didn’t bother asking how Shafer had guessed he wasn’t alone. “Unless you want to send a plane, it’s going to be tomorrow,” he said. “That too late? ”
“Tomorrow’s fine.”
Wells hung up. His first thought, he couldn’t help himself: Something wrong with Exley? But Shafer would have told him. This was business.
Anne slid her hand over his chest.
“I have to go,” he said.
She ignored his objection and pushed him down.
When they were done, they lay still for a minute. She got up before he did and reached for the rainbow-striped panties bunched under the bed beside his jeans. Fifteen minutes later, she stood at the door to the cabin and pressed a folded-up piece of notebook paper into his hand before she left. “My e-mail address,” she said. “You’re leaving town? ”
“Looks that way.”
“Gonna do some super-secret stuff? ”
“Only kind of stuff I do,” Wells said, trying to roll with her.
“All right, then.”
“All right.” Wells tucked the paper into his pocket. “Look, Anne, you probably won’t believe it, but I don’t do this kind of thing very often. This was my first time in a while—”
“No, I believe it. You were a little rusty last night.”
He flushed. She laughed. “Don’t worry. Much better this morning, especially for a man your age—”
“Ouch,” Wells said.
“What I’m trying to say is, I had fun. Give me your number, maybe I’ll take a trip to D.C. See the monuments. Isn’t that what tourists do down there? ”
He found a pen, scribbled his cell number. “There’s no name on it.”
“Of course there isn’t.”
She kissed him on the lips, ran a hand through his hair, walked away in her battered hiking boots, her blue jeans cupping her ass. Wells didn’t expect to see her again, but he found himself waving as she got into her Silverado and rolled off. She had style.
TONKA DIDN’ T LIKE WATCHING him pack. She tugged at his jeans as he filled his duffel bag. He would have to bring her to Langley, he realized. He didn’t know how long he’d be gone, and he could hardly take her back to the pound. He grabbed her bowls, her treats and toys, and threw them in the Subaru beside his bag.
He took one final look around the cabin. He didn’t feel overly sentimental. It had served its purpose, given him a place to hide and to heal. From the bedside table, he grabbed the book he’d just started, a biography of Elvis. It had been Elvis or Gandhi, and Wells hadn’t felt like Gandhi. And thinking of Gandhi reminded Wells of what he had almost left behind. He reached under the bed for the lockbox with his pistols.
HE STOPPED ONLY ONCE on the drive down, for a tankard of 7-Eleven coffee and a jug of water. Somewhere outside Philadelphia, the hangover lost its grip on him and he settled in his seat.
He spent the night in a no-tell motel outside Washington. He assumed Exley was in the house they’d once shared. The motel room stank of smoke, and the bed was bowed like a hammock. Wells brought Tonka in with him, and they slept on the floor back-to-back.
When he reached Langley in the morning, the gate guards didn’t want to let him in. Aside from the agency’s own bomb sniffers, dogs were not allowed on the campus. Wells told them it was just for a few hours, they’d be doing him a favor. He didn’t have to tell them that after the last couple years, he had a few favors coming. They hemmed and hawed and made a couple of calls and finally waved him through.
“JOHN—” SHAFER BARELY STOOD before the dog jumped on him. On her hind legs, she was nearly as tall as he was. He ineffectually tried to push her away. She licked his face, eager to play. “I was gonna say I missed you. But this is a new low. I cannot believe you brought a dog in here.”
“Her name’s Tonka. And she likes you.”
Shafer pushed the dog aside and hugged Wells. Wells always felt awkward at these moments. Male affection baffled him. His dad had
“Tomorrow’s fine.”
Wells hung up. His first thought, he couldn’t help himself: Something wrong with Exley? But Shafer would have told him. This was business.
Anne slid her hand over his chest.
“I have to go,” he said.
She ignored his objection and pushed him down.
When they were done, they lay still for a minute. She got up before he did and reached for the rainbow-striped panties bunched under the bed beside his jeans. Fifteen minutes later, she stood at the door to the cabin and pressed a folded-up piece of notebook paper into his hand before she left. “My e-mail address,” she said. “You’re leaving town? ”
“Looks that way.”
“Gonna do some super-secret stuff? ”
“Only kind of stuff I do,” Wells said, trying to roll with her.
“All right, then.”
“All right.” Wells tucked the paper into his pocket. “Look, Anne, you probably won’t believe it, but I don’t do this kind of thing very often. This was my first time in a while—”
“No, I believe it. You were a little rusty last night.”
He flushed. She laughed. “Don’t worry. Much better this morning, especially for a man your age—”
“Ouch,” Wells said.
“What I’m trying to say is, I had fun. Give me your number, maybe I’ll take a trip to D.C. See the monuments. Isn’t that what tourists do down there? ”
He found a pen, scribbled his cell number. “There’s no name on it.”
“Of course there isn’t.”
She kissed him on the lips, ran a hand through his hair, walked away in her battered hiking boots, her blue jeans cupping her ass. Wells didn’t expect to see her again, but he found himself waving as she got into her Silverado and rolled off. She had style.
TONKA DIDN’ T LIKE WATCHING him pack. She tugged at his jeans as he filled his duffel bag. He would have to bring her to Langley, he realized. He didn’t know how long he’d be gone, and he could hardly take her back to the pound. He grabbed her bowls, her treats and toys, and threw them in the Subaru beside his bag.
He took one final look around the cabin. He didn’t feel overly sentimental. It had served its purpose, given him a place to hide and to heal. From the bedside table, he grabbed the book he’d just started, a biography of Elvis. It had been Elvis or Gandhi, and Wells hadn’t felt like Gandhi. And thinking of Gandhi reminded Wells of what he had almost left behind. He reached under the bed for the lockbox with his pistols.
HE STOPPED ONLY ONCE on the drive down, for a tankard of 7-Eleven coffee and a jug of water. Somewhere outside Philadelphia, the hangover lost its grip on him and he settled in his seat.
He spent the night in a no-tell motel outside Washington. He assumed Exley was in the house they’d once shared. The motel room stank of smoke, and the bed was bowed like a hammock. Wells brought Tonka in with him, and they slept on the floor back-to-back.
When he reached Langley in the morning, the gate guards didn’t want to let him in. Aside from the agency’s own bomb sniffers, dogs were not allowed on the campus. Wells told them it was just for a few hours, they’d be doing him a favor. He didn’t have to tell them that after the last couple years, he had a few favors coming. They hemmed and hawed and made a couple of calls and finally waved him through.
“JOHN—” SHAFER BARELY STOOD before the dog jumped on him. On her hind legs, she was nearly as tall as he was. He ineffectually tried to push her away. She licked his face, eager to play. “I was gonna say I missed you. But this is a new low. I cannot believe you brought a dog in here.”
“Her name’s Tonka. And she likes you.”
Shafer pushed the dog aside and hugged Wells. Wells always felt awkward at these moments. Male affection baffled him. His dad had
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