room at the budget hotel chain. After taking a number of evasive actions to get here, including switching vehicles, Mark had reluctantly agreed to stay in the car while she fetched her things. What he didn’t realize was that every day she uploaded her notes to a secure server and also mailed copies of them to a postal holding service that had an account shared by her and Toby. There was very little she’d be taking with her that Mark could use against her, if she’d made a mistake and he couldn’t be trusted.
But that was the whole issue. She did trust him. Lashing out at him had been her way of dealing with the fear, grief, and sheer fury of seeing her house burning on the news. Now that she had time to think about it, the fire more likely had been set by whoever held Toby.
Faith shuddered. She hated to think of her brother being tortured, and knew that his training would help him hold out a very long time, but it wasn’t impossible to think that he’d eventually reveal that he’d sent his notes to Faith. What better first step toward destroying the evidence than burning down her house?
Too bad for them she’d already been on the run.
She pursed her lips. In that case, why hadn’t they done the same thing to Toby’s place? True, he lived in a high-rise apartment complex with top notch security. Still, even the best security would eventually fall to a determined assailant. So, was it possible that they’d only gone after Faith’s home to send her a message? Or had they already tossed Toby’s place and discovered that he really didn’t keep any notes at home?
She’d have to check the police reports for Toby’s neighborhood to see if there was any mention of his apartment being broken into or otherwise damaged. Not that he was around to report a break-in, but maybe a neighbor had noticed something odd.
Faith shoved her few toiletries into her backpack, then used one of her burner phones to access her secure voicemail box, relieved when a message confirmed that Siobahn had checked in on time.
When she called Siobahn back, the call went straight to voicemail. “Hi, Mom. It’s me,” she said, using their code phrase. “The weather here in Nassau is beautiful. Wish you were here. Tell Sissy I miss her. Love you. Bye.”
Faith told herself she was disappointed to have missed talking to her friend directly, but she knew she lied. She didn’t want to have to deal with Siobahn’s questions and concern right now.
On her way out of the hotel, she turned off the phone and threw it in the dumpster before returning to Mark.
“Okay,” she said as she slipped into the passenger seat. “Where are we going?”
“Safe house.” He glanced sideways at her. “Jamieson is monitoring me.”
Faith’s hand twitched toward the door handle.
“Relax. I’ve got an anti-bug device in the glove box that will jam any attempt to track us electronically. By the time we get to the safe house no one will be following us and no one will recognize us.” He pulled the car out of the parking lot. “The safe house was bought under another identity buried so deep that it would take months for the CIA to tie it back to me.”
She gave him a look laden with suspicion. “You were serious before when you said that you have a private safe house?”
Mark smiled. “Absolutely. Spies don’t trust anyone. Including, and often particularly, their bosses. We’re tools. Valuable only as long as we’re useful. Disposable when there’s trouble.”
Faith wished she didn’t understand. But she’d seen too much cruelty and indifference. Experienced situations where human beings were considered nothing but expendable commodities. She imagined that’s how Jamieson, or whoever had kidnapped Toby, viewed both Faith and her brother. “I’m sorry.”
Mark shrugged. “It was my choice. I could have followed my stepfather into his import-export business. Instead, I decided I liked the thrill of outmaneuvering other spies who operate
But that was the whole issue. She did trust him. Lashing out at him had been her way of dealing with the fear, grief, and sheer fury of seeing her house burning on the news. Now that she had time to think about it, the fire more likely had been set by whoever held Toby.
Faith shuddered. She hated to think of her brother being tortured, and knew that his training would help him hold out a very long time, but it wasn’t impossible to think that he’d eventually reveal that he’d sent his notes to Faith. What better first step toward destroying the evidence than burning down her house?
Too bad for them she’d already been on the run.
She pursed her lips. In that case, why hadn’t they done the same thing to Toby’s place? True, he lived in a high-rise apartment complex with top notch security. Still, even the best security would eventually fall to a determined assailant. So, was it possible that they’d only gone after Faith’s home to send her a message? Or had they already tossed Toby’s place and discovered that he really didn’t keep any notes at home?
She’d have to check the police reports for Toby’s neighborhood to see if there was any mention of his apartment being broken into or otherwise damaged. Not that he was around to report a break-in, but maybe a neighbor had noticed something odd.
Faith shoved her few toiletries into her backpack, then used one of her burner phones to access her secure voicemail box, relieved when a message confirmed that Siobahn had checked in on time.
When she called Siobahn back, the call went straight to voicemail. “Hi, Mom. It’s me,” she said, using their code phrase. “The weather here in Nassau is beautiful. Wish you were here. Tell Sissy I miss her. Love you. Bye.”
Faith told herself she was disappointed to have missed talking to her friend directly, but she knew she lied. She didn’t want to have to deal with Siobahn’s questions and concern right now.
On her way out of the hotel, she turned off the phone and threw it in the dumpster before returning to Mark.
“Okay,” she said as she slipped into the passenger seat. “Where are we going?”
“Safe house.” He glanced sideways at her. “Jamieson is monitoring me.”
Faith’s hand twitched toward the door handle.
“Relax. I’ve got an anti-bug device in the glove box that will jam any attempt to track us electronically. By the time we get to the safe house no one will be following us and no one will recognize us.” He pulled the car out of the parking lot. “The safe house was bought under another identity buried so deep that it would take months for the CIA to tie it back to me.”
She gave him a look laden with suspicion. “You were serious before when you said that you have a private safe house?”
Mark smiled. “Absolutely. Spies don’t trust anyone. Including, and often particularly, their bosses. We’re tools. Valuable only as long as we’re useful. Disposable when there’s trouble.”
Faith wished she didn’t understand. But she’d seen too much cruelty and indifference. Experienced situations where human beings were considered nothing but expendable commodities. She imagined that’s how Jamieson, or whoever had kidnapped Toby, viewed both Faith and her brother. “I’m sorry.”
Mark shrugged. “It was my choice. I could have followed my stepfather into his import-export business. Instead, I decided I liked the thrill of outmaneuvering other spies who operate
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