She nodded. “Oh yes, I knew he’d try. I scattered the money so that it would take a tremendous amount of time to collect it again. It’s not a matter of a single transaction. I was banking on that fact, and the fact that only I can access it. They need me for voice and fingerprint recognition on several of the biggest accounts.” She sighed. “You can imagine how happy I was when I heard that he’d been arrested and convicted. I was counting on his imprisonment lasting for the rest of his life. I was concerned when I’d heard that he’d escaped. I knew that he’d eventually try to access his funds, and when he found them missing, he’d come after me.”
“Why did, or should I say do, you keep running from me then? I’m on your side.”
She leveled a stare at him. “I’m not sure just what to make of you. Something seems off, but I can’t put my finger on it. Your refusal to go to the hospital when you were shot just made me all the more suspicious, and it only got worse when you said that you had no one to call. Everyone has someone to call in their life. If they don’t, either something is seriously wrong with them or they’re lying, or both. Besides, I prefer to act alone. Especially since you told me that you’re being tracked by the same killer. It seems to me that we make it too easy for him when we’re together.”
“You’re far too confident in your own abilities to beat this thing. You may be great at financial matters, but survival against a paid assassin requires a set of skills that I doubt you’ve spent any time acquiring.”
She gave him a piercing look. “And you have? I understand that you’re military and must have received some training, but your résumé said that you specialize in infectious diseases, not in dodging killers.”
He lowered his eyes against her perceptive stare to sip his drink. When he was done, he looked up. “I need to keep moving because I have another mission to complete, and you should move, too.”
“And I’ve decided to go back to the safe house. It’s become clear to me from the attempted bombing at the hotel that I’m putting others at risk by staying outside. I was just waiting here for you to find me again so that I can get the code for that lockbox.” Smith rubbed his face with his hand. “What is it?” she said.
“You can’t go to the safe house.”
Nolan snorted. “You’ve been hounding me to go there and now, when I finally agree, you say that I can’t? Why not?”
Smith paused. He wasn’t about to tell a civilian about Russell’s concerns about a mole, but he also didn’t want Nolan to walk into a trap.
“There’s been a change of circumstances. The location and security of the safe house may have been breached.” Nolan went silent. She sipped her coffee and Smith thought he could see her brain whirring to process the information.
“So we’re on our own.”
Smith sighed. “For the most part, yes.”
“What about the third picture? The man you know?”
“His name’s Peter Howell.”
“What does Dattar have against him?”
“I’m not sure. Howell’s English, and Dattar might be lashing back at the UK for agreeing to jail him after a conviction. No other country was willing to bear the cost of imprisoning him for what most assumed would be a life sentence. England’s offer allowed the trial to go forward.” Smith sipped the wine again. “Howell’s missing. I assume he’s still alive, though. Howell’s hard to kill.” Nolan cocked her head to one side as she contemplated him.
“You’ve got some interesting friends. Especially for a man who claims to have no close personal relationships.”
Smith decided to leave that comment alone. The whole series of events had thrown the stark nature of his life into focus. Right now he preferred action to contemplation.
“We need to keep moving. We’ve been here too long. It’s not safe.”
Nolan glanced around the restaurant. “New York’s a big city. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of restaurants. Is this man so good that he can track me the way you can?”
“He may not have the precise tools that I do, but he’s been successful without them. You can bet he’s watching your home and your office.”
“How are you doing it?”
Smith shook his head. “Trade secret. We need to go.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Issuing orders?” He nearly bit his tongue. She was right. Something about her brought out the military in him. He was acting like a drill sergeant with a particularly recalcitrant recruit. And it was the exact wrong way to deal with her. He took a deep breath and went for honesty.
“Sorry. Absolutely not. I’ve learned how useless orders can be when dealing with you. It was a suggestion only.” His phone began vibrating in his pocket and he answered when he saw that it was Marty.
“Get out of there, now,” Marty said. “Someone’s accessing her tablet GPS just like I am, but they’re relaying the coordinates to an untraceable prepaid phone. And these hackers are the best.”
“Who is it?” Smith said.
“The CIA.”
27
We’ve got to leave. Now,” Smith said. Nolan stopped drinking her coffee mid-sip. She swallowed.
“Why? What just happened?”
He hesitated. Normally he’d just try to muscle his way through giving vague responses and assuming that most people would recognize his expertise and take his direction. But Nolan had already proven immune to good advice.
“The group at the hotel is getting information about our location from…a hacker. I give it ten minutes, no more, and they’ll be here. Power down your tablet and cell phone.”
Nolan put the coffee cup down with a thunk. Her face had turned pale, which was one of the first times that he’d seen her react to the circumstances in an appropriate way. Perhaps she was learning the extent of the precarious position that she was in. Her eyes narrowed.
Well, that’s not a good sign, Smith thought.
“Call Ms. Russell’s superior. They must have other safe houses we can use.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Why not?” Nolan said.
Smith eyed the man with the backpack next to them and the crowd in the aisles. From somewhere in the bowels of the store he heard the shrill laughter of a woman who was on her way to being drunk, and the air was filled with the sound of voices in conversation intermingled with the clinking of glasses, creating a cacophony. From the coffee bar came the noise of milk being steamed; the smell of coffee beans being ground wafted in Smith’s direction. Background music overlaid it all. Smith wasn’t going to hear the assassin approach; that much was clear. He would have to rely on spotting him before he was able to aim. Smith kept his gaze roaming around the room. His phone vibrated. It was Marty.
“Why are you still there?” he said.
“Just leaving.”
“If it is someone in the CIA tracking you both, you’ll have to go dark, you know that, right? I mean, for them to be hacking a civilian’s computer is domestic spying, which is illegal. There must be a bad seed in the agency for this to be happening.”
“I’m not exactly a civilian.”
“You’re army and on their side, so it’s even worse. And she’s a civilian. I presume neither the CIA nor you have a warrant.”
“Nor do you, for God’s sake.”
“But what I’m doing is just criminal. What the CIA is doing is treason. They’re acting like a police state and spying against American citizens.”
Smith could tell that Marty was winding up and he didn’t have the time to discuss the shades of gray and black that they were engaging in.
“The CIA is good at this. You can’t use any technology for any length of time, you understand? That means no credit cards, no phone use, no accessing your bank accounts.”