Payback Page 7

  Faith smiled at the way he said the words with such fierce satisfaction.

  “My stepfather took me under his wing. Trained me to succeed in business. He pointed out that the tricks I’d developed in order to survive on the street could be used to read and manipulate people in business deals. He taught me who was important to know and who it was mandatory to please. Most of all, he told me that it was possible to be a successful businessman, even in Moscow, and adhere to a code of honor.”

  Mark’s fingers teased at the edges of Faith’s black wig and she wished she could rip the damn thing off and show him the real her. But she had to be smarter than that. Even here on this isolated section of beach she feared detection.

  “I didn’t always listen to my stepfather,” Mark continued. “Trusting people didn’t come easily to me. I still considered myself in a fight for survival. Particularly once I was shipped off to boarding school, where I was picked on for being an American, even though by then I’d lived almost a third of my life in Russia. Still, I worked hard and rose to the top of my class. All the while studying my fellow students for behaviors I could mimic or weaknesses I could exploit in order to increase my status.”

  Faith shook her head, her cheek rubbing against his chest. “I bet the other kids were scared of you. A badass straight off the streets. Did you bloody a lot of noses?”

  Mark gave what she was coming to realize was an uncharacteristic snort. “Perhaps a few.” The satisfaction in his tone spoke to the tally being much more than a few. “I did have a lot of catching up to do, having missed so many years of school. But I eventually achieved parity with my peers. And my experience there is what led me to seek employment with the CIA.”

  “How so? I can’t imagine the CIA recruiting in Russian boarding schools.”

  Mark shifted position, so that Faith fit more snugly against him. “You’re right. It was nothing so direct as that. I didn’t get approached by the CIA until I was back in the United States, majoring in business at Harvard. But while reading Crime and Punishment in high school, I became obsessed with the idea of finding and killing the men who’d kidnapped and tortured my father to death. To do that, I needed strength. Skills. Power.”

  “Men? But I thought you said Jamieson ordered the hit?”

  Mark’s hand clenched in her hair, then relaxed. “As I mentioned, the initial conclusion everyone made was that the hit had been ordered by a mob boss in retaliation for a unfavorable verdict handed down by my father. However, no one was ever arrested for the murder. After I’d been with the CIA for several years, I uncovered the names of those responsible for kidnapping and torturing my father, and I…uh…”

  “You killed them, didn’t you?”

  Mark’s body tensed underneath her. The silence stretched out. Finally, he said, “Yes. That’s the kind of man I am, Faith.”

  She ran her hand lightly down his chest. “That’s okay. I… I’ve been to that mental place where I was so angry and so hurt that I contemplated murder. But I still don’t see the connection to Jamieson.”

  “I always assumed that the mobsters I killed were the only ones involved. Then Jamieson told me he had proof that the man who’d hired the mobsters to torture and kill my father was still alive. Bringing him Nevsky’s microchip became the price for that information. And for my admission into Kerberos.”

  “So…you gave him the microchip?”

  Mark’s chest rose under her cheek. “No. It turned out that Nevsky had a daughter that no one knew about. He arranged to have the microchip implanted in her abdomen during an appendectomy. The chip then received updates via a high powered radio receiver.”

  Faith flinched. “Oh. My. God. His daughter agreed to this?”

  “No. She didn’t even know her father. Her mother had run from Dr. Nevsky when their daughter was still an infant. Unfortunately, we learned that the microchip was booby trapped. Anyone who tried to remove it without knowing how to disable the trap would release a poison that would kill the woman.”

  Faith craned her neck to peer up at him, her stomach dropping. There was something in his voice. “Were you in love with her?”

  Mark’s body tensed. “I…um…” He swallowed heavily, but she had to give him credit. He met her eyes. “I thought I was.”

  Faith bit her lip and glanced away, but he put his finger under her chin and turned her face so she was forced to meet his gaze. “Faith, what I felt for Susana Dias—”

  She shoved away from him. “Susana Dias the supermodel? The woman who now has her own show on the Adventure Channel that documents her archaeological digs? That’s Dr. Nevsky’s daughter?” No wonder Mark had fallen in love with her. The woman possessed a sultry Brazilian beauty, had a love for life that shone fiercely from her eyes, and was intelligent to boot.

  Mark grabbed her shoulders. “Faith, listen to me. Yes, I was dazzled by Susana Dias. Looking back, though, what I felt for her was infatuation. The need to prove myself a better man by impressing such a celebrity. But it wasn’t real. This is real.” He bent his head and kissed her with a hunger Faith was helpless to deny.

  When they came up for air, she murmured, “So what happened?”

  His mouth flattened and he pulled Faith against his chest, blocking her view of his expression. “I kidnapped Susana Dias and took her to Moscow to the lab of one of Dr. Nevsky’s colleagues. Dr. Ivanov was the only man capable of safely removing the microchip. However, an SSU agent named Kai Paterson followed us to Moscow. There was a fight in Ivanov’s lab, and Paterson swallowed the microchip to prevent Ivanov from taking it. So I gave Jamieson a dummy microchip, then pretended innocence when the data on the chip turned out to be nonsense. That’s one of the reasons Jamieson doesn’t fully trust me. He doesn’t know if I made an honest mistake with the chip or deliberately acted against him.”

  He sighed. “During a meeting in Jamieson’s office a few days ago, I noticed on his desk a small, bronze, Etruscan horse with a dent in its shoulder. It was my father’s good luck piece that had been missing from his pockets when he died. I’d searched all over for the horse, wanting it as a memento of my father. When I spotted it next to Jamieson’s desk telephone, I knew then that he’d been playing me all along. Jamieson was the one who’d ordered my father’s death.”

  Faith’s heart ached for the little boy needing something to hold onto as a keepsake from his father. “But why let you see the horse?”

  “It’s just another move in the mind games we’re playing with one another.”

  Faith sat up so she could stare at Mark. “You’re walking a dangerous line. I don’t want you taking any unnecessary risks to help me.”

  Mark planted a hard kiss on her mouth. “I started down this road before I met you, Faith. Looking for evidence of what happened to your brother isn’t going to increase the likelihood that Jamieson will figure out what I’m up to.”

  “But—”

  Another kiss. “Do you have any idea how touched I am that you care?”

  Damn him. There he went again, melting her heart.

  “But I’m an experienced agent, Faith. Don’t give up on me. Together, we’ll bring down Jamieson.”

  She gave a rueful smile. “Together. I like the sound of that.”

  “That’s the best you could think of? To burn down the sister’s house?” Wayne Jamieson let his disdain seep into his voice and tightened his grip on the phone. He was going to have to speak with Dr. Kaufmann again about inflating his reports regarding the abilities of the men he sent to Kerberos. This supposed assassin from the new, intelligence boosting side of Kaufmann’s program possessed minimal creativity and displayed a distinct lack of ability to predict possible outcomes from his actions. “Did it occur to you to set a trap for her instead? Question her friends and neighbors by force to find out where the woman has disappeared to? Did you even search her house before you set it on fire?”

  “Yes, sir. I searched her house. There was nothing helpful. Questioning her acquaintances does not fa
ll within my orders.”

  Jamieson caught the eye of the Mona Lisa staring at him from the print that hung to the left of his desk. Her expression assured him that she sympathized with his frustration. He tapped the blotter of his desk with the end of his pen. “Very well. You are relieved of duty. Report back to your handler.”

  Using extreme care, Jamieson replaced the handset on its cradle. It wouldn’t do to let his temper show in a physical way. With the upcoming anniversary demonstration for the President, plus the investigation by the SSU, Jamieson had to assume he was under constant surveillance. Yes, his office had electronic jamming technology in place, but if he became accustomed to letting his emotions show here, he might slip some day when he wasn’t alone. And if there was one thing he prided himself on, it was on always maintaining his calm demeanor.

  He pressed the intercom button to summon his secretary. “Mrs. Perry, please bring me the Andrews file.”

  The team that had captured Toby Andrews had been one of Jamieson’s newest squads of unaltered Kerberos soldiers. His preference would have been to keep those men in charge of monitoring the DOD’s investigation into Andrews’s disappearance and to deal with the sister, who according to the information extracted during torture, now held all of Andrews’s research into Kerberos and Kaufmann’s program.

  But the President had demanded some pre-attack reconnaissance and other preparation work that required both intelligence and strength. With the rest of his normal teams otherwise occupied, Jamieson had split this last team up and assigned each of them to work with a group of altered soldiers in order to fulfill the President’s assignments. Leaving only the still untested, intelligence enhanced soldiers to stall the DOD and SSU’s investigations and to track down Faith Andrews.

  Kerberos analysts were still searching through hours of video from security cameras, trying to locate the Andrews woman. It was a slow, labor intensive process, even using facial recognition software. So far, the woman hadn’t been spotted on tape.

  Their inability to discover her whereabouts puzzled him. For pity’s sake, the woman taught college and high school students. It wasn’t as if she were an experienced spy. So why couldn’t anyone find her?

  Chapter Six

  “Siobahn, I’m fine, really,” Faith said when she called her friend the next day. “I’m more concerned about you. You’ve got to stop your investigation. These people are serious about keeping their secrets.” She was used to physical and psychological intimidation from her overseas assignments. But suspecting that people within her own government might have burned down her house made it clear how much danger she’d put her friend in. She’d confirmed with a police contact that someone had trashed Toby’s apartment, but she had no idea how long ago that had occurred. Probably before he’d been kidnapped and he told them that he didn’t keep his notes at home. Still, she didn’t want Siobahn becoming a victim to a similar crime.

  Don’t leave the safe house.

  Mark had given her that warning just before he’d left for work this morning. Odd, how much she missed him, when for the past two weeks she’d had no contact with her friends and colleagues except for her phone calls and emails to Siobahn. Faith had wanted to warn her friend today, but hadn’t felt comfortable holding the conversation in Mark’s safe house. She might have temporarily decided to trust him regarding her own safety, but she wasn’t going to trust Siobahn’s life to him.

  While she appreciated Mark’s concern, she refused to be kept prisoner. So she’d donned another disguise, then taken a bus to retrieve her car, before driving to this deserted public park.

  “No, Faith, you listen. Your house burned down. You know as well as I do that means you’re close to the truth. They were trying to scare you.”

  “Or destroy my notes.”

  “Right. Like any smart reporter keeps only one copy of her notes.”

  Faith had to agree with Siobahn on that one. “So, we agree the fire was a message.” The news reports had flashed Faith’s photo, mentioned that authorities had been unable to locate her, and told the public to call with any information.

  Faith felt guilty about not letting her friends and coworkers know she was safe, but she didn’t dare contact them.

  Unfortunately, having a helpful public looking for her only made it crucial that she keep wearing disguises. While the selection of wigs and clothing she’d pulled from Toby’s cabin had been extensive—they’d made it a fun project to add items to the stockpile on a regular basis—she was at the point where she’d need to stop by a thrift shop to add clothes so she didn’t achieve the same look twice.

  “Of course, the fire isn’t going to stop my investigation,” Faith said. “Not that these past few days have been very productive. I’ve asked my few contacts within the military and law enforcement communities for help, but either they have nothing to add or they won’t talk to me.”

  “Same here.”

  “Just another reason for you to bow out Siobahn. You’ve done what you can. Now let me finish it.” Hopefully, Mark would be able to locate Toby soon. Then Faith would bring him home, no matter what shape he was in. “I won’t be able to live with myself if you end up hurt.”

  “Faith, you know I never let go of a story,” Siobahn chided.

  “Please, Siobahn. You need to drop this one. I’ve made a new contact who has inside information and I’m confident that we’re close to finding Toby. Please don’t do anything to stir up the people involved. If Toby has been kidnapped, they might kill him if they think you’re too close to exposing them. So I’m begging you to let this go. Just for now. I promise that I’ll update you once Toby is safe.”

  “But will I be able to print what you tell me?”

  “No. You know as well as I do that this program is highly classified. You’ll never get the verification you need in order to go to print.”

  “Dammit, Faith.”

  “I know.” She understood the frustration in her friend’s voice. Faith also hated the idea of keeping this level of treachery quiet. “But if my contact is correct, the men involved will be brought to justice.” She gave a rough laugh. “Honestly though? All I care about right now is saving my brother.”

  Siobahn sighed. “Fine. I’ll back off so I won’t put your brother in danger. But if there’s any way I can get a story out of this, you know I’m going to run with it.”

  Faith closed her eyes in relief. “I know. Thank you. This is the last time I’m going to contact you directly until it’s over. I—”

  “Oh no, you don’t. You’re going to continue to check in with me or I’m going to hunt you down.”

  Faith laughed. “I’m not sure if I’m lucky or cursed to have such a loyal friend.”

  “Lucky, of course.” Siobahn gave another sigh. “You trust this contact?”

  “As much as I trust anyone I’ve just met.” More, actually. Which still worried the cynical side of her.

  “All right, then. Contact me on our regular schedule and I’ll back off. For now.”

  Knowing that was as good as she was going to get, Faith nodded even though her friend couldn’t see her. “Thanks, Siobahn.”

  “You were supposed to stay at the safe house!” Mark’s anger and concern crackled over the phone line.

  Faith couldn’t help it. She grinned as she walked toward the outdoor patio of the café where she’d arranged to meet Mark. She loved the fact that she could make him lose his arrogant calm. “And I told you, I know how to stay under the radar. In fact, I bet you look right past me when I show up.”

  Mark snorted and said so softly she almost didn’t hear him, “I’d recognize you anywhere.”

  “Fine. Bet’s on. See you soon.” She disconnected as she rounded the corner and came within sight of the café. Her foolish grin grew wider as she spotted Mark. His back was to her. Perfect. She tucked her disposable phone into the paper bag containing the remains of the brownie she’d scarfed down with her coffee and tossed it into the nearest trashcan. This
afternoon she was dressed like an upscale business woman, with a tight, plum colored suit, a wig with blonde hair done in a neat chignon, and four-inch stilettos that made her feet ache.

  She figured this disguise was closest to the type of woman Mark normally dated. Not that she and Mark were dating. And not that he’d said anything about his preferences. Still, he was so fussy that she could only picture him with high-class, polished women.

  Which was not Faith at all. She was messy, both literally and emotionally. When in pursuit of a story, she didn’t care what she looked like as long as she could move quickly and comfortably. Mark’s women probably went through the day constantly checking to make sure that not a hair fell out of place.

  Realizing that she was scowling, Faith smoothed her features into a polite mask and prepared to stroll right by Mark.

  But as she got within hailing distance, his body stiffened and he turned around. His eyes met hers and flared with recognition. Damn. How’d he do that?

  As his gaze warmed, his mouth curled up into one of his rare smiles and he walked toward her, both hands reaching out for hers.

  The shot of desire that hit Faith was embarrassing. She considered herself a practical woman. One more likely to lead with her head than her heart and who didn’t believe in love at first sight. While she had a healthy libido, she’d never been so overwhelmed by lust that the needs of her body overrode her common sense or her need to get to the truth.

  So what was it about Mark that reached inside her and started a fire? Sure, he was attractive in that GQ metrosexual way, with his expensive suits and his neatly trimmed dark brown hair. But she’d always been drawn to scruffier men. Indiana Jones instead of James Bond.