Vortex by Catherine Coulter

Olivia

New Safe House

Washington, D.C.

Wednesday night

Olivia hummed as she slathered on body cream, brushed her teeth, checked out her bruises from the airbag. Not too bad, she’d been lucky. She’d certainly had worse. She smiled at herself in the mirror and chanted, “Mike is alive, Mike is alive.” She’d have shouted it out if Gay wasn’t watching TV in the living room. She did a little skip and gave the mirror a high five.

No sooner had she stretched out beside Helmut on her new bed, this one hard as nails, than it hit her. What about Andi? Why hadn’t she called? Had the Frenchman gone after her? She dialed her number with shaking fingers. “Andi? Olivia. Tell me you’re safe.”

“Of course I’m safe. I was actually about to call you, but you beat me to it. Mr. Grace told me what happened to you today, while you were picking up pizza for you and Gay. I imagine Gay’s in big trouble, letting you go out alone like that. Where’s your brain? What were you thinking?”

And Olivia heard herself say, “It was only a short distance from the safe house, really, and I checked, no one was following me.” She paused. “All right, yes, I was an idiot, I’ll never do something like that again.”

“All right, enough penance. You saved yourself, kicked big butt. But you didn’t kill him.”

“No, not through want of trying. But I did wound him. I hope he’s really hurting.”

Andi laughed, then her voice hitched. “I was so worried. Mr. Grace told me to hold off calling you, said you’d be too busy for a while. You really are okay, aren’t you, Olivia?”

“Only some bruises, I promise.”

“That’s twice now, Olivia, they’ve tried to kill you.”

“Andi, they didn’t want to kill me, they wanted to take me, force me to lead them to Mike. And you know what that means? Mike’s alive! Andi, he’s alive and they don’t know where he is. I’ve been repeating that to myself over and over and I’m only now beginning to believe it.”

“You’re right, now that’s a load off. My own minder, Agent Cox, was going on about Mike being a traitor, but I kept telling him that made no sense at all, it was stupid, just plain crazy, if you knew Mike. I wonder what happened? Why he went to ground? As far as I know he hasn’t even checked in with Mr. Grace. He has to have a good reason. Any ideas?”

Olivia knew Mike had the flash drive, was probably trying to decrypt it, but how would he without the encryption key? If there was a way, he’d find it. Was he researching French weapons manufacturers, as she had? She said to Andi, “I think Mike is trying to figure some things out, just like we are.” She sounded really lame to her own ears, but luckily Andi didn’t question her.

Andi said, “Olivia, did the man who attacked you today tell you anything? Was he Iranian too?”

Olivia saw Dillon holding her hands, saying, There’s no way that man followed my Porsche. Trust me, I would have seen him. He lied because someone right here in the CIA at Langley told him where to find you. We have no idea who or how high up, so keep whatever you can close to your vest. Don’t volunteer any information to anyone. Still, she wished she could tell Andi everything because she was one of the team, as worried about Mike as Olivia was.

“Andi, I’m under orders not to tell anyone anything and I hate it, but that has to include you. But the most important thing I learned is that Mike’s alive and they don’t know where he is.”

She heard Andi sigh. “All right. I’ll tell Higgs when he checks in with me again. He’s in Halifax, being a tourist. He told me he can’t think of anything he could do to help if he came back. He’s worried about us, Olivia. Well, he’s really worried about Mike, too, but since no one knows where he is, Higgs thinks you and I should join him. I’ll tell you, I’m tempted. But then I think what about Mike? We can’t leave him in the wind. I guess we just have to wait. I hate it.”

“Believe me, I do too.”

“You and I, Olivia, we’ve been thrown in with nasty hostiles before, but what’s happening now isn’t a head-on something we can even understand, and I’ll say it again—I hate it, hate feeling helpless. It’s crazy, Olivia, and I’m scared, for you, for me, for Mike.”

“I’m scared, too, Andi.”

“My minder, Agent Cox, told me they arranged a new safe house for you and Gay. How about I try to talk him into letting me come to you?”

“See what Agent Cox says and I’ll speak to Gay. It isn’t the Ritz; it’s like the first one, a clean, nondescript house in a nondescript neighborhood, ancient plumbing, mother’s old attic furniture. At least there’s a big-ass TV and a comfy easy chair for Gay. Let me know what Cox says, Andi, I’d love to have you here with me.” Olivia yawned. “I’m sorry, but it’s been quite a day. My body is telling me to shut down. At least the pizza was good, heated up nice and crisp.”

Andi laughed. “You always find the rainbow, Olivia, always. Let’s see if we would be allowed to hook up, stay together. I’m so relieved to talk to you, to find out Mike’s all right. I’m proud of you.”

“Come on, Andi, you’re Wonder Woman. You’d have done the same, and you know it.” She heard Andi laugh again, and it felt really good. They both rang off.

Olivia set her cell back in its charger, pulled the covers over both her and Helmut, whose head was on the pillow next to her, and lay back. He didn’t stir. She heard Gay’s basketball game playing on the TV in the living room. Mr. Grace had reamed him for letting her out of the safe house by herself, but Gay hadn’t been angry with her, more philosophical, said next time he’d follow her even to the bathroom, and happily ate his warmed-up pepperoni and artichoke pizza. At least Lodner had let Gay stay with her.

She ran her hand lightly over Helmut’s head, rubbed his ears. “Do you think Mike can decrypt that flash drive? I wonder if Dillon could.”

Helmut raised his head to lick her hand. “Andi’s right, I did good shooting that Frenchman, but that shoulder wound might not be much at all.”

He licked her cheek and she hugged him. “I know, you think I can do no wrong. But I can.” She settled back and reviewed every word the Frenchman had said, everything she’d done, until she fell asleep.

Olivia’s cell pounded the drums from Koothra’s “Night in the Jungle.” Helmut had moved down to the foot of the bed, taking part of the blanket with him. He raised his head. “It’s okay, boy.” She answered. “Olivia.”

“It’s me, Mike.”