Eye of the Storm (15 page)

"All right." Reece said, producing Simone's GPS. "If you're right, then one of the coordinate sets should be for Corpus."

Martin studied the numbers. "There. It should be this one." He traced a ray that ran from upper right corner to the lower left.

"How did you figure it out so fast?" Simone asked with a smile. As usual, Martin's prowess with numbers was impressive.

"Nautical charts. We used them a lot on the
Starlight.
Martin had spent the summer between his junior and senior year working on a shrimper. Reece had thought the hard physicality would be good for his brother. But Martin had reveled in the mathematical probabilities, like mapping possible places to drag for shrimp. "These coordinates are close to the ones we used. So I figure they have to be Corpus." Even Tate looked impressed.

Reece entered the numbers into the little tracking device. It hummed for a moment, and then presented them with a map of Texas, the south coast town flashing red. "I'll be damned."

"Where were you, Tate?" Simone asked. "You said it was somewhere close to D.C."

"Virginia. Richmond, actually. But I wasn't there very much."

"This looks right." Martin said, tracing another ray. Tate took the GPS and entered the coordinates. Richmond flashed red.

"All right. So we've got three left." Simone leaned against the back of a chair. "And one of them was Ed's. How do we use the information to find Bea and Mather?"

"Any idea what names they're using?" Reece asked as Tate typed the coordinates into the GPS.

"Probably their own. We used code names when we were part of D-9. So changing our identities wasn't all that necessary. Remember, our relocation was only a precaution. At that point there was no one on our trails, and presumably no one interested. The only risk came from someone discovering a) that the division existed, and b) that we were present in Sangre de Cristo."

"I've got a location in southwestern Montana. And another in Pennsylvania. In the north. Looks like maybe the Poconos."

"What about the third one?" Reece asked.

"Silicon Valley in California." Tate frowned. "That's got to be Ed. He was a whiz with computers."

"Or maybe that's too obvious," Simone said. "But at least we've got three places to check out."

"And you think they're using their real names?" Martin was still staring at the postcard.

"It's a possibility. Or if not, then maybe a variation." Simone studied her brother-in-law. "You think you can find them?"

"Maybe," he said, looking up from the postcard. "It's almost impossible these days not to leave some trace on the Internet. Even if you're laying low, there's usually something. A credit or utility account."

"But we don't have a computer," Reece said.

"Actually, we do." Martin's smile was smug. He was obviously feeling more comfortable now that he was out of the line of fire. "While you all were out providing target practice for our shooter, I was exploring our abode."

"Don't tell me this place yielded a computer." Tate shot a doubting look around the sparse accommodations.

"Not at first glance. But I'm an inquiring kind of guy." Martin pointed toward the kitchen. "There's a cellar here. And in the cellar a closet. Apparently our host isn't so trusting of uninvited guests."

"Turns out his concerns were warranted." This from Reece, who was trying not to laugh.

"Anyway," Martin said, refusing to allow his brother to ruin the moment, "I managed to unlock said closet. And among other things..." He walked over behind the sofa, producing a laptop. "Voila."

"Does it work?" Tate asked.

"Don't know. It booted up. You all came back from your river adventure before I had the chance to find out anything more. But there's an Ethernet cable. So I'm figuring that means there's a broadband connection somewhere around here."

"So much for escaping it all." Reece laughed. "Should have known Nick wouldn't be able to leave civilization behind."

"Hey, stop complaining," Martin said, already starting the hunt for the cable outlet. "If there really is Internet access, I bet you anything I can find your missing team members. Or at least where they were living until Baxter's little bombshell dropped out of their mailboxes."

"It's as good a place to start as anywhere." Tate said, loading the hunting rifle he'd pulled from over the fireplace. "While you do that, I think I'll check around outside. Make sure we haven't been discovered."

"Why don't you let me do that," Reece said, reaching for the weapon. "You and Simone need to come up with a list of people with a motive to come after D-9."

"There's no way to name them all," Tate said, not surrendering the gun.

"Well, we're going to have to try," Simone said, looking first at Reece and then at Tate. "Reece's right. The quicker we figure out who's behind this, the quicker we'll be able to figure out a way to put a stop to it. And despite the fact that we made a lot of enemies along the way, there are probably only a handful that would carry the grudge after all this time."

"All right." He nodded, handing over the rifle. "Guess you've got a point."

Reece took the gun, wondering if he'd imagined the other man's reluctance to part with it. Even if he hadn't, he told himself it didn't mean anything. Just a natural desire to maintain some semblance of control.

And he, of all people, certainly understood that.

*****

SIMONE STOOD on the front porch, letting the stillness of the mountains surround her. Sunset in the mountains was quick, the moment between light and dark divided by a second when the sun hung motionless against the tops of the mountains. There and then gone, taking with it the world's light. There would be stars soon, but for the moment there was only the deep cloak of darkness.

Light from the cabin spilled out across the porch and onto the cropped grasses that passed for a lawn. Simone stepped off the wooden planking and made her way toward the split-rail fence that surrounded the house.

Reece was standing near a corner at the driveway. He was barely discernible in the half-light, but Simone figured she'd be able to find him even in the dark. "Thought maybe you could use some company." She stopped, looking out over the fence at the trees beyond. "You see anything?"

"If there's someone out there, he's keeping to himself."

"We're way off the beaten path, and assuming we lost him when we were in the river, it won't be easy for him to pick up our trail."

"But eventually he'll find us." Reece turned toward her, his face still hidden in shadow.

"Yeah. I think we can count on that. Unless we find him first."

"You guys come up with any ideas about who it might be?"

"As I said before, the list is long. But we both agree that one of Ramirez's followers is a good bet. Tate caught a glimpse of the guy in the woods and said he could have been Latino."

"But I thought no one knew you were in Sangre de Cristo?"

"They weren't supposed to. But the speculation was there. And the truth is that Martin was right. If a person wants to find someone badly enough they'll find a trail. Internet or otherwise."

"You think Maurice cracked?"

"The Maurice I knew would have taken it to the grave. But he was getting older. And things change. Priorities shift." She shrugged. "Doesn't really matter who gave us up. What's important is to identify the hunter."

"So what about relatives, or henchmen or something. Your original intel say anything about Ramirez's family or friends?"

"There was a wife, of course. And three children, if I'm remembering right. At least two of them were in Sangre de Cristo." She thought again about the children who had died in the village, the memory making her shudder.

Reece noticed, his brows drawing together in worry.

But she shook her head, waving a hand. "It's just so hard to forget."

"Is that what the nightmares were about?" The question was cautious, as if he wasn't certain she would answer. But she owed him that much. At least this part of it. Her nightmares weren't always about the massacre. Sometimes it was her mother or sometimes others from her past. But it really didn't matter; they all revolved around the same theme.

"Yes," she said, looking down at her hands, searching for the right words. "They were worse when we first met. That's why I wouldn't stay the night for so long. I didn't want you to know. But eventually, I just took the chance."

"You said you never remembered what you were dreaming about." He stared into the dark, clearly trying to control his emotions. "I thought maybe it was something to do with me. Especially when we started to fight so much."

"Oh God, no." She reached out to touch his hand, but stopped herself mid-action, letting it fall to her side instead. "It was never about you."

"But it seemed like they came more frequently toward the end of our marriage."

"Reece, I've always had the nightmares. Maybe you were just more aware of them at the end."

He frowned, started to say something more, and then dropped it, clearly not wanting to start something that couldn't be finished. At least not here. "Do you still have them?"

She nodded. "I doubt they'll ever go away. Some things just can't be processed completely. And that's what a nightmare is, isn't it? Our subconscious trying to deal with the incomprehensible?"

"Something like that." He turned to look at her. "You know, for a kick-ass CIA agent, you're pretty damn philosophical."

She smiled in the dark. "Don't tell anyone. I wouldn't want the word to get out." She put her foot up on the railing, staring out at the mountains. "Do you ever think about the beginning, when we were first in love and it seemed that nothing could stop us?"

"Sure. I think about it a lot. I wonder what the hell happened."

"I don't mean that. I'm just asking if you remember the good times. I'd like to think that no matter what happens between us, those memories can't be corrupted."

"Preserving the fantasy?"

She turned to look at him, thinking he was making fun of her, but he only looked sad. "I suppose you could call it that. But sometimes when I'm looking out at the sunset I remember those nights on the beach in Antigua."

"Our honeymoon."

She nodded. "It was magical. Like the whole world belonged to us. And every little thing was meant for our pleasure or amusement."

"It must have been really different from what you were used to."

"It was like waking up on a different planet." She tipped her head to look up at the stars. "But it was the same one. See." She pointed at the sky. "There's Orion. And Cassiopeia, and Ursa Major." She sketched the Big Dipper with her index finger. "Wherever you are, they're always there. Stupid, I know, but I find it comforting."

"No. I understand what you're saying—it's nice to have constants. Something that you can hold on to. Like a memory."

"Yeah."

They stood in companionable silence, the first she could remember in over a year. How sad that they'd lost the ability to be comfortable just being alone together. It had been such a beautiful gift.

"Martin have any luck with the computer?" he asked, forcing her thoughts to the here and now.

"Yeah." She blew out a breath, running a hand through her hair. "He's holed up in the loft trying to get a bead on Mather and Bea. We were right about the Silicon Valley coordinates. Martin found an article in a computer journal citing an Edward Hammond. There was even a picture. Seems he capitalized on the government's training." An image of Ed bleeding in the forest presented itself front and center. "Not that it did him a damn bit of good."

"I'm sorry about your friend." Reece reached over to touch her shoulder and she jumped at the contact. "Did I hurt you?" There was real concern in his voice, and so she answered honestly.

"No. I'm fine. It's just that I..." She trailed off, wishing she'd lied. That she'd told him it was the tom skin from the bullet graze.

"What?"

"Nothing. I guess I'm just not sure of how we're supposed to interact. Now that we're.

"Divorced?"

She nodded, feeling really stupid. She'd thought she'd had it all sorted out. But now she just felt raw—and confused. So much had passed between them in the last forty-eight hours, feelings she'd thought dead rekindling. But still nothing tangible had changed.

"I know what you mean." Somehow he'd managed to close the distance between them, his breath warm against her face. She knew every inch of him. Every mole, every scar. In many ways she knew him better than she knew herself. And the idea that he was no longer a part of her was as inconceivable as it was unavoidable.

"Do you really think we could have made it if I'd told you the truth?" She tipped her head up to meet his gaze, trying to find some hint of what he was feeling.

"My instinct is to say yes. To blame your lies for all our problems." He reached out to cup her face. "But that wouldn't be fair. It takes two people to make a marriage, and I suppose in my own way I was as disengaged as you. The truth is we both have issues. But the simple fact remains that, whatever the reasons, we couldn't make it work."