Cold Light of Day (6 page)

A guy in a hoodie walked toward her and an instinctive lick of fear snaked up her spine. Walking alone at night was the only time she wished she was a guy. She watched the man out of the corner of her eye, but he carried on past, not paying her any attention.

Two minutes later, she got to the place where she was housesitting for her boss and let herself in. He was on sabbatical in Scotland until the end of next June. They worked at the cutting edge of technology that controlled how devices communicated with one another—like the fridge telling the Internet it ran out of eggs. Scarlett was tackling vulnerabilities that allowed another device to hijack the system and enable it to start typing malicious code. USB connections were particularly vulnerable. In some ways the research was mundane, in others it was the key to the future of all secure communication.

When housesitting, all she had to do was water her boss’s plants and screen his mail for anything important. In the lab, she was also in charge of his grad students and putting out any metaphorical fires. She loved being his Research Fellow and she especially loved it when he wasn’t there. Maximum freedom. Minimum interference. It made building and testing her own electronic bugging devices so much easier.

She looked around. It was a gorgeous house in a nice neighborhood, but its silence suddenly struck her as empty. Lonely. Cold. Desolate.

Like her life.

Most of the time she was okay being on her own, preferred it even, but sometimes, just sometimes, she yearned for basic human companionship. Matt Lazlo’s face flashed through her mind. There had been something in his eyes. Maybe not anything real or lasting, but definite interest, which would have kept the cold loneliness at bay for at least one night.

It had been an illusion, though. He’d been looking at glamorous Sarah LeMay, not plain boring Scarlett Wilson Stone, daughter of the most notorious spy since the end of the Cold War.

Her cell phone rang. She didn’t want to answer, but it was Angel calling. “What’s up?”

“If you want to see your friend alive, meet me in the parking lot at Rock Creek Park Trails in thirty minutes, north end of Virginia Avenue. Come alone.” The accent was thick Russian. “Do not contact the police.”

The phone went dead.
No.
She stood there swaying as the world shifted off its axis.
They had Angel
. The Russians had figured out what she’d tried to do tonight, and her friend was paying the price.

*     *     *

Raminski sat in
the car in a parking lot on New Hampshire Ave. He dialed Dorokhov on an encrypted phone.

“Did you get her?”

“She wasn’t at the house so I took the other girl who was with her earlier. I found out something interesting.” He stared at the contact list on Angel LeMay’s smartphone, complete with profile photographs. “The girl who broke into your office is not who she said she was. She isn’t LeMay’s other daughter.”

“Who is she?” Dorokhov demanded.

He waited a second. “Richard Stone’s daughter.”

Malevolence seeped through the night air, thick and pervasive.

“What do you want me to do about her?” More silence. Raminski waited for orders.

“Kill her.” Soft. Quiet.

Interesting
. “And the congressman’s daughter?”

There was another hesitation, this one rife with calculation. “Keep her somewhere safe. I want to talk to her.”

“That could prove risky.” In too many ways to mention.

“Do it.” Dorokhov hung up.

The man started his engine. He called a second number and told the other man the same thing he’d told the ambassador. Interestingly the orders were identical. Richard Stone’s daughter died tonight.

M
att walked up
the steps of the row house where he’d dropped the women earlier, put his finger on the buzzer, and kept it there until he heard footsteps. He’d rather fast-rope onto the roof from a helicopter and break in via an upstairs window than play the lovesick fool.

Congressman Adam LeMay opened the door, thankfully not yet retired to bed. His brows scrunched together and then his gaze dropped down Matt’s borrowed black t-shirt, fatigues, and combat boots.

“Congressman LeMay. My name is Matt Lazlo. I need to speak to your daughters, sir.”

The man’s brows stretched high and wide. He opened his mouth to answer, but someone interrupted.

“Who is it, Adam?” The door opened wider to reveal a woman in her fifties with dark hair and a rounded figure. Her mouth was downcast, clearly expecting bad news from a caller this late at night.

A black SUV with tinted windows idled at the curb. They’d picked up Alex Parker and Mallory Rooney from Parker’s DC apartment. They were now inside the car, setting up electronic wire taps on the LeMays’ cell phones and landlines to see if they could get a handle on what the women had been up to, and who they might be working with. Frazer had called in a personal favor and got a warrant signed by a federal judge, who also happened to be Agent Rooney’s father.

They weren’t even case agents, but no way was Matt about to leave Sarah LeMay at the mercy of Russian displeasure. Frazer was worried this was some sort of personal vendetta between the LeMays and Andrei Dorokhov and wanted to act before it morphed into a full-blown diplomatic incident at the worst possible moment given current souring of east-west relationships. Speed was vital; so was secrecy. And, yes, a little personal payback might not be bad for Matt’s ego, considering Sarah had made him look like a damn fool.

“I met your daughters earlier tonight. One of them left something in my vehicle.”

“Was it an earring?” the woman asked.

She lost so much more than an earring.

“You didn’t think it was a little late to drop by?” The woman’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she checked her watch. Midnight.

This was why kids shouldn’t live with their parents after the age of twenty-one.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” he insisted but didn’t budge.

The congressman looked baffled. The mother seemed to realize he was serious about seeing them right now. “Okay. Wait here. I’ll go upstairs and see if she wants to talk to you.”

Matt opened his mouth to insist on talking to both of them, but the congressman stood back as if resigned. “You better come in.”

“Angel. Angel?” The mother’s voice was getting louder and louder from a few flights up.

“It was actually Sarah I wanted to speak to,” said Matt.

“Sarah?” The congressman repeated as if he didn’t remember he had a second daughter.

“Adam,” Mrs. LeMay shouted down the stairwell. “Check the kitchen, honey, she’s not in her room.”

Obediently, the congressman went to the back of the house and started calling Angel’s name. There was no reply. A prickle of unease slid under Matt’s skin. Murphy’s Law. Anything that could go wrong would go wrong.

“Is she in Sarah’s room, Valerie?” The congressman started up the stairs and Matt followed, leaving the door wide open behind him because he had a feeling the shit was about to hit the fan.

He strode into what was clearly a young woman’s bedroom. There were discarded clothes on the floor, including the dress Angel had worn earlier. He walked through the open door into the adjoining room. Spotted the silver dress Sarah had worn hanging on the back of the door. No sign of either woman. He got a bad feeling about this. “Be careful what you touch.”

They both gaped at him with matching expressions of shock.

“What do you mean, ‘be careful what you touch’?” the congressman blustered, then turned to his wife. “You don’t think something bad has happened, do you?”

“Maybe she went home with Scarlett?” Valerie nibbled her lip, then picked up the landline beside the bed and dialed a number.

Who the hell was Scarlett? Matt had a horrible feeling he knew. Angel had called Sarah “Scar” in the limo.

“Scarlett isn’t answering. I’m going to try Angel’s cell phone.” The woman dialed another number. Her face grew very pale. “She’s not answering.” She looked up. “She always carries her phone.”

“It’s Sarah I want to speak to,” Matt said carefully.

“Sarah?” Congressman LeMay’s face was a picture of confusion.

“When did you meet Sarah?” the mother asked.

Matt knew he was missing a whole bunch of pieces from the puzzle and wasn’t about to expound on his ignorance until he’d gleaned everything he could from the family.

“I need you both to come downstairs and we can discuss this,” he said firmly.

“What’s going on?” The mother’s eyes honed in on him and narrowed.

“Downstairs. Now.” Matt channeled his inner drill instructor and the LeMays finally did as requested.

Frazer stood in the entranceway downstairs.

“Neither woman is here,” Matt told his boss.

Frazer nodded and introduced himself to the LeMays. “Where else might your daughters have gone at this time of night, sir?”

“What’s this about?” the mother asked. “Angel tells us if she’s going out. She knows I don’t sleep well if I don’t know she’s safe.”

“And Sarah?” Matt asked quietly.

“
Sarah
is out of town.” The congressman glared at him impatiently.

“I was introduced to her tonight at the Residence of the Russian Ambassador to the US.”

Valerie’s eyes bugged, and her face drained of color. She started to sag, and her husband caught her. “You must be mistaken.”

“Pretty sure I was there and not tripping.”

“Lazlo,” Frazer cautioned.

“Angel took
Scarlett
to the Russian Embassy?” The congressman asked his wife with horror lacing his words. “She wouldn’t.”

“It appears she did.” The woman’s lips were bloodless. She pressed them together and inhaled, as if drawing in strength.

“Who is Scarlett?” Matt asked. Obviously, the woman he’d met earlier tonight had lied about her identity.

Valerie’s fingers twisted into knots. “Scarlett Stone. I still don’t know what that has to do with Angel being missing—”

“Scarlett’s a good friend of Angel’s,” the congressman cut in. “I can’t believe they’d go to that party after I expressly told her to decline the invitation. Damn, I need a drink.” The guy looked like he was about to pass out.

Scarlett Stone
…

“Why do I recognize that name?” asked Matt.

Alex Parker appeared in the doorway. “Because she’s the daughter of Richard Stone.”

“Richard Stone the
spy
?” Frazer ground out.

Holy motherfucker.
That was the sound of shit hitting the fan.

Alex motioned him and Frazer to come closer to the door, and murmured quietly, “Angel’s cell phone was just used to call Scarlett Stone. Someone with a Russian accent told Ms. Stone if she wanted to see her friend alive she had to meet them in thirty minutes. Alone.”

Matt felt his lip curl. Some bastard was using one woman to threaten the other, which meant Scarlett and her friend were both in very real danger. He checked his watch. The clock was ticking if they wanted to get a handle on this thing.

“You think they have Angel?” asked Frazer.

“They have her cell phone and the woman is missing. It’s a safe assumption,” said Parker.

Frazer’s gaze was compassionate when it landed on the LeMays, but he kept his voice down so they couldn’t overhear. “They can’t know about this. Not yet. They’ll get everyone on the Hill involved and both girls will be dead before morning.”

“So you deal with them while I go pick up Miss
Scarlett
and set a trap for whoever has the LeMay girl,” Matt urged his boss. “Rooney can come with me.”

Frazer was quiet for what seemed like minutes but was just a few seconds. “I need Rooney here. Her political connections might work in our favor.”

“Fine. I’ll go alone—we don’t have time to wait for backup.” Matt was itching to move. The clock was ticking.

“I’ll go with you. I have some experience.” Alex Parker’s voice held a trace of irony.

Frazer nodded and checked his watch. “I’m on damage control. I need to make some phone calls to put out as many fires as I can before these people start another war.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Like we don’t have enough going on at the moment.”

The country was already on the edge of conflict with half the Middle East after terrorists attacked an American mall two weeks ago. With the VP’s death further ramping up tension and general disquiet around the country, this wasn’t a good time to start accusing the Russian Ambassador of kidnapping a congressman’s daughter. Not without solid proof, and even then the situation would be a political minefield.

Matt headed out the door to the SUV. His priority was finding Angel LeMay and Scarlett Stone alive, and then he was going to make sure they were both very sorry they’d lied to a federal agent.

Mallory Rooney stood on the sidewalk. She sent him a measured smile—one that said she wasn’t sure of him yet. She was the daughter of a US senator, and some of their BAU-4 colleagues had been less than welcoming when she’d arrived in the unit in late November, bypassing the usual entry protocols. When the then unit boss had unexpectedly quit and Frazer had been promoted, the other agents in the unit had expected Rooney to receive her transfer orders. Instead, Frazer had given her his full backing. That was good enough for Matt. She was a good agent, if a little inexperienced.