Traitor Games Page 8

  “Andy and Carol are running ops based off this algorithm she created. It helps identify, and to some extent, predict what they’re going to do next.” Lillian slid her leg under her and twisted to face him, his hand clasped between hers.

  Did she realize she was doing that? He sure as hell did. It was an effort to focus on her words and not the soft feel of her hand. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. Donovan has helped hide the program that runs it all. Using that, we’ve been able to hamstring SICA’s work in Asia to an extent. Next, we’ll focus on Europe.”

  “How do you propose we pull that off?”

  “Everyone has people they’re working with the rest of us know nothing about. It’s not just our tiny team.”

  He felt her study him, weighing her choices.

  Noah kept his eyes on the road and prayed he measured up.

  “We have a plan to recruit more help, but we haven’t been able to—yet. I think we’re close, though.”

  He’d done more with less, but not on this scale before. This was next level, big time shit. Which was all the more reason to get the hell out of the country. They weren’t ready to take on the big dogs yet. Maybe once they had this extra help and someone to watch their back.

  He gestured at the duffle on the floor. “Hand me the phone from the little pocket, please?”

  Lillian pulled the burner out and handed it to him. “They’ll give you a ticket for driving and talking, you know.”

  “That’s why you’re going to call for me. Ready for the number?”

  “Yup.”

  He spoke and she dialed. There were few numbers he’d ever needed enough to memorize. His passport guy was the top of the list.

  Lillian put the phone on speaker. The line rang, and rang.

  “No one is picking up,” she whispered.

  “Because it’s four in the morning.”

  The line beeped to voicemail for a pawn shop.

  “Hey, I’ve got an old Betamax I need looked at,” Noah said. “I was told Shawn could help me out. I’ll be round there when you open. Tell Shawn I’m coming.”

  Noah nodded and Lillian ended the call.

  “Okay, now what?” she asked.

  “We drive.”

  Chapter Five

  Tuesday. Munich, Germany.

  Irene scrawled words on the page and pressed her hand to the earpiece. The voices were harder to make out in this part of the recording.

  They’d been following the investigative journalist since he’d done a series of pieces digging into rigged elections in Asia, effectively shining a light on several SICA jobs. The stories lined up with work Irene had been focused on with Sarah, Rand, and other operatives. In several cases, elections the CIA had helped sway did not turn out as they’d planned. Back then, Irene had known someone else was on the other side, doing the same thing she was doing, and now they knew it had been SICA all along. The connection made verifying the journalist’s stories easy, and since then, she and Mitch had kept tabs on the man, where he went, who he spoke to, and what he was reporting.

  There was depth to his investigations. Irene was willing to bet that their journalist had sources inside several intelligence agencies to get the kind of intel he was working with. He was doing what the agencies couldn’t—looking at the bigger picture. Seeing the patterns. Connecting the dots.

  Mitch’s head bobbed up the fire escape outside the window. Her heart did a painful happy dance to see him and for these few moments, while he couldn’t see her, she watched him. A few wisps of his golden hair stuck out from under the knit cap. His generous beard, while not her favorite fashion statement, looked good with the shoots of silver running through the wheat-colored hair.

  Irene’s insides warmed and the tension coiled between her shoulder blades eased. She couldn’t admit how nervous being alone made her or how much she missed him whenever he was gone. There were lines in this relationship she couldn’t blur and wouldn’t cross. Yes, she was guilty of wanting physical comfort, but that didn’t mean she’d let her heart get involved. At least not more than it already was.

  Her ex-husband had burned her enough and taught her that no man wanted an equal. Though Mitch made her wonder.

  Damn him, she was getting distracted.

  She hit the pause button on the recording and massaged her temples.

  It was unfair to compare Mitch to her ex-husband. She knew they were nothing alike. For one, Mitch was one of the most humble and hardworking men she’d ever met. After the mess that had thrown them together in the first place sorting out the business with Rand and Sarah, Mitch was the one constant in Irene’s life. He’d been there for her when no one else was.

  Like when Irene had to hide her sister. Mitch had been there with her.

  He was more than her partner, he was her friend and her heart wanted more. But she couldn’t allow that to happen. Mixing work and pleasure just wasn’t smart.

  The window rose and a gust of cool air depleted the warmth that had built up since Mitch’s exit. She grit her teeth and kept her attention focused on the words. They had a lot of ground to catch up on after their trip.

  “Got the latest batch and something to eat.” Mitch crossed to the desk and set the transmitter next to the laptop.

  She held her breath and pressed her back to the chair so she wouldn’t lean toward him. He walked to the counter that served as their kitchen, oblivious of her internal struggle.

  “Our journalist spoke to someone in Mossad intelligence.” Irene stopped the recording and focused on Mitch. “He knows too much. If he keeps digging, they’re going to kill him.”

  “What do you want to do about it?” Mitch sighed, his words weary. They’d had this conversation often enough that she could recite each of their parts.

  “I don’t know. Andy sent a message. They’re onto Lillian and Noah.”

  Mitch’s eyes went wide. “What?”

  “Everyone’s moving locations. Rand, Sarah, and the baby. Andy and Carol.”

  Mitch leaned against the counter and closed his eyes for a moment.

  They were most vulnerable when they had to pick up and move without preparation. Because the threat could come at any time, they all had contingency plans upon contingency plans, but it wasn’t always enough. The people they were up against had more resources and people than Irene could hope to muster.

  “I think we should bring the team and everyone else together. We’ve got evidence. What we need is a bigger plan.” She leaned forward. They’d been working toward a solution without knowing what it would look like, but maybe it was finally taking form.

  “What do you mean, exactly?” Mitch asked.

  “What we talked about before, we bring all of the allied intelligence agencies together and we give them a reason to help us. What I’m hearing on this recording? It means that SICA isn’t just an American problem. It’s worldwide.”

  “Shit,” Mitch muttered.

  And they’d barely scratched the surface. What would they find when they dug deeper? When they had their hooks in the people after them?

  …

  Tuesday. Montreal, Canada.

  Noah strode forward, his hand on the small dip of Lillian’s back. The spot made for a man’s hand. The street was quiet this hour of the night. They’d made it across the border on foot and a contact of his drove them into the city where they could pick up a bus. Two hours later, they were finally at their destination.

  She peered over her shoulder. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

  “Keep going. Stop looking back.”

  “We’ve been walking for an hour.” Lillian peered up at him, one brow quirked. “Do you know where we’re going?”

  “It has not been an hour. Maybe fifteen minutes. And yes, I know where we’re going.” He grasped her arm and pulled her toward him until her hip bounced into his. “Now, hush.”

  His hand slid down to hers, then they were walking hand in hand down the quiet street. It had been a long
day and she’d stuck with him, humoring his need to go slow. She wasn’t a bad companion for a trip like this. They’d talked. They’d sat in easy silence. He could see her potential. Now if he could just keep her safe.

  “In here.” He guided Lillian through a chain link fence at what looked to be a standard auto shop.

  “I thought you said we were going to a pawn shop earlier?”

  “You call the pawn shop to make an appointment here. Stay behind me and don’t talk, okay?”

  Lillian nodded, sliding into her role easily.

  The storefront lights were off, but one set of bay doors was open at the rear, casting a long rectangle of light on the gravel lot. He took a longer stride and stepped in front of Lillian. He’d done business with these people and though he trusted their work, he wouldn’t say the same about the people doing the jobs.

  A man straightened from the far workbench and nodded toward a set of stairs. “You’re late.”

  Noah didn’t offer an explanation or speak a word to the guy on duty. They did pause for a cursory pat down. He’d made sure to stash the bags before making this visit, only bringing the cash they’d need with them.

  They climbed the stairs to the second-floor addition, where the real work happened.

  An older gentleman sat at a long desk with a magnifying lens between his face and a document.

  “Stand against the wall,” he said by way of greeting.

  Lillian didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward, fluffing her hair for the picture.

  Noah held out his hand. “Give me your coat.”

  The coat was the only thing that hid her shapely figure. Even in the stolen sweats and his shirt she drew more than enough attention. The quicker they were done, the faster he could get her off the street and somewhere safe.

  “Here?” She stood up against the plain white wall.

  “Two steps to your left.” Noah tilted his head. He’d been here enough times he had the drill down.

  The professional stepped up and Noah sat down, content to let the old man do his work. In a matter of five minutes they’d both had their pictures taken and picked out new names.

  Lillian would travel under the name Linda Cooper, and Noah would be her husband, Paul. It was a risk traveling as connected individuals, but at least this way they could stick together without raising suspicion. They were each getting an extra with a secondary name for later. Worst-case scenario, he could fall back on one of his other passports. The risk there was whether or not Hector had identified and flagged those

  Hector.

  Wasn’t that a kick in the teeth still?

  How much of a lead did they have on the man? It was obvious Noah’s handler had been watching them. The moment he and Lillian made their move they’d been blown. They needed to get to Europe soon. There the two of them could disappear.

  “When will they be ready?” Noah held Lillian’s coat out for her to slip into.

  “First thing in the morning if you leave me to it.” The old man sat down, dismissing them.

  Noah slid cash out of his pocket and left it at the corner of the desk. It was half and then some of the agreed upon price to help speed the process up or bump them to the head of the line. With any luck first thing in the morning meant first light.

  They descended the stairs and hit the sidewalk again without incident from the guard on duty.

  “Am I allowed to speak now?” Lillian asked, bumping his shoulder with hers as they walked.

  “That’s not how I meant it.” He took in her profile and how her hair glowed under the streetlights. “An attractive woman like you is worth something. The less you talk, the less attention you draw, the less chance I need to protect you.”

  “Oh…” She looked at him, her eyes going wide. “I didn’t think…”

  “You have me here to think of things like that for you. Trust me a little? Walk faster.”

  “Why?” She glanced over her shoulder.

  “It’s cold.”

  She smacked his arm. “Don’t scare me.”

  He chuckled and caught her hand. Her fingers were so small, her skin so smooth compared to his.

  “What’s our plan for tonight?” she asked.

  “Find someplace to get food, check into that crappy motel we passed, and wait for morning. Once we have papers we can pick a destination and go. Have you thought about where we should end up?”

  “I need to talk to the others. I’m not sure we can make a plan until we’re in Europe. What do you think?” She tipped her chin up, watching him, genuinely curious about his input.

  “We don’t know how long it’ll take to lose our tail. Probably a good idea to bounce around a bit.” He studied her profile for a moment. “From here on out though, safe is a relative word. You aren’t going to like hearing this, but you may never be safe again. Understand? No matter where you are, how well you’re protected, there’s always someone out there who is good enough to make the kill. You have to live assuming that one person is on the job.”

  She didn’t miss a beat. “Plan for the worst, I guess?”

  “Something like that.”

  And then she surprised him even more.

  One side of her mouth hitched up. “Well, that’s what I signed up for.”

  Noah shook his head, chuckling. “There’s our bus. Come on.”

  They jogged to the stop and got on, settling on opposite sides of the aisle. There were enough people around them that it wasn’t a good place to talk. A ten-minute ride brought them back to the motel. They picked up takeout from a small shop next to the motel, then headed inside.

  The motel sat off the street, its rundown sign evidence that the better years had already passed for this establishment. What mattered was that there were plenty of ways on and off the property to make escape an easy affair. He paid for a room in cash while Lillian waited in the shadows.

  Noah unlocked the room and ushered Lillian in. They drew the windows and shut blinds, working as a team, before turning on the lights and surveying their accommodations.

  Instead of two queen beds, they had one king-sized mattress. The carpet was threadbare and the wallpaper was straight out of the seventies, but otherwise it all appeared to be sturdy.

  “Hope you don’t mind sharing again.” His gaze lingered on the plump pillows. Maybe tonight he’d be able to sleep?

  “Me? I’d guess you were the one with the complaint. I tossed and turned for hours.”

  “You weren’t that bad.” He resisted the urge to smile. In truth, her restlessness had been nice. A bit of humanity.

  He handed out the food and dragged a chair up against the wall where he could keep an eye on the door and windows. Once they were ready to turn in he’d secure them with some improvised traps. They’d had to cull the gear he brought with them over the border, but he’d prioritized things that kept them safe.

  Noah peeled off his coat and hung it over the back of his chair. “Take advantage of the chance to rest while we can. I have a feeling that won’t be an option soon.”

  “I’m surprised by how good sleep sounds.” Lillian wrinkled her nose and spread their dinner of burgers out on the table. Their last meal had been supplied by a convenience store, which left a lot to be desired.

  Within minutes every bit of food was consumed. Lillian hid a yawn behind her hand and stretched. Her hair draped over the back of the chair in a silky curtain. Soon she’d have to do something about her appearance. She was too memorable. He’d cross that bridge later.

  “You want to use the bathroom first?” she asked.

  “No, go ahead.”

  She disappeared into the postage stamp–sized bathroom along with a few toiletries, leaving him to secure the room.

  A bit of string, some firecrackers, and a lighter weren’t much in the way of a security system, but they’d get the job done. At this stage in the game all he needed were seconds. If he got his gun drawn a moment sooner than the person after him that was all that mattered.

&
nbsp; Once he was satisfied with the barricaded door and secured window it was Noah’s turn in the bathroom. He went through his routine, his mind on the woman on the other side of the door.

  She was his responsibility now and that terrified part of him, but like Lillian had said, this was what they’d signed up for. If she could push forward, so would he.

  Noah finished in the bathroom, flipped off the lights, and stepped into the darkened room. Noises from neighboring units drifted to them, mostly the hum of televisions and soft voices. He crossed to the side of the bed closest to the door and toed off his shoes.

  “Think my sister’s okay?” Lillian asked softly.

  Noah slid his gun onto the nightstand then stretched out on the mattress, staring at the ceiling. “She’s a tough cookie. She’ll get by.”

  “Thanks for looking out for me,” Lillian whispered after a few silent minutes.

  He reached blindly for her and found her arm lying on top of the comforter. He gave her hand a squeeze when he found it. Her fingers wrapped around his. The hold was a little awkward, but that didn’t matter. In the darkness it was just them against the world. But wasn’t that the problem? He was losing his ability to be objective about the mission. His goal was keeping Lillian alive and safe, not getting close to her. But he couldn’t do one without the other, so here he was, lying in bed holding hands with a woman who very likely had his fate in that pretty head of hers.

  Chapter Six

  Wednesday. Montreal, Canada.

  Demetrius Jones stared at the auto body shop. Two hours and not a lot of business. People came and went, but they weren’t bringing in cars. He hadn’t seen anyone who fit the description of the targets, either.

  The longer he waited, the less he liked this setup. All he had to go on was a single camera shot of a car headed north and the knowledge that one of the targets liked to get passports done here. It wasn’t enough to truly track his prey, but he wasn’t being given a lot to work with, either.

  He checked the time again.

  If he went in there he could spook the targets. That was only if they hadn’t been by yet. What if they’d already picked up their new identities? If that were the case, Demetrius was sitting here while they got away.