For a guy who’s been out of the game for a year, you’ve got some strange viewing habits, Ortega.
After a quick peek out the back window to ensure he was still busy, she checked to see that the tape was in the player. Then she turned on the TV and pressed the Play button. A grainy black-and-white image appeared, and for an instant, Miranda was simply confused by the low-tech quality of the recording.
Then realization shot through her and she stared in disbelief at the image of herself and Ortega, chatting and flirting-or more accurately, drooling over one another-while waiting for the elevator in the lobby of her apartment building.
Oh, God…
She punched the Stop button, her stomach knotting with disgust and self-loathing every bit as fresh and intense as when she had first viewed the video on a forty-two-inch screen at Langley. It took every ounce of willpower not to rip the tape from the machine and tear it to shreds. Instead, she carefully replaced the carton, then pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes and forced herself to grasp the truth.
Ray Ortega wasn’t some sexy spiritual guru living in harmony with nature. Nor was he a top-secret mastermind running sophisticated black ops from a mountain retreat.
He was a pervert-a loser!-sitting alone in the middle of nowhere watching videos of Miranda to get his rocks off.
Somewhere in the distance, a metronome was sending her a rhythmic signal from outside the door, and while she couldn’t quite make herself breathe normally, it did help her pull herself together. Locating a pen and paper, she wrote:
Hey, Ortega, I decided to just get going. I’ve got all the info on you and Kell I need. I’ll pass it along to Kristie, and I’ll try to make her understand why you need to stay out of the intelligence game permanently. Thanks for teaching me the breathing routine, I’m sure it will come in handy, assuming they ever give me a decent assignment. I doubt we’ll ever meet again, so goodbye.
Then she grabbed her pistol from where she had left it on his kitchen table, shoved it into her knapsack, and hurried to the rented SUV. In seconds she was speeding down the mountain, still a little shaken up, but only because she had allowed herself to get upset over seeing the video again.
Or more accurately, over knowing Ortega watched it whenever he needed a cheap thrill. And since it was in the player, she could only assume he had watched it very recently. No wonder he had been so pleased to see her!
Well, Miranda, she told herself grimly, you wanted closure, didn’t you? I think you just got it.
When her plane touched down at 10:00 p.m., Miranda dialed the telephone number marked “SPIN-nighttime” in the Brigade file. Kristie Hennessy answered on the first ring, identifying herself as S-3. When she found out her caller was Miranda, she acted as though they were long-lost sisters. Then she gave her the address of her apartment and promised to have hot chocolate and cookies awaiting her.
Miranda was actually in need of something stronger, but still, she was amazed and pleased at the reception. She had been thinking about this mission-studying the file for the entire plane ride-and she needed to discuss it with someone. Anyone. But most particularly with a spinner. So she took a cab straight to Kristie’s apartment without bothering to go home first.
The spinner answered the door on the first knock, as though she had been lurking on the other side for hours.
“Miranda! Thank God.” Grabbing her guest by the arm, she pulled her into the living room. “I was beginning to think you got lost.”
“Thanks for inviting me over at this late hour-”
“Are you serious? I’ve been dying of curiosity ever since you called. Tell me everything. No, wait! Do you want something to eat first?”
“I’m fine.”
“Perfect. Come and sit. Tell me everything.”
Miranda took a seat on the couch, while the spinner sat on the coffee table directly in front of her, her blue eyes alive with anticipation.
“It’s not good news, you know,” she warned Kristie.
“Was he horrid? Will-I mean, Director McGregor-thinks he’s a head case. He didn’t do anything crazy, did he?”
“No, of course not.” Miranda bit her lip to keep from laughing. “I thought he was your best friend.”
“He is. I adore him. But that doesn’t mean you have to.” Kristie eyed her hopefully. “Do you?”
“Are you nuts? He is a head case. But the visit wasn’t a total waste.” She leaned forward, eager to share the plan she had developed on the plane. “Did you know I’m claustrophobic? I mean, is that in my psych profile?”
The spinner grimaced. “You lost me.”
“You’ve seen my psych profile, right? I’m a little claustrophobic. Which means I have something in common with Jonathan Kell. A link to him.”
“Miranda?” Kristie cocked her head to the side, her expression sincerely confused. “What happened with Ray?”
“He’s fine. I promise. Don’t worry about him anymore.”
“I want details.”
“Okay.” Miranda shrugged. “During the day he communes with nature. At night, he watches X-rated footage of yours truly. He’s happy as a perverted clam.”
Kristie’s blue eyes had widened. “X-rated footage?”
“The alibi video,” Miranda explained with a laugh. “He labeled it ‘surveillance tape,’ but a better title would have been ‘Nude Dupes on the Loose.’” She gave Kristie a sympathetic smile. “He’s a head case, just like your boss said. But the good news is, he and I talked a lot about Kell. And I had time to study the file on the plane. I’m convinced you and I can crack this case-come up with the Brigadier’s identity-between the two of us.”
“Pardon?”
Miranda laughed again. “I’ve got my confidence back. Courtesy of Ray Ortega. Finding out that he’s got demons-lots of them-made it easier for me to let myself off the hook. All we have to do now is make the CIA see that I’m not a screwup. For that, I need your help.”
When Kristie just stared at her, she added gently, “He’s not coming back. Maybe not ever. But definitely not soon. He honestly doesn’t trust himself to make wise choices. I actually respect that part of him, by the way. I’m not so sure about the porno videotape stuff, but even there, I’m willing to cut him some slack.”
Kristie cocked her head to the side. “You don’t hate him anymore?”
“I don’t feel anything, actually. He’s a part of my past. Finally. Now all I have to do is impress my superiors, and life is good.” She smiled to ease the blow of the next statement. “I need your help with that. You’re a spinner, I’m an operative. Get me in to see Kell, okay? I’ll take it from there.”
Kristie opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it and took a look around the room, presumably for allies. Then she murmured, “What do you mean? Get you in to see Kell? Alone? That’s not possible. We promised to try to get you on the team-”
“On the team, I’ll be relegated to a supporting role. That won’t get me out of escort duty. I need something spectacular. Something SPIN-worthy.” Before Kristie could protest, she explained, “I’m claustrophobic-that’s right up Kell’s dysfunctional alley. I’m a former lover of Ray Ortega, Kell’s idol. And I’ve got a freakish amount of sex appeal for a person who’s never had a decent relationship. That works for all guys. How much raw material do you need?”
Arching an eyebrow, she added firmly, “Spin me something daring. Something wild. I promise I can handle it.”
Two hours later, Kristie was pacing the floor, while Miranda half dozed on the couch, muttering again and again, “You’re overthinking it. Just get me into Switzerland. I’ll do the rest.”
The spinner’s bloodshot eyes flashed. “I don’t care what Ray told you, I don’t have enough information!”
“Then forget Kell. Target one of the other Brigade members. That’s what Ortega was suggesting, you know. He said Kell is way too suspicious to fall for something like this.”
Kristie shook her head. “It has to be Kell. I feel that in my bones. And I love the claustrophobia angle, but I need more. I need Ray.”
