Assumed Identity

they caught us together, they think we’re both a threat to them. It was a possibility before, but now your life really is in danger.”

Holly tried to control her breathing. “I had another reason for agreeing to meet you. An even more foolish reason. It had nothing to do with the story. Deep down, I wanted to see you again. Dumb, huh?”

Except for the flapping of the windshield wipers and the drone of the engine, the car became quiet.

Holly waited.

She finally said, “Don’t respond. Just let what I said hang there. Make me feel like a jerk.”

“No. I. .”

“What?”

“I’m flattered.”

“You’d better say something more positive than that, or so help me, I’ll stop this car and. .”

“What I’m trying to explain is, I’m not very good at this. I’m not used to anybody caring about me.” Buchanan’s disembodied voice came from the darkness of the backseat. “I’ve never been in one place long enough to establish a relationship.”

“Once.”

“Yes. With Juana. That’s right. Once.”

“And now I’m risking my life to help you find another woman. Wonderful. Great.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Buchanan said.

“I don’t see how. .”

“It’s not just that I was never in one place long enough to establish a relationship. I was never one person long enough. It isn’t me who wants to find Juana. It’s Peter Lang.”

“Peter Lang? Didn’t you say he was one of your pseudonyms?”

“Identities.”

“I think I’m going to scream.”

“Don’t. Later. Not now. Get us out of town.”

“In which direction?”

“North. Toward Manhattan.”

“And what’s in-?”

“Frederick Maltin. The ex-husband of Maria Tomez. There’s one other thing we have to do.”

“Get you a shrink.”

“Don’t make jokes.”

“That wasn’t a joke.”

“Stop at a pay phone.”

“I’m beginning to think I’m the one who needs a shrink.”

14

At 1:00 A.M., between Washington and Baltimore, Holly parked at a truck stop on I-95. Buchanan got out and used a pay phone.

A man answered, “Potomac Catering.”

“This is Proteus. I need to speak to the colonel.”

“He isn’t here right now, but I’ll take a message.”

“Tell him I got the message. Tell him there won’t be any trouble. Tell him I could have killed those four men tonight. Tell him to leave me alone. Tell him to leave Holly McCoy alone. Tell him I want to disappear. Tell him my business with Holly has nothing to do with him. Tell him Holly doesn’t know or care about him.”

“You sure have a lot to tell him.”

“Just make certain you do.”

Buchanan hung up, knowing that the number of the pay phone would automatically have shown itself on a screen on the “catering service’s” automatic-trace phone. If the colonel wouldn’t accept Buchanan’s attempt at a truce, a team of men would soon converge on this area.

Buchanan hurried back into the car, this time in the front. “I did my best. Let’s go.”

As she pulled out into traffic, he reached for his travel bag. The effort made him wince.

He took off his pants.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Holly asked.

His legs were bare.

“Changing my clothes. I’m soaked.” In the flash of passing headlights, he squinted at the waist of his pants. “And bleeding. I was right. Some stitches did open up.” He took a tube of antibiotic cream and a roll of bandages from his travel bag, then started to work on his side. “You know what I could use?”

“A normal life?”

“Some coffee and sandwiches.”

“Sure. A picnic.”

15

The colonel frowned and set down the phone. In the safe-site apartment five blocks north of the Washington Post, Alan-who’d been watching the colonel while listening on an extension- set down his phone as well.

The only sound was the faint drone of a car that went by outside.

“Do you want my advice?” Alan asked.

“No.” The colonel’s narrow face looked haggard from strain and fatigue.

“Well, I’ll give it to you anyhow.” Alan’s portly cheeks were emphasized by whisker shadow. “Buchanan’s waving you off. He’s asking for a truce. Agree to it. You’ve got nothing to win and everything to lose.”

“That’s your opinion, is it?” the colonel asked dryly. “I’m not used to taking advice from civilians, especially when they don’t understand the serious nature of Buchanan’s offense. A soldier can’t be allowed just to walk away from his unit, certainly not Buchanan. He knows too much. I told you before, his behavior makes him a security risk. We’re talking about chaos.”

“And gun battles in the street aren’t chaos? This has nothing to do with principle or security. It’s about pride. I was afraid of what would happen when the military became involved in civilian intelligence operations. You don’t like taking advice from civilians? Well, maybe you ought to read the Constitution. Because taking advice is exactly what you’re supposed to do. Without the Agency’s oversight on this, you’d be autonomous. You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Your own private army to do with as you want. Your own private wars.”

“Get out of here,” the colonel said. “You’re always grumbling about never seeing your wife and kids. Go home.”

“And give you control? No damned way. I’m staying with you until this issue is resolved,” Alan said.

“Then you’re in for a long, hard ride.”

“It doesn’t need to be. All you have to do is leave Buchanan alone.”

“I can’t! Not as long as he’s with that reporter.”

“But Buchanan says that his business with the reporter has nothing to do with you.”

“And you believe that?”

“He’s not a fool. I was talking about gains and losses. He has nothing to gain if he turns against you, and everything to lose. But if you hunt him, he’ll turn against you out of spite, and frankly, Colonel, he’s the last person I’d want to be my enemy.”