Deeper Than Red (Red Returning Trilogy) (15 page)

“And what poisons yours? That magician in Florida?” Maxum laughed loudly.

Glinka clenched his teeth. Now wasn’t the time to wage his war with the aging Israeli statesman, no longer the valuable mole but a liability Glinka must eventually deal with … along with his son. Young Max had burrowed too deep, uncovered too much. He, too, would be eliminated. For now, though, Glinka must tread carefully.

“But you are exposed, Maxum. I cannot protect you in the open.”

“I need none of your protection. I have my own resources.”

He sensed where Maxum was headed and why. “I know your skills with forging any document you need, including passports,” Glinka said, feeling a prickly dread for the damage Maxum could do. “But surely you will not attempt to reenter Israel.”

“But surely I will.”

L
iesl and Cade saw the familiar knot of people waiting for them at the end of the concourse. Their flight into Ben Gurion International near Tel Aviv had been delayed by several hours. Still, there was no deterring Ben and Max’s welcoming party. Ben had assured her they would find amusement in the waiting hours. They certainly had.

As she grew closer, Liesl watched the guys hoist something over their heads. Teddy bears. One in a tuxedo, one in a sequined gown, each one bearing a flag that read
Shalom.
With them were Ben’s wife, Anna, and, Liesl assumed, Max’s new girlfriend, who waved and smiled as exuberantly as if she were old friends with the approaching visitors, though they had never met her.

Max rushed ahead of the others, his arms opening wide for Liesl. Though he tossed a hardy smile and greeting to Cade at the same time, it was obvious where his affections rested. He hugged Liesl to him. “So we’re really going to do this, huh?” he spoke into her ear.

She gently pulled away and appraised him. Not much had changed. He was still slight of build, and the red hair still ruled the head, as fiery as his violin. But now, a foreign restraint had moved in and camped about the eyes, tugging at their corners and clouding their old radiant light. It disturbed her, but she wouldn’t let him see.

“With everything we’ve got.” She squeezed his shoulders once more, then turned to see Ben ambling forward. She had to fight the tears. It had been just six months since bullets ripped through his chest and neck. If not for the Kevlar vest, Volynski’s marksmen would have killed him along with Anna’s brother.

She moved quickly to close the distance between them and reached for her old friend, the tears she could no longer control running free. “It’s about time you got here, old girl,” he said as she lightly wrapped her arms around his still-mending body, noting how much weight he’d lost. But his voice still carried the same resonant strength she’d known since college. So many times, it seemed, that had been her only strength.

Swallowing hard against the bulge in her throat, she beamed at him. “I’ve missed you.” He just squeezed her hand and pulled her toward Anna. “Look who I found,” he told his wife, who then engulfed Liesl in a long-held embrace. Liesl had introduced the couple at Harvard and been named godmother to their two daughters.

“Where are the kids?” Liesl asked.

“In Haifa with Ben’s cousin, but you’ll see them tomorrow. She’s driving them here to see you for a couple of hours in the morning.”

Liesl’s eyes strayed to the young woman standing just outside the circle of friends, obviously so comfortable with each other. She was watching Liesl intently, her face alight with what seemed like anticipation. Liesl was used to the open adoration of fans, but responding to it still made her feel uncomfortable and awkward. She hoped this was different. Maybe the girl was just curious about her? She was about to make a move in the girl’s direction when Max came alongside, Cade in tow, and guided Liesl that way. “Time you met my lady,” he beamed. The three approached Erica Bachman who was now smiling broadly.

“Erica, I want my friends here to meet the talented photographer all of Tel Aviv is buzzing about.”

Liesl extended her hand and greeted the girl warmly. Cade did the same, both of them pleased that Max had finally found someone to invest himself with. After the debacle of Maxum Sr.’s scandalous treason, young Max had drifted even further into his isolationist lifestyle. Liesl hoped that the young woman before her now, with long blond hair falling about her shoulders and an engaging expression, might one day match Max’s great capacity to love.

Then the girl suddenly gushed like a starry-eyed teen. “You don’t know how excited I am to meet you both. Miss Bower, I’m just a huge fan of yours. You’re so incredible!”

Cringing at what she’d hoped wouldn’t be, Liesl responded as best she could. “Thank you, but please call me Liesl.” She glanced at Max, who seemed as taken aback by the effusive display as Liesl. But he quickly rallied, wrapping his arm around Erica’s shoulders and hugging her to him. Then, he abruptly prompted, “Well, everyone, are we ready to go?” Liesl caught his embarrassment. It seemed the girl had to. She fell into a bit of a pout as he led her away with no further comment. It had been an awkward introduction that Liesl hoped to overcome in some way.

Ben and Anna followed Max’s car to his high-rise apartment overlooking the Mediterranean. The Saturday afternoon traffic flowed easily, and in the back seat, Liesl found herself in a near-slump against Cade’s shoulder as he and Max chatted about Israeli politics. She’d managed only a few fitful naps during their all-night flight into the Tel Aviv time zone and now fought to focus on the conversation. She felt obliged to draw Erica into conversation, noting how the girl had fallen silent after leaving the airport. But instead, Liesl lost her battle against sleep and didn’t awake until Max pulled into the parking garage beneath his building.

In a moment of total confusion, she lifted sluggishly from Cade’s shoulder and commanded her brain to tell her where she was and why the girl in the front seat was looking so intently at her, again. She returned the girl’s too-nice smile then looked away, letting Cade pull her resistant body from the back seat. Seconds later, Ben and Anna arrived and the whole party took the elevator to the fifteenth floor.

Walking into Max’s apartment brought Liesl to full waking surprise. Unlike his signature look of practiced dishevelment—the unruly red hair topping a fond disregard for coordinated apparel—the apartment was sleek and polished. “You couldn’t have done this,” Liesl said with certainty. She spun in place surveying the meticulously ordered room of ultracontemporary furnishings, the sum of it floored in a plush-piled white carpet.

“Right. My mom did. I had no choice in the matter, but I kind of like how things actually go together.”

“Unlike your clothes, sport,” Ben shot as he headed down the hall rolling his and Anna’s overnight bags. “We’ll take this back bedroom if that’s okay.”

“It’s yours,” Max said. “I’m sleeping on the sofa and giving the master to our honeymooners.” He motioned for Cade to follow with their luggage.

That left Liesl alone with Erica. “May I get something for you to drink?” the young woman offered.

It was welcomed. “Something very cold, please,” Liesl said. As she followed Erica to the kitchen, Liesl stopped to admire a wall gallery of photographs, all stunning. They were studies of light and shadow cast over the land, architecture, and the creviced faces of the elderly. She turned to look at Erica, already busy filling glasses with ice. “Erica, did you take these?” She tried to conceal her surprise, if it were true, but was struck by a stark disconnect between the fluttery young woman she’d just met and the one whose mature and soulful eye had captured these images.

“Yes, they’re mine.” Erica emerged from the kitchen and handed Liesl a tall icy glass. “I hope you like ginger ale. I guess I should have asked first. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, thank you. But your photography, Erica, it’s amazing. I’m so impressed by your talent.” Was she gushing? As Erica had?

But the girl didn’t seem embarrassed by the attention. In fact, there was something hard and impervious on her face as she perused her own work. Liesl dared to linger on that face now. It was handsome, not pretty, with a pointed nose, wide cheekbones, and squared chin. As sharply composed as one of her photographs. But when the face turned toward Liesl, the expression grew soft and compliant.

How does she do that?
Liesl was growing more intrigued by this girl.

“Okay, time to cook,” Max announced as he and Cade returned to the living room. He came up between Liesl and Erica and gave both a squeeze around their waists, whispering conspiratorially to them. “Since I have no idea how to do that, you two must take charge.” Then he looked soberly at Liesl. “Oh wait. What am I thinking? The classical pianist with hands insured by Lloyd’s of London can’t even pour cereal. You’re on your own, Erica.”

“I’ll do it,” chimed Anna.

Moments later, they were all in the kitchen, grateful that it was big enough to contain them and their convoluted efforts to prepare sea bass. Erica seemed to unfold into something close to delight in the midst of the banter and camaraderie, often nuzzling Max’s neck and drawing his obvious pleasure in that. She even managed to pull off a near-perfect roasted red pepper sauce for the fish, relishing the gratuitous compliments. By the time Erica left that night for her own apartment downstairs, they had all gathered her to themselves and given Max their blessings.

The two couples and Max now lounged on the terrace overlooking a slumbering sea, its surf rhythmically breathing in and out, exerting its lunar pull against Liesl. They were talking about anything but Ben’s and Max’s enlistment in the Mossad, which Liesl knew never to discuss in front of Anna. Ben’s wife was still reeling from his surprise enrollment into yet another clandestine pursuit.

At this moment, though, Liesl could focus on nothing but the prospect of sleep. Until a phone sounded somewhere inside. A certain phone deep in Liesl’s bag, its coded pattern of beeps drilling into the peaceful night. Liesl jerked forward, glancing first at her husband, then Max. He’d been the last to access her CIA-assigned phone, just hours after President Noland had. Barely nine days ago.

The beeps demanded she come immediately. “Stay here,” she told them, scanning their anxious faces before she rushed inside. She closed the bedroom door behind her, regretfully acknowledging that despite the wedding ring on her finger, there remained an insular chamber in her life where forces set in motion long ago still prevailed against her and her alone. In the seconds before she retrieved the phone, she cast an urgent prayer.
But, Lord, you command all things and all places, even that chamber. Lead me through it.

She answered with a hesitant “Yes?”

“Liesl, this is Ava.”

Ava. Friend first, CIA agent second. Or was it the other way around? Which was she now?

“Listen to me, Liesl. There’s no need to be alarmed, as I know you probably are. So calm down. I called your phone because I needed to hear your voice and know you were safe at Max’s by now. That’s true, right?”

“Yes, but there’s more, isn’t there?”

“I have news of a development that I need to speak with Max about.”

“Tell me first, Ava. Please.”

The agent hesitated. Then, “I just took a call from Kozlov.”

Liesl barely breathed. “Go on.”

“There are details of his report—”

“Report? Does he work for you now?” She meant the greater sovereignty of the CIA.

“He offers what he chooses, when he chooses.”

Liesl understood. Her former nemesis and unlikely advocate had declared himself a man without a country, and certainly without allegiance to those who might hang him. So why does he offer anything at all? Liesl suspected the answer, though she hardly knew what to do with it. After once threatening her life, the man had risked his own to save her from an assassin. He’d risked capture to protect her, to befriend her. He’d briefly allowed her behind the barriers he’d erected around his troubled soul, and now she mattered to him. If he dared initiate contact with Ava, it was probably because of Liesl.

As if Ava had sensed the dread, she said, “It’s best that you bring Max in now. Most of what I have to report is for him.”

Moments later, Max sat next to Liesl as Ava issued her news through the speaker. “Just hours ago, Evgeny Kozlov saw and positively identified Maxum Morozov riding in the back seat of a car outside Moscow.”

Liesl watched Max’s fingers flex once then ball into fists. “Where?”

“Liesl, I’m afraid this is where you must leave us.”

“But—” Liesl began her objection.

“The rest is classified,” Ava headed her off. “Max’s work for Mossad is part of the system, so to speak. And I can see those eyes flashing now, Liesl. You resent being left out after all you’ve endured, but—”

“But President Noland asked for my help if Evgeny made contact with us. What am I supposed to do?”

“The president has already been notified of Evgeny’s call. Now, I really need to speak privately with Max. Please understand.”

Liesl did. “But one more question, Ava. I need to know. Is Evgeny here in Tel Aviv?”

There was a long pause before Ava answered. “I’m sure of it.”