Betrayals (Black Cipher Files series Book 2) (33 page)

“You had a tracker with you?” I said skeptically. He worked for a think tank, he didn’t do field work anymore. At least, not as far as I knew.

An uncomfortable silence blanketed the sound waves. “I’ve been looking for you. It seemed as if you didn’t want to be found. So if I did find you...I didn’t want to lose you again.”

No wonder the silence was uncomfortable.

Jordan’s cell rang.

“Let me take this.” He diverted his attention to whomever was on the other end of his call.

I went back to watching the car and Katerina. She ducked into the old man’s car quickly, and he did a three point turn. They were going to come out the back lot, right by my car. I could duck down, but now I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

Katerina Wolfe knew something.

Her behavior in the last half hour was textbook clandestine.

I was tired of lurking in the shadows. I wanted action. I wanted resolution. Wanted some movement.

Vaguely I could hear Jordan trying to calm someone down.

The radio switched to local news.

“And now in an important update,” the announcer paused for dramatic effect, “Staci Grant, local woman and alleged terrorist sympathizer has been spotted in the District of Columbia by a former student.”

Shit. Knew it was coming, hoped I had a little more time.

“Our station was able to speak exclusively with the witness whose name we are withholding for his protection."

The reported asked, “How did Staci Grant seem?”

 “Yeah, uh, she looked a little, uh, beat up.” It was Matthew Cho.

No shit. I was a little beat up. I’d be a hell of a lot more beat up if the ‘authorities’ got a hold of me.

“Did she threaten you in any way?”

“Uh, no.” Matthew stumbled through his answer. “She, uh, said she’d be teaching in the spring.”

“What kind of a teacher was she?”

This is the kind of question they always ask, and the neighbor always says, they were quiet and kept to themselves... except for those dead bodies in the basement.

“She was...is a great teacher,” Matthew responded to the leading question fiercely.

“Did she seem agitated or menacing?"

“No, she just seemed like she had someplace to be. She looked at her watch a few times.”

“What made you come forward?”

“Well, I saw the news,” Matthew said. “Ms. Grant would have told me to go for it. I’m sure they’ve made some sort of mistake. She would never do the things they’re accusing her of.”

The reporter cut Matthew off, probably hustling him away from the microphone. Matthew’s viewpoint didn’t make for sensational sound bites.

“Authorities are actively searching airports, bus and train stations, any transportation exits out of the city, but with the few hours between when she was seen and when the contact was reported, she could be anywhere. Authorities would not answer speculation about why she would still be in the D.C. area. She has no strong ties here and allegedly has far reaching and unlimited resources.

For a picture of the fugitive, check out our website.”

I thunked my head on the steering wheel. Ow.

“If you see her, you are advised to call this number immediately but do not, repeat, do not approach her. She is still considered armed and dangerous.”

Great. Now I’m freaking public enemy number one?

The adrenaline that had kept me upright and jazzed since we left Jordan’s mother and aunt’s house suddenly drop kicked me. Exhaustion so extreme I could barely keep my eyes open swept over me, drowning me in sheer fatigue. I yawned so hard and wide, I could have swallowed our entire rental car.

Jordan clicked his attention back to me. “Get out of the car.”

“What?”

The airwaves buzzed with his impatience. “Get out of that car.”

His sense of urgency finally penetrated the hazy fog of my brain.

“What’s wrong?” I fumbled with the seat belt, my reflexes sluggish.

“That was Thea.”

Had she had a crisis of conscience? “She turned me in?”

“No. They came to her.”

My brain started firing on all pistons.

There was no way to connect Thea and me. But if you connected Thea to Jordan, then Jordan to me, suddenly that degree of separation was gone. It also meant Jordan’s name was no longer a secret.

“They were following you.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know who it was?”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea.” His voice was grim.

“And they know about your relationship with Thea.”

“Apparently so.”

“And examined her credit card charges.” Dammit.

Jordan shot out the back of the Giant, a small paper bag in his hand, and headed for me.

I dragged my body out of the car, grabbing Jordan’s duffel and my backpack bag as I went. No time to wipe down the car.

Katerina and the old man had just turned out of the parking lot onto the street where I was parked.

Jordan loped down the stairs of the loading dock as another car turned into the parking lot at the far end.

I’m not sure what made me look. Instinct. Survival.

Shit. The dark sedan was back.

Staying in one place too long had cost us, and the sedan had come searching.

The car’s headlights speared through the evening, highlighting Jordan’s face. Panic thundered through my body, adrenaline ramping up my heartbeat. Suddenly I was wide awake.

The car with Katerina slowed down as they drove toward me and our rental, the bill of her cap swiveling back and forth as she processed Jordan on one side of the street and me coming out of the car on the other.

I pulled my weapon out and stepped in front of their car, and prayed they wouldn’t mow me down. Fortunately they weren’t going fast, and fortunately the old man had a conscience.

Through the windshield, I could see Katerina’s mouth moving rapidly, telling the old man to keep going.

The old man shook his head violently and slowed to a creep.

Jordan interpreted immediately and went for the back door handle, yanking open their car door as I rounded the side. He slid in and jerked me inside.

My impulse was to curl my arms over my stomach. “Drive.”

“What makes you think we’re taking you anywhere?” Katerina snarled.

I started to wave my weapon, but the threat was unnecessary.

“You want to be seen with us?” Jordan asked calmly.

“No!”

Jordan gestured to the car in the parking lot, where the driver had slowed down to watch our drama unfold. Pinstripe came running out the back door of the grocery store.

Knew I’d been right about him being in the damn store too long. Wished I’d been wrong.

“Then get the hell out of here.” Jordan snapped. “Or we’re all fucked.”

Katerina said, “You’re going to regret this.”

She had no idea.

THIRTY-EIGHT

The old man took off with a peal worthy of a NASCAR driver coming out of pit row and gunning for first place.

He took the corner at fifty. Jordan slammed into me as I hit the car door.

I grunted. The pain from my still sensitive left arm zinged through my body. Stars waterfalled, blurring my vision, and reality faded into a dizzy whir.

Jordan steadied me. “You okay?” The solid heat of his body, the hard flex of his bicep against my back anchored me firmly back to him.

I nodded, swallowing a groan.

Jordan handed me a crumpled bag, a grease spot already blossoming on the brown paper. The scent of a smashed cinnamon roll hit my nose. My mouth watered as I ripped open the bag.

We barreled down the mostly residential street with no headlights in the rearview mirror. At least not yet.

The sedan had to pick up pinstripe and maneuver out of the parking lot. They could also have a team surveillance set up. In that case we should be looking for the other car.

After eating half the pastry, I stopped, licked my fingers and figured we should get down to it. “Why the prearranged signal?”

“None of your business,” she snapped.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” I wanted to know who the old man was. I still wasn’t sure we shouldn’t have bolted in our own car. But chances were a BOLO was already in place.

“Fuck. You.”

Succinctly put.

“Why not try for civility?” the old man spoke.

“Yeah.” I mocked. “Try being civil.”

“Do you have any idea what will happen to me if I’m connected with you in any way?” She jammed the heels of her hands against her eye sockets, like a little kid who doesn’t want to see.

“Hmmm. You’ll be put on the news as Public Enemy number Twelve. Spots One through Ten are covered by the FBI and I’ve pretty much locked up Eleven.”

“I won’t be able to protect my son,” she gritted out. “Total FUBAR.”

The old man swerved right again. I stifled a groan as I slid into Jordan, banging my shin with another sharp jab of pain.

“Buckle up,” Jordan said calmly, ignoring us both as he stared out the back window. “We need to pool resources and talk.”

He was right. But I’d admit it only grudgingly.

“Can they run your plate?” I asked the old man since Katerina hadn’t done more than growl at me.

“Most common sedan purchased in the United States, and it’s possible the license plate might be obscured a bit.” The old man rubbed a hand over his whiskered smile.

“I’ll keep watch while you talk,” Jordan said, his voice a deep rumble.

Katerina whipped around to glare at Jordan. “You were following me in the store?”

He shrugged a sorry.

I peered out the back window, helping search for the tail or any kind of surveillance as we roared down the street. No one seemed to be following.

Houses transitioned to industrial warehouses and factories. The streets were pretty much deserted, as first shift had gone home or to the bars, and second was not quite ready for lunchtime.

Hitting a pothole, the car bounced as we turned onto a more main thoroughfare. So far, no lights behind us. Could they have let us go?

The old man performed another series of turns, pulled into a packed parking lot, trolled to the middle of a row and pulled in between an SUV and a Prius. After he shut off the headlights and turned off the engine, the car became invisible.

No one said a word.

We all held still, like prey trying to outwit a predator.

“You’re sure we lost them?”

“I don’t make mistakes.”

He was old. Older than I’d originally thought. But he knew his stuff. “Who are you?”

I had a feeling I would get more out of him than I would Katerina. That might be the way to play it. That way she could honestly deny she gave out information if her supervisors asked.

“Leave him alone,” she growled again like a mama bear protecting her cub.

“Deniability, babe.” If you won’t answer someone else has to. “Let’s try this. We’ll exchange information until one or the other of us is...uneasy.”

Katerina started to object, but the old man shook his head, patted her hand. His love for her was plain. “It’s okay, Rina.”

As he reassured her again before answering me, a pang of loss hit me. Their relationship was definitely close and clearly affectionate.

“I'm a friend of the family.”

Evasive driving expertise and a highly developed sense of impending danger made me think he was more. “Anything else?”

Katerina opened her mouth, and the old man ran a quick hand over her hair stilling her objections. Discounting the manner in which they set up their meeting, these were two people with a long-standing personal relationship. Not a working relationship.

Suddenly something occurred to me. “Bodies were never found.”

“Excuse me?” Stalactites dripped from her words.

“The bodies of your grandparents were never found.” I met the rheumy gaze of the old man in the rear view mirror.

“Is there a point to your rambling?” Katerina’s gaze shifted to the old man.

“Lost at sea. Never recovered.” I let that settle for a minute.

The old man answered my insinuation. “I’m not her grandfather.”

Yeah. I already knew that. But just who the hell was he? “Never recovered.” I took a shot in the dark. “Never killed?”

No one spoke.

“I was supposed to kill them,” the old man finally piped up.

Okay. That one threw me. “You were....” Supposed to kill the grandparents. That meant, he hadn’t? Or had he?

“A sleeper.”

Wow. Hadn’t seen that one coming.

I wondered why he’d told me. Just offered up that shocking revelation as if we were at a cocktail party making small talk.

My heart sped up, thumping rapidly in my chest. The spit in my mouth dried, and for a second, I wasn’t sure I could speak as another thought occurred to me. Could he have been the one who killed my grandparents?

I finally croaked out, “Did you have more than one target?”

“No.”

Relief flooded me. Jordan’s hand was solid and strong in mine, my fingers aching with the force of my grip. I was supposed to be a big, tough agent, but the thought of sitting calmly in a car with my grandparents' killer was beyond my emotional capabilities.

 I focused on the old man. “Why were you activated?”

I waited for his answer, possibilities roiling through me. Taken alone the deaths were accidents. Together they formed a pattern impossible to ignore, but we hadn’t come up with any common denominators.

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I’ve had my suspicions but nothing concrete.”

“Did you notice anything about the dates of the murders?” Jordan finally spoke, the soft rumble of his voice comforting and just a little bit welcome.

He’d been solid and stalwart beside me, not taking over but listening and thinking until he had something relevant to impart.

“Some are October 19th and some are October 20th.”

Today. Grief clawed at my heart. I couldn’t let myself think about the significance of the date.

“If you convert all the dates into Greenwich Mean Time, all the people were killed within six hours of each other.”

“That indicates some sort of blanket order,” I said.

“I didn’t know the other people involved. All I knew were my orders.” The old man tipped his head toward Katerina in apology.