“Maybe I wanted you to pin me.”
She looks at me sideways. The candlelight makes her brown eyes sparkle.
“Yeah?” she asks.
I take a sip of champagne and attempt to keep my face expressionless. I now know this is it. My years of ignoring the opposite sex have come to an end. It’s high time I reenter the world of male-and-female relationships.
Our breakfast finished, I stand and hold out my hand. She smiles and takes it. I begin to lead her away from the table but she stops me.
“Wait!” Katia grabs the two champagne glasses and the bottle. “We might need this.”
I lead her upstairs to my bedroom. The bed isn’t made but she doesn’t complain. Katia sets down the bottle and glasses and turns to me. I take her into my arms and we kiss more passionately than we did at the studio, if such a thing is possible.
When we finally come up for air, the clock on my nightstand reads 1:30. We made fiercely primal love for at least an hour before falling asleep in each other’s arms. The lovemaking, for me, was a revelation. It had been a long time. I guess it’s one of those things you don’t forget, kinda like riding a bike. Well, Katia Loenstern is one hell of a ride. She rode me pretty hard, too. We must have slept for a half hour, then got to it again. You’d have thought I’d been celibate for a century. After chugging down the rest of the tepid champagne, we tried another position. Katia marveled at my stamina and I welcomed her enthusiasm.
It was the best morning — and best birthday — I’d had in years.
We contemplate taking a shower together just as my beeper goes off. That means I need to make a call to Lambert on my secure line downstairs in the office. I don’t want to do it. Damn it, I’m on vacation. I just returned from an assignment. It can’t be that. Not now. Not as I’m just beginning this with the first woman I’ve grown to like since—
“Does that mean anything?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “I have to make a call. Downstairs in my office.”
She smiles sweetly. “Go ahead. I’ll just lie here and see if I can get my blood pressure back to normal.”
I touch her face lightly and kiss her. “I’ll be right back.”
“Bring some water,” she hollers as I bound down the stairs. Once I’m alone in the office, I make the call and reach Lambert at Third Echelon.
“Sam, thank God you’re there,” he says.
“What’s up, Colonel?”
“Meet me at the usual place in an hour.”
“An hour?”
“Why, you have something else going on?”
I want to tell him to take this job and shove it but I don’t. “I, uh, I’m a little busy.”
“This is priority three, Sam.”
Shit. That means it’s of vital importance. There’s no way I can weasel out of it.
“I’ll be there,” I say. We hang up and I climb the stairs to the kitchen. I pour two tall glasses of water and bring them to the top floor. Katia’s lying playfully under the sheet, giggling. As I enter the room, she exposes one long, shapely leg and flexes it in the air.
“You like?” she says in a phony European accent. “You vant?”
I sit on the bed and gently pull down the sheet. She has a cute, mischievous expression on her face.
“Here you go,” I say as I hand her the water. She sits up, exposing her lovely chest.
She downs the liquid quickly, exhales, and says, “So, you ready for round six? Or is it seven? I’ve lost count.”
“Katia, I have to leave. Business. I’m sorry.”
She looks as if I’ve slapped her. “Really?”
“Really.”
“You’re not trying to get rid of me?”
“Never. If I had my way about it, we’d never leave this room.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls who make you breakfast on your birthday.”
I lean in to kiss her again. She lets me but the earlier passion isn’t there. Her feelings are hurt.
“Does this mean you’re going out of town again?” she asks.
“It might.”
“Sam, what is so important about your job?”
“I can’t tell you, Katia.”
“You do work for the government.”
I figure there’s no harm in her knowing that much. If we’re going to have a relationship…
“Yes. I do. But I can’t tell you what I do. Please don’t ask. All right?”
She considers that a moment and then says, “Okay. As long as you promise you’re not going to drop the Krav Maga class now.”
I laugh. “Of course not.” I hold out my hand and help her out of bed. “We can still take that shower if you want.”
“You bet. I don’t want to go home smelling like sex. My cat will go nuts.”
I precede her into the bathroom to turn on the water. I see her reflection in the mirror and notice that she’s writing something on the notepad I keep on the nightstand. She joins me in the shower and we spend a luxurious five or six minutes soaping each other and getting all hot and bothered again. We do it one more time, standing up in the shower stall as the hot water rains down on us.
Afterward, when we’re dressed, I notice what she wrote on the notepad. It’s her cell phone number and the words, I don’t give this number to just anybody. I smile and lead her downstairs.
“You let me know if you have to leave town, will you?” she asks.
“I promise,” I say. It’s the least I can do.
11
It’s begun to snow. Winter in Maryland is always unpredictable. You never know if it’s going to be blizzard conditions, wet and icy, or just plain cold. The temperature isn’t so low today but the snow is falling heavily. The weather boys predict six inches. Joy.
I crank up the heat in my 2002 Jeep Cherokee and drive down to D.C. on I-95. The vehicle is one of the Overland models, a rugged 4×4 with a potent 265-horsepower V8. For the city, it’s way too much car, but there are times when I like to take it over more rugged territory. I happen to enjoy road trips but I don’t get to take them very often. I’ve often fantasized of being a truck driver after I retire from the intelligence biz. I could go “searching for America,” just like all the other folk heroes.
Lambert and I usually find a public place to meet. I avoid the government agency buildings in and around D.C. just in case someone’s tailing me. Seeing me enter an NSA or CIA building would certainly be a tip-off that I work for the feds. Currently Third Echelon’s actual headquarters is nowhere near the National Security Agency, which is housed on Savage Road in Fort Meade, Maryland, halfway between Baltimore and D.C. Third Echelon proper resides in a small, nondescript building in the nation’s capital, not far from the White House. Every couple of years they move HQ to a new location for security reasons. Even though I try to steer clear of HQ, I occasionally have business there. Lambert and I decided long ago that it was best to rendezvous elsewhere. We used to vary the locations, usually meeting in shopping malls. He knows I hate shopping malls so I think he picks them on purpose just to annoy me. Lambert has a sick sense of humor. Lately we’ve been using the same one, located in Silver Spring, because of its convenience.
I take the exit off I-95 and follow the directions to City Place Mall on Colesville Road, park the Jeep, and go inside. The food court is easy to find and there’s Lambert waiting for me at one of the tables — he’s always the first to arrive — but I’m surprised because he’s not alone. Frances Coen is sitting with him. I know her as one of the Field Runners that Third Echelon uses. She’s in her thirties and is fairly attractive for a tomboy type. Slim with close-cropped dark hair. She’s wearing professional, close-fitting rugged clothes. Lambert is dressed in a black turtleneck sweater and khaki pants. He never wears his uniform when we meet in public. It appears he’s munching down on his favorite fast food, a Big Mac Combo Meal. The woman is eating a salad. I make eye contact with Lambert and then I go to the court to pick up something for myself. Breakfast was hours ago. After all that heavy lovemaking and champagne, I need something substantial. I end up buying a plate of chicken and broccoli from the faux Chinese joint.