Chapter 4

Thank goodness it was only down the hall. It was funny, really. She almost wished she could be a fly on the wall, listening to Lee and Zinoniev while she was gone. He was baiting Lee, no doubt about it. And Lee, whose patience had been stretched thin before this trip even started, was jumping at the bait.

Well, she'd be back before they took each other apart. She hoped.

After a quick shower, she slipped into her favorite jeans and T-shirt and laced on comfortable tennis shoes. The outfit might not be festive, but it was clean. She dragged a comb through her damp hair and contemplated the small pile of things she'd grabbed for Lee. Razor, change of clothes . . . oh, yes, and a toothbrush.

As she swept the rest of the items into her smallest suitcase, she stole a glance at the clock on the nightstand. Fifteen minutes. Not bad, really. She flipped off the lights and poked her nose into the hallway. The coast was clear, so she eased out into the corridor and jogged down the hall.

The elevator door was sliding shut as she passed by. All the precautions were probably unnecessary, but it was always wise to--

The doors glided shut, but not before a surprised face was framed in the narrowing opening. For a second, their eyes met, and then it was too late.

Rostov.

His surprised shout was cut off as the elevator descended, and Amanda jumped at the dull thud that rattled the doors. In that one instant he'd recognized her, and he'd be back up the stairs in a flash when the elevator stopped.

She dropped her suitcase as she dashed down the hallway. Lee wasn't going to need it now. Half expecting at any minute to feel Rostov's hot breath on her neck, she hit the door still running and rattled the knob.

"Lee, let me in. Hurry!" Still no one in the hall, but she could have only seconds. If Rostov had accomplices, they were probably already checking the hotel records for recent arrivals. Their safe haven wasn't safe any more.

The door swung open, and she pushed her way past a startled Lee, dragging the door shut in her wake.

"He saw me!" she gasped, ignoring the dumbfounded expressions.

"Who--"

"Rostov. I saw him going down on the elevator as I went past." Amanda's eyes darted to Zinoniev's ashen face. "Lee, he saw me! He has to be right behind me, and he saw which way I was going. We need to leave now."

For one interminably long second, they stared at each other, knowing what this meant. They would be trapped. If Rostov and his cronies were already prowling the hallway, they wouldn't be able to elude them.

"And just how are we going to leave? If we venture into the hall, we'll be seen. If we stay here, they will undoubtedly discover my room number first, since there can't be many single men in this fine establishment." Zinoniev stood, with his mask firmly in place. "Any ideas? I believe this is what I'm paying you for."

She tugged at Lee's sleeve, and he broke eye contact with Zinoniev to offer her a sick grin. "All we need to do is stall for time. The Agency handlers should be here any minute, so we just need to keep you on ice until then." He gestured. "You first."

Zinoniev's gaze followed the wave of Lee's arm, and his eyes widened. "I believe you are serious."

"You bet I am, now get moving."

"We don't have much time before they find this room. It might take them longer to find ours. And it's closer to the emergency exits and stairway." Amanda grasped the startled Russian's hand and tugged him toward the sliding glass door. She only hoped the balconies extended all the way across the back of the building. If not, it was going to be a long drop.

She pushed Zinoniev out the ornate gilt doors, stumbling on the silk pillows strewn about the sheltered balcony. Lee shut the door behind them, and then led the way to the adjoining balcony.

Amanda accepted his hand as she scrambled over the wrought iron rails that separated each suite, and Zinoniev panted behind them. Each balcony was themed to each room, in a crazy patchwork of styles and designs. Through the forest, into the jungle, past a Swiss chalet, and into the Taj Mahal.

She followed Lee over another rail and ran into his back as he stopped dead. Her hands on his back, she could feel him hesitate, and she leaned to peer around him. Zinoniev pulled himself over with a groan, mumbling something about divine retribution, and stumbled to a stop behind her.

"I'm, um . . ." Lee reached back and fumbled for her hand. Grasping it tightly, he towed her along behind him as she craned to see who he had spoken to. "Shhhh," he whispered. "You'll wake her up."

"Her?" Amanda snuck a peek and wished she hadn't.

A primordial forest scene, complete with flowers and twinkling lights, spread out beside them. But it was no fairy that slumbered beneath the synthetic apple tree, with the serpent twisted through the boughs. In this "Garden of Eden," Eve slept, oblivious to her visitors.

Eyes averted, Amanda all but pushed Lee ahead of her. She couldn't slink away fast enough.

Zinoniev's throaty chuckle was followed by a sleepy grunt from the occupant of the chase lounge, sheltered amid the rather garish silk flowers. "Oh, goodness," he whispered, as his hands nudged her back. "I suspect she'll wake."

Sandwiched between the two men, she winced as she barked her shins on the rails when Lee all but dragged her onto the next balcony. The large red-haired woman had looked so peaceful, sleeping in the moonlight. A fleeting thought slipped unwanted into Amanda's head, and she forced it away. Apple trees and serpents and a very large Eve. She supposed that particular fantasy theme saved the hotel money on costumes and such.

The next balcony was artfully piled with crates, ropes, and other nautical flotsam and jetsam, all very familiar. They were back in the belly of the beast, and from Zinoniev's rude snort behind her, he must have regained his sense of humor. Perhaps he'd found it a few balconies back--in the Garden of Eden.

"You chose this room? My, my . . ."

Lee ushered them through the portal and shut the doors behind him. "Hardly. I think that someone bribed the front desk, because when we got here, our reserved room was unavailable."

"Isn't that terrible? I think you should complain." Zinoniev perched on the corner of the bed with a sigh. "I would have worn more comfortable shoes if I had known you two were so athletic. It's exhausting trying to keep up with you." He smiled at Amanda and gestured at Lee, who was pacing the room. "Is he always like this?"

She opened her mouth to answer, and then snapped it closed. There was no way she was going to answer that one.

"Don't get too comfortable there. This is just a temporary fix. Amanda?"

"I know." He didn't need to tell her what their chances of discovery were; this little room switch bought them only minutes, if that. And once Rostov and his men were in the halls, they'd be trapped. If they could just make it to the emergency exit . . .

A thickly accented voice shouted from down the hall, "Hotel Security. Open up."

They were checking the rooms, and the chance at escaping in the usual way was gone.

Lee walked outside to the railing and peered over the edge. Out the doors like a flash and beside him, Amanda followed his gaze over the railing. Her stomach leaped into her throat. Oh, no, not again. When he turned to her, there was speculation in his eyes, a grim humor. "Shall I get our guest?" Without waiting for her nod, he turned on his heels and strode back into the room.

"Up and at 'em!" He grabbed Zinoniev by the lapel of his jacket and hauled him to his feet. "You won't get another invitation."

"Why do we always come to this point?" Amanda didn't really expect an answer. She peered again at the murky duck pond beneath her feet. It was only three stories . . . How bad could it be?

The real question was 'How deep could it be?' She turned away from the rail--and the speculation--and almost smiled as Lee frog-marched Zinoniev to the edge. Lee was enjoying this way too much.

Zinoniev grabbed the rail and planted his feet. "You can't be serious." He looked from Amanda, to Lee, and back again, and then sighed. "Undoubtedly, you are."

She jumped as the room's doorknob rattled. "Hotel Security. Open this door!"

"Lee?"

He turned to Zinoniev and shrugged. "It's your choice. If you want to wait for the Goon Squad, help yourself." He clasped Amanda's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "Ready, Sundance?"

Swallowing her fear, she squeezed back. "Ready when you are, Butch."

As the pool leaped up to meet them, the last sound she heard was the Russian's startled "Who?"

------------------------------------------------

Thank goodness it was a lot deeper than it looked. That it had also been more putrid than expected was unfortunate. When Zinoniev had splashed beside her, she'd opened her mouth in surprise.

Not the best idea.

They slithered up the bank and ducked against the hotel wall, out of sight from prying eyes above. Hopefully, by the time the Russian broke into the room, there'd be no sign of them, not even a ripple on the water. But they needed to find a safe haven. Amanda tried to wring the water from the ends of her T-shirt and caught Lee's eye. "What now?"

"We need to get out of sight," he said, as he plucked the last of the wet marsh grass from behind his ear.

"I believe that can be arranged." Their charge, looking decidedly less dapper, fished around in his collar, and then flipped a half rake through his fingers. "Which room would you prefer?"

"Preferably, an empty one." Lee reached for Amanda's hand and pulled her against his side, as the staccato beat of an angry Russian voice pelted from above.

She slipped her hand from his and forged ahead, past the glow from four occupied rooms, and then stopped. And listened. At last. This one seemed empty. If they could just get to the phone, and then slip away . . .

With a deft twist of the rake, the lock released, and Zinoniev eased the sliding door open. Before he could cross the threshold, Lee pulled him back and stepped through first. Amanda followed, her hand against his back. This room was the "Gypsy Caravan" theme, with garishly colored walls and a rounded wooden ceiling. Multicolored scarves fluttered from the double doors and festooned the lamps and furniture. It was loud and tasteless and cheerful. Amanda smiled. A bright spot in an otherwise soggy evening.

The room was quiet, and Amanda blinked to focus her eyes in the darkness. Oh no! It may have seemed empty, but it wasn't unoccupied. "Lee!" she hissed, tugging at his damp shirt and pointing. He followed her finger, and his eyes widened.

A frilly white dress pooled carelessly on the floor at their feet, and a trail of flowers, shoes, and scattered clothing led to the bedroom. It couldn't be.

But it was.

"Who's there?" A tremulous voice wavered from behind them. They whirled and gaped at the woman, girl really, curled in the overstuffed corner chair and wrapped in one of the shawls that littered the room. Her tearstained eyes glistened in the darkness, and she pulled her knees up to her chest. "Don't hurt me . . ."

Amanda couldn't help it. She reacted to that voice like the mother she was, forgetting about the case and Zinoniev. Holding her hand out toward the girl, she gestured the men away. From the incredulous look on Lee's face, he couldn't figure out why the young bride reached out for her, instead of cringing away. All Amanda had to do is walk into a room, and strangers gathered around her. He would never understand magic behind it, but it was there, strong and bright

Before Amanda could get to her, the bedroom door burst open beside them and the "groom" spilled into the room. She spared him a glance, and then gathered up the weeping girl. Lee would sort him out.

After depositing the young man in a chair with a quelling look, Lee shoved Zinoniev toward the bedroom. "Try to find some dry clothes."

Amanda ignored Lee's dumbfounded expression as she continued to sooth the weeping bride. Maybe she could explain it later.

"And--and--and . . ." The girl was sobbing in her arms, and she met Lee's gaze over the trembling blonde head and shrugged.

"So when you came back from the bar, he was too tired?" She kept her voice soothing and soft. "Why were you in the chair, instead of--"

"He . . . he . . . he fell asleep, right when we were . . ."

Lee seemed to think it was safer to take another shot at convincing the quivering young man that they were the good guys. American agents. Hooray for the red white and blue! He did everything but wave a flag and sing the Star Spangled Banner, but the kid still looked skeptical.

When Zinoniev wandered out of the bedroom, wearing stonewashed jeans that were at least six inches too long, and a "Grateful Dead" T-shirt, Lee snickered. The ever-present fedora, still damp from its dousing in the duck pond, perched precariously on his damp head.

"I wouldn't laugh if I were you," the Russian said. "The young man has the most appalling fashion sense. These are yours."

Lee caught the pile of clothes as it hit him in the chest.

At the sound of the older agent's voice, the young groom's eyes widened. Nothing like a Russian accent to convince a captive of an agent's homegrown roots. Amanda reached out and patted his knee. "Everything's going to be okay, Ron. You are doing a great service for your country."

When Lee padded back into the room, toweling his still damp hair, Amanda had to stare and choke down a snicker of her own . . . The jeans were a size too small, and he yanked at the yellow muscle shirt. Meeting her gaze, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and she had to smile back. So much for the vaunted Scarecrow fashion statement.

Zinoniev had been a surprising help with the two newlyweds, who had moved to the settee and sat shoulder to shoulder, hands now clasped together. They seemed remarkably at ease, considering that strangers had invaded their honeymoon suite. It hadn't taken a moment to arrange for the change of clothes, and she really couldn't wait to slip into something dry and less fragrant.

Lee quirked a finger in her direction, and, with a final soft word to the youngsters, she pulled herself from the chair and followed him into the bathroom.

"Your turn, love." He pointed to a pair of jeans and a fresh white shirt. "I think I'm going to stash our friend in the maintenance shed for the moment. I can't imagine it's going to be much longer before our backup shows up."

"When will they get here?"

"I wish I knew. We just need to stall a little while longer." He held out the rumpled change of clothing.

They looked good and were bound to be a better fit. Christina seemed to be about her size. "Wait until I get changed, okay?"

"It makes more sense to do it now, Amanda, before they reach this floor. I'll just be a second. And then . . ."

"We can lead them on a merry chase until our guys get here?"

He waggled his eyebrows. "Exactly."

"I wish we could call the Agency . . ."

Lee's brow furrowed for a moment, and then he shook his head. "We can't know if they are monitoring the switchboard. I'll try to swing by the 'Vette on the way back and call from there. But as far into the mountains as we are, I might not be able to connect." He ran a gentle finger down her cheek and across her lips, and Amanda leaned into the welcome touch. "This is the home stretch, just a little while longer."

"I know." She kissed his finger, and then turned him around and gave him a little shove. "Go on. The sooner you hide him, the sooner you can come back. But if you aren't back in fifteen minutes, I'll be right after you."

With a final look over his shoulder, he strode away to collect Zinoniev.