A Thin Disguise by Catherine Bybee
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
She’s gone.
Leo had woken to Sasha’s words, spoken from the doorway to his bedroom.
He’d jumped up and run to Olivia’s room. Other than an unmade bed, the space hadn’t changed.
Even though Sasha told him he was wasting his energy, he’d jumped in the truck as soon as AJ wired it back together, and the two of them followed the tracker Neil had put on the Jeep.
Olivia had abandoned it in Durango.
In the front seat AJ picked up three more bugs, devices placed in the lining of the ski gear, the duffel bag she’d grabbed, and the butt of the AR.
“She found everything,” AJ told him.
Hours later, Leo stood over her bed with the only note she’d left behind.
Thank You!
That was it. It wasn’t addressed to anyone, and yet everyone seemed to feel that was enough.
Fuck that.
It wasn’t enough for him.
He should have just fallen asleep in her bed and she’d still be there.
The others in the house gave him room.
While Leo was trying to piece together what had just happened, everyone else worked together, packing up the house, removing the cameras, microphones, sensors, and alarms.
He heard the heavy footfalls of Neil as he ascended the stairs and came to stand beside him.
“When did you get here?” Leo asked.
“Just now.”
It was hard to talk. “Where did she go?”
“I don’t know.”
“Will you look for her?”
“I will keep an eye out for her, searching is a waste of time and resources.”
Leo shook his head and moved to her dresser. “The hell with that.” He removed every single item he found, shook it out, and moved to the next. “People don’t just disappear.”
“Sometimes they do.”
Neil’s even tone and matter-of-fact words spoken as if they were the gospel hit Leo’s last nerve.
He was right up in the man’s business, eye to eye. “Fuck that! All of this, everything done here, was nothing more than a charade. It never had anything to do with keeping someone from shooting me, or her, again, was it?”
Neil didn’t budge even with Leo shouting in the man’s face. “Partially . . . in the beginning.”
“When did you determine that there was no longer a threat?”
“Two weeks in.”
Leo’s nostrils flared with every tortured breath he drew. One where the air didn’t have Olivia in it.
“I told you Olivia was here to heal. That never changed.”
Leo searched Neil’s face. “Then why me? Why keep me here?”
There was a flicker in Neil’s eye, something that told Leo he was right to ask the question.
“You served a different purpose.”
Leo had had just about enough of Neil’s cryptic shit to last a decade. “Open your fucking mouth, MacBain. I have no problem getting bloody to help you find your words.”
Neil’s mouth didn’t open.
Leo fisted his right hand.
“To prove to Olivia she still had a heart and a reason to live.”
Leo looked over Neil’s shoulder and found Sasha standing in the hall.
“What?” Some of the fight came out of Leo’s tone.
Neil relaxed his shoulders, turned to the side.
“Olivia has been broken for years. This . . .” Sasha lifted her hands to the walls of the house. “This gave her an opportunity to experience a different life. You, and what the two of you shared . . . well, it’s not my place to label any of that. The Olivia we witnessed here is not the woman you met in Vegas. Maybe now that she has been both, she can see a different life for herself.”
“If you believe that, then why would she leave?”
“Reaction. Her normal mode of operation. What she’s always done.” Sasha’s expression said her words were obvious. “She needs to regroup. Find her center.”
He could have been that center.
Lord knew she was becoming his.
“You think she’ll be back,” Leo said.
Sasha didn’t commit. “If I were her, I’d find the shooter. I’d learn who hired them and why.”
The thought of Olivia going after the person who shot her . . . alone . . . made him want to vomit. “And then?”
“Depends on the information.”
Leo looked up at Neil, who had remained silent during the whole exchange. “You think she’ll remove the threat.”
They were both silent.
“You really believe she will kill them.”
Silence.
“Ahh, fuck.” It was one thing in the heat of a battle, yeah . . . that’s what they all trained for. But to find the shooter, or whoever hired them, and just pull the trigger. Premeditated and not within the laws of justice. “I can protect her. The FBI can take care of this.”
Neil shook his head. “The FBI will not protect her when they learn who she is.”
“Who the hell is that, MacBain?”
Sasha said something in a language Leo did not understand and stepped closer.
“Olivia and I did go to the same school.”
“Sasha,” Neil warned.
She lifted a hand, ignored him.
“The same as Claire.” Sasha looked at Neil. “Nothing you haven’t figured out.” Her eyes moved back to Leo. “Richter was . . . is . . . a boarding school. When we were in attendance, this military school operated quite differently than it does today. Some of us, the orphans, those that showed aptitude, were pushed harder and given more incentives to learn languages, perfect our weapons training, hack computers.”
Neil crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “Why are you telling him this?”
Sasha glared at Neil. “Because he loves her and will discover these facts. While searching, he may end up leaving a trail straight to her. None of us want that.”
Leo blinked past Sasha’s label of his feelings for Olivia and moved on. “All of these skills made Olivia a better operative. So what government does she work for?”
Neil stepped out of the way and let Sasha continue.
She turned back to Leo, took a deep breath. “None of them. I have no doubt that was what she was told when she signed up. That there was a covert arm of British intelligence, maybe the CIA or even the FBI. And in your search, you will find that these legitimate organizations did in fact recruit students from Richter. But they weren’t the only ones picking the cream from the top of the vat. There were others. Ones who acted as benefactors for orphaned students and manipulated which employment those students chose. One of these benefactors attempted to recruit me. I was older, had been away from Richter for a half a dozen years, and understood exactly what he was asking of me.”
The picture was coming in clear. “Which was?”
“Do what they say, when they say, no questions asked.”
“Anything?”
Sasha looked him straight in the eye. “Anything. Infiltrate, collect data—”
“Kill?” he asked, not wanting to hear her answer.
“Anything,” Sasha said slowly.
Leo took a few steps back and sat on the edge of the bed.
“The truth is, none of us know exactly what Olivia is guilty of,” Neil told him.
So much bile rose to meet the back of his throat. “Murder.”
“Most assuredly,” Sasha said without hesitation.
Something Leo had guessed all along.
Silence filled the room like thick and heavy fog.
“Olivia escaped this employment seven years ago,” Neil told him.
“How can you be sure? You said yourself she isn’t on your payroll. Only called in on occasion.”
“The man who employed her is dead.”
Leo’s gaze snapped to Sasha. “Did she . . . ?”
Sasha shrugged, as if the answer was maybe. “He died in prison. Apparent suicide.”
“You don’t believe that.”
Sasha once again said something in a different language, this time sounding like Russian. She rolled her eyes. “If someone forced me to kill innocent people, or even the guilty, and then held my life hostage to be his bitch, I would not hesitate.”
It was then that Leo saw in Sasha that same look of determination Olivia had in her eyes right before she pulled him to the ground in Vegas.
“Only Olivia did,” Neil said. “She was given a chance to take this man out. But we were there, witnesses and guilty by association. All he suffered at that time was a beating Sasha delivered and a gunshot wound to the hand. The wheels of justice started to roll, but he was dead before trial. That death could have been on Olivia’s hands, or another like her. Could have been whoever paid him. We will never know.”
“Nor do we care,” Sasha added. “She wanted out, disappeared, and eventually reconnected with an old school friend, Amelia, AJ’s sister.”
All the dots started marching in line as Sasha spelled out the facts.
“When Amelia ended up dead, Olivia blamed herself.”
Leo ran both hands through his hair. “When a suicide bomber changes his mind, it isn’t his life he is threatening, it’s his family.”
“That would be us. Even if she doesn’t like it,” Neil explained. “I wanted her to see, feel, touch, and taste that connection with people here. Let her know that we can care for ourselves. That living in fear isn’t living and there is another way.”
“But then someone shot her,” Leo said. “Is there a price on her head?”
“We don’t know. The man who all but owned her is dead, and she only reported to him. That doesn’t mean someone else out there doesn’t have a grudge. Or someone may have obtained information to try and pull her back in,” Neil pointed out.
“If she saw the shooter and recognized him, she’ll find them. If she didn’t, she’ll assume the bullet was for her and avoid us . . . you . . . to keep us safe,” Sasha added.
“I can keep myself safe,” Leo said. As if he were a child telling a parent he could climb the stairs all by himself. There was always an element of danger and the unknown in his line of work. It had never deterred him from the job before.
“If it helps at all, none of us believe her to be a mercenary. She is lost and alone and needs to find her balance before she can believe any of what she found here to be true and worth fighting for.”
Leo looked at his hands, envisioned them in Olivia’s. “So I’m supposed to just wait for that to happen?”
“She’ll reach out when she’s ready.”
Yeah . . . Leo didn’t see himself waiting. But they were right. As with any branch of government, worldwide, they would extract as much intel as they could and only then determine if you still needed to be imprisoned for your crimes. Pledging the FBI would take care of her was a promise Leo could not keep.
“You’re still going to look for her, aren’t you?” Neil asked.
“Damn right.”
“Then do it at my headquarters. I have two of Richter’s top hackers on payroll,” Neil said, and then he glanced at Sasha. “And one who does it for free.”
“She cares about you,” Sasha said after a moment of silence.
“She left.”
“Which proves she cares.”
Leo looked between Sasha and Neil. He didn’t take their trust and honor lightly. “What the hell am I going to tell my boss?”
Sasha laughed, turned to leave the room. “We have that figured out. I’ll go over the details on the plane home.”
“Would you like me to top off your wine?”
Olivia looked up at the flight attendant who stood over her with a bottle of chardonnay in her hand. With more than seven hours remaining in her flight, she knew the effects of what she allowed herself to drink would wear off before they landed. “Yes, please.” She was running on less than three hours of sleep. She was hoping the alcohol would help her fix that.
The cubical-style business-class seating kept the other passengers from watching her without being obvious.
The short red wig and tinted contacts changed her look dramatically from the woman who’d been throwing snowballs less than two days before. She pulled out her thick Russian accent and still spoke English to those around her.
She’d abandoned the Jeep in Durango, and borrowed a car parked on a residential street. From there she drove to Denver and left that car where it would easily be found and returned to its owner. She then backtracked on a flight to Seattle.
The next flight she booked was with a passport Neil had no knowledge of. First stop was Chicago, and now she was destined for Paris. From there she’d obtain a car and drive the rest of the way.
But for now, she breathed.
Even if it was painful.
The flight attendant refilled her wine, removed her meal tray, and disappeared.
The envelope with her name written on the outside had tiny tears on the edges. One for every time she considered opening the letter and then decided not to. Not until she was on the international flight and couldn’t change her mind.
She took a generous sip of her wine and opened the letter.
Olivia,
If you’re reading this, then you’re gone. We will be sorry you felt you had to leave, but none of us thought you’d stay. I can assure you that this team has, and is still willing to, take an active role in helping you move beyond your past. You don’t have to do this alone.
I will not personally search you out. But the same can’t be said for our mutual friend. For what it’s worth, I never revealed the truth to him. Though by now I’m sure he’s figured much of it out. I will tell him what I must to keep you safe, no more, no less.
If your safety is at risk, there will be a yellow ribbon on my front door . . . any and all of them.
You know how to contact me.
Don’t hesitate.
N
A thick knot of emotion balled in her throat.
So many memories flashed in her head. When he walked into the ICU room and looked down at her.
“Do I know you?”
“I’m hard to forget.”
Yet she had forgotten him.
Even the name Olivia didn’t click into line until she was knee deep in snow and out of breath from playing like a child.
The vision of Sasha handing her a box of condoms and claiming when this was all over, she wouldn’t want complications, circled.
Isaac’s plea to not be tied up, that she could just leave . . .
Lars telling her he’d be happy to buy her drinks since he’d seen her half-naked.
They all knew, this whole time, and they simply played house until her memory came back. All of them knowing she would leave without a proper goodbye.
Olivia looked at Neil’s note again.
All that sacrifice of time and safety . . . knowing she would vanish.
She stared out the window at the setting sun, blinking as that information processed.
Leo.
She fought back tears just picturing him.
Mr. FBI . . . sleeping with an assassin.
By now he knows.And to think they were both talking about the possibility of her being some kind of glamorous double agent. A spy for the good team. A 007 type that would be celebrated in secret circles.
She finished her wine and pressed the button for the attendant.
What a fool.
Both of them.
They should never have started anything.
“What can I get for you?”
Olivia picked up her empty glass. “You don’t happen to have a bigger glass back there?” she asked.
The attendant shook her head and smiled. “I’ll come back around and keep it full.”
For seven years no one had come for her. She heard rumors herself, that she was dead. A rumor Geoff Pohl circulated to keep face with those who paid him. A missing operative was a dead operative. She had no doubt the man had put a price on her head. Which was why he was dead.
She reached for the notch on her chest where the bullet had gone in.
The face of the gunman, his voice . . . his name echoed.
Someone from her past knew she was alive. The question was, How many others did with him?
Her wine arrived.
Olivia folded up the letter from Neil, her intention to burn it at the first opportunity. While names weren’t implicated, she wouldn’t keep it for sentiment.
No . . . she had a job to do.
Because when killers try to kill their own kind, they know the score.
It was time to even it.