kept her finger on it while, with her other hand, she turned on her cell phone and waited for it to find service. When it did, she punched in the number.
Simon’s fingers flew over the keyboard of his laptop, typing in commands. He had relocated to San Francisco, and remained there longer than he’d ever been in any one place. Now that he wasn’t active in the business anymore, he had no need to keep moving around. He hadn’t exactly put down roots, but he’d modified his habits somewhat.
He had left Kansas City when he’d told Andie he was leaving. He didn’t want to crowd her; he’d given her a lot to think about, and she had some adjustments to make. He had kept track of her and been reassured when her movements seemed to be mostly routine, though it bothered him that she hadn’t gone back to Glenn’s. The fact that she hadn’t put him on alert, and he’d kept an unusually close watch on her movements.
His cell phone had buzzed before dawn, though he wasn’t immediately alarmed. Kansas City was in a different time zone, so it was well after dawn there. But he got up and tracked the Explorer, and when its movement stopped at the airport he’d broken out in a cold sweat. She was getting on a damn plane, and he was a thousand miles away, unable to do a fucking thing about it.
He hadn’t hacked into any system in months, hadn’t needed to. He didn’t know which airline she’d used, which hampered him, but he began systematically searching them all, just in case she either hadn’t taken her cell phone with her or didn’t bother turning it on until she needed to use it.
When the locator in the phone was powered up, he immediately typed in the commands that would tell him exactly where she was, and when the map popped up on the screen he felt icy sweat pop out on his skin.
She was in New York.
30
THE NEXT MORNING, ANDIE WORKED HER WAY THROUGH all the barricades and security checks at Federal Plaza. She was given a visitor’s ID and an escort, shown where to wait, and eventually she went into a small office. Special Agent Rick Cotton got to his feet when she entered, shaking the hand she held out. He had a nice firm handshake, not too tight and not wimpy, but at first glance she didn’t see what was so special about him.
He was middle-aged and graying, though still trim, and he had a calm, mild expression. The impression she got from the way others acted around him was that he was liked, but there was no sizzle of electricity that said he was a mover and shaker. She knew sizzle, because she’d been in very close contact with it one summer afternoon last year. The force of Simon’s personality dominated any room he was in, while Rick Cotton would barely be noticed.
“Please have a seat, Ms. Pearson,” Agent Cotton said, indicating a battered-looking straight-backed chair. “I believe your message said you have some information about someone named Rafael Salinas?”
If those cards got any closer to his chest, Andie thought, he wouldn’t be able to see them himself. He wanted her to show her hand first, which was fine with her.
“My name isn’t Pearson,” Andie said. “It’s Andrea Butts. I used to go by the name Drea Rousseau, and I lived with Rafael Salinas for two years.”
She saw the shock in his face before he could school his expression. He blinked, staring at her. “I had long, blond, curly hair then,” she added helpfully.
He said, “Just a moment,” and picked up his phone and dialed an extension. He said, “Drea Rousseau is sitting in my office,” and replaced the handset.
He sat silently, and so did she. She honestly had no idea if she would be of any use to the FBI, or they to her, but they were the logical place to start. Offering herself as bait would work only if someone was watching the trap, otherwise the bait was just a meal. She might not be able to do anything about Rafael; if she couldn’t, then at least she had tried.
A sandy-haired man opened the door and came in. “Ms. Rousseau,” he said, “I’m Special Agent Brian Hulsey; I’m in charge of the Salinas investigation now. Would you step into my office, please?”
Andie paused, her head cocked a little to the side as she studied him. He hadn’t knocked before entering Agent Cotton’s office, and she had caught the slight emphasis he’d placed on the word “now,” which had been completely unnecessary unless he was making a point to the agent who had been in charge of the investigation before. Office politics, she guessed, with ego and a power display thrown in. Agent Cotton, on the other hand, looked mild and unperturbed. No ego there, and he wasn’t interested in power.
“No,” she said, drawing the word out a little as she reached a decision. “I’ll talk with Special Agent Cotton.”
Special Agent Hulsey said, “You misunderstand. Agent Cotton is no longer in charge of-”
“I didn’t misunderstand anything,” she replied, her tone going cool. “English is my first language, so I know a lot of the words.” English was also her only language, but he didn’t need to know that.
His face turned red. “I apologize. I didn’t intend to imply-”
“That I’m stupid? That’s okay. A lot of men make that mistake.” She smiled at him, a sweet smile that, if he’d been paying close attention, would have made his blood curdle. “Rafael Salinas was one of them.”
“I assure you, Ms. Rousseau-”
“Butts,” she said, putting hard edges on all the consonants. “My real name is Andrea Butts. I thought you knew that.”
“Of course I-”
She hadn’t let him complete a single sentence after he’d introduced himself when he came in, so she saw no reason to start now. “Special Agent Cotton,” she said firmly, “or no one. Your choice.”
There it was, dumped in his lap. He either delegated his role in the investigation to Special Agent Cotton, or he would be the one responsible for losing the contact that could possibly bring down Rafael Salinas once and for all. He would see the first choice as an almost intolerable affront to his authority-he was the type-but the second choice could be a career-killer.
“I’ll get it cleared with the assistant director,” he muttered resentfully, walking out of the office and leaving the door open.
Andie got up and closed the door with a firm thud.
“I didn’t like him,” she confided as she resumed her seat.
Special Agent Cotton allowed himself a little smile, but all he said was, “He’s a good agent.”
“I assumed so, or he wouldn’t be stationed in New York, but I can also assume the same thing about you.” Agents vied to be posted in the larger cities, with D.C. and New York at the top of the heap, where the action was and where everything was high visibility.
“I work with some very sharp people. It’s easy to look good when all the people around you are on their toes.”
What Andie got from that was that he was willing to spread the credit around, while Hulsey wasn’t. She was satisfied with her decision in sticking with Special Agent Cotton.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to call in an agent who worked with me when I was assigned to the Salinas case,” he said, lifting the phone again. “His name is Xavier Jackson, and he’s a genius at what he does. It was his bad luck to be partnered with me, but we still talk sometimes even though we aren’t on that case now.”
She gathered they’d been reassigned because they hadn’t produced any results, though she’d bet the farm that Hulsey hadn’t done any better than they had. No wonder Hulsey had been adamant that she talk with him rather than Cotton; she would have been a big feather in his cap, and maybe just what he needed for the case to reach the tipping point and actually produce some prosecutable evidence against Rafael.
She and Cotton chatted casually while waiting for Genius Jackson. Some fifteen minutes later there was a polite rap on the door, and a wait until Cotton raised his voice and said, “Come in.”
Xavier Jackson was young, maybe her age, and lean and dark and handsome, his features faintly exotic, his skin olive-tinted. He was a more dapper dresser than most of the FBI employees she’d seen in the building; though he wore the de rigueur sober suit and white dress shirt, his tie was a deep, rich red with a tiny design that, when she
