Laynie Portland, Spy Resurrected Page 8

  Bo stepped out of a stall and folded his arms.

  “Why? You gonna help?” Jaz demanded.

  “Heck, yeah. At the very least, I can smuggle you guys out of here.”

  Tobin drew himself up. “That right?”

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  Tobin nodded. “Well, all right then. Let’s figure this out. We’re on a clock.”

  SHORTLY BEFORE NOON, Bo approached Richard. “Misty’s got some swelling going on above her near fore fetlock, and I’d like the vet to take a look at it. Thinking I’d load her up and take her down the mountain after lunch. Get it checked out. You know Doc Riley won’t come up here, the way the roads can change with the weather. Might visit the feed and supply while I’m down there, too.”

  Richard, preoccupied with the meal preparations, nodded. “I concur. Be back before dark, though. There’s another front moving in, and we’re expecting more snow.”

  “Roger that, sir.”

  After lunch, Bo hitched a Broadsword pickup truck to a horse trailer and backed the trailer up to the stables. He blanketed the mare, led her outside and up the ramp to the trailer, and fastened her halter to the trailer’s bridle hook.

  Five minutes later, he raised the ramp, locked it in place, and drove toward the perimeter gate’s guard shack. Another ten minutes later, he passed the last of Broadsword’s cameras. Shortly after, he reached the state road. He drove half a mile, pulled onto the shoulder, and let down the trailer’s ramp.

  Tobin and Jaz clambered out, carrying overnight bags. Both of them were shivering.

  “Told you two to dress for the weather.”

  “We did,” Tobin chattered. “Pretty cold back there.”

  “Well, get in the truck. It’s warm enough.”

  When Bo pulled back onto the road, Jaz said, “We need to make a detour and stop at our old apartments.”

  “What—the apartments the Ukrainians hit? The site of Bella’s infamous run-and-jump across the third-story balconies?”

  “Yah, those,” Jaz muttered.

  “What do you need from there that’s so all-fired important?” Tobin asked.

  “Camouflage,” Jaz answered.

  BO RETURNED TO BROADSWORD as twilight was giving way to darkness. He unloaded Misty, no worse the wear for her ride down the mountain and back, rubbed her down, and fed and watered the horses under his care. After he’d parked the trailer and the truck, he went looking for Richard.

  He probably needed to find Richard . . . before Seraphim found him.

  Richard was where Bo knew he’d be—in the kitchen, overseeing today’s kitchen assistants, Gwyneth and Brian, and their dinner preparations. When Bo came through the back door to the kitchen, Gwyn pursed her lips and looked at the floor. Brian side-eyed him.

  Uh-oh. Guess the news is out.

  “Richard, could you spare a minute for me?”

  Richard turned to his assistants. “Any questions?”

  “Lots,” Brian muttered, “but not about dinner prep.”

  Bo followed Richard to the conference room and shut the door behind them. Richard didn’t sit or speak. He simply folded his arms and waited.

  “Sir, you know by now that I took Tobin and Jaz down the mountain.”

  “That’s not the information I’m waiting to hear.”

  “You want to know why—and I hope, when I tell you, that I still have a job here.”

  “Unlikely. We’ll see.”

  “Okay, so I was in the stables before lunch when Jaz and Tobin came in. They . . . they didn’t know I was there. I overheard them talking—Jaz talking, mostly. She isn’t convinced that Bella is dead.”

  Richard’s brows lifted. “Indeed.”

  “Yes sir. She kept telling Tobin that she couldn’t stand the thought of not knowing . . . knowing for sure that it was Bella’s body—Oh. Forgot the part where Jaz told Tobin she’d read Wolfe’s email to Seraphim about Bella’s funeral. It’s in New Orleans, day after tomorrow, sir.”

  Richard’s brow switched direction and dove into a frown. “And what action did Miss Jessup propose that might alleviate her misgivings?”

  “She and Tobin . . . hope to get a pathologist to look at the remains. Miss Jessup is convinced that a pathologist would be able to ascertain whether or not the body is Bella’s.”

  “Director Wolfe’s contact in the city where Bella died may not have known her personally, but he assured us that she got into the car and died only minutes later. Besides, how could a pathologist’s simple physical examination prove otherwise . . . given the body’s condition?”

  “Begging your pardon, sir, but Jaz—Miss Jessup—said Bella had cuts on her back.”

  “Cuts?”

  “From the car bomb Tobin told us about. Bella was hit with shrapnel when the bomb blew. I guess Jaz helped dress the cuts after Bella was released from the hospital. Some of the cuts required stitches, and Jaz mentioned a particularly deep gouge under Bella’s shoulder blade.”

  Bo swallowed. “Jaz also said that the car crash was hit-and-run. I hadn’t known that, sir. She said the accident had to have been intentional. If it was, that means it was coordinated by this Islamic terrorist group the task force is following.”

  Richard unfolded his arms and sat down. He didn’t speak for a long moment.

  “What was Marshal Tobin’s response to Miss Jessup’s idea?”

  “He hated it—at first. Frankly, so did I, and I wasn’t going to let them act on it. Until . . .”

  “Until you lost your good judgment, Bo?”

  “No, sir. Until she convinced me of something.”

  “Which was?”

  “Which was . . . if we weren’t certain that it was Bella’s body her family was putting in the ground, we’d never be at peace about Bella’s death. She also said if it wasn’t Bella’s body, then Bella was still alive, and if she was alive, then those terrorists had her.”

  “That was the part that convinced you to compromise the security of this place and the task force, was it?”

  Bo pulled himself fully erect. “Sir, any whiff of our plan to leave would have been reported by the mole in our midst.”

  “Everyone here knew the three of you were gone within an hour of your departure.”

  “Yes, sir, but we got away clean.”

  “Be that as it may—”

  “Sir. We don’t leave our people behind—not ever. And until we prove that it is or isn’t Bella’s body, we’ll never know with certainty that she’s not in the enemy’s hands.”

  Richard said nothing for several minutes. Then he stood. “Agreed.”

  Bo stammered. “W-what?”

  “We’ll deal with your lapse in discipline later. Right now, I need to speak to Ms. Seraphim.” Richard reached for the door. “Oh. Word to the wise? I suggest you avoid her until tempers cool.”

  “Yes, sir. I will, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  Chapter 7

  TOBIN AND JAZ RENTED a car in Germantown, and they drove through the night to reach their destination, stopping only to gas up, use the restrooms, switch drivers, and grab to-go food on the sixteen-hour trip. They used a credit card Jaz pulled from her pocket for all their expenses, a card under the name of Gretchen Sønntag.

  “Who’s Gretchen Sønntag?” Tobin demanded.

  “Someone I invented. Not to worry—there’s real money behind that card. More importantly, neither Wolfe nor the Ukrainian mob have ever heard of her.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do say so.”

  Dawn was breaking over the water when they drove onto the causeway that spanned Lake Pontchartrain. Tobin yawned and nudged Jaz awake. “We’re here, more or less. We should check into a hotel.”

  She sat up and looked around. “Agreed. I could use a hot shower.”

  They paid for two adjoining rooms, showered, and changed into fresh clothes. When Tobin knocked on Jaz’s door, she was on her laptop, plugged into the hotel’s broadband service.

  “Wha
t are you doing?”

  “Pinging someone’s cell phone. We’ll grab something to eat, then make a house call.”

  “Room service?”

  “That would be best . . . in case Director Wolfe already has a team scouting the city.”

  “Speaking of Director Wolfe and a team looking for us . . . your appearance presents quite a memorable profile.”

  Jaz mumbled, “Don’t fret. Got it covered.”

  Tobin ordered a pot of coffee and enough food for three people. While they ate, Jaz explained their next moves.

  Tobin frowned. “But how did you know—”

  “You think I’ve been sitting on my hands for a week? The phones and email accounts at Broadsword aren’t the only ones I’ve tapped. I’ve been monitoring the communications of everyone connected to Bella.”

  Tobin didn’t know whether to be appalled or impressed. He went with impressed. “I like the way you think, Jaz—although it fits a criminal’s profile better than a legit government employee.

  “I’m accustomed to coloring outside the lines.” She swallowed the last of her coffee. “Gimme five minutes. Then let’s roll.”

  Tobin wasn’t surprised when a complete stranger emerged from the bathroom, covered from head to toe. He was stunned. “What in the bloody blue blazes . . .”

  “Like you said, my normal appearance is memorable. In this, no one will see the real me. They’ll be too busy ogling the hijab.”

  “But . . . where in the world did you find this getup?”

  “I flew from Vancouver to DC under this cover. I’ve had the tunic and headscarf in my go bag since we moved into the apartments, and we all grabbed our bags the night the Ukrainians attacked us.”

  “Then why the stop at our old apartments? I thought Wolfe’s cleaners had removed all our personal stuff.”

  “They didn’t know to look under the carpet in the bedroom closet.” She winked as she offered him a Canadian passport. “Meet Fawzia Niazi.”

  RUTH GRAFF STUDIED her reflection in the mirror of her hotel bathroom. You look tired, Ruth. Tired, old, and worn out.

  “Who are you kidding?” she told her image. “You are tired, old, and worn out. And hurting.”

  She’d wept when Kari phoned her with the news. She’d wept for everything Laynie had fought to overcome, for the hope of a future without guilt and shame. She’d wept for her dear friend Kari . . . and, having gotten to know Laynie, she wept for her own loss.

  “You’ve seen and heard too much pain and sorrow in your line of work, Ruth, old girl. And the hits just never seem to stop coming.”

  Sighing, she left the bathroom, pulled on her coat, and picked up her handbag. “Lord, I just didn’t expect Laynie’s story to end this way, y’know? Yes, I’m so very glad that she gave her heart to you before . . . before she met you in person, but I had hopes she’d find some love and happiness in this life first.”

  She grabbed her room key and dropped it in her purse. “Who am I kidding? Like any of that matters to her now, right?”

  Ruth smiled a little. “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him. At this very moment? Laynie wouldn’t trade a moment in the glory of your presence for this wretched place. We’re the ones wishing for more time with her. Guess we’ll have to be patient until it’s our turn.”

  She closed her hotel door behind her and headed for the elevators, preoccupied with thoughts of the luncheon Kari was hosting at a local restaurant. Kari had reserved a small, private room for the lunch, leaving Shannon and Robbie at her New Orleans’ home with her housekeeper, Azalea Bodeen. After lunch, the family plus Ruth would discuss and finalize the details of Laynie’s memorial service.

  “We consider you family, Ruth. You were Laynie’s friend and confidant. She trusted you, and we want you with us,” Kari had insisted.

  The elevator doors slid open, and Ruth stepped into the car—but before she realized what was happening, an individual darted from the vending machine niche into the elevator with her. The woman dropped a bucket filled with ice cubes between the doors. The bucket kept the doors from closing.

  Kept the elevator right where it was.

  The Muslim woman rounded on her, and Ruth drew back. “What are you doing? What do you want?”

  “It’s okay, Ruth. You know me. When you went to DC to counsel Bella, I . . . I checked your hotel suite for bugs and found some—remember now?”

  Ruth’s eyes widened. “No!”

  The woman loosened her scarf. She reached her hand in, close to her ear, and pulled out a strand of black hair. Black hair tipped in fluorescent purple.

  And Ruth caught the faint but distinctive scent of licorice gum.

  “You!”

  “Shhh.” Jaz tucked her hair in and tugged the scarf back into place.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “We need your help.”

  “You and who else?”

  “Marshal Tobin and I.”

  Ruth’s reaction swung from alarmed to confused. “Kari told me that I was the only non-family member allowed to attend the service. That Director Wolfe wouldn’t let any of you come. Secret stuff about Laynie’s enemies and danger.”

  “We’re not here to attend Bella’s funeral tomorrow, Ruth. The thing is? We’re not convinced that the body they shipped back here is hers.”

  “What?”

  “I need you to arrange for a meeting between us and Bella’s sister. We’ll explain then.”

  “I don’t think so. Your interruption will only cause Kari more grief, Jaz.”

  “I’m asking you to set up this meeting with Kari. Please. If nothing else, let her decide for herself.”

  Something else occurred to Ruth. “Wait a minute. How did you know where to find me?”

  “Duh. I’m a cyber spy, remember? I pinged your phone. Once I had triangulated your general location, I located the three hotels within range of the cell towers, hacked their reservation systems, and found you here.”

  Ruth muttered, “Why doesn’t that make me feel better?”

  “Please, Ruth. We need to speak to Kari, and it needs to be today.”

  “What—so you can tell her you’re ‘not convinced’ Laynie is dead? Why would you announce a false hope to her family the day before they bury her?”

  “Because if Bella isn’t dead, she’s in the hands of the enemy. And if the enemy has her? Then we’re leaving her there, and there’s no telling what classified information they are extracting from her—or what they are doing to her to extract it.”

  Ruth jerked back. Stunned. Aghast.

  Jaz pressed her point. “We have come up with a relatively quick method of determining whether the body is Bella’s or not. Kari has the authority and means to make it happen. Together, we can find the truth. And whichever way it turns out? We won’t spend the rest of our lives wondering. That’s the bottom line, Ruth. Tobin and I need to know, and Bella’s sister deserves to know.”

  Ruth sighed and turned inward. Lord? What would you have me do here? I don’t want to be the cause of more pain . . .

  She imagined herself introducing Jaz and Tobin to Kari and Søren and the consternation that would follow. Then she heard Jaz’s words in her head. “Because if Bella isn’t dead, then she’s in the hands of the enemy. And if the enemy has her? Then we’re leaving her there, and there’s no telling what classified information they are extracting from her—or what they are doing to her to extract it.”

  Ruth studied Jaz before speaking again. “You said you had a method of determining whether the body was Bella’s or not. Then you said Kari has the authority and means to make it happen. What ‘means’ are you referring to?”

  “I heard that Kari is wealthy. We’ll need an experienced pathologist with the right instruments to make the examination. It takes a hefty chunk of change to motivate someone to drop what they’re doing and examine a body on our timetable.”

  Jaz wasn’t accustomed to ple
ading, but she did now. “Please. Give us an opportunity to speak to Kari.”

  Ruth gave in. “All right. I’ll provide the introduction. As upsetting as your visit will be, I know Kari. She’s never been one to tolerate uncertainty. The moment you introduce doubt into the equation, she’ll shift to your point of view.”

  She snorted a small laugh. “And as I’m on my way to her now, I suppose you two can tag along.”

  “Knew I could count on you, Ruth.” Jaz nudged the bucket of ice out of the elevator doorway into the hall. “Let’s go.”

  Ruth shook her head and muttered to herself, “Well, shoot. Not the first funeral in this family I’ve disrupted.”

  RUTH REHEARSED HER lines as she drove toward the restaurant. A glance in the mirror told her Tobin and Jaz’s rental was right behind her.

  Lord, this is crazy, isn’t it? So please. Please don’t let me hurt Kari or her family any more than they are already hurting.

  They arrived at the restaurant. Ruth inquired at the hostess station and was shown to the small private dining room where Kari, Søren, Max, and Laynie’s parents, Gene and Polly, would be waiting.

  Ruth halted a couple feet from the room. “Wait here,” she told Jaz and Tobin.

  She opened the door and went into the room. Søren, Kari, and Max stood and came forward to greet her.

  Kari hugged Ruth. “It’s so good to see you, Ruth. Thank you for coming.”

  Søren hugged her, too. Max—who’d met Ruth on only two occasions—offered his hand.

  “Look how tall you’ve grown, Max!” Ruth marveled.

  Kari took Ruth’s arm. “Pretty much what everyone says to him these days. Come sit down, Ruth. Lunch will be served shortly.”

  But Ruth stopped. Besides herself, the only occupants of the room were Kari, Max, and Søren. “Where are Laynie’s parents?”

  Kari sighed. “All this has been so hard on Gene and Polly. They’ve lost their son and now their daughter. I hate seeing the pain they are in and what it is doing to them, particularly Polly. She’s rejoicing that Laynie is in heaven, but . . . but her body is so tired and weak. At the last minute, Gene thought it better that they stay home with Shannon and Robbie.”