“Okay, Gresley,” she murmured, double-checking the pistol’s chamber to be sure it was loaded. Then she walked over to him and stared down, announcing quietly, “Your turn.”
“My God, Miranda, you’re freaking me out!”
“I didn’t actually shoot him,” Miranda assured the spinner. “I just thought about it. You’ve gotta admit, he deserved it.”
“He was unconscious,” Kristie reminded her.
“That’s how he likes his women. I really wanted to give him a taste of that medicine.”
The spinner sighed. “Exactly how much of that Scotch did you drink?”
Miranda laughed. “I’m drunk on something else.”
“What?”
“Power. Ortega was right. There’s nothing as intoxicating.”
“Can I quote you?” Kristie asked dryly. Then she sighed again. “The important thing is, it’s over.”
“For the moment. But Gresley’ll try to track me. Can you lead him on a wild-goose chase?”
“No problem. I’ll make a fake Miranda Duncan trail for him to follow. You switch to Jennifer Aguilar’s passport. I’ll make your reservation under that name. The sooner you bring that new information about the Brigade home, the sooner we can work on it together.”
“Nice try, partner,” Miranda said, laughing. “But I’m headed for Kell country. I’ll send the Gresley intel to you electronically before I check out of here.”
“We don’t need Kell anymore!” The spinner’s tone was now panicked. “You succeeded! That was our deal.”
“We don’t know what we have yet. Our best strategy is for you to sift through the new intel while I try to get more in Switzerland. Also, you need to get Jennifer’s credentials in order. Make her a high-class call girl from Reno, okay?”
“Excuse me?”
Miranda laughed. “It was your idea, remember? You said we needed the connection with Ortega for Kell to trust me. So Jennifer can’t be an industrial spy. And I was thinking about Ortega’s monthly trips to Reno. I’m guessing he doesn’t want complications, so he probably uses professionals. So just give Jennifer the minimum credentials. In case Kell checks. An apartment near the casinos, for example. Credit cards. That sort of thing.”
“I’m sure Ray doesn’t use prostitutes.”
“Hey! Who are you calling a prostitute? I’m a professional girlfriend,” Miranda said, teasing. “Anyway, I’d better get going. Gresley probably won’t look for me tonight-he’ll be too busy rushing to the hospital. But I don’t want to take chances.”
“I didn’t think to send a disguise with you.”
“It’s cool. I’ve got my hair in a twist and covered mostly with a scarf. And I’m wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. A far cry from the copper outfit. Plus I’ve still got the chauffeur’s gun, although I’ll have to ditch it before I go through security at the airport. After that, Gresley will be expecting me to take a flight to the States, so I’ll be safer going to Switzerland. See what I mean?”
“This has gotten completely out of control. There wasn’t supposed to be any danger,” Kristie reminded her. Then she insisted unhappily, “I’m so, so sorry I didn’t catch the fact that Gresley was a freak.”
“It’s not your fault. He’s surrounded by enablers who protect his secret. I just wonder how he’s going to explain his busted jaw,” she added with pride.
“Like I said, this has gotten out of control.”
“Don’t worry. It’s fine. I’ll call you from the airport to get the new itinerary. And Kristie? Thanks. I couldn’t do this without you.”
“That’s the point, Miranda. You can’t do this without me, and you haven’t given me time to plan a new scenario.”
“There isn’t time for that. So we’ll just modify the old one. It’ll be fine, I promise.”
“I must be out of my mind.”
Miranda laughed at the mournful tone, then glanced at her watch and announced, “Gotta go. ’Bye!” before the spinner could make another try at convincing her to come home.
Four hours later, on a flight to Geneva, Miranda’s adrenaline-laced high had abandoned her, and she began to second-guess her decision to head for Kell’s fortress without a well-thought-out, spinner-approved plan. Did she really expect to waltz into the place and charm a crazy man into revealing the Brigadier’s identity to her?
Plus, to be totally honest with herself, she knew she intended to do much more than that. She wanted to find a way to bring the Brigade itself down. To prove once and for all that she was more than a pretty face and a good shot.
The problem was, she was beginning to think she might not be more than that. After all, she had made a gigantic mistake in South America, letting Angelina Carerra sneak up on her, thereby losing the HeetSeek documents. Now she had made a second strategic error in London, going to Gresley’s place alone even though she had seen firsthand what a depraved fellow he was.
It would be even worse with Kell, she knew. If she made a mistake-any mistake-she wouldn’t survive. He was so unstable, so prone to fits of paranoia, he would almost certainly overreact if someone dared invade his sanctuary. From all reports, there were dozens of armed guards and massive security at the fortress. Compared to that, Angelina’s guards and Gresley’s driver had been child’s play.
Which meant Miranda had two choices. She could return to the States and give Kristie a chance to plan a solid scenario for her. While that option might take days, even weeks, it would increase her chances for success, not to mention, for survival.
Or she could proceed with her original instinct and tap into Kell’s devotion to Ray Ortega, the man who kept him alive during weeks of torture, and then liberated him by shooting an arrow through his captor’s throat. It was a powerful image, and one she intended to invoke often.
Jonathan Kell loved Ortega. And Jonathan Kell had phobias. Enter Jennifer Aguilar, a woman who also loved Ortega, and was loved by him. And by coincidence, she had a nearly debilitating case of claustrophobia. The latter would be easy to feign, given the fact that Miranda really did experience mild discomfort and eventual panic in closed spaces.
As for feigning love for Ortega? That would be easier than she had expected, thanks to the experiences of the past week. She had grown to crave her sessions with the breathing technique, and credited it to a large extent with her success in South America and again in London. Her ability to stay calm, to think under pressure, had mushroomed, and she owed it to Ortega and Kell.
Beyond that, she had meant what she told Kristie hours earlier. She had stood over Gresley’s motionless body and had felt a surge of power-of domination and righteousness-like nothing she had ever experienced. Wasn’t that what Ortega had tried to explain to her?
I couldn’t handle it…
She hadn’t understood it then, but she got it now. And while she could feel superior for having resisted it to some extent, she had felt the pull-embraced the possibility, if only for a moment-and she understood that for a black ops assassin, the day could easily come where pulling back was no longer an option.
So what are you saying? she asked herself ruefully. You’re starting to like the guy? The guy who ruined your life?
No, she didn’t “like” him. But she was beginning to understand what had seduced him. And maybe she even understood his decision to banish himself, although it still seemed selfish and cowardly.
But at least he wasn’t a heartless monster anymore. That was progress.
And since she had to pretend to be in love with him, it was fortuitous that she had watched them together on the alibi video. The perfect couple, falling in love for the cameras. The perfect guy-charming, seductive, attentive. That was the Ortega she needed to focus on now.
He’s got zillions of good points, she reminded herself, opening her laptop and creating a document entitled “Ortega,” then dividing the page into two columns: Plus and Minus, as she had done countless times in the past when agonizing over a boyfriend.
It’s time to explore the kinder, gentler, sexier side of this guy, she told herself. So you can convince Kell how
