Chapter Ten
“We need to call…someone.” Sarah paced the length of the surveillance suite. It was that or huddle on the bed, trembling. She was tired of feeling powerless and afraid.
The Chinese had split off, once more discussing interoffice politics and drama that was nothing more than soap opera material.
“Who should we call?” Rand asked.
“Hector? Maybe Irene is back or answering or, God, something.”
“What will they do?”
“Get everyone out. Bring them home.”
“Some of the operatives embedded in Asia are in so deep that if they try to get out, they’ll be killed.”
“Okay, then those stay, but the rest can come home, right?”
“And what about the relationships they’ve spent so long creating?”
“People have emergencies all the time.”
“Sarah—”
“What? I just don’t want anyone else to die because of me. Because I screwed up.” She jabbed her finger at her sternum, keeping her tone low. As easily as they were spying on their neighbors they, too, could be spied on.
Rand stood, stretching to his full height, towering over her. “Come here,” he whispered.
She didn’t want a hug, she wanted solutions. But a hug wasn’t all that bad, either.
He tugged her in close, his chin resting on top of her head, his heartbeat thudding against her ear.
“Doing what we do, we can’t panic. People can’t be extracted without losing a lot of headway. A move like that could set us back a decade in intelligence work. Yeah, if they figure out a way to open the case then a lot of people will die. We’re gambling with a lot more than human lives—we’re gambling with the future of the world. Imagine what would happen if America and China broke treaty? If they were enemies? It could be another world war all over again. That’s what we’re fighting for.”
“Then why are we the only ones fighting?”
“Because the fight for many has always been fought by the few. You remember watching Men in Black?” Rand leaned back, peering down at her.
“Uh…yeah.”
“You know when Will Smith is freaking out because someone is about to blow up the planet…and no one knows?”
“Yeah… Are you saying I’m Will Smith and you’re Tommy Lee Jones?”
“Pretty much. There’s always some crisis, some emergency, that’s got us on the brink of a world war, some sort of catastrophic event, and our job—if done well—means that no one ever knows they were in danger.”
“Oh, boy. I think I need to sit down.” Her knees gave out and she perched on the foot of the bed. Rand knelt in front of her, staring into her eyes. “I’m not cut out for this, Rand. I’m just not.”
“Sure you are. You’ve done so well and been so brave. I’m proud of you, Sarah.”
“I just… Charlie’s dead. Because of me.” She swallowed, but the tears wouldn’t go away.
“Hey. No. No, he didn’t die because of you. He died because someone chose to do that. You didn’t.”
“So where’s the rest of our men in black? Why are we the only ones doing this?”
“Because…” Rand sighed and perched on the edge of the bed. “Because if we screw up, if we fail, we’re just two people who died in some random mugging. We aren’t covert operatives. We aren’t employees of the government. We’re just a guy and a girl, in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s the other reason why we’ve never had another all-out war. Too often the spies people capture are really doctors, engineers, contractors doing a job under the table.”
“We’ve been hung out to dry, saddled with all the responsibility and none of the tools. We’ve got—what? Duct tape and chewing gum?” She snorted. “We’re, who, MacGyver now?”
“That’s one way to look at it.”
“How are you okay with this?” She twisted to face Rand, searching his face.
“Everything we do makes a difference.”
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You can.” He wrapped his hand around hers. “Look at what you’ve already done. You’ve been an undercover operative for years. You’ve outsmarted MSS agents, some of the most ruthless men on the earth. You’re part of a covert surveillance operation. And you have all the power in this one little hand.” Rand lifted her right hand to his lips, kissing each knuckle.
“You’re doing everything. I’m just…here.” She flopped her hand toward the rumpled bed where they’d been listening to the other suite.
“Not true. You’re half of this operation. Sure, I’ve done this more than you have, but I can’t speak Mandarin. I can’t make nice with the people we’re watching the way you can. You’re far more dangerous than I am. You’re the danger in plain sight. The one they’ll overlook until we get the case back. We know they have it because of you.”
“Does this ever get easier?”
“Sometimes.”
Sarah blew out a breath, the knot of nerves still firmly lodged in her chest, making it hard to fill her lungs up with oxygen.
“What do we do now?” She hated to agree with Rand, but he was right about a few things. She was the only person who could open the case, and he didn’t have a hope or a prayer of understanding the Mandarin without her.
“We figure out how to get inside the embassy and get the case back.”
“How do we do that?”
“Let’s check it out online.”
“What? Seriously?”
“Sure? Come on.” He patted her leg, then turned and crawled up the bed.
What the hell?
Sarah settled in beside him, finding comfort leaning against his shoulder and soaking up his confidence. This whole thing was a mess. A nightmare. And she wanted it to be over, but that wasn’t likely to happen any time soon.
“Okay, here’s the official calendar of the Chinese embassy and…huh.” He clicked a blocked out date two days from now. “They’re throwing a party in honor of the new Secretary of State.”
“Is that important?”
“Only if we want to get inside and have a look around.”
“That’s…like…a bad spy movie plot point.”
“You’d be surprised how much truth is in those things. Think your friend would invite us?”
“Li?”
“That one, yeah.”
“I don’t see why he would.”
“Hmm. Then maybe I can figure something out.”
“Is that really a good idea? I mean, they know who I am.”
“You’re the danger in plain sight.”
“I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Worst case scenario, we try to get in, we don’t, and we have to wait for some other opportunity. The Chinese will either try to figure out the identity of the person who can open the case, or they’ll sell it. If they try to sell it, there’s a very short shelf life for information like this unless you’re dealing in mass amounts of intel.”
“This just seems like so much for us to do on our own.”
“We won’t be on our own.”
“What? But you said—”
“I said that the company will keep their distance, but there’s a sort of unity in us contractors. If we need help, I know some guys we can call in for back-up that won’t ask questions.”
“And you’re just now mentioning this?”
“I haven’t reached out.”
“So why not call in whatever cavalry we can?”
“Because doing that takes them away from their own very important cases to watch. Besides, unless another opportunity comes up, we’ve got two days to kill while we wait for this party.”
“We can’t wait that long!”
“Sarah, almost ninety percent of covert work is sitting around, waiting for something to happen. Think about it, in all the years you’ve done this, has anything remotely weird happened?”
“No…”
“See?”
“But…shouldn’t we do something?”
“We are. We’re here. We’re listening. We’re watching. We’re doing our job. Look—they have dinner reservations tonight in the restaurant upstairs. We should to be there in case they start talking.”
“Won’t that be suspicious?”
“I’d find it more suspicious if two low-income people staying in a hotel this fancy didn’t make use of some of the amenities. Come on, let’s go see what we have that might work for dinner.”
…
Zhang Wei kept his head down. The camera at one o’clock was positioned at a steep angle, so it wouldn’t catch his face this way.
The long line of people at the concierge desk made him want to grind his teeth, but there was no way around waiting. He opted for the longer line on the left, just out of sight from the camera at nine o’clock.
Person by person, the line inched forward.
Wei turned his back toward the camera aimed at the concierge counter and stared at the email one last time.
This would only work once, if it worked at all.
He wasn’t as trusting of their American informant as the others. Wei wanted to know—why? Why sell out people that had sheltered the traitor for so long? What was there to gain? Money? Was loyalty and honor worth so little? And why wasn’t anyone telling him who this source was?
On the other end of this phone number was a person, or persons, who were going to wish they’d died when Wei was done with them.
He had a sneaking suspicion their informant knew more than he was sharing, only doling out the smallest crumbs while bleeding them for more money. But that was the way of their world.
He who held the secrets controlled the world.
And so far, the informant hadn’t shared the details behind how, exactly, the case could be opened.
This whole operation was about reducing the Americans’ control. Knocking out a leg from under their operation would go a long way in restoring the balance, the natural order of the world. If Wei had his way, America would never again meddle in what did not concern it. The self-righteous big brother to the nations was nothing but a coward, too scared to face China and her people. The day was coming when no one would look to the supposed great United States for leadership ever again. They were a toddler, playing at being a grown-up, pretending they were ready to be treated as such.
Two people peeled out of line, leaving only one person between Wei and the counter. The moments dragged on. People chatted.
The woman finally turned, her tittering laugh like sandpaper. “Oh, sorry about that, I just prattle on. Thank you!” She wiggled her fingers at the desk clerk.
Wei hit dial, then mute on his phone, waiting for the call to connect, before approaching the concierge.
“What can I help you with, sir?” The man had a pleasant disposition, friendly expression. A people-pleaser.
“I’m trying to reach Mr. Juan Martin.” Wei leaned on the counter.
Hotels might update the flooring and fancy fixtures, but the phone systems were still the same ones from decades back.
“Let me see here,” the clerk said slowly, plugging in the alias. “All right, one moment, please.”
Wei pretended to glance at his cell phone, while he was really watching the display on the concierge’s desk.
1036.
Next door to their suite.
“No one is answering, sir.” The clerk shrugged.
“Thanks.” Wei tapped his knuckles on the counter, turned, and ended the cell phone call.
The bastards were watching them.
He popped the back of the phone off on his way to the elevator, prying the battery out and effectively killing the device.
How much had they heard?
Wei took the elevator up to the tenth floor, took a left and followed the signs. 1038 was the corner suite. 1036 was a single occupancy room squeezed in next to it. They’d been watching the whole time.
Wei passed the door to 1036 and entered the suite. It was quiet.
Everyone was going out to dinner, which meant no one would be watching an empty room. That was likely the real reason no one answered the room registered to a nonexistent Juan Martin.
Wei went to his bag and pulled out a key card breaker. It appeared as nothing more than an average, plastic keycard with a magnetic strip, only this had a handle on it. It could engage the locking mechanism and cycle through until it found the code that allowed entry to the room.
The code was just ones and zeroes; the problem was finding the right combination.
He pulled out his pistol, a QSZ-92 that’d been handed down to him, and clipped the holster onto his hip, under his jacket. Chances were low whoever was surveilling the place was still present, and it wasn’t as though Wei needed a gun in the first place, just his hands.
The hall was clear of guests, not a sound to disturb the peace. He slowly approached the room, waiting, listening. Someone was watching TV down the hall. There was a faint aroma of pot smoke. Bed squeaking could be anything. They were distant noises, peripheral.
He slid the lock-breaking device into the slot on 1036. And waited.
The lights cycled.
The red light on the door flashed.
No one came to investigate his presence.
If they were lying in wait for him, he could use the door, force it back, then shut it. Engage the lock. Make them come at him one at a time in the hall where he’d have an advantage. In simple hand-to-hand combat, Wei had a serious advantage over even his bulkier opponents. A hotel room provided flat, hard surfaces and unexpected, improvised weapons.
The light flashed green.
Wei pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold, listening, waiting, watching the darkness.
No one was home.
“Who are you, little fly?” he whispered into the stillness.
Wei let the door close behind him and inhaled. Soap, masculine. Perfume. Two people.
A man and a woman.
Wei flipped on the lights and stepped farther into the room.
It was time to hunt the hunters.
…
Rand fought the urge to tug at the collar of his shirt or the cuffs. He’d spent so long slumming it he’d almost forgotten what real clothes felt like. How starched pants fit. But it was worth it.
“Sorry, there was a line in the ladies’ room.”
He turned, his tongue sticking to the top of his mouth once more. Damn, she was a sight.
“What? Is something wrong?” She frowned at him.
“No, nothing, sorry.” He cleared his throat and caught the eye of the maître d’. “They’re ready to seat us.”
“Were you able to get the table?”
“No.”
He grimaced and led Sarah forward with a hand on her back, one finger stroking bare skin. He’d picked the dress because it fit in with the Customers Who Bought This Also Liked… section of the website. He hadn’t really spent time doing more than picking out a size that was more or less right.
Man, he’d picked well.
The restaurant was nearly full. The maître d’ seated them at a small, out of the way table, almost on the other side of the dining room from the Chinese delegation.
He took the chair facing their targets while Sara could only face him.
They were left to peruse the menus on their own.
“Well, this was a bust.” Sarah sighed and leaned back in her chair. She’d swept her long, dark hair up into some sort of fancy twist.
“Not necessarily.”
“What can we possibly hope to learn sitting here eating— Oh my God. We can’t eat here. This is crazy. Did you see what they charge for—”
“Sarah.” He tugged the menu from her hands and set it aside. “Don’t worry about it. Here.” He took her hands in his and waited her out until she looked him in the eye. He smiled. “Hi.”
“I’m freaking out and you want to be cute?” Her brows lifted and she stared at him.
“No, I want you to take a deep breath—”
“I am being calm.”
“Good. Now, how do you like your steak cooked?”
Sarah rolled her eyes and sat back—or tried to. He kept her hands captured in his. “Medium rare,” she replied finally.
“Good.” He lifted her hands to his lips, grazing her knuckles.
Her expression softened, and heat flickered in her eyes.
She felt it still, that force pushing them together.
He’d ignored it growing up, but he was losing sight of why he should now. Yeah, Matt likely hated him for leaving like he did, even if he didn’t blame Rand for the accident. But they didn’t know if they were going to survive today, much less this week. Why deny the cosmic pull between them? The way he saw it, turning a blind eye made this a hell of a lot more contentious than being up front with each other. At least then they both knew what the stakes were.
“What are we doing?” She set her elbows on the table and tilted her head to the side. Direct. To the point.
“I’m not sure.” It was the truth, but not the whole truth.
“Should we stop this?”
“Should we?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why should we? Sarah, where you’re concerned, I’ll always be biased. There’s no way around that. The way I see it, we can either ignore what’s happening, or we can accept it. Use it.”
“What’s happening?” Her throat flexed.
“Come on, Sarah. You know what I’m talking about.”
She glanced down at the table, her cheeks pink.
He’d been painfully honest with her earlier, but she hadn’t really heard him. The shock of learning about Charlie’s death was too sudden. Too sharp. Yeah, he was jealous of a guy pushing daisies, but Rand had her now. He wasn’t inclined to let her go. Ever.
Thinking like that could get them killed.
Shit.
He sat back, letting her hand slip from his.
Somewhere along the line, he’d lost his ability to be objective. His focus was slipping. Because Sarah was here. Because when it came to her…she’d always been forbidden fruit.
He scrubbed his hand across his face, letting his gaze wander the restaurant.
They couldn’t change the path they were on. He couldn’t roll back time and tell himself to not take what Sarah offered, because he wasn’t that good of a man. But they could come to an understanding. This time, he could at least tell her that when the job was over, when they’d resolved this crisis, he was leaving.
He had a job to do, the same way she did.
“Did you know it was me you were writing those notes to?” They hadn’t discussed that, but he’d guessed at it. Now, he wanted to know.
“I had an idea that it was you. The handwriting was similar enough. Plus, I knew someone named Rand was out there. It…just made sense between what your parents wouldn’t say, you always being gone, too many coincidences.”
“Why, after all this time, would you want to talk to me?” That was still the thing that shocked him. He’d abandoned her, turned his back on her, cut off all ties, and yet…it hadn’t changed things. Oh, sure, she’d been pissed and hurt, but under it all, she cared for him. And he was going to leave her again when it was all over.
She lifted her shoulders and glanced away.
“You were such a big part of my life. I guess…I just wanted to hear from you. In any way I could.” Sarah found a spot to stare at, her eyes lost in memory.
Rand wanted to push the table aside, pull her into his lap, kiss her, show her just what was taking form inside of him. Living the way he did, it made him both careful and wild. He couldn’t let an opportunity to seize the moment pass. If he did, he’d regret it for the rest of his life. Like he did that moment he’d walked out of the hospital determined to remove himself from their lives, that it was better this way.
He couldn’t, though. He was a different person now. He was a covert operative for the United States. Men like him didn’t get second chances. They didn’t get nice, normal lives.
Yes, he was deluding himself in these hours, thinking he could have something with Sarah that lasted longer than this op. Letting himself live the fantasy made their cover story ring true. But he couldn’t perpetuate this lie that they could have more than what they were now. His premature confession would have to go back into the vault.
Loving someone was a risk. A luxury. And it was time to wake up to that reality. If he screwed up, if he let himself wallow in her presence, he’d get them both killed.
The waiter finally came by to take their orders and deliver their drinks.
Rand had to be honest with her. He couldn’t lie, but he couldn’t lead her on. They had to come to…an arrangement.
“What’s going on over there?” Sarah’s voice broke into his swirling thoughts.
“Not a lot. They were just served.”
“So they’ll be done before we are.”
“Probably.” He focused on her face.
They descended into silence. She mindlessly moved the utensils around, arranging them just so. He rolled the situation around in his head, finding no other alternative than the obvious.
This was simply how things were.
The waiter arrived with their dinner about the same time as he gave up fighting with the reality of his world.
“Listen, I want to talk about…us.” He braced his forearms on the table.
Sarah closed her lips around her fork, eyes wide.
He really hadn’t meant to wait until she had food in her mouth, but it was a convenient way to allow him to power through this.
“I will always…care for you. Which is why, I think we need to be clear about our priorities. When this job is over, I’m likely going back into the field. So are you. Given our history, I don’t want you to be surprised when I have to go again. What we are here, now, it’s both organic—chemistry. And it’s the cards we were handed.”
Sarah chewed slowly, her dark gaze showing nothing of her thoughts.
He searched around for more words to soften the blow, to gentle his words. She kept chewing, hardly blinking. He tapped his fingers on his thigh, wishing she’d hurry up and say…something.
Sarah swallowed and reached for her glass, sipping the water as though he wasn’t waiting on pins and needles for her protest.
“Is that it?” she asked.
“Well…yeah.”
“Did you want to add anything else?”
“No… I just wanted to be clear with you.”
“Well, thanks.”
“‘Thanks’? That’s it?”
“What am I supposed to say, Rand? When I said as much to you, that there wasn’t an us—because my priority was seeing this through—you got your boxers in a bunch. You stormed out on me and treated me like…”
“That was different.”
“How was that different? I was trying to be honest with you and you wouldn’t listen. Now you say the same thing to me, like…you expect me to flip the table at you?”
“Look, what I’m saying is that—there’s something between us, but I can’t commit to more than here and now.”
Sarah tipped her head back and groaned. “Because that’s so different from what I said. Awesome. Great. Thanks for clearing that up.”
“That’s not what you—”
“Rand. Shut. Up.” She dropped her fork onto the plate with a clatter. “I get it. You want to screw me, but you can’t commit. Communicated loud and clear.”
“That’s not—”
“How is that different?” She leaned forward, staring at him.
He glared back, grinding his teeth together.
What he felt went deeper than wanting to fuck. He cared for her, but caring for her meant leaving. Doing his job. Being the tool he’d been shaped into. If she couldn’t understand that, well, maybe it was better if they left things this way.