Kate Donovan - Exit Strategy

Cranking up the hot water, she waited until steam filled the room, then stepped into the shower, which she remembered from the previous morning, when she had been able to appreciate it, had a rich blend of terra cotta tile and delft-blue glass that lined the walls. Breathtaking. Unfortunately, to see it, she’d have to open her eyes beyond tentative slits, and she still wasn’t ready for that.

“Hey,” said Ortega softly from behind her.

She would have laughed out loud if she didn’t know the vibrations would kill her. “You’ve got to be kidding. Go away.”

“Come on, crazywoman. I’ve got the codeine. Take it. You’ll feel better.”

She sighed as he turned her around and pulled her against himself with one arm while pressing the tablet to her lips. His naked body felt pretty good, and she was about to congratulate him again on the excellent job he had done, converting a naturally great physique into a true work of art.

Then he ruined the mood by insisting, “Consider it an order, Cutler. Take the pill.”

“Well, if you put it that way…” She pulled the pill into her mouth with her tongue, then spat it onto the floor of the shower, hoping she had fouled his bare feet.

“Damn!” He laughed with clear frustration. “You’re nuts, do you know that? I’m trying to take care of you. As the senior agent on this stupid mission-”

“Since when? You resigned, remember? I’m the only agent on this mission at the moment.”

“Don’t kid yourself. Your pretty ass must have been canned by now.” He pressed his lips to her ear. “Take the pill. I need you healthy.”

“No more drugs,” she told him. “The steam helps. Really. And so will the breathing exercises. I’ll always be grateful to you for teaching me those, Ortega. They’ve changed my life.”

“Come here.” He cradled her with one arm, while briskly massaging the top of her head with the fingers of his other, sending therapeutic waves through her skull.

“That feels so-oo good,” she admitted. Then she grimaced as his less lofty, more carnal interest manifested itself against her with rock-hard insistence.

“Ignore him,” Ortega muttered. “He still thinks he’s the Brigadier.”

She laughed out loud, then paid for it immediately with a stab behind her eyes. “Don’t make jokes,” she pleaded, leaning her face against his chest. “Just tell me the plan.”

He massaged her head again. “It’s all set. I told Jonathan I wanted to take you to Geneva. To seduce you into permanent submission with a night of clubbing, drinking and sex. I said we’d be back in time to meet with the others. As soon as we get away from this hell-hole we’ll contact SPIN, and they can set up a meet with international authorities in Geneva, who can take it from there.”

“We’re leaving Jonathan behind?”

“I like the guy, too, but he’s part of this conspiracy.”

“He can’t survive prison. He can’t even survive normal life! And what if something goes wrong? If the Brigade finds out he gave us all this intel, they’ll skin him alive.” She pulled away and opened her eyes fully for the first time, just to fix her stare on Ortega. “Can’t we bring him with us?”

“The guy was willing to murder ten thousand civilians to advance his cause,” he reminded her. But when she just continued to glare, he scowled and nodded. “Yeah, okay. But we need to move quickly. Some of the stuff Jonathan told me is shocking. We’ve got to get the details to SPIN right away. I went for a walk outside last night, trying to get reception on my satellite phone, but Jonathan’s system jammed it. We can’t take the chance of allowing this intel to die with us if something goes wrong.”

She backed out of the shower and wrapped herself in an oversized towel. “Hurry up, then. The sooner we do the exercises, the sooner we can get out of here.”

“Go ahead by yourself. I’ll head downstairs and see what’s going on.”

Miranda frowned. “I thought you did the routine religiously every morning. Dawn, noon and dusk. Remember?”

“For balance,” he agreed. “But balance isn’t what I need at the moment. The edge works for me. Keeps me focused. Sharp.”

“Did it ever occur to you that this is where you make your fatal mistake? Choosing the edge over your instincts when the rubber meets the road?” She located the metronome and wound it up, then set it on a bureau, comforted immediately by its steady beat. “Come on, Ortega,” she called out over her shoulder. “Get with the program. But put some underwear on first. I’m not ready for X-rated breathing. There’s only so much this head of mine can take before it officially explodes.”

The routine helped, but there was still a dull ache, enough so that the simple act of pulling a red tube top over her head made her wince. If only she had brought something cozier to wear with her favorite faded jeans and new red sneakers, but she had packed to support her call-girl image. Appearing attractive for the opposite sex was the last thing on her mind right now as she used all her concentration to tie her shoelaces.

“You were right, you know,” Ortega told her.

She turned toward his voice, then smiled to see that he had dressed in jeans and tennis shoes, too-black ones, accompanied by a black V-necked T-shirt. “Right about what?”

“The exercises helped. Balance is always the answer, right?”

She nodded.

“Then take the painkiller.” He held the container from her nightstand toward her.

“Codeine makes me sleepy,” she told him with a sigh. “Bring it to Geneva, and you have my word. As soon as we’re out of danger, I’ll take the whole bottle.”

He laughed and poured a pill into his palm, then broke it into halves. “How about a compromise?”

She knew he was right. She had to clear her head or she’d be no use to him, so she accepted the partial pill, washing it down with alpine spring water.

Then she continued to get ready, locating a rubber band in her suitcase and twisting her hair into a loose braid down her back and securing it. She wasn’t about to blow it dry, or to put on makeup. Men were going to have to love her for her personality today. If not, she’d strangle them.

Another wave of nausea washed over her, and she cursed herself for ever having touched Kell’s power pill. The euphoria and confidence, while nice, weren’t worth the price.

Maybe not for you, she scolded herself. But for men like Jonathan, who are scared of everything, it’s a dream come true. Who knows what therapeutic uses it might have for fearful, timid people all over the world. Remember Angelina Carerra? A victim transformed into a powerful, confident female? Something did that for her. Education, or love, or drugs. Something. And it changed her life.

She turned to Ortega. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Anything.”

“It’s about Angelina Carerra.”

Ortega winced. “That happened years ago. Long before I met you.”

Miranda laughed, then paid for it with a stab to her sinuses. “I’m serious, Ortega. She was timid, right? Downtrodden?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“I met her last week. She was confident. Radiant. In command. Men were jumping to obey her, and not out of lust. Out of fear and respect.”

“Impossible.” He cleared his throat, then admitted, “Radiant? Sure. She’s a good-looking woman. And it’s not all sex appeal. She’s sweet. But no one fears her.”

“It’s been ten years.”

“Doesn’t matter. Unless she’s had a complete personality transplant-”

“Or unless she was on drugs?”

He cocked his head to the side. “You said she seemed powerful, not high.”

“Right.” Miranda shrugged her shoulders. “I know it sounds crazy, but I also know how it feels to be on Jonathan’s power drug. That feeling of invincibility. I swear, Ortega, Angelina had it. So I’m asking you, is there any way she could be the Brigadier?”