‘Kimberly, do police have a motive yet on what caused this former worker to return to kill these people?’
‘No, they don’t, and—’
Adrianna clicked off the television. Brian shook his head. ‘Some cover story, Adrianna.’
‘Has to be done.’
‘How the fuck did it happen?’
‘Intelligence leak, someplace. How else? You can bet the lights will be burning late tonight in Langley and other places, trying to find out how those clowns learned about this.’
Brian said, ‘Too fancy.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Intelligence leak. Sounds very hush-hush, very fancy. Like somebody in the pay of al-Qaeda or whoever, giving out information for money or because they’re being blackmailed. Somebody high up. Hell, they’ll probably find out it was something as simple as somebody getting drunk or getting laid and letting out the story of who actually worked at the site of Tompkins Consulting. Adrianna, look, people talk, people gossip. Information loves to travel, loves to find a welcoming place. All it took was a piece of information finding its way to a cell here in the United States, and there you go. Nothing fancy. Just rather fucking direct.’
Adrianna smiled. ‘See? That makes a lot of sense. In fact, I’ll pass your suggestion along, at our daily conference call. Told you I liked your cop mind. Suspicious, cuts through the chatter… a true asset, Brian. A true asset.’
Something about that made Brian laugh and when he saw her expression he said, ‘Just for a second, I thought you said something about my ass. A true ass.’
She laughed in return and said, ‘Oh, you have quite a nice ass, Brian.’
That got his attention. ‘Really? You think I have a nice ass?’
Adrianna seemed to blush — if that was possible. A hand rose up to her lips and she said, ‘I’m sorry. That’s the sherry talking. Or the wine. Or both.’ She got up from the couch and Brian followed, sensing again that whatever he had learned about her these past months had only revealed the faintest background glimmer of what made her tick.
And damn it, that flip comment, about his butt…why had it made him grin like a teenager, happy that the It Girl in high school had noticed him in the hallway between class? Before he knew it, his coat, gun and shoulder holster were in his hands as Adrianna gently shepherded him to the front door.
At the open door Brian turned to say something and she was there. His free arm went out and around her slim waist, and he pulled her close. He kissed her and she responded, folding her body into his, pressing her pert breasts against his chest. He felt the eagerness in her open mouth and smooth tongue. The embrace went on for long seconds until she pulled away and kissed him firmly on the lips. He returned the favor.
Adrianna smiled. ‘Later, Brian.’
‘How much later, boss?’
‘When we get Final Winter under control… it’s going to be a good time to take a long break from running a Tiger Team. I… it’s a lot of pressure, my dear friend. A lot of pressure. And right now, engaging in a somewhat improper relationship with a subordinate—’
‘One of my favorite positions is being subordinate,’ he responded, liking what the phrase did to her expression.
‘Maybe so, detective, but now’s not the time.’
Brian was still holding her and she stood still, seeming to enjoy his touch. Then her tone grew somber and she said, ‘Bloomfield.’
‘Yeah.’
‘I knew two of the Tiger Team members up there. Man and woman.’
‘There are survivors — that’s what the news said.’
She shook her head. ‘No, I got the call, earlier today. They’re both dead.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Tears came to Adrianna’s eyes and she said, ‘I am, too. But that doesn’t mean we stop.’ She took a deep breath. ‘September eleventh. I was in my cubicle when the word came down about the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. We got the order to evacuate, because Langley’s a goddamn easy target to find. So we did. Later on, we found out about something else that had happened that day. It seems the director wanted the entire building evacuated, everybody out, and the head of the Counterterrorism Center at Langley said no, we needed to keep some of his people working up on the sixth floor, at the Global Response Center. And the director said, they’re at risk. They could die if the building was attacked. And the CTC head said, well, then they’re just going to have to die. Just like that, in the space of that conversation, the entire culture of the CIA changed. Just like that.’
Another kiss on the lips, and Brian knew that was not a ‘wanna spend the night?’ kiss but a ‘come on, get your ass out of my house’ kiss. Adrianna said, ‘That’s where we’re at, Brian. The war isn’t over there, it’s right here. In Bloomfield, or in the airstream over our cities. And this is a war we have to win. Have to.’
He reached up, touched her cheek. ‘Okay. You got me, boss.’
‘Good.’ Another smile.
And as Brian turned to go out into the evening, he said, ‘Oh. One other thing. You also have me for tomorrow, to support you. Got it?’
‘Seven a.m., Brian. Seven a.m.’
Adrianna Scott folded her arms and from her kitchen window watched Brian Doyle make the short walk to his parked car. He did have a nice ass, she thought, smiling. Then another thought came to her, about what had just happened this evening, and she was surprised at the spike of guilt that shot through her. She’d thought that guilt was something she had under control, over the years of experience and training, but there it was. Guilt at having lied to poor Brian Doyle, her own personal New York cop.
She hoped that when the time came he would forgive her.
Brian Doyle got into his car, tossed the shoulder holster, gun and coat next to him, and backed out from the parking space. He looked up at the lit windows of Adrianna’s place, and thought about the day just gone and what had happened up in Bloomfield. He guessed he should have offered to spend the night — on the couch, of course — pistol within easy reach, because he had a thought of another nameless holy warrior breaking into her home tonight, to do her harm.
But hell, she was CIA. Trained in counterterrorism and God knew what else. She could take care of herself.
Still… there was a feeling, and as Brian headed back to his own place he knew what that feeling was. Guilt. At having lied to Adrianna tonight and on many other occasions. Brian had lied before on the job, often and with great gusto, but this particular spate of lying… it stuck in his craw.
He hoped that when the time came she would forgive him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was now seven p.m. on Monday. Tiger Team Seven — a/k/a Foreign Operations and Intelligence Liaison Team Seven — had been meeting for twelve hours, and now, finally, it was done. The arguing had gone on, back and forth, back and forth, throughout the long day, and at one point Adrianna had had tears in her eyes, and so had Darren, her NSA guy. Voices had been raised, hands had been slammed down on the conference-room table, and now Adrianna had called a halt. It had gone on too long. Her mouth tasted like it was filled with fuzz, her legs had been quivering off and on all day, and now she held her knees firmly together.