Kara Lennox - Under Deepest Cover

“Did you make any arrests?” she asked, not too sure she wanted to hear the answer.

“Not yet. Vargov knows we’ve got him, though. He went on the run.”

“Oh, no.”

“We know where he is, but he thinks he’s slipped the noose. We’re just waiting to see where he goes for help, who he contacts. It shouldn’t be much longer.” He took his first good look at his living room. “What in the world have you been doing?”

“Breaking a code.”

“Any progress?”

“I know this sounds crazy, but I think I’ve figured it out.”

“Ha! I knew you could do it.”

Unable to contain her excitement, she showed Bryan how the coded copy referred to a URL connected to the product Web site. On a page of customer testimonials, a matrix of numbers and letters specified streets and block numbers in and around New York.

“You take my breath away,” Bryan said. “This is brilliant.”

But suddenly all Lucy could think about was taking Bryan’s breath away by another method, one that involved a lot less clothing.

Bryan obviously had the same idea, and they didn’t even make it to the bedroom.

They didn’t make it past the living room floor. They rolled naked on the soft, lamb’s wool rug, and when their fevered lovemaking was concluded, they both had multicolored Post-it notes stuck to their bodies and in their hair.

A few days later Bryan came home in a foul mood from another of his mysterious errands. It was the first time Lucy had seen him anything but perfectly controlled-well, except for when they were making love-and her heart just about stopped when he rebuffed her normally affectionate greeting.

He was getting tired of her already, she realized. They’d spent too much time together.

He did not volunteer any information about his day, and she didn’t ask. She wasn’t entitled to the details of his investigation, after all, and she was frankly surprised he’d told her as much as he had over the past few days.

“Scarlet has tickets to a play,” she ventured, thinking he might need a diversion. “She invited us to come along with her and John.”

“You go ahead if you want. I’m waiting for phone calls.”

Lucy knew perfectly well he could receive phone calls anywhere. He didn’t need to stay home for that. But she let it pass.

“Then I won’t go, either,” she declared. “It wouldn’t be any fun without-Bryan, what’s wrong? Has something happened?”

“Stungun’s dead. They found him in the Potomac River.”

“That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

“He’s been dead for at least a week.”

“Which means he didn’t disappear because he was on the run. He was murdered.”

“Someone killed him, yes. His body wasn’t meant to be found. They wanted me to believe he was the betrayer. Now I have no idea who it is. But the list of suspects is shrinking.”

He didn’t seem to want comforting, so Lucy didn’t try to touch him. “I’m so sorry,” she said again. “Were you close to him?”

“We don’t make friends at the agency. But he was a good man. I didn’t want to believe he was dirty. Part of me is relieved that he probably wasn’t. But that doesn’t do him much good in his condition.”

“His family will know he died a hero. Does he have a family?”

“I have no idea. We never exchange personal information.”

Lucy wondered whether poor Stungun had a mother, a wife, kids who would mourn him or maybe think he’d run out on them. Would they ever know what happened? Or would he just never come home?

“What if something happened to you?” Lucy asked in a quiet voice. “Would your family know?”

“I have a safety deposit box that will be opened in the event I disappear or die, explaining everything to my family. Well, as much as I can explain.”

“I’m not sure I want to talk about this anymore. It’s too depressing.” A few days ago she’d been so excited about solving the code in the tabloid. She’d been giddy at the idea that her information might help catch a spy and prevent sensitive information from getting into the wrong hands. Now the whole spy thing left her sick to her stomach. It wasn’t glamorous. It was dangerous and ultimately tragic.

“There’s more bad news,” Bryan said. “Vargov got away. He went into a crowd and lost his tail.”

Lucy hadn’t believed she could feel any lower, but now she did. Even the realization that she wouldn’t be leaving Bryan’s protective custody anytime soon didn’t cheer her. This was no way to live, scared to go out in public, feeling powerless, no job, no home of her own.

They had to catch Vargov and his accomplice. “Do you have a plan?”

“I’m working on it.” He took a deep breath, then looked at Lucy and managed a smile. “I’m sorry. I feel like I’ve really messed things up for you.”

“I don’t know what you could have done. Who was tailing Vargov?”

“What?”

“Isn’t it possible someone let him go on purpose?”

He shook his head. “We recruited some FBI agents on that detail. They couldn’t possibly be involved.”

Lucy didn’t know what else to say on the subject. “Are you hungry?” she asked.

He seemed to have to think about that. “Yeah. I don’t think I’ve eaten all day.

Let’s go downstairs. The restaurant is quiet this time of day.”

Lucy wasn’t hungry, but she wanted to keep him company.

Stash put them in the booth reserved for the Elliotts, the most private spot in the whole restaurant. Bryan requested a bowl of Irish stew, though it was hot as blazes outside.

“Surely that’s not on the menu,” she said, since Irish stew was neither French nor Asian.

“Comfort food. Chef Chin can make anything. Gram used to make that for me.”

Poor Bryan. She’d never seen him in such a state. She wanted to make it better, but she couldn’t. So she remained silent, sipping on a cup of coffee. She’d be there for him if he wanted to talk.

He ate his meal in silence, too. She doubted he even tasted it-his thoughts seemed to be far, far away.

Stash wandered by and, seeing that Bryan’s bowl was empty, asked, “You want some dessert? Chef Chin was experimenting with some lemon-butter fortune cookies this afternoon. I thought they were magnifique.”

“Sure,” Bryan said absently. Stash headed for the kitchen, but his cell phone rang and he stopped midstride to answer. Bryan watched him, and the ghost of a smile crossed his face. “Ah, I know that look. Stash has a new girlfriend. Those cookies are long forgotten.”

“I’ll get them,” Lucy said, scooting out of the booth.

“Lucy, you don’t have to wait on me.”

“I don’t mind. Sit tight.”

Lucy wandered into the kitchen, which was strangely deserted. Now, she thought, where would Chef Chin have stored those cookies? There was a hallway lined with custom shelving where staples were stored in clear plastic storage bins of various sizes. She found something that looked like fortune cookies, opened the container and took a whiff. Lemon. These had to be the ones.

She picked up the container, turned and ran into the chest of a young man wearing the apron of a busboy.

“Oh, excuse-” A hand over her mouth cut off her apology, and the plastic container fell to the floor, cookies spilling and breaking everywhere.

“Shut up,” came the urgent voice of the man behind her. “Cooperate, and you won’t be hurt.”

Oh, right! He wrenched her arms behind her, attempting to handcuff her. Lucy screamed and kicked out viciously at the busboy in front of her. She got in one good blow to the guy’s stomach before he captured her legs and quickly wrapped duct tape around her ankles. He performed this task with amazing efficiency, giving the impression that Lucy wasn’t his first kidnapping. In seconds flat she was immobilized, gagged and being carried toward the back door.