A Date You Can't Refuse (38 page)

His face stayed immobile.

“Because if it's the latter,” I said, “then you've done your best and I assume complete responsibility for my own safety and, thanks, but you're free to go. And if it's the former, then this is the time to decide if you want to let me in on things. Like your thoughts. Your feelings. Your job. Because as much as I love you, I'm not sure right now if I can trust you.”

Now his face changed, growing cold. My stomach felt like I was flying through the air and my parachute wasn't opening. I kept going. “What I know for sure is that you don't trust me. And that's not right. I'm a trustworthy person. So maybe this means you're a guy who doesn't trust people. And maybe that's something I can live with, but
honestly, I'm not sure. Or else you're testing me, you have a probationary period for girlfriends, and that's something I could live with, if I knew there was an end in sight, but I'd like to know when that is. I'm so tired of the secrecy and not knowing what page anyone's on, or even if we're in the same book. This isn't just about your job anymore. I'm scared it's a way of life. Your job is the perfect cover for a man who doesn't want to give away anything.”

I expected him to get up and walk off, leave me sitting on the lawn, maybe after delivering some devastating last words, something he excelled at. But instead he looked toward the mission steps, then out to Laguna Street, then back at me.

“I have a friend in the State Department,” he said quietly. “Who tells me that Yuri Milos has his own friends in the State Department. His friends outrank my friend. That gets him a pass when it comes to rules the rest of the population plays by. I don't know much else. There's a ‘don't ask, don't tell’ policy when it comes to Milos. The reasons have to do with foreign policy. The kind of thing you've never shown any interest in.”

“I've become more interested lately.”

“I'm happy to explore these issues with you when we have a few weeks free. Right now, what concerns me is a lack of communication between agencies.”

“What's that mean? That the FBI's going after him, not knowing the State Department says to leave him alone?”

“Yes.”

“Can't you ask your State Department friend to ask the FBI to call off the investigation?”

Simon lifted an eyebrow. “That shows a naïveté about government agencies that I would find charming if I were in the mood to be charmed.”

“Okay, but at least—”

“It also assumes that I have an interest in saving Milos, a probable criminal, from the consequences of his actions, whatever they may be. I haven't. And lastly, it assumes that I have an interest in throwing a wrench in the operation of one of my colleagues at the bureau. I don't,
I'm not sure I could, and I'm damned sure the effort wouldn't be appreciated.”

“What are you interested in, then?”

His eyes locked into mine, making the world fall away. “Saving your ass.”

“Why?” I whispered.

“Take a guess.”

My body, with no signal at all from my brain, moved toward his. I got very close, breathing in his aftershave. It had a heady effect on me. Or maybe that was his arm, snaking around me, encircling my back, drawing me in close. I was ready to clamp myself against his blue shirt, to wrinkle his tie, when the face of fur-bearing, French-twisted Lucrezia intruded. Damn. I put a hand on his chest and pushed myself away from him.

“Simon.” I focused on his mouth. “I don't want a ‘don't ask, don't tell’ policy for us.”

“Then ask.”

I lifted my eyes to his. “Are you sleeping with Lucrezia?”

His own eyes shifted, looking over my shoulder, and his face changed. “Mains?” he said.

I turned to see Special Agent Lendall Mains walking toward us.

I
scrambled to my feet, thinking I could actually hide, but the closest thing was a sausage vendor's kiosk twenty yards away. Too far.

And too late. If I recognized Lendall Mains, he'd recognized me. Of course, he was easy, wearing the same sports coat he'd had on the other night, brown with a touch of plaid. And the same prominent ears. His eyes went from me to Simon, then widened in recognition.

“Agent Alexander,” Lendall said. “What are you doing here?”

“In Santa Barbara?” Simon was on his feet now too.

“On this case.” Lendall glanced at me, then back to Simon, and back to me.

Damn.

Simon looked at me. I felt his stare, but didn't meet his eyes. “What,” he said softly, “is he talking about?”

“Wollie?” Lendall said. “Did you bring it?”

“Um, yes,” I said to Lendall distractedly. “In the car.”

“What's in the car?” Simon asked.

“Nothing interesting. A DVD.” My voice sounded high-pitched and unnatural. “So! You two know each other?”

“That would appear to be my line,” Simon replied.

“Or mine.” Lendall was now right in front of us. “Are you working with her too?”

“That's one way to put it,” Simon said. He moved toward Lendall, turning his back on me. “What case are you working on, Mains?” His voice was quiet. I had to strain to hear.

Lendall turned too, and lowered his voice. “Piracy thing.”

There was no one in hearing distance but me, but I had no problem eavesdropping. I had to creep up closer, though.

“Which one?” Simon asked. “The screeners for the Emmys that went missing?”

Lendall shook his head. “Features.”

“Showing up in the Balkans, first-run movies? That one?”

“Bigger than the Balkans. Starting in Bulgaria and all the way to Russia. Before they even premiere over here, they're on the streets over there.”

“Good quality?”

“Top. High-res DVDs. Got everything but the director's commentary. Big bucks getting siphoned off. Lot of pressure on us to plug the leak.”

Even through the haze of my own paranoia, I was amazed how easily Mains gave it up to Simon, the facts of the case.

“Who's the SAC?” Simon asked. His voice was casual. “Creighton-Jones?”

“Graham,” Lendall replied.

Simon's head snapped around at that, his eyes meeting mine so sharply, I jumped back. Bennett Graham, it would appear, wasn't a close friend of Simon's.

“Okay, c'mon, let's go get that DVD,” I said before Simon could start asking me questions. I headed toward the parking lot, with the guys on either side of me.

So Lendall didn't know about Yuri's spy-training school. That was a relief—unless I was legally bound to inform him.

But if Simon wasn't saying anything, why should I?

Because Simon didn't know details. Simon figured there were guns
on the property. I knew make, model, quantities, locations, and the reason they were there. If Bennett Graham knew that I knew what I knew and didn't let him know, I could end up in prison. Maybe.

Except that Yuri had immunity from the State Department.

But did I? No.

My stomach was doing somersaults—unless that was the poison at work—and I wanted to talk to Yuri in the worst way. Yuri wouldn't let me twist in the wind. Would he?

I walked at a good clip, but Simon had a long stride and Lendall was practically running to keep up. The men flanked me. I felt Simon's proximity, even though he was calm, probably for Lendall's benefit. I wished he would spill the beans to Lendall about his operation the way Lendall had about ours, but of course Lendall didn't have a personal interest in what Simon was up to and they were probably on different levels professionally, because Lendall seemed to be sucking up a little. Simon wasn't much of a bean-spiller or an up-sucker in any case.

“So you've had good luck getting warrants?” Simon asked Lendall.

“Very good,” Lendall said. “But we got luckier last night. Had a guy on surveillance detail listening in real time, and he got an earful.”

Simon moved close to me as we walked and said under his breath, “This is quite an earful I'm getting right now.”

Good move, Lendall, I thought. Whatever happened to loose lips sink ships? Didn't they teach that anymore in FBI school?

We reached the parking lot and I stopped, disoriented because the Suburban wasn't where I'd left it. Then I remembered that Fredreeq had it. I called her cell phone. “Where are you guys?” I asked.

“Back from the bookstore,” she said. “I'm over here staring at your twelve-foot Madonna. Do you really think camouflage and combat boots are appropriate for the Virgin Mary? Jesus Christ, she dresses worse than you do.”

“Never mind that,” I said. “Where's the Suburban parked?”

“Across the street from the parking lot. I sent Joey back there to keep an eye on Zbiggo. He wouldn't come with us because he's watching some movie.”

“A movie?” I looked around and spotted the Suburban down the block. I started walking toward it. “Oh, right. There's a DVD player in the van. What movie?”

“Something he found in the glove box. He's got a temper, by the way. He was throwing things out the window. I nearly decked him. I can't stand litterers.”

Uh-oh. I sped up. We reached the van and I threw open the back door and found Joey and Zbiggo looking up at the DVD player. Joey glanced at us, but Zbiggo kept his eyes on the screen.

It was the naked-pizza-delivery-girl movie. I recognized it even without the pizza.

“What language are they speaking?” Lendall asked.

“The international language of love,” Joey said.

“Estonian,” Zbiggo said. “Close the car. Too much sun.”

“It's not big on dialogue, this film,” Joey said. “Subtitling it will be a piece of cake.” In her lap were two DVD cases. One was the pizza pornography we were now watching. The other was the plastic one I'd lugged around the night before. Both cases were empty.

Lendall Mains went around to the other side of the car and opened the door. “Where's ‘eject’?” he asked, reaching over Zbiggo to the DVD player. “I'm taking possession of this.”

“No!” Zbiggo yelled.

“Hold on, Lendall. That's not ours.” I held up the plastic case. “Zbiggo, where's the DVD that was in here?”

He glanced at it. “That one, I throw it out the window.”

“You threw it?” Lendall asked, scanning the ground outside the car. “Here?”

“Not here. On street. No good. On these machine, no good.”

“I don't understand,” I said.

“European DVDs,” Joey said, “don't work in our DVD players and vice versa.”

“But this was an American DVD—oh.” I remembered that the Suburban had come from Europe. “This DVD player is European.”

“PAL format, region two,” Lendall said, squatting near the car, scanning the ground. “So they probably do the DVD reformatting here
before sending them overseas. Sir?” he said to Zbiggo. “Where'd you throw it, the other DVD?”

“Not here!” Zbiggo yelled. “I said already. On the street.”

“What street?” Lendall yelled back.

“I don't know what street,” Zbiggo said. “I don't even know what is this city.”

My phone rang. “Hello?” I said.

“Wollie. Yuri. Where are you?”

“Uh, the car.”

“Estimated time of arrival?”

I glanced at Simon. “Uh—unclear.”

“What is happening there, Wollie?”

“Small snafu,” I said, moving away from the Suburban—and Simon— and heading down the street.

“How small?” he asked.

I thought about the friar, how I'd told him I wouldn't lie anymore. Not half an hour ago, and here I was already, minimizing snafus. “Yuri, it's a large snafu. I'm not sure I can get everyone back there. For one thing, I've lost Stasik. Who, frankly, scares me a little. For another, what if I lead someone—who means you harm—to your door?”

“Many people mean me harm, and they all know where I live. Wollie, I need everyone home. Don't wait for Stasik, he can find his own way if necessary. Felix and Zbiggo you must bring back. Neither drives well and on the 101, at rush hour, no.”

Behind me, Lendall and Zbiggo had lost all restraint. Their voices were raised, with Zbiggo lapsing into Russian. “Yuri, I don't know if I can,” I said. “I'm—”

“What? Scared?”

“You don't have time to deal with this now.”

“I'll make time. Tell me what is wrong.”

“What about Nell?” I asked.
“And
Chai, and—”

“Nell is fine. She's here. She spent yesterday in the passport office, to get an emergency passport, and then stayed last night in a hotel. To prove she could do it. She wanted to surprise me.”

I closed my eyes, relieved. One less corpse to worry about.

“Come, come,” he said. “What else?”

“I—” What could I say?
I'm working for the feds. I don't want to walk into a gunfight. I don't know what side I'm on. I like the bad guys more than the good guys
.

“Wollie,” he said. “I won't let anyone hurt you. Whatever you're scared of, I can help. But not from sixty miles away. I'll take care of you, but you have to take care of them, Felix and Zbiggo. Stasik if you can. Bring them back. That's the job. You're the driver. Quit tomorrow, but get them home today. They would do the same for you.”

They would, I realized. It was so simple, it made up my mind for me.

“I'll get them home.” I shut off my phone, then turned and practically fell over Simon, who was staring at me. I brushed past him to the Suburban. “Zbiggo, stay there; I'll get Felix.”

Simon was right behind me. “Mains, if you've got the DVD, are you done with her?”

“If I had the DVD,” Lendall said, “I'd be done with her, but I haven't got it yet, have I? I'm sticking with her until it's in my hands.”

“You are not riding with us!” Zbiggo yelled. “You I don't like.”

“What do you need me for?” I asked. “The DVD's not here, it's on the street.”

Fredreeq walked over to us. “What in the Sam Hill is happening here? They can hear you people yelling all the way to Montecito.”

“Fredreeq,” I said. “Did you see where Zbiggo threw a DVD out the window?”

“Yes, on the way back from the bookstore. I yelled at him.”

“Did you stop and retrieve it?” Lendall asked.

“Risk my life in this kind of crazy traffic? For a DVD? I don't think so, honey.”

“You're coming with me,” Lendall said.

That was not the right tone of voice to use with Fredreeq, and while she proceeded to give Lendall a large piece of her mind, I headed to my chalk square to retrieve Felix.