Comeback Page 9

  He'd done no such thing, but he'd know she was calling from a public line—the same way he'd initially called her, which meant he wasn't too worried about the content of the call. "I'm glad it suits you," he said, using the deep, ringing tones of his public voice. "I wanted to make sure your lunch yesterday was sitting well."

  "Excellent lunch," she said. "Got a little spicy—Kenneth and I had a little heartburn later in the day. But we're fine today."

  "That's good to hear." Innocuous words, but his dry tone let her know the message was received. "I trust you'll avoid those dishes in the future."

  "That's the plan. Today we'll try a little marketplace food." At least, that was her intent—to get out into the city, to the marketplace gossip zones she knew from her legate days, and see what info she could pick up. Allusions to the defector, any hint of what had truly happened the evening that Cole had enlisted three children in his attempts to evade a gunfight. Any hints of who the other men might have been.

  For Selena was quite sure they hadn't stopped looking for Aymal.

  She and Allori exchanged an additional pleasantry or two, until interrupted by an incoming call on his end. She counted herself lucky to have gotten straight through to him in the first place, and reached for her comb to tackle her hair. Dobry didn't look up from his kit, but she felt his attention nonetheless.

  "You know, you're CIA now. It's the station chief you should be calling."

  Half-a-dozen sarcasms rose to mind; Selena squelched them all. Could be she'd just never get on this guy's good side. "I thought we'd discuss moving forward first."

  This time he turned to look at her. "Sounded to me like you've made up your mind."

  I had a lot of time to think last night while you were grunting. "I've got my preferences, yes. If you'd rather just go with that, it's fine by me."

  He flashed her a look that said she couldn't play him that easily. "And what's that? Information shopping?"

  "Gathering HUMINT," she agreed. Human intelligence, i.e. gossip. "We know Cole was at that shooting scene a day and a half ago—"

  "Do we?"

  She encountered a tangle in her hair and stopped the comb. "That's why I'm here, remember? I'm the closest thing we've got to being inside Cole's head right now."

  For that she got a grudging nod, and Dobry turned back to his kit, pulling out the pencil and spray with which he'd gruff up his eyebrows. He added, "We also know he hasn't checked in with his friends here. Could mean he's not in the area any longer."

  "Could mean Betzer was lying," Selena countered. "Can't say as I think he really trusts me."

  "Fighting off terrorists isn't the same as keeping secrets," Dobry said, in tones of significance.

  Bah. Selena felt a little Tasmanian Devil rearing up inside, ready to roar out of here and conduct business in Berzhaan as she'd always done. She didn't need Dobry for this; she only truly needed him if she went to the outlying areas and wanted to keep a low profile.

  But it would probably annoy the station chief if she dumped her erstwhile partner.

  So she said, "Between Aymal, his pursuit and the very public encounter between them all, there's the potential for a lot of people to be interested in this situation. The more they've been digging around, the more chance they've stirred things up…the more chance we've got to gather up details that might mean something to me. Since our other current option is to go on a door-to-door search of Suwan, HUMINT seems like a good place to start."

  His sideways glance sent a clear message of dissent. "We can go back to Betzer. You seem so sure Jones will connect with him—if he hasn't already—it seems worth the trouble to convince him we're worth the trouble. Money talks to mercs—"

  She shook her head, short and sharp; wet hair gently slapped her cheek. "He doesn't trust us. That means I don't trust him. And I don't trust anyone who's only doing it for the paycheck, either."

  That silenced him a moment, but only a moment. "You don't know enough about him to know why he does what. He proved himself last night when he thought he was saving your life—"

  Right. Taking advantage of the moment to win her trust after a bad start, because he, too, wanted to be in on helping Cole. Noble enough as a goal, but if that was an example of his methods, she could do better to keep him at a distance.

  "You're right," she said. "I don't know enough about him to know why he does what. That's why I want to take the time to scope things out a little more fully."

  Dobry pulled off his shirt and picked up the body padding that came along with Kenneth Goff. The eyebrows were already what could only be called wildly successful—anyone looking at that face would hardly notice eye color or nose size or even whether Goff had any teeth left. He said, "If you weren't so blinded by your conviction that Jones has already been there and that Betzer is holding out on us—"

  "He is," Selena insisted.

  "—then you might be able to see he can be a useful tool. You don't have to bring him into your family, Selena. Just use him."

  His patronizing tone cut through her determination to play nice. "Do I have to remind you I've got plenty of experience with using judgment in the field?" she asked him. "This very field, in fact." She dropped the comb onto the bed, stood up to stalk over to his table as he looked up from fastening the padding. "I can do this without you…can you say the same?"

  His face darkened, a deep flush that told her how close he'd been to annoyance in the first place. "If you think I'm just here to parrot your opinions—"

  "I don't." She snapped the words out, and made herself take a deep breath. "I don't give a flying fig if you disagree with me. But you'd damned well better not imply that because I disagree with you, I'm suffering emotional blindness." When he glanced up and met her gaze, she held the prickly connection longer than she really wanted to. "You've got your own baggage. I know how badly you want to get into the field again on a permanent basis. Wouldn't it be just great if you could turn this assignment into some sort of coup with you as the headliner? Well, here's a newsflash for you—you can have all the credit you can grab as long as we find Cole and Aymal. That's why I'm here."

  Dobry was silent, steady under her regard until his curt nod broke the moment. "We'll try your sources this morning," he said. "And then we'll see."

  And this is why I was perfectly happy to be a Pandora. But Selena took the tiny victory and turned her attention back to the process of finding Cole.

  THE SUWAN MARKETPLACE bustled around them, a scene straight from Indiana Jones. Selena bit into a fresh fig and surveyed the area, contemplating their next step. After a morning of veiled and not-so-veiled questioning of once-established informants, she had little to go on. No one was aware of renewed Kemeni activity, though many were aware that international games were playing out on their turf. Some even knew it involved a defector. They knew of the incident surrounding Aymal's first failed extraction, and they knew of the street firefight Selena was sure had involved Cole—but not any of the details. Not who had done what or where to find anyone now.

  "That was a waste of time," Dobry muttered, sticking to his gravelly Kenneth Goff voice even in their quiet conversation. He was good, she had to give him that. He talked differently, moved differently, and gave an entirely different impression as Goff. Goff was a man at home on a golf course, but not particularly good at it. A self-absorbed, currently uncomfortable man who was here out of a misplaced need to watch over Selena for his poker-game friend Cole.

  "We didn't get anything out of the station chief this morning, either," Selena reminded him, tucking a strand of hair back into her scarf. She wore her own clothes this day—she wanted to be recognized. But even as a legate she'd always worn a respectful scarf when she was out and about in the general population. She tied it at the nape of her neck rather than fastening it under her chin, but her shoulder-length brunette hair was covered and her three earrings were just tiny studs. It was how the people here knew her, even two seasons later. Stylized cargo slacks, a sturdy
tailored pullover sweater against the late fall chill, a heavily pocketed vest. It'd be better if she had her leather duster, but she wasn't the one who'd done the packing. "No confirmation of Kemeni activity, no word of Cole."

  Dobry looked no more happy about it than she.

  "Look," Selena said, "we've planted seeds. My sources know I'm trying to make their city safer—they've always known that."

  "The payoff promises don't hurt."

  "No, they don't. And they know I'm good for it, too." Selena itched to return to the hotel room, to grab a few moments alone with the laptop. Problem was, it wasn't her laptop—it was a company machine, built and configured to interface securely with the CIA network.

  But not with Oracle. Not securely. She'd have to pick up the phone and deal with the sexless artificial voice at the other end of the Oracle number. She licked her fig-sticky fingers and checked her watch. "Too early for Agabaji's, but we'll give it a try later. By now they'll have heard that I'm here and hunting Cole—anyone interested in unloading details in exchange for cash will be looking for me there."

  Dobry shrugged, not disagreeing and not approving. She thought about asking for suggestions—anything besides going to Betzer so soon, although she had no doubt they'd end up back at his doorstep eventually. She just wasn't ready to bring him into the fold. Trust went both ways, and she had the feeling the previous night's "rescue" had been to gain her trust as much as he truly thought he'd saved her hide.

  Not that she blamed him. Cole would take Betzer apart if he learned of her reception at the hands of his former mates.

  But before Selena could open her mouth and actually ask Dobry if he had any particular way he'd like to spend the time until Agabaji's opened, someone bumped into her back. At the same moment a distracted middle-aged man brushed into her from the front. Classic bump-and-grab.

  Oh, no you don't! Selena all but bared her teeth and instantly kicked into fight mode. She didn't wait to feel the pluck of her vest—her hand dove for her roomy pocket, finding it already occupied. A yank and she had the man's hand clear, a solid grip on his thumb. A twist as the man tried to jerk away, and the thumb bent back far enough to make him cry out, his fingers splaying. "Not your pocket!" Selena told him fiercely, not bothering to use the Berzhaani language. Her meaning came through clearly enough and by then the man who'd first bumped into her had backpedaled away, turning to run as Dobry reached for him. Selena released the pickpocket and let him bolt, as those closest to the confrontation pulled their belongings more tightly to themselves and shifted away.

  "What the hell—?" said Dobry, and at first she thought he meant the pickpocket team but then she realized he meant…

  Her.

  "Are you trying to attract attention? You probably dislocated his thumb!"

  "Probably," Selena said, shifting into the deep breathing that had helped to get her through the night. She crouched, her fingers gently picking between the cobblestones to retrieve what the man had lost. "Consider it a message."

  "What? The I'm here causing trouble in your country message?"

  In a way, she couldn't blame him. He excelled in the covert, in the quiet. In going unnoticed. He'd been trained to accomplish his assignments without leaving fingerprints, footprints or a trail of broken bones behind him. But the CIA had had its chance to do things quietly. With two very public if not yet identified incidents related to this defection already, quiet had made way for as fast as possible.

  Because Cole was out there, somewhere. Hiding his invaluable defector. Assessing the situation. Waiting for help. And if refusing to slink around allowed her to find them, to stop the imminent school attack one moment sooner, then leaving fingerprints and footprints was worth it.

  Except there was Dobry, still frowning at her. A frown, she noted with abstract detachment, that looked truly disturbing underneath those eyebrows. So she held out her hand with a hasty order that it not tremble as long as he was looking, and let him see what was nestled in her palm.

  Small. Discreet. Efficient. And surprisingly high tech.

  "Is that—" He reached for it, and the device was all but lost between the meaty pads of his thumb and forefinger.

  "Tracking device," she confirmed. "That particular pickpocket was more than what he seemed. And I just sent his people a message."

  He gave her a sour look. "And if he hadn't been? If he'd been a run-of-the-mill thief?"

  What was it about this guy that made her want to roll her eyes so often?

  Maybe it was just her. She'd done well in the hostage incident…but she'd been working on her own. She'd specialized in developing teamwork as a legate, but maybe when it came to fieldwork, she didn't have the teamwork gene. She didn't try to hide her annoyance this time. "Then maybe he'll stop targeting Western women."

  Dobry looked around the marketplace as if common sense had finally warned him they were making just as much of a scene as Selena's confrontation with the pickpocket. He turned to face the same direction as she and took her arm, moving them out of the limelight.

  She noticed he kept his touch light enough to be interpreted as a request, and not a demand. No dummy, anyway.

  "Okay," he said. "Let's get an early dinner, and we can hit Agabaji's on the early side. If you're right and we're lucky, there'll be a line of people waiting to get paid for what they know."

  Selena disengaged her arm, but she did it gently and kept pace with him. Fine with her if they left this place now. They'd planted their seeds…and she'd learned that, instead of killing her as had been tried the night before, someone would now try to use her to find Cole. Good luck with that, she thought at the nameless, faceless foe. You're gonna need it.

  "SELENA." The one-size-fits-all unisex voice of Delphi at Oracle's direct contact number greeted her with assurance. "Things are still messy in Berzhaan, it seems."

  She didn't bother to ask how Delphi knew it was her, or knew where she was. She'd only just been issued this phone and it wasn't supposed to be traceable, but…

  She'd be more surprised if Delphi didn't know she'd been yanked to Berzhaan to find Cole and his defector.

  "Very messy," Selena said. First things first. "Did you get my message? It turns out this defector has a lot more than weapons intel for us—there's a strike set for one of our schools."

  "We got the message." The computerized voice actually sounded brisk, even a little anxious. "No other details?"

  "None. I've got feelers out but I'm not sure we have that kind of time."

  "I agree," said the voice, completely impersonal again. "The Berzhaani police just found the vehicle that was stolen from the neighborhood in which the most recent gunplay of interest took place." That matter-of-fact voice made no attempt to soften the next words. "There was blood on the seat."

  Selena couldn't reply. After a long moment she realized she'd stopped breathing.

  "Not a significant amount," Delphi continued, "but it could be an important factor."

  "It could be Aymal's blood," Selena murmured, reassuring herself out loud.

  "Would Cole Jones let Aymal do the driving?"

  No. No, of course not. Cole wouldn't be free to plan on the fly if someone else was at the wheel. Selena glanced through the glass doors of the hotel balcony, able to see only Dobry's stocking feet as he sat with his legs splayed, reading news headlines on the laptop.

  "Do you have anything else for me?" she asked, the brusqueness coming back into her voice.

  "Only that the man found dead last night was a Kemeni, but there's no sign of Kemeni reorganization."

  "So he's either working on his own, or he's got an en-abler." Selena shook her head, looking out over a striking sunset above the Caspian Sea. "I need more than that. Nothing here is coming together. Two interrupted extractions, that smacks of inside information. And you don't get inside information unless you're good…and unless you've got money behind you."

  "We concur on all counts," Delphi said, sounding particularly impersonal. "We'll keep l
ooking. Check in soon."

  That was a dismissal if she'd ever heard one. Selena didn't mind it; she didn't bother to say goodbye any more than Delphi did.

  Cole was hurt. He was hurt, and she was no closer to finding him than she'd been before she'd left Athena Academy a day and a half earlier. No closer to stopping those terrorists.

  And dammit, she had a real thing about stopping terrorists.

  Selena looked through the glass at Dobry's feet and murmured, "If you thought I was making waves before, Dobry…you ain't seen nothing yet." For along with the constant impulse to overreact, the worry for a fellow operative who just happened to be her fiercely loved husband, the Taz in her was ready to strike out. To strike back.

  To do everything it took.

  COLE'S EYES WATERED. What an incredible smell you've discovered.

  The stench from the public bathroom was amazing, even a dozen feet away and tucked into a little alcove between stone buildings. A unisex building crammed in at the edge of a tiny Oguzka marketplace, it was just wide enough for two holes in the floor and plenty of evidence that not everyone found success in aiming for those holes.

  Cole had seen worse. Aymal as well, or surely he would have had some comment about them, the same sort of comment he'd made about sleeping over cows, the endless double-decker bus ride, or the need to ditch the nice trucklet they'd first stolen.

  Cole was sure of it by now. He'd found himself a defector insurgent wuss. He was sure of something else after these days of thought, too.

  He didn't trust the local station. The chief, yeah—even if the man was dirty, no one canny enough to be a double agent at that level would mess up two interceptions. Mess up badly. And Cole had no reason to suspect the man was dirty. But someone, somewhere along the line…it might even be as simple as a compromised communications system. Whoever'd gone for Aymal hadn't had much time to plan.