Laynie Portland Renegade Spy Page 3

  Tobin, conceding to himself that Laynie’s simmering fury and distrust weren’t issues he could resolve, referred to his notes. “I don’t have details for you today, just the broad strokes at this time, an outline for the near future.”

  “Okay. Out with it.”

  “We’ll stay here in the safe house coupla nights, maybe longer. Wolfe’s people will come here to brief you on your new identity and provide you with a start-up work wardrobe.”

  “A work wardrobe?”

  “Sure. Uh, clothes in keeping with the environment in which you’ll be working.”

  “Working where? And when?”

  “Where? In a facility they’re prepping for us. When? When they finish and have assembled the team they want. In the meantime, Wolfe’s aide told me they were preselecting a number of apartments for us to choose from, one for you, one for me. When they have the selections scoped out, we’ll pick two, and get situated.”

  “Situated? Separate apartments for us—you and I—to choose from?”

  “Yeah, you and I. Look, I’m not going to blow smoke up your tailpipe, Marta, concerning my role on this new team or task force or whatever Wolfe decides to call it. My primary responsibility will be to support you.”

  Laynie snarked, “Support me?”

  “Yup. Support your, um, reintegration into American society and watch your back while you adjust. We’ll have neighboring apartments, share a car, and work the same hours and same assignments.”

  “You’re going to babysit me.”

  “Pretty much.”

  Laynie’s head moved slowly side to side. “I don’t need a babysitter, Tobin.”

  “That’s neither my decision nor is it yours. Wolfe seems to think you need a friend close by for a time.”

  Laynie’s eyes smoldered. So did her terse, “Riiight.”

  Tobin soldiered on. “I know you’re not going to like this next part, so I’ll just say it straight out. You’ll be staying here today, but I’m leaving as soon as we’re done here.”

  “What?”

  “I hope to be back by tomorrow evening, but I can’t promise. Need to go home, make some arrangements, take care of personal stuff. After that, I have to meet with Wolfe’s people for a more in-depth briefing.”

  “You’re leaving me here . . . in this prison?”

  “I’m leaving you in a safe house, Marta, the operative word being safe. I don’t know how much danger you’re in. There’s Petroff and his people, and Wolfe mentioned something about the Ukrainian mafiya? If I’m to safeguard you after we leave this place, I need to know what Marstead knows about the dangers out there.”

  He stood. “I have to get on the road now. While I’m gone, Richard will see to your needs, his people will keep you safe, and you can get some rest.”

  Laynie’s brittle laugh crescendoed toward a high note that she choked off with a forced cough. She covered her momentary loss of control with another laugh.

  “Rest? Sure. You know that old saying, don’t you, Tobin? No rest for the wicked? It’s a perfect fit.”

  TOBIN LEFT LAYNIE FUMING in the conference room. When Richard ventured to remove the breakfast cart, she stirred.

  “Richard?”

  “Yes, miss?”

  “What are my limitations here?”

  “Limitations? Why, you can do whatever you like, miss.”

  “Except leave.”

  “Well, there is that. The fence is the perimeter, so you won’t mistakenly attempt to, uh, depart. However, the grounds are lovely this time of year and quite spacious. We even have horses and a few approved riding trails back behind us, farther into the woods.”

  “Horses?”

  “In the stables around the back. Do you ride, miss?”

  “Occasionally.”

  She and Petroff had stayed in the country homes of his wealthy friends, several of which had boasted stables. Laynie had learned to ride reasonably well. She’d also learned to live within the boundaries of those and Petroff’s country properties. Guards and fences? Nothing new to her—which is what rankled.

  From one gilded cage to another, she thought.

  “Our groundskeeper doubles as our stable man, and we have three horses,” Richard continued. “Our man can saddle the mount you choose. As I said when you arrived, please make yourself at home here.”

  Richard wheeled the cart away, and Laynie was again alone. Eventually, she rose and walked about the “cabin’s” ground floor, finding it rustic only on the surface. The interior was well maintained and appointed. Spacious, although not overly so.

  She walked out the front door, noting this time the reinforcements on it—a solid steel door paneled over with rough, stained wood to provide the impression it belonged to a cabin. She glanced at the door jamb and hinges, finding that they, too, were upgraded, set into a recessed steel frame.

  Could take a mortar round. Once.

  Closing the door behind her, she strode to the edge of the porch, leaned against the wooden rails, and studied the grounds. Found one of the guards and his dog walking the perimeter near where the grass ended and the trees began. Laynie stepped off the porch and made a wide and leisurely circumference of the house, counting windows and doors, locating the second guard-and-dog team, identifying an overly large three-car garage and a couple small cabins and outbuildings. The stables sat farther back. Shadowed breaks in the tree line marked the two riding trails Richard had mentioned.

  My best move would be to scout the fence line on horseback, find the ideal location to cut through the fence—I’d need a few tools for that—somewhere close enough to the road that I could follow it down the mountain without being seen on camera.

  She began a casual saunter toward the back of the manicured lawn, flicking glances at the garage and other buildings as she walked. When she was halfway to the tree line, she angled toward the sheds.

  “The stables are this way, miss,” a voice spoke at her elbow.

  Laynie whirled and struck out, her movements purely defensive, unplanned. The man who’d spoken was faster than she was. He dodged, sprang back, and stepped to the side to throw off her next move. But Laynie didn’t strike out a second time.

  “You shouldn’t sneak up on a person that way. You startled me.”

  “I can see that. Sorry. I’m Bo. Groundskeeper and stable boy.” Bo was blond, compact, and wiry. He possessed the self-assured air of a man who knows how to handle himself.

  “More than that, I think.”

  “All members of the staff are proficient at a variety of tasks, miss.”

  Laynie snorted. “Richard, too? What is he, like, eighty?”

  “Richard more than most of us, miss, and I believe he’s going on eighty-two. But don’t let his age fool you. Forty years in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy, he was. Veteran of World War II, British Pacific Fleet, and right on through the Falklands War. He’s a legend, he is. A disciplined operator, tough as brass studs. He could put you down without mussing his tie.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  Bo’s smile was one-sided. “Don’t test him. I once did—had bruises for a week.”

  “Well, how . . . Richard is British, you said? How did he end up here?”

  “Oh, there’s always an organization looking for qualified and experienced souls like Richard. Of course, in our organization, we also look for men and women with principled characters and the right values.”

  “The right values.” A drip of derision tainted her words.

  “Yes, values. He’s run this place for close to a decade and a half, providing a sanctuary for those needing protection.”

  “He the reason this place is named Broadsword Acres?”

  “There may have been an HMS Broadsword afloat during the Falklands War.”

  “I see.”

  “And, a’course, he runs Broadsword pretty much like a British ship of the line during the Napoleonic Wars, press gang and all. He will tolerate no hair or detail out of place nor any staffer who grumbles or slacks in his or her duties, particularly those who guard the perimeter—if I make myself clear?”

  A cloak of weariness dropped over Laynie. “Crystal.”

  Bo took Laynie’s arm. “Now, the stables? Let’s take a look. I think you’ll enjoy those during your stay.”

  He tugged gently, and Laynie went along with him.

  LAYNIE CLIMBED THE stairs to her room as soon as she’d eaten dinner that evening. She was absolutely beat, having been awake two full days. She’d avoided her room most of the day, afraid she’d see the mattress, crash on it, and wake up in the middle of the night, her sleep cycle out of whack for the next few weeks.

  Instead, she’d ridden one of the trails behind the safe house with Bo as her “guide.” He’d pointed out a few freshwater springs and some lovely waterfalls below them. When they reached the fenced property line, he jerked his chin at the woods beyond the fence, thick with brush. The woods were so dense that Laynie could see neither daylight nor the possibility of escape on horseback in that direction. Moreover, that part of the property faced nothing but wilderness for miles. Bo also casually gestured at the cameras placed in the trees along the fence line.

  Cutting through the fence? Not a viable escape plan.

  They’d been out an hour when Bo dismounted at a rocky face that reared up before them unexpectedly. He pointed up the face with a questioning look. Nodding her acceptance of the challenge, Laynie and Bo freeclimbed the wall, forty feet of it, to reach a ledge where the whole of the world seemed to spread before them.

  The beauty of the view was marred only by what Laynie understood Bo to be showing her.

  Nowhere to go, and no easy way to get there.

  Laynie gave herself over to the hard physical exercise of climbing down and riding another hour, hoping it would calm her mind and heart. It had, at the very least, kept her occupied for most of the day.

  Late in the afternoon, as Richard had mentioned that morning, a man arrived with her personal belongings. He toted three boxes and her rucksack to her room, and she spent an hour going through their contents, first to assure herself that Wolfe hadn’t instructed his people to plant trackers on her clothes or within the rucksack, then to pack her rucksack with essentials should she seize an opportunity to slip away.

  Essentials? Unfortunately, those items she needed most were not included in her belongings. Missing were her laptop, phone, money, credit card, and Elaine Granger identification.

  Even should I manage to get away, how would I travel or survive? I’d have no money or any form of ID and, without ID, I’d have no ability to access any of my accounts.

  At seven that evening, Richard had served her a lovely dinner. She ate what she could, but she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. She went up to her room, locked the door, stripped off her clothes, and showered.

  She dug around until she found one of her nightgowns, threw it on, and dropped onto the bed. She woke only once, shivering because she hadn’t covered herself. She pulled up the blankets and tumbled into a deep, dreamless state the remainder of the night.

  Chapter 2

  WHEN LAYNIE AWOKE IN the morning, she felt rested and antsy. She was also starving. She threw open the window to her room and stared out on the barriers that held her in this place—the thick, hilly forest around the lodge, the fencing, the guards. Less than two months of independence, the freedom to go where she pleased and do as she pleased, had not been enough to satisfy her.

  I will never willingly submit myself to being caged again.

  A chilly breeze gusted through the open window, reminding her that October in the mountains was downright cold. She dug through the boxes holding her things, pulling out what she needed for the day. Among her personal hygiene items, she came upon the Bible Shaw and Bessie had left in Daisy.

  Laynie held the Bible a few minutes, drawn to open it, wishing again for those safe, peaceful afternoons of perusing the Gospels under Roger’s haybarn—but resentful at the same time of her present “incarceration.”

  She put the Bible back in the box. “I’ll get to you . . . later.”

  She dressed in jeans and layered a pullover sweater atop a long-sleeved shirt. Tugged on thick socks and her running shoes. As she washed her face and brushed out her long hair, she wondered how she would endure another day of idleness, another day of not knowing what Wolfe planned to do with her.

  She’d no sooner approached the bar between the kitchen and dining room than Richard greeted her.

  “Good morning, miss.” He slid a mug of coffee across the countertop. She dropped onto a barstool right there and guzzled half the mug in one go.

  “Needed that,” she muttered.

  Laynie looked around for a clock. It was just past eight in the morning. She’d slept longer than she thought she would.

  Tobin said he hoped to be back by this evening.

  But he wouldn’t be.

  “Excuse me, miss,” Richard said softly. “The gentleman you arrived with called and left word for you earlier.”

  “Yes?” It was telling to Laynie that Richard never asked for their names nor attempted to refer to them by name.

  “With apologies, he will not return until tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow! And what am I supposed to do with myself until then?”

  Richard removed his suitcoat, folded it in half and laid it across a chairback. He donned a plain, beige apron and cracked three eggs. He finished whisking them in a bowl before he answered.

  “The house and grounds have a number of pleasant diversions available to you. You are welcome to peruse our well-stocked library and selection of movies, avail yourself of our gymnasium, and ride or walk the grounds.”

  The elderly man glanced up from under his craggy brows, and Laynie glimpsed something of the disciplined naval officer Bo had alluded to yesterday.

  “This is a safe and peaceful place, miss. Since your circumstances are not, at present, amenable to your being elsewhere, might I suggest that you make the most of a day of rest and relaxation? That you take advantage of the opportunity to refresh yourself?”

  The beaten eggs sizzled and bubbled as he poured them into a hot sauté pan. He sprinkled diced chives, shredded cheese, and salt and pepper onto the eggs before adding, “The director has taken great care to ensure that no one knows where you are, that you are safe and protected. Even in the unlikely event that your, er, enemies should discover your whereabouts, I assure you, they could not reach you here.”

  While the eggs cooked and cheese melted, he poured a tall glass of orange juice and set it before Laynie. He slid two slices of bread into a toaster and placed flatware and a folded napkin on the bar. Then he addressed her again, the battle-toughened warrior he concealed behind the “mild old gent” persona rising to the surface.

  “Any attackers would have to go through me, my people, and our robust defenses, miss. That would prove quite an expensive and disappointing mistake for them, do you ken?”

  Laynie nodded. Maybe she did “ken.”

  He ran a spatula around the edge of the pan and expertly folded half of the omelet mixture onto the other half. He placed a lid on the pan. Two minutes later, Richard removed the lid, lifted the pan by its handle and slid its contents onto a waiting plate. He set the plate under Laynie’s nose. The omelet was lightly browned, perfectly fluffy. Melted cheese oozed from its seams.

  “Would you prefer your toast buttered or unbuttered, miss?”

  Laynie had to swallow the saliva that filled her mouth before she could reply. “Oh, buttered. Please.”

  AFTER BREAKFAST, LAYNIE walked the perimeter of the groomed clearing. A smooth path had been worn in the grass, indicating the regular route of the guard-and-dog teams. Each time she encountered one of the guards, he or she stepped aside for her to pass. She nodded at them. They nodded back, but it was unnerving how the German shepherds on their leashes fixed her with their gaze, their eyes never blinking or leaving her face, ready to act at a word from their handlers.

  On her second circuit around the grounds, she began to jog, setting an easy, leisurely tempo. On her third go-round, Bo joined her.

  “’Morning, miss. Thought you’d like some company.”

  Laynie realized she didn’t mind. “Sure. Thanks.”

  “Each circuit is a half mile,” he commented. “How many miles do you want to log?”

  “I’m just running to burn off . . . my breakfast,” she answered. She’d almost said, “to burn off stress,” but changed her mind at the last moment.

  “Like me to show you the gym after? Run you through a workout?”

  “Sure. Sounds good.” She needed to use her body.

  “Great. Now, let’s pick up this lazy pace, shall we?”

  Bo edged ahead of her. Laynie increased her speed to match his. After another lap, they were both warmed up. Bo lengthened his stride. Laynie did, too.

  They ran six laps at that pace, three miles, then walked a circuit to cool down.

  Bo tipped his head toward the garage. When he veered off the path toward it, Laynie followed. Up close, she realized she hadn’t detected the window set between the garage’s car doors and the peaked roofline—the window had been designed to blend into the garage’s siding. Nor had she noted the length of the building. A paved driveway led to the garage itself. A sidewalk ran from the driveway around the side. Bo led her down the sidewalk to a door at the back of the garage. He punched in a code and the door opened into a gymnasium.

  The front half of the garage was, ostensibly, for Broadsword’s vehicles, the back half for the gym. Laynie swept her gaze around the room, spotting a laundry room and what she assumed were the showers through open doors off the workout area. The gym itself had two top-of-the-line treadmills, two elliptical machines, a large training circuit, a broad range of free weights, and several mats for stretching. Two men were lifting weights. The room smelled of sweat and deodorizer.

  “We have a dorm upstairs, over the garage. Two off-shift guards live on site as backup if needed, and every guard rotates through those backup positions. Since staff members are required to maintain peak fitness, this facility helps us, particularly when we’re snowed in.” Bo grinned at Laynie. “We could get our first snowfall at any time, although October is generally early.”