Vortex by Catherine Coulter

Olivia

Safe House

Wednesday evening

Chas Gaylin sat at the banged-up table in the ancient kitchen that looked older than he was, drinking coffee. He eyed Olivia as she paced up and down the small kitchen, then stood at the counter staring at a box of lasagna pasta as if she were trying to figure out what to do with it, then started pacing again.

Gay had come back on duty at the safe house an hour before and would stay with Olivia until eight o’clock in the morning, when Sue Ling Smith would relieve him again. He said easily, “I wish you’d stop pacing, makes me nervous, and don’t look out the window, keep the curtain closed. Sue Ling told me that FBI agent set you to calling everyone you and Mike ever met to ask if they’d seen Mike. Sounds like a waste of time, you ask me, busywork to keep you off the street. Seems to me it’s making you a little crazy. You want to tell me about seeing the shrink with Agent Savich?”

“No,” she said and tossed him an apple, then took one for herself and bit in.

“Thanks for the apple,” Gay said, polished it on his sleeve, pointed to the pasta. “So we’re having lasagna for dinner?”

“Lasagna? Hmm. Maybe. Did you eat a taco with Ruth in the FBI cafeteria? Any belly pains from FBI food poisoning?”

“Gut’s fine. For a taco, it tasted okay. I like Ruth. She’s sharp, a real go-getter. Do you know she has a stepson who’s a big-deal baseball pitcher? He’s going to Virginia Tech on a scholarship? She told me he brought in the regional championship. So did you make the calls Agent Savich told you to do? I don’t suppose you found out anything?”

She gave him a crooked grin. “Well, one of Mike’s soccer team buddies told me he’d spotted Mike coming out of Sunny’s Bar in Tyson’s Corner a couple of days ago.”

“Idiot. Mike wouldn’t be caught dead in Sunny’s, it’s basketball on all the TVs, not soccer.”

“Agreed. I think he told me that because he’s divorced now and wanted to ask me out on a date. I think you’re right, Agent Savich was only trying to give me something to do. He couldn’t have expected any of those people would tell me anything new. Gay, you’re still checking in at Langley, and I know you’ve got your own sources. Does anyone have any more of an idea where Mike could be?”

Gay shook his head. “You know I’d tell you if I knew anything.” He eyed her a minute. She’d stopped her pacing, poured herself a glass of water, but she still looked like she wanted to bust out of her skin. Of course she was scared for Mike, for herself, but there was something else.

Gay said, “You gonna tell me what it’s like being hypnotized? Did that shrink fill in any of the blanks for you?”

Olivia felt a surge of guilt. She wanted to tell him she’d remembered what Hashem had said, but Dillon had asked her to keep it to herself because both Hashem and the mission had been betrayed and they didn’t know who on the food chain was responsible. She said, “I couldn’t really imagine going under, I mean, he had this swinging gold watch, and how silly was that? But I did. There was nothing to it really. I just sort of faded out of the picture.” She paused a second, then asked, “I heard your daughter is having a baby. Congratulations.”

So it was need-to-know and he wasn’t in the loop. Gay said, “Yeah, thanks, wife’s so excited she’s already bought out one of those baby stores. She’s over with Delia right now, the two of them are wondering what color to paint the frigging nursery. I told her to flip a coin.”

Olivia laughed. “At least she didn’t shoot you, so that’s good.”

Helmut knew that word and barked, waved his tail nonstop, like a metronome.

“About the lasagna, I was planning on making my mother’s recipe, but I forgot the fresh tomatoes. Helmut, yes, yes, I know you’re starving. I’ve got your dinner.” She poured his food into his bowl, petted his head, and watched him dig in like it was his last meal.

“He’s a great dog, Olivia. How old is he?”

“Two years. When I’m out of the country, Linda in Eastern Affairs or my friend Julia takes him in.”

Gay said, “You know, we can’t eat lasagna without tomatoes, so how about we have pizza instead? I’ll go for pepperoni and artichoke.” He looked at her like a kid on Christmas morning.

Olivia’s stomach growled. “Okay, sounds good to me, but no artichokes for me, I’m pepperoni with onion and black olive.”

Gay paused a moment. “Like Mike.”

When he called in their order to Pizza Nirvana, double pepperoni and artichokes for him, he sounded positively buoyant. He punched off his cell. “Thirty minutes, then I’ll go pick it up, won’t have it delivered for obvious reasons.”

“Obvious?”

“You already forget the bad guys came to your house Monday night?”

“Of course not, but we’re in a safe house, for goodness’ sake. No one knows we’re here, unless you and Helmut sold me out.”

He shook his head. “When I get back, I’ll tell you a story about a hoagie delivery boy with a Beretta under his hoodie, happened about five years ago.”

She snorted. “You’re making it up. Come on, Gay, you called it in, I’ll do the pickup.”

“Nope, forget it. You’re going to stay behind locked doors.”

“Come on, Gay, Pizza Nirvana’s only half a mile away, lots of traffic all the way, lots of people. I’ll be in and out in a flash. No worries.” She pulled her car keys out of her jeans pocket, tossed them in the air, caught them again, leaned down to rub Helmut’s ears. “I really need to get out, breathe some of this crisp air.”

“It’s thirty degrees out, a bit beyond crisp.”

“Gay, really, I’m going nuts. I’ll leave Helmut to protect you. He saved my bacon Monday night.” She went down on her knees, took Helmut’s head between her hands, looked into his beautiful eyes. “You will stay here and guard Gay. I’ll bring you one of those cheese sticks you like.” She looked up at Gay. “You could give Helmut a short walk, but not too long, he hates the cold.”

Gay took a final bite of his apple, banked the core into the wastebasket, and clapped his hands. Helmut trotted over to him, butted his golden head against his hands. “My old dog, Gamble, died a couple of years ago. Helmut here makes me wonder if I should get another mutt.” He remembered there was a basketball game on tonight between his beloved Wizards and the Bucks. He sighed, looked at his watch. “Okay, you fetch the pizzas and I’ll walk Helmut, give both of us some exercise. You got your Glock?”

“Of course.”

He walked with her to the front hall. “I know in my head you’re right, no one can know you’re here, but—you be careful anyway, Hildebrandt. Oh yeah, when you get back you can tell me what you were doing on the Web for hours.”

That brought her to a stop. “How did you know?”

“It’s not a big house. I walked behind you, you never heard me. I’m a ghost.”

Olivia sighed. She couldn’t tell him, so she lied clean. “Only thing interesting I found was a nest of drug dealers out of Rwanda who supply the Middle East.”

“Sure, Hildebrandt, like I’ll believe that.”

She patted his hand. “Don’t worry about me, Gay. And you stay, Helmut. Guard Gay.” Olivia bundled up against the cold and bitter wind, wondered how winter could still be so dug in in the middle of March.

Gay watched her run to her car, climb in, and lock the doors before he closed the front door again.

Olivia turned the heater on full blast and settled in until it began to warm. Of course Gay knew she was cutting him out. She couldn’t tell him she was researching French arms dealers, studying their glossy web pages, and then, frustrated, anything she could find on the dark Web. Why had she picked Rwanda of all places? She wondered what Dillon Savich was doing.

She backed slowly out of the narrow driveway, looked over all the cars parked in the pleasant middle-class neighborhood, didn’t see anything suspicious. Everyone was inside, eating dinner, staying warm. She headed out.

Olivia turned onto Wilton Avenue and into traffic, and again, checked her rearview. She saw no one following.

She pulled into the Willow Springs strip mall. Not many people about except the few inside the pizza place. She parked, dashed into the awesome warmth, heard her stomach growl at the divine smells. She breathed them in, gave her name, chatted with the counter girl while she waited, a perky eighteen-year-old, if that, and paid. She walked out carrying two pizza boxes and cheese sticks for Helmut, and again, she paused, looked all around her. She saw a young couple hurrying toward the Mexican restaurant, another man hurrying to his car. Nothing suspicious.

She slid into her RAV4, turned on the heat, and got ready to back out. A man’s voice, with a French accent, came from behind her.

“You did not think we could get to you, did you?” Olivia felt the cold muzzle of a pistol at the base of her skull.

“How did you find me?” Was that her voice, so calm and steady?

A moment of silence, then the man said, “Reach for your weapon, slowly, and give it to me.” He dug the muzzle into her neck. “Do it, now. If you try anything stupid, believe me, you will regret it.” He held out his right hand.

Actions and consequences sped through her mind. She realized she didn’t have a chance, not now. She passed him her Glock. “How?”

He said close to her ear, “Nice red Porsche the federal cop drives. Easy to follow.”