“In the reprobate’s lair,” I replied, and earned myself a withering look from Mo-bot.
“Which one — Sci or Mo?” Justine asked.
“The digital enchantress,” I said.
“You still want that ride to the airport?”
“Sure,” I replied. “I’ll meet you downstairs in ten.”
“How are you both?” I asked Mo-bot and Sci as I hung up.
“Hurt and offended,” Mo-bot replied. “Reprobate?”
“Pretty good,” Sci chimed in.
“Staff satisfaction at fifty percent,” I responded. “I’ll take it.”
“I don’t know why I put up with you,” Mo-bot said.
“Because you love me. Give me a call if you find anything on Beth Singer,” I replied.
“Will do,” Mo-bot said. “Have a safe flight.”
I headed back upstairs to my office to grab my ready bag, an emergency holdall I kept for just such unexpected trips, and then down to the basement parking garage. Justine was in her black Mercedes S65, and the engine was running. I was greeted by a blast of warm air when I opened the passenger door and slid my bag onto the tiny back seat. I got in and kissed her.
“You sure you want to do this?” she asked as she put the car in drive and we started our journey.
“This isn’t just about Donald Singer,” I confessed. “I need to get back out there.” We hadn’t discussed it much, but she knew recent events in Moscow had taken their toll on me. “And this feels like a good case to ease me back in.”
Justine nodded. “I just don’t want to lose what we’ve built over the past few months.”
I squeezed her leg reassuringly. “Nor do I, believe me. I’ll find this woman and her kids and be back before you know it. You probably won’t even notice I’m gone.”
“Now that’s impossible,” she replied as she pulled onto Wilshire Boulevard and joined the rush-hour traffic heading west.
Chapter 9
“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” Ted asked as Beth returned to the living room.
The place was a museum. The Edward Eisner Museum of Military Excellence, Beth thought, and couldn’t help but smile. There were medals on display and photos of him with senior brass, one with President Obama, others on deployment, and about a dozen of him giving instruction. There was a glass case that contained fragments of shrapnel taken from his leg, along with trophies he’d plundered from Afghan and Iraqi enemies — shell casings, medals, watches with photos of Osama bin Laden and Saddam Hussein, and other strange keepsakes.
The furniture was old but well cared for, but the television was new and enormous, and Beth guessed it was a source of company. Ted Eisner was a naturally abrasive man. People often thought a heart of gold lay beneath the rough exterior, but she knew his heart was made of steel and was locked away in an ice box. He had been a great instructor, but eventually he fell out with everyone who crossed his path, including Beth. She hadn’t spoken to him for more than ten years, despite living less than fifty miles away.
Danny and Maria had taken ages to settle in the strange house, but were now asleep in Ted’s spare room, Danny on the floor because he didn’t want to share the queen bed with his ‘stinky’ sister.
“Is it your husband?” Ted pressed. Even now, Ted refused to say his name. To begin with, Beth had suspected there was a racial element to Ted’s dislike of her husband, but she came to realize the animosity wasn’t motivated by the fact he was Black; Ted simply resented the choices she had made after getting married.
Beth had tried not to think about her husband too much since the men posing as cops had pulled her over. Getting her kids to safety was her primary focus; she didn’t have time to worry about him at the moment. And she definitely couldn’t allow Maria and Danny to see she that she was worried — they wouldn’t be able to cope if they thought anything had happened to their father. But what else could it be? Beth hadn’t been in the field for more than ten years, and the chances of an old enemy targeting her after all this time were remote.
“I think so,” she conceded, taking a seat on a brown leather couch.
Ted was in an easy chair, nursing a bottle of beer.
“I told you he’d be trouble.”
That was Ted. No empathy, just a dogged belief he was always right. If she hadn’t been so worn down by events, Beth might have risen to the provocation, but instead she stayed silent.
“I’m sorry,” he said in a moment of uncharacteristic reflection, “but you were one of my best. If you hadn’t been a damned woman, and fallen in love, you could have gone all the way. Pentagon material, dammit.”
“Even your apologies stink, Sarge,” Beth replied.
“It wasn’t a real apology. I still think you were a damned fool letting yourself get trapped by life’s baggage. Kids? Damned kids? You were a warrior. You had a great thing going, and you ruined it.”
“Thanks. Raking over my perceived failings is exactly what I need right now.”
“Face the truth, soldier,” he snapped. “If you had anywhere else to go, you’d already be there.”
Beth got to her feet. “You’re as exhausting as ever. I’m going to crash.” She was furious with the old man, but she didn’t want a fight. She wouldn’t put it past him to kick them out if things turned sour.
“I’m sorry for my bluntness,” he said at last. “And that’s a genuine apology. Sometimes, I... well... this damned mouth of mine has killed far too many friendships. You threw it away, Beth. All of it. I find it frustrating, that’s all.”
“I get that,” she said. “Goodnight.”
She left the room quickly, keen not to give him a chance to reply. Within minutes, she was in bed beside Maria. She lay listening to her children who breathed deeply in a peaceful sleep, something Beth knew she wouldn’t get tonight while her mind fizzed with anxiety and anger.
Chapter 10
I was in the frozen landscape north of Moscow with Dinara Orlova and Leonid Boykov, studying the ancient wreckage of an accident. Two cars protruded from a thick drift of pristine snow, their twisted shells mangled together, jagged shards of rusted metal spearing the night. Behind them, a snow-covered forest faded into darkness. As I looked at the shadows between distant trees, I felt a primeval fear building within me. There was something stalking me. Something merciless...
“Mr. Morgan?” A voice roused me from my dream, and I woke to see one of the flight attendants at my shoulder. “We’re starting our descent.”
I rubbed my eyes and looked around the cabin to see my fellow passengers stretching and preparing for landing. Bright sunlight flooded the compartment as blinds were raised.
The plane touched down at JFK, and I grabbed my bag from the overhead locker. After a short delay waiting for the air bridge, I disembarked and hurried through the terminal. Red-eye flights from all along the West Coast were arriving. The building was full of sleepy people grasping cups of coffee. I went into the arrivals hall and was about to head for the cab rank when I saw a face I recognized.
“Justine gave me your flight number,” Jessie Fleming said as she approached.
Jessie was the head of Private New York. Now in her mid-thirties, she was a former FBI agent I’d hired straight out of the New York field office’s Counterintelligence Unit. It was one of my very best decisions.
“You come to my town without telling me?” she asked mockingly.
“I didn’t want to distract you,” I said. “It’s just a missing persons case. Something I can handle alone.”
“OK. Well, even if you don’t need a partner, the very least I can do is give my boss a ride.”
“That would be great,” I said. “Thanks, Jessie.”