much time in hospitals recently, and the thought was almost unbearable. It was more bearable than the pain, however, and she nodded almost imperceptibly.

Holder stood by her as they wheeled the gurney through the apartment and down to the ambulance. After loading Kate in, Holder and Morgan climbed into his car, and they set off. Sirens broke a path through Langley’s late morning traffic, and the ambulance dropped into potholes and careened around corners. The gurney bumped and shifted, and each movement intensified Kate’s pain.

Holding her eyes shut against the light, she sought to screen out the pain by channeling her mind back into its normal paths. But each time she thought she’d regained control, a new glut of images flashed through her brain, and control slid out of her grasp again. She decided she would try to force order onto the images. The idea of a jigsaw puzzle came to her, and she struggled to put the pieces in their correct places. In the background Kate kept hearing drums. Or was it throbbing? Then the bed she was lying on was rolling again. She opened her eyes in panic, and the sunlight blinded her. She shut them and returned to her puzzle.

Why can’t I fit the pieces together? I can’t remember anything!

The left side of the gurney hit a curb, and it felt like someone had kicked her. Despite the surge in pain, she smiled.

A kick! God, I remember!

When they got to the hospital, she was rushed into the ER, where she was cleaned up and her injuries assessed. Holder hovered. After an hour the ER doctor prescribed further tests. Before they moved her to the other section of the hospital, Holder showed up at her bedside.

“Everything’s taken care of, the paperwork, I mean,” he told her. Kate didn’t react. “Kate?”

“Good,” she said, keeping her eyes shut tight.

“Have you remembered anything?”

“No.” She didn’t want to tell him, even about her small memory of being kicked, before considering what her memories meant…and what role he played in them.

Holder had to move out of the way as they rolled Kate toward the elevator. “I’m leaving. I’ll be back.” Kate raised a hand. He made his way out through the ER.

WHILE she was being tested, Kate tried and tried to picture the time before and after she’d been kicked, but in vain. Beyond the kick, something else was tapping at the back of her mind, pressing to get out. She told herself to relax, breathe, and quiet her mind. It didn’t help. Then, during one of the tests, a conversation between two technicians penetrated her consciousness.

“Who are these tests going to?” one man asked.

“Lemme look,” the other answered. “Dr. Watrous. You know, the hot new resident on the fourth floor.”

Kate was certain there was something about the name. Dr. Watrous. The tapping increased. Suddenly it burst out. Dr. Wat…. Dr. Watson! Sherlock Holmes!

I was watching The Hound of the Baskervilles, then I heard the key in the lock.

Her thoughts froze. A key! The implications were overwhelming. She shivered, this time not because she was cold.

KATE was lying in a bed in a room on the fourth floor, the tests completed. They’d refused her request for pain medication, and she was hurting, badly. Despite the pain, every so often a fleeting wisp of a memory emerged from the fog in her brain. Yet as close as she was getting to the truth, her mind was overflowing with seemingly unrelated details. She thought she remembered feeling suffocated; she thought she remembered feeling like she was drowning; she knew she remembered the kick and the sound of the key in the lock. But how were they related? Then there were the drums, the constant drums. Round and round it went, draining her already limited energy.

“Dr. Taylor?”

Kate opened her eyes and saw a woman in a white lab coat whose name tag read Dr. Barbara Watrous. She was in her early thirties with chin-length, blond hair and brown eyes. Thank God, Dr. Watrous was a woman. Kate almost smiled.

“How are you feeling?”

Kate took in a deep breath. “Ah…” she stumbled. She had to give herself a little mental shake to express herself clearly. “My head hurts a lot. Can I have pain meds?”

“In a bit. We need to discuss some things first.”

“Shit,” Kate swore under her breath.

Oh, well, I’ll survive. I’ve had a lot worse.

“It won’t take long,” Watrous assured her. The doctor first examined her, then explained that one test suggested she could have some kidney damage, and further that the CAT scan revealed a severe concussion, perhaps exacerbated by an earlier injury. Kate knew what was coming next, because the ER doctor had asked Kate if she’d had a concussion or kidney injuries in the past, and she’d refused to answer. After all, she wasn’t certain of the answer, although the men in that place could have hit her hard enough to cause either injury. The real reason she didn’t want to answer was that the torture she’d endured in the secret police prison was her own business, not theirs.

Watrous again tried to pry it out of her; Kate didn’t budge. Eventually the doctor blurted out in exasperation that Kate shouldn’t allow people who abused her to get away with it. This confused Kate, and it took a while for her to figure out that Watrous believed she was a victim of domestic abuse. She might have laughed out loud if it hadn’t promised to hurt.

Me! Allowing people to hurt me. And domestic abuse! Hah! Not likely. International abuse, maybe.

When Kate smiled at her silly joke, Watrous gaped at her like she was even crazier than she’d thought. Although Kate steadfastly refused to say anything about the torture, she was finally able to convince Watrous that she was not a victim of domestic abuse. Or maybe the doctor simply wanted to get the examination over with. In any case, after about thirty minutes, Watrous rearranged her lab coat, tucked the chart back in its place at the end of the bed, and announced in her best physician voice: “We will treat the injuries as if they are not first-time incidents. What you need most is rest. Nurse Mutaba will be in soon with pain medication.” With a look like she was escaping from the loony bin, Dr. Watrous left the room.

After she was sure the physician was gone, Kate levered herself laboriously and painfully into a half-sitting position, pulled the phone over from the bedside table, and punched in a number. When Holder answered, she told him that she’d remembered something. She could hear him suck in a breath.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said.

“They’re giving me pain meds in a few minutes.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can!” he repeated.

She replaced the receiver, almost wishing they weren’t about to dose her with pain medication, for she had many things to work through before Holder arrived. As her memories of the attack returned, unpleasant ideas were popping into her head—all of them revolving around Simon Holder.

NURSE Josephine Mutaba strode purposefully into Kate’s room carrying a tray with medications. A large African-American with a short Afro peppered with grey, she had a round, dark face, and brown eyes. She looked stern—until she smiled, as she did often. Setting the tray on the bedside table, she introduced herself with that smile, then put the pain meds into Kate’s drip and told her to lie back. After a few minutes, the nurse asked: “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Kate’s eyelids were getting heavy as the meds kicked in and the pain began to recede. “No. Thanks.”

“What I’m here for. Buzz if you need anything.”

She turned and walked across the room, but before she could touch the door, it swung inward, held by a silver-haired, fifty-something man of middle height. Dressed in an expertly-tailored, navy blue pinstriped suit and restrained red tie, he had a natural grace and a posture which made these clothes look even more expensive than they probably were. Smiling with twinkling, startlingly blue eyes, he swept his arm forward, inviting Mutaba to proceed through.

“Well, thank you very much,” the nurse responded, her own eyes sparkling as she flirted right back at him.

From her bed across the room, Kate couldn’t see the man clearly, but she picked out the bulge under his arm, and her alarm response was immediate. She tried to sit up and was rewarded with a stab of pain. She lay back with an “ooof.”

“Dr. Taylor,” the man said reassuringly as he walked toward her. “It’s Matthew Connolly.”

Kate relaxed. She couldn’t remember if she knew why this man was here, but she was certain that she had no reason to fear him. Even though they’d never met, she knew a lot about Matthew Connolly, for she’d stalked him back in ’82 when she and Macey Sullivan were planning the hit Holder had ordered. The sanction against him was astonishing. Not only was he Holder’s oldest friend; he was by consensus one of the very best agents ever to serve the Company. These strange circumstances had robbed her of the enjoyment she usually felt during a mission, and the order to step down had been a huge relief. Then three years ago Connolly had suddenly resigned from the Company. Unlike her, Holder had let him go.

Now this same Connolly was standing next to the bed, and Kate looked up into his brilliantly blue eyes. Without warning two other sets of vividly blue eyes flashed through her mind, one pair belonging to the man she’d fought with last night, and the other to the guard who’d carved his initial “H” into the skin under her breasts. Sucking in a breath and shivering, she turned her head away.

Connolly reached out and laid his hand on her arm, ever so gently. “It’s all right, Dr. Taylor. Simon Holder asked me to come.”

Jumping at his touch, she turned back toward him and looked into his eyes again. Strangely, a different sensation replaced fear: calm. Those other men’s eyes were malevolent. This man’s were…good. She could find no other more precise word in her fuzzy brain. But there was something else she struggled to put her finger on. It seemed as if their icy blue could cut to a person’s core, which was frightening and exciting at the same time.

“Holder sent me to keep you safe. You can sleep securely, I promise.” He took her hand in his. “Now, close your eyes, but concentrate on my hand.”

“But….”

“No buts. Think of nothing but my hand.”

His look convinced her to try. She shut her eyes and focused on the connection between his hand and hers. Little by little her body started to release its tension as the pain dissipated and finally flowed away. Her breathing slowed and became regular. After a few minutes she slept.

THREE hours into Kate’s restless sleep, Connolly was sitting a few feet from the bed, trying to read a book by the dim light. When he heard footsteps stop in front of the door, he was instantly alert. Moving his hand to the weapon under his arm, he crossed the room and was ready when Holder appeared in the doorway. Connolly put his finger on his lips and shouldered the bigger man back into the hall.

“How’s she doing?” Holder asked.

“Sleeping,” Connolly replied curtly. “Let’s leave her that way.”

“Nope. Got to talk to her. She called, after all.”

“Simon, you can wait a little longer. She needs to sleep.”

“I should think so!” Nurse Mutaba exclaimed coming up behind them, disapproval written across her face. “You leave her alone.”

Holder faced Mutaba down…and the nurse won. He waved his hand and said sourly: “Okay. Let her sleep. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

Mutaba bobbed her head in satisfaction and marched away. Holder turned to leave, but Connolly stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Simon, I want to know what really happened to her.”

“Why?”

Connolly laughed. “You called me to watch over her, remember?” He pointed at his own chest. “Apparently you trust me over your Company men. Well, trust is not a one-way street. Give!”

Holder turned half away before shrugging his shoulders. “Come on.” They went to the empty waiting area at the end of the corridor, where Holder filled his friend in on Kate’s imprisonment and the attack last night, leaving out details he felt were too sensitive even for him. Simon Holder trusted Matthew Connolly as much as he trusted any person on earth; but Simon Holder trusted nobody completely.

Connolly sat for a few minutes in silence, gazing into the distance with a troubled look on his face. “Does she know who dropped the dime on her in Leipzig?”

“No.”

Connolly scrutinized his old friend’s face. When he didn’t add anything, Connolly went on: “What about this attack? What the hell were they looking for? And why didn’t they just kill her?”

Holder held up his hand to squelch further questions. “I don’t know!” He stopped. Now he searched his friend’s face. “But….”

“What?” Connolly asked suspiciously.

“They had a key.”

“Oh, my God!” Connolly shouted, almost leaping out of his seat.

Grabbing his friend’s arm, he hissed: “Keep your voice down!”

Connolly raised his eyes to the ceiling, let out a breath, and groaned. “Don’t tell me. It’s a Company apartment?”

“Right you are,” Holder replied bleakly.

Connolly clasped his hands between his knees and spoke as if to the floor. “Do you know who it was?”

Holder got up and paced the hallway, hands working at his sides. On his last pass he stopped in front of his friend and said: “Did you hear about Adam Jackson?”

Connolly inhaled sharply. “Jackson? I thought he was long gone.”

“Gone but not forgotten. They sent him to Colombia six months ago. A kind of exile.”

“They didn’t kick him out of the Company?” Connolly inquired incredulously.

“He’s got friends in the right places. Apparently he’s also got people still working for him up here.” When Connolly furrowed his eyebrows but said nothing, he went on: “You asked why they didn’t kill her. I assume even he wouldn’t risk killing a fellow agent,” he said bitterly.

Connolly’s face was clouded in anger when he said: “He chose her because she’s your…ah…protégée?”

Holder laughed mirthlessly. “People seem to think we’re Nick and Nora, without the marriage certificate.”

They sat for a few minutes in silence, then Connolly nailed Holder with a look. “Where do we go from here?” he asked.

“We?”

Holder’s friend tipped his head in mute agreement. Then he got up and started for Kate’s door. “Come on. Let’s see if she’s awake.”

WHILE the men were talking in the hall, Kate had indeed been awake. Injured or not, she had an instinct for danger, and that instinct had kicked in when the figure had appeared in the doorway. When she’d recognized Holder, she’d relaxed for a few minutes when they went out, but she knew a confrontation was coming. She was feeling better after the meds and a little sleep, but her head still hurt, and her side jolted her with pain when she moved the wrong way.

No matter. I have to pull myself together.

“I’m awake,” she announced as they walked through the door.

The men exchanged looks before taking up positions on either side of the bed. Kate felt hemmed in by their presence.

“So, Kath… Kate. Have you remembered something?” Holder asked.

She eyed him suspiciously. “Yes. But first, I want some answers from you, Holder.” His lips turned downward as a frown twisted his face. “Tell me what you know about the so-called break-in,” she insisted.

He narrowed his eyes and asked: “What do you mean by that?”

“There was no break-in, as you very well know,” she spit out.

“How would I …?”

“No games! When you got there, the door hadn’t been forced. Right?”

Holder tossed a glance at Connolly, and she followed his eyes. “Oh, he knows about it too?” she asked.

Connolly returned Holder’s glance, then looked down at Kate with a small nod of agreement.

“And?” she asked.

“And what?” Holder said.

“God damn it, would you stop! Who are they?” she shouted, even though it hurt to speak so loudly. “What did they want in that apartment? I didn’t…I don’t have anything!”

“Kate, I don’t know who they are,” Holder exclaimed. “I’m hoping you’ll remember something so we can work it out!” Connolly shot a quick warning look Holder’s way but stayed silent, as did Kate. After a long moment, Holder relented. “Okay. Say we start with the premise that they are Company people. What could they want from you?”

Once again Connolly shot his friend a disapproving look. His communication was not lost on Holder, who twisted his head one way, then the other, before exhaling almost imperceptibly. “Kate?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah?” she responded guardedly.

“When you were in Germany, did you hear about the mess the Company got into with the Contras in Nicaragua and Iran?”

She stared. “What…?”

“Just answer me!”

“Yes!”

“Good. Inside the Company some of us thought we should never have gotten involved in the first place. Others thought it was a good idea.”

“What side were you on?” she asked.

He groaned. “I’m not stupid! I wanted to stay out of it! I made my opinions known, but the powers that be didn’t pay attention to me. It was a disaster from the beginning. When everything started to fall apart, things got nasty inside the Company.”

Kate was laboriously sifting through what she knew about this debacle that people were calling the Iran-Contra affair. Yes, she’d heard rumors about the hostages and Iran and that yahoo from the NSC, Oliver North. But since she hadn’t been directly involved, she didn’t know much more than the average citizen. Later in Leipzig she hadn’t put credence in government-controlled media reports. Now her mind was calculating when it had gone public. Two years ago?

“One person really pushing involvement was Adam Jackson. Ever met him?” Holder inquired.

She started to shake her head but thought better of it. Shaking her head hurt too much. “No.”

“Lucky you. When it all fell apart, Jackson was on the hot seat. We tried to get him kicked out, but he pulled in his markers and was sent to Bogota as station chief. But I’m sure he’s still got people up here, working for him.”

Kate looked sharply at Holder, who traded looks with Connolly again. “You’re thinking the guys who attacked me were his men? But why? What were they looking for, damn it?” Suddenly a word catapulted into her brain, chipped off the black boulder of her unprocessed memories. “Papers! The men kept asking where the papers were. But I don’t have any papers!”

Holder sucked in a breath and snapped his fingers. “Yes, you do, Kate! From the briefing yesterday morning. The manila envelope with your instructions!”

She stared at him blankly.

“The briefing at 8:00 AM? The one you were late for?” he reminded her.

How could I forget that? I hate this not remembering!

“Right!” she responded. “You gave me the envelope.” She stopped, frowning. “But I don’t remember happened next!” The holes in her memory were still huge.

“You went to the library. I called you there a few hours later.”

The crater shrank as Kate remembered. “Yes!” she said excitedly. “I went to the library and saw Toni. After that, to your office.”

“Where did you leave the envelope?”

“On the table in the library with….”

“On the table? Where anyone could see it?” Holder shouted at her.

“Hey! It’s the library at the Agency! And Toni was there!” she shouted back.

He glared at her but said: “Go on. What happened after we met?”

It was coming back to her. She explained that she’d returned to the library, but left almost immediately for the shooting range.

“Please don’t tell me you left the papers on the table!” he moaned.

“No! I gave them to Toni and asked her to put them in her….” She stopped abruptly, her brows raised in alarm. Reaching out her hand and clutching Holder’s sleeve, she said: “Holder, Toni still has them. What if they figure that out? She could be in danger!” She struggled up in bed. “You’ve got to make sure she’s all right!”

Holder was frowning. “You could be right.”

“I know I’m right!” she cried out.

“Calm down.” He thought for a few seconds. “Morgan can bring her here till we decide what to do with her.” He looked at his watch. “Shit, it’s almost 5:00. She’ll be leaving her office.” Walking quickly to the door, he stepped outside to find his assistant. When he returned he explained that Morgan would pick her up and be back in twenty minutes, safe and sound.

He’d better be right. Oh, God, what if I’ve put Toni in danger? No, he put her in danger, damn him!

But she could do nothing more about it now, and there was much more to discuss. Getting herself back on track, she said: “So, the two guys who attacked me were from Jackson’s camp. He wants to know your plans for the team you’re sending to Colombia because he’s afraid you might ruin his set-up down there. Did you spell everything out in the briefing papers?”

Holder pursed his lips. “In three of the envelopes there was nothing but general stuff.”

“And in the fourth? My envelope?”

Holder ran his hand over his face. “More. A lot more.”

She half sat up in anger. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded.

“You were supposed to read it, Kate! Then you would’ve known!”

“Fuck,” she said under her breath as she dropped back down on the bed.

What a mess! Why is he always getting me into these things!

“But how did they know Kate’s envelope was different?” Connolly interposed coolly.

Kate flashed her eyes in Holder’s direction. Before he could answer, Connolly added his glare to hers. “And how did they get the key?”

Holder stood up to their withering stares but said nothing.

Connolly continued: “I’ll tell you what’s going on. You’ve got a mole in your team, Simon.”

Now Holder turned his head away, and he walked toward the window, looking out at nothing. After a full minute, Holder swung back toward them. Kate thought he appeared very weary.

Weary and old? Do I look like that?

Holder said: “Since he left for Colombia I’ve been worried that Jackson still has his hands in internal Company politics. I also think he’s involved with drugs down there. I’ve been trying to get evidence. He must know, and he doesn’t like it.”

Connolly approached his friend and placed a hand on his arm. “All right. You’ve been waging war against him. This is his counterattack. We have to figure out what we’ve learned from it.”

“Yeah, let’s do that. Preferably before they kill me,” Kate muttered under her breath.

Her words straightened Holder as if an electric shock had passed through his body. Kate saw his reaction, and she was so angry at him for putting her in the middle of his turf war that she was pleased at his discomfort.

“Kate, have you remembered anything else that might help?” Holder asked almost plaintively. Both men eyed her in anticipation.

After a long moment she replied: “Yes.”

“What? Why didn’t you say so?” Holder shouted.

She tipped her head slightly. “I’m telling you now.” Connolly held up his hand, indicating that they should stop quarrelling and get on with it. She told them about waking up right before the men got inside her apartment and that she remembered they were wearing masks.

“I only had my knife. I hid in the kitchen and jumped one there.”

“Did you recognize him?” Holder interrupted.

“Of course not! I said he had a mask on. Would you let me continue?”

Holder nodded impatiently.

“We fought, and I cut him with my knife, right below the groin. Was about to get him better when the other guy hit me. Memories stop there.”

Holder was visibly disappointed. “Nothing more?”

“I didn’t say that. Two things. The guy I got has blue eyes, and he stinks. Like cigarettes and bad after shave.”

“Anything else?” Holder demanded.

“Only bits and pieces that don’t fit together.”

All three were silent for several moments. Then Connolly said thoughtfully: “It’s a start. What are we going to do next?”

Kate raised her eyes in surprise, glancing back and forth between the two men. Matthew Connolly had clearly included himself in their troubles.

Do I want him on my team? Hmmmm… Yes, I trust him…maybe even more than Holder.

“Either we wait till Kate remembers more or we try to find this mystery guy,” Holder proposed.

“I can’t exactly walk up to every person in Headquarters and give a sniff, can I?” she said sarcastically.

Holder frowned. “No. But we can narrow down the possibilities. He had access to the key and knew about the envelopes.”

At that moment Nurse Mutaba marched in. “Land’s sake, are you two still here? This woman needs her rest. And it’s time for her meds. Time for you,” she pointed at the men, “to leave!”

“Not yet,” Kate pleaded. She dearly wanted to stop, but there was more to find out, and she was determined to do it.

Mutaba eyed them one by one. “I am giving you the meds now, just like the doctor ordered. Guess you’ve got till they start working.” None of them wanted to risk countering this formidable woman, and they watched mutely as she added the meds to Kate’s drip, then marched back out of the room.

Sure that it was only a matter of minutes before she would start to drift off, Kate decided she had to think through what had been eating at her ever since Holder had mentioned the Iran-Contra affair. Before she could say anything, though, Connolly ordered: “Simon, I want to talk to you. Outside.” He gripped his friend’s elbow and pushed him out the door.

Kate thought as hard as her addled brain and the meds allowed, and in the end she was sure she’d figured it out. Her blood turned cold in fury. When the two men returned, she was ready.

“It was Jackson. He’s the one who betrayed me in Germany, wasn’t he?” she demanded in a voice of steel. Holder and Connolly swapped pointed glances; this was in fact what they’d been discussing in the hallway. Their expressions told her that she was right on track. “Fucking son of a bitch,” she spit out. “When did you figure it out, Holder?”

“A few months ago,” he admitted.

“And you didn’t tell me?” she cried, outraged.

“When?” he defended himself. “Remember what was going on a few months ago? The terrorist attack in Landstuhl, the baby….”

At the mention of the baby, Kate opened her eyes wide in astonishment as more of the plot revealed itself to her. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “This is why you forced me to come back, isn’t it? To get Jackson?” Her voice quivered with rage, for it was also why he’d forced her to abandon her baby and her lover.

Holder came closer and put his hand on Kate’s arm. When she recoiled, he pulled his hand back and stared at it, then protested: “We need you, Kate! We can’t let the Company get further and further into this chaos. Matthew had resigned. There is nobody else to trust. Nobody who could get it done.”

Kate searched her handler’s face and was shocked as she glimpsed pain in his expression. First she wavered but then shook her sympathy off.

Bastard! I’m glad you’re hurting.

She said nothing, letting him squirm under her gaze.

Holder straightened. “What if I’d told you, last week when I came to your apartment in Berlin? What would you have done?” he challenged.

Shit, what would I have done? Chased him away, telling him I’d started a new life?

She had to look away, because she simply was not sure how she would have reacted. Then she made her decision: In the end it wasn’t important; what mattered was this moment, and in this moment her need for revenge trumped everything. That put her back on Holder’s side.

The meds were starting to work, and she was getting groggy. She lay back against the pillow, closing her eyes tightly. Holder was still standing close to the bed. “I’m sorry, Kate. Really. I’m sorry all this has happened to you,” he said so quietly that Connolly could barely make out his words.

Despite the appeal of sleep, Kate forced her eyes to open a slit and looked Holder directly in the eyes. To her amazement, she felt as if she were connecting to a human being, not her handler, not the master spy, but a real human being. She couldn’t remember that ever happening before. “Answer me one thing, Simon Holder. Would you really have hurt Jonathan?”

Connolly shot a shocked look at his old friend.

Holder didn’t notice, for he kept his eyes locked on Kate’s. “Never. You have to believe me. I didn’t know any other way to get you back.”

Kate searched his face and eventually nodded almost imperceptibly, saying: “Well, I’m here now.” She moved her gaze up to the ceiling, and her face morphed into a rigid mask. “And I’m going to get that bastard Jackson.” With those words she started to drift off to sleep.

Holder stood watching her, putting his hands to his temples and pressing his fingers in circles. Then he squared his shoulders and turned on his heel, almost running into Connolly, who’d come up behind him. Connolly’s eyes bored into Holder’s, but he said nothing, instead putting out his hand in an invitation to leave. Before they could get out the door, it swung open, and Toni Martucci entered, shepherded by Morgan.

“Kate?” Toni called out as she hurried toward the bed, casting a sideways peek at the two men.

Kate was so happy to hear Toni’s voice that she tore her eyes open. Reaching out she said: “Oh, my God, Toni. You’re okay!”

“You’re hurt! What happened?”

“Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

At her friend’s skeptical look, she amended her statement: “I’ll be fine in a couple of days.” To the men waiting near the door, Kate said: “Leave us alone.” Holder hesitated, but Connolly pulled him out the door.

Kate went on urgently: “Look, Toni, I have a favor to ask. I need you to go to the apartment and get my stuff.”

“You want me to…?” Toni asked uncertainly.

Kate wearily held up her hand. “There are a couple of things….” She paused, unsure how to explain. “There are things I don’t want Holder to see.” She looked beseechingly at Toni, who began to nod slowly. Kate focused her eyes on the ceiling and described the picture and the baby shirt. Toni’s eyes widened when she mentioned the baby.

“I…I was going to tell you, Toni. But then….”

Toni touched Kate’s cheek. “It’s okay, sweetie. We have plenty of time to talk. Of course I’ll do it. I’ll make them take me there,” she half laughed.

Kate breathed in deeply, then let it out slowly. “I don’t know how to….”

“Then don’t. Rest now. I’ll take care of it.”

Kate smiled. She closed her eyes and slept.

By the time Toni got outside, the two men were sitting silently on hard chairs pushed against the wall, each contemplating his own devil; God only knew they had enough. A few minutes before, Connolly had agreed to watch over Kate while Holder searched for the mole. When Toni told them she wanted to get to the apartment, Holder refused, but Connolly pointed out that eventually someone had to retrieve Kate’s things. Why not Toni? While he, Connolly, kept guard over Kate, and Holder returned to HQ, Morgan could take the librarian to the apartment.

Holder tsked with is tongue, then straightened his shoulders and got up. “Fine.”

After his boss gave him his orders, Morgan walked Toni to the elevator, and they disappeared. As the two old friends stood in the empty hallway, Holder moaned: “Now I’ve got to find transportation back to HQ.”

“Bus?” Connolly asked innocently, a grin on his face.

Holder snorted and took off down the hall. Connolly watched him go, then put his hands on his lower back, rolled his shoulders a few times, and returned to Kate’s room.