She ignored the question. “Are you going to make my appointment official? Or am I to be recalled?”
“Did Fields try to kill you?”
A dark shadow creased her. “The son of a bitch is dead, isn’t he?”
He rested back in the chair. “Then he acted against my instructions. I want that clear between us.”
“Are you going to make my appointment official?”
He nodded. “Yes. Congratulations, Mariana. You’re chief of station.”
She breathed a hidden sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
Their salads arrived, and the wine was poured by a waiter with a linen napkin draped over one arm. When he was gone, she took a sip and set down the glass.
“Crosswhite has asked to be retired from service, and I’ve granted his request. He’s no longer available to you.”
This didn’t surprise Pope at all. “Should I take it he remains available to you?”
“A trust like ours is rare.”
He sucked his teeth. “Does he know you’re in love with him?”
“I don’t know that I’m in love with him — nor does it matter. He’s married with a baby on the way, and I’m not his type. You shouldn’t expect to disarm me with these adolescent jibes, Bob. I’m not the same person I was the last time we spoke.”
“It’s a damn good thing,” he murmured, half to himself. “What about Chance Vaught?”
“I’m glad you bring him up. His career with DSS is over. That much is clear. And the agency needs to cauterize the Downly bleed as soon as possible”—she locked eyes—“for the good of all.
“Not only does Chance know Mexico, he looks the part, has family in-country, and speaks the language like a Mexican; not to mention he’s a damn good operator. I’ve offered to make him my principal operative in-country, and he’s accepted. I assume you can handle the paperwork to start getting him paid — retroactive to last week?”
Pope chuckled, liking what he was hearing. “What makes you so sure this wasn’t my plan A?”
In no humor for playful banter, she didn’t so much as blink before replying, “Too much has happened down here you know absolutely nothing about.” His smile disappeared. “Mexico is mine. If you want things to run smoothly, you’ll stay out of it. What’s more, if I catch any of your ATRU people — men or women — operating in my province without my knowledge, I’ll send them back to wherever they came from in rubber body bags marked ‘Return to Sender.’ ”
Pope’s smile returned, satisfied fully that Mexico station was in the right hands. He reached for the glass and took a sip of wine. “It’s too bad you had to lose your innocence. Personally, I liked you better the other way, but you were too soft; too trusting. That’s obviously changed.”
Seeing an opening, she decided to take it. “From what Crosswhite tells me, Gil Shannon trusted you with his life — and apparently that’s exactly what it cost him.”
Believing that Mariana had never met Gil in person, Pope took the barb as it was intended, unable to mitigate the offputting effect of it. “No one from the ATRU will set foot in Mexico without advance notice from me and close coordination between you and Midori. You have my guarantee. If I should happen to change my mind on this point, I’ll let you know. Fair enough?”
Having just gotten everything she’d hoped for — as Gil had assured her she would — Mariana lifted her glass. “To Mexico?”
He touched the rim of his glass to hers. “To a stable border. I don’t care a tinker’s damn about Mexico.”
88
Lena Deiss looked resplendent in her wedding gown. Her heart thudded in her chest as she walked up the aisle toward a smiling Sabastian Blickensderfer, a bouquet of white roses clutched to her breast. Both sides of the towering cathedral were filled to capacity with admiring friends and adoring family. There was a genuine buzz in the atmosphere — a buzz akin to that of a royal occasion — and Lena was content with her decision to marry.
Sabastian had matured since their reconciliation, and he had begun to pay her more attention. Lena had matured as well in the short term, forcing herself to admit that chasing a life of adventure was childish and fanciful. Not even the men who lived that life lived it for very long. They died young, and they died tragically, and they left heartbreak in their wake.
Now she was focused on being a wife and eventually a mother. There would always be plenty of money, and Sabastian had promised to build her the house she had dreamed of. Well, to be honest, it would be more of a modern castle than a house, but wasn’t that a rich husband’s job, to treat his wife like a queen? Besides, if she would be expected to tolerate his occasional indiscretions, a castle wasn’t too much to ask.
Halfway up the aisle, however, all of her contentment and focus went out the window.
At the far end of a pew on Sabastian’s side of the aisle, she glanced at the set and chiseled visage of a man she had believed dead, his piercing gray eyes staring back at her.
Certain that her own eyes were playing tricks, she blinked and shook her head. In that space of time, the ghost had disappeared.
My God! she thought to herself, stealing a backward glance down the wall to make sure she hadn’t seen whom she thought she’d seen, flashing a smile to some friends to cover her awkward lapse.
Her friends smiled back excitedly, giving her a collective thumbs-up of encouragement. The rest of her trip up the aisle was spent in the panicked realization that she could never be content as a wife and mother. She suddenly saw herself taking lovers behind Sabastian’s back, as he would take lovers behind hers, both of them living the same mutual lie their respective parents had lived, raising a son or a daughter who would in turn grow up to perpetuate that same lie.
She took her first step at the base of the altar and, for an alarming moment, thought she was going to be sick. Sabastian saw it on her face and stepped down to offer his hand.
“Thank you,” she whispered, stepping up to his side and taking his arm.
“Are you okay?” the priest asked for their ears alone.
She nodded, her breath coming in shallow drafts.
“Very well,” he said, switching on his tiny microphone and lifting his gaze to the congregation.
“Dearly beloved,” he began in a gentle voice, “we are gathered here today in the presence of witnesses to join Lena and Sabastian in the bonds of holy matrimony. Commended to be honorable among all, this is not a union to be entered into lightly, but reverently, passionately, and lovingly. These two persons—”
Lena cleared her throat, and for a fraction of a second, the priest’s attention faltered.
“—present now to be joined—”
She cleared her throat again, and this time he looked directly at her, switching off the microphone. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked quietly.
She shook her head, breaking out in a sweat and pulling Sabastian’s arm to bring him closer. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this!”
Sabastian closed his hand over hers, looking into her eyes and smiling. “You might have said something a little sooner, my love.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry… I truly thought I could, but I can’t.”
The cathedral could not have been quieter in that moment had it been completely empty.
He kissed her lips and caressed her face.
“I’m so sorry,” she croaked, the tears flowing.
“For what?” he asked softly, brushing away the tears. “For being the smarter of us?”
She put her arms around him, and they held each tightly for a long moment. Finally, he whispered into her ear, “Don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of everything.”