She went to the bench and sat down. Acutely aware of the eyes of her team upon her, she schooled herself to utter stillness. After all, she had a reputation to maintain. The Medusas often called her the ice cube when she was waiting to make a kill. She could sit for two or three days with barely a twitch. She could surely sit on this bench for ten minutes without fidgeting.
But it turned out to be surprisingly hard to do. She was used to being the hunter, not the hunted. She knew all too well how easy a target she was, motionless and out in plain sight like this. Even the most inexperienced of snipers could pick her off like a tin duck in a cheap shooting gallery.
Must think about something else.
Jeff was out there. He’d never let anyone take a potshot at the future mother of his children-good Lord, had she just thought that? Since when had she bought in to his crazy notion of love at first bolt?
Good thing the Medusas had shown up when they had, or she might have been in serious danger of doing something entirely inappropriate in the middle of a mission. Except why didn’t she feel relief at that thought? Why was vague disappointment at her team’s inconvenient timing rattling around in her gut instead?
Jeff would be looking at her right now. He’d assigned the Medusas to scan the forest while he watched the immediate vicinity around her. Was he undressing her with his eyes? Imagining what they could’ve done together last night had they not had their argument? Whatever was on his mind, the heat of his gaze was palpable at a distance of a hundred yards or more. Or maybe that heat was coming from her own risqué thoughts. There was no question in her mind that he’d be a skilled lover. He was too comfortable with women, too physical a being, too at home in his own skin to be anything else.
Midnight came and went.
And still she sat. Alone.
She’d expected this, however. The Ghost would approach carefully, reconnoiter the area. Make sure she hadn’t set a trap for him. Come in, already, Mr. Ghost. My friends won’t hurt you. Not if I have anything to say about it.
The bench she sat on faced the main walking path that wound through the gully. Behind her fell a curtain of hanging vines and ferns from a stone arch that had once supported the ceiling of an ancient cave. Beyond the vines, the eroded remains of several massive stalagmites marked what used to be the cave floor. Between them, a faint path led the way back to an old entrance to Harrison’s Cave-an extensive complex of caves stretching away beneath her feet. An iron security gate blocked the cave entrance to protect the caves from the local kids and vice versa.
“Don’t turn around.”
The whispered voice was quiet, barely reaching her ears. Male. Strongly French accented.
“Are you alone?” he asked.
“Of course not. My partner wouldn’t hear of me coming out here by myself. He’s hiding in the trees somewhere.”
Two things happened simultaneously. Jeff swore sharply over the radio into her earbuds as he realized she was speaking aloud-off radio, and a quiet laugh floated out of the darkness behind her.
“Such refreshing ’onesty. I like you.”
“Why did you want to speak with me?”
“Yes, let us go directly to the point. The danger this night is much greater than your friend.”
She asked quickly, “What are you talking about?”
“As you may know, I ’ave been busy ’ere in Barbados.”
She answered dryly, “So I’ve heard.”
Another chuckle. “When a fisherman casts ’is net, ’e hopes to catch one kind of fish. But often, ’e catches another as well. Like the fisherman, I took a painting, but by accident, I took something else as well. Something you need to see. It was affixed to the back of a canvas.”
“What is it?”
“In a moment. First, you must tell me true. Do you work for the American government?”
“I do.”
“Perfect. If you will come over to the gate behind you, I will give it to you.”
Startled, she stood up. The movement caused a flurry of chatter in her earpiece as the Medusas readied themselves for her to go mobile. She picked her way with exaggerated caution toward the gate, both because it was dark and hard to see in the shadow of the thick curtain of vines, and also to give her teammates a few extra moments to reposition themselves.
Isabella was the first to announce that she’d acquired a heat signature inside the opening to Harrison’s Cave.
Kat murmured low, “Step back from the opening a little. My colleague has you in his sights.” She might be willing to save the Ghost’s life tonight, but she wasn’t foolish enough to give away to him the true degree of backup she had out here.
“Merci.” The French voice took on a faint echo as he spoke from farther inside the cave.
“Do you want me to come in there?” she asked as she approached the heavily padlocked gate.
“It is not necessary. Please, if you will reach your hand through the bars…”
She did as the Ghost directed.
Something smooth and flat that felt like cardboard was laid in the palm of her hand. “What is this?”
“This-’ow you say-self-explanatory.”
“A warning, my friend. This time we have met in honorable truce. But I cannot extend that to you after tonight. My boss has ordered me to use whatever force is necessary to stop you. And next time, I will be bound by that order.”
“Understood. In return, I ’ave a warning for you as well. If anyone finds out that I ’ave given this disk to you, you will find yourself in immediate and extreme danger. Be very careful.”
“Danger from whom?” she asked, startled.
“You spared my life-for we both know you could ’ave killed me if you wished-and now I ’ave paid you back. Equal warnings ’ave we traded as well. I count us even.”
She drew her hand back through the gate, tilting the cardboard sleeve in her hand to pass it through the metal bars. It held a CD of some kind.
Jeff announced sharply, “H.O.T. Watch says we’ve got heat signatures incoming. Four hostiles. Moving fast. Armed.”
Kat started. She’d momentarily forgotten that the folks in the Bat Cave were monitoring tonight’s meeting via surveillance satellite. She murmured, “The men who chased you from the scene of last night’s theft are coming. Time to go, my friend.”
“What men?” The Ghost’s question was sharp. Alarmed.
He didn’t know? She thought fast. Should she warn him or not? Maybe they were some law enforcement agency that the H.O.T. Watch wasn’t aware of working on the case. If she gave the thief any more information, she could be compromising a criminal investigation. Except she’d already revealed the men’s existence. And her gut instinct said to tell the Ghost about the men.
Jeff spoke in her ear. “Move out, Kat. Take cover.”
She spoke fast. “Last night. Six men. Armed. Wearing black. White van. They staked out the estate. While I was chasing you, they were chasing both of us.”
“What ’appened to them?”
“Their van crashed. We took measures not to be followed home. Do they know who you are?”
Jeff’s voice was more urgent. “Get out of there, Kat! They’re almost here. We don’t need a firefight out here.”
The Ghost murmured, “Merci. I am in your debt once more.”
Kat felt his swift departure into the bowels of the cave as a faint whiff of air against her skin. She took a quick look around and dove behind the curtain of hanging vines. Lying on a bed of moss, she announced quietly over her throat mike, “He’s gone.”
Jeff snorted and muttered, “And they’re here. Everyone pull back. Quietly. No confrontation.”
Kat reached out with her senses, hearing, smelling, even tasting the verdant night around her. If she crawled on this tender moss, it would rip, leaving obvious black gashes to mark her passage. Moving slowly, she drew her pistol and held it over her head with both hands in a firing position. Then she began to roll, gradually easing away from the cave opening. With each revolution, her gaze roved all around, seeking any movement, any shadow that was not of the night and of the forest.