Chapter 2 - Old Fears Revisited

"Don't recognize this one." Lee paced the length of the Viewing Room, stalking back and forth in front of the screens. The enhanced images scrolled across the monitors, and the flickering light cast surreal shadows on the darkened walls. His frustration was rising. This was taking too long.

"There was a woman, too," Amanda said. "In the parking lot."

He nodded and resumed pacing, while Francine skipped ahead, stopping the playback again when the woman walked into view. Lee paused. "Francine, do you have that list of operatives? I just want the Soviets, if you've got them."

Francine shuffled through the folders piled on the table and handed him several, each with a photograph attached. Mid-way through the stack, he removed one photo. While he studied it, the knots of frustration loosened in his chest. Back on track.

"Got her. Her name is Polina Khvostova. If memory serves, she works with KGB-sponsored terrorist groups. She'd have the contacts to get the Phial out of the country."

Billy flipped on the lights as he strode into the room. "Bad news, people. We just received word from the Coast Guard." He nodded to Francine. "Queue up monitor four."

Amanda's gasp broke the silence as the screen brightened to a horrific scene--a bloated corpse bobbing in the waves. Lee hardened his resolve and ignored her. She'd have to get used to this sort of thing. There was no place in this business for emotion.

Lost in his own thoughts, he realized that Billy was still talking.

"I'm afraid the Coast Guard fished Dr. Mueller out of the Bay this morning, two miles out, off of Warehouse Creek. It looks like he was alive when he hit the water."

Lee dimmed the screens and brought up the lights as Billy continued. "It looks like Mueller may have been compromised. We may never know all the details, but we found a woman's wedding ring, several pair of pink thong underwear, and two airline tickets to Brazil in his apartment."

"It's Khvostova, Billy," Lee said. "We have a line on her from the WellSpring tapes."

"Khvostova. Somehow, that doesn't surprise me. This is just her style." Billy walked to the door. "Well, she's all we have to go on. Lee, I need you to become her second shadow. With any luck, she hasn't made the drop yet."

Gripping the doorknob, he turned back. "Oh, and take Amanda. She can relay developments to Francine."

The familiar pressure in Lee's chest returned. "Oh, no, Billy. No way. You can't expect me to tail Khvostova and look after Amanda at the same time. It's too dangerous--you know that." He tried to ignore her expression. She'd just get in his way. He couldn't watch her every minute.

Billy held the door open and pointed. "Go," he said, in a voice that brooked no argument.

Glaring at Billy over his shoulder, Lee guided Amanda through the door, her warm back familiar, and unsettling, under his hand. He needed to leave her behind--he had to--and he couldn't. Her presence already felt like an anchor around his neck, pulling him down.


The gray Agency-issue sedan was inconspicuous, but its shabby interior smelled like onions and old socks. After several hours in the lumpy passenger seat, Amanda figured she did, too. Lee wasn't faring any better. He wore his Corvette like a second skin but looked awkward and uncomfortable behind this wheel.

They had followed Khvostova to "Percy's Dry Cleaner's," "Applebee's Bakery," and into a "Pup N' Taco Drive-Thru," with no sign of any clandestine activities. No enemy agents. No terrorists. No Phial.

In the afternoon sky, the first faint hint of pink heralded the coming sunset. Khvostova turned toward the Bay, and they followed. The only sounds were the whistle of the wind through the car's loose seals and the occasional grunt from her grim companion. This was ridiculous--the silence had gone on too long. She tried to dredge up her courage--now was as good a time as any.

"Why are you mad at me?"

Her whispered question must have surprised him. His grip tightened on the wheel, and his jaw clenched. "I'm not mad. What makes you think I'm mad?"

She took a steadying breath and plunged ahead. "Well, you haven't said two words to me in the last hour. In fact, you've hardly said anything for the last three weeks. Not since the Vincenti case, really. Was it that case? I thought--"

"Amanda, I don't want to talk about it now."

"I do. I think now is the perfect time to talk about it." She turned to face him. "Partners are supposed to talk to each other. How can we work together if we don't talk?

"We've been down this road before." Lee shifted his grip on the wheel. "You are not my partner. You have never been my partner. You will not be my partner in the future. End of discussion."

Not this time, buster "We work together. We make a pretty good team--you know we do. You can't say I don't help you, that would be a lie, and you aren't going to lie to me, are you?"

"Amanda, I'm not going to lie to you. You've . . . helped me in the past, and I'm grateful . . . I really am. But we can't be partners. I've told you that before. It's too dangerous for you. You don't know what it means."

"Tell me." Her tone was as gentle as her touch, when she rested her fingertips on his arm.

"It means you could die. It means--" He took a deep breath, then let it out, as a gentle rain misted the windshield and painted the sky gunmetal gray. The rhythmic swish of the wipers matched the beat of her heart while she waited, hoping he would screw up the courage to continue.

"Have you ever heard of Jacob Trent?"

Amanda shook her head, afraid that words would break their fragile rapport.

"See, that's how it goes. You die for your country, and who remembers? No one shouts your name from the rooftops. Who cares now? Just me, I guess. Jacob Trent was my partner and my best friend. We . . . we were under deep cover, trying to infiltrate a smuggling cartel. Almost did it, too. It went bad, somehow, and our cover was blown. Maybe it was a mole in the Agency, maybe I made a mistake, maybe he did. I don't know, and we never found out."

Lee's grip tightened again, and the car wobbled, the front right tire kissing the center divider. He jerked the wheel and brought the car back to center.

"Jacob tailed them through the warehouse district, while I followed another lead. When he called me, I told him to wait, told him. He went in without me. Didn't wait. All I needed was a few seconds. When I went in, I found him. Alive. Hurt, though, and it slowed us down. We almost made it. We . . . "

She gripped his shoulder. "Lee, stop. You don't have to--"

"You wanted to know, so let me finish it." His voice was low and tight. "We almost made it out. He must have seen something or sensed someone. He shoved me down, and I heard the gunfire. He . . . he took a bullet meant for me. And he died, Amanda, right there. He died in my arms, and I couldn't save him."

He slowed the car, and when he looked at her, she flinched and pulled her hand back. The look in his eyes was cold and oddly detached, almost frightening. "You and I can never be partners. I work alone."

He wasn't alone now, but she said nothing. What was there to say? One thing came to mind. "What can I do to help?" she asked, afraid of the answer.

"You can do what I tell you and stay alive."


"What's she up to now?" Amanda asked, breaking several minutes of strained silence.

"There's a small marina and several loading docks a mile or so ahead--she could be stopping there." His words were clipped and his tone harsh. Not a good sign.

At Bayside Dock 3c, Khvostova turned and drove along the shoreline. They followed, keeping a street or two between the cars, until she pulled through a dilapidated gate and out onto the dock. Lee stopped the car on a side street overlooking the gate. "We don't want to be seen, and this is the only way out."

When Amanda reached for the door handle, he added, "I need you to stay here."

"No way! It's not safe in this car alone." As if on cue, a burly man with bloodshot eyes and several tattoos on his bare arms staggered up to the car. He leered in the window, and Amanda resisted the urge to slide closer to Lee, as her admirer shuffled down the sidewalk. She glared at Lee. "See?"

"And you think it's going to be safer skulking after the KGB?" He hesitated, and she started to worry. She wasn't going to let him go alone. After what looked like a painful internal debate, he grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the car. "Come on, then. But when I tell you to go to the car, are you going to do it? No back-talk?"

"Yeah."

Something unpleasant smoldered behind his eyes. "Is that a promise? Amanda, I mean it."

"I promise." If that's what it took.


In the gathering darkness, Lee crept along the side of an abandoned warehouse, holding Amanda's hand and pulling her behind him. If he couldn't watch her, he could at least keep a good, solid grip. As long as he held on, he had some control. Or he could pretend that he did.

From the shadows, he studied the dock. A fifty-foot yacht was moored there, its once pale-green exterior grayed with grime and covered with seagull droppings. Its name--"Wild Witch"--was visible in large, faded script. It might have been rotting there for decades, except for the new ropes attaching it to the pier. It wasn't worthy of a second glance--not a boat owned by wealthy weekend yachtsmen or drug traffickers. It was inconspicuous.

Polina Khvostova, looking out of place on the stained deck, spoke with a swarthy giant in white coveralls. After a brief conversation, she passed him a metal briefcase and watched as he opened it. He closed it and shook her hand, then turned and disappeared into the bowels of the boat.

Lee pushed Amanda into a recessed doorway and huddled in front of her, as Khvostova strode up the dock, past their hiding place, and out of sight.


Crouched behind Lee, Amanda watched Khvostova leave. His broad back blocked her view of the yacht, and she tried to look over his shoulder. "What's going on now? I can't see."

"You don't need to," Lee said. He turned and gripped her shoulders--too tightly. She stifled a gasp as his fingers dug in. "Amanda, remember your promise?"

She nodded. The intensity in his eyes would have pinned her in place, even without the painful grip.

"I want you to wait until I am on that boat, then go back to the entrance and use the car phone to call Billy or Francine. Let them know where we are. Tell them about that exchange and then wait for me at the car. If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, call in the cavalry." He shook her slightly, as punctuation for each clipped sentence. "Do just what I say. Understand?"

His eyes were cold and his voice flat and emotionless, at odds with the tremors she felt rippling through his hands. She nodded slowly.

With a final shake, he let her go and edged toward the boat. She stayed where she was, breathing deeply to calm her own nerves, until she saw him slide over the railing. Staying out of sight of the boat, she threaded her way through the alleys between the abandoned buildings. With a leaden step, she emerged from the labyrinth and trudged to the car.

It was all she could do, now. She'd promised.

The persistent drizzle became a steady light rain, and lightening snaked through the clouds. A shiver rippled through Amanda's body, as she looked up at the ominous sky and counted. One. Two. Three. Then the thunder boomed in the distance. The storm was still three miles away.