Tell Me No Lies (43 page)

"Catlin!"

Lindsay's raw whisper was a wound in the silence. He spun back toward her, saw her unnatural stillness and her pale skin.

"I don't want – " Her whisper shattered. "Oh, God," she said fiercely, "I don't want you to take a bullet for me!"

Catlin brushed the back of his fingers over Lindsay's trembling lips and turned away without answering.

24

Catlin stood well aside from the door itself as he turned the key with his left hand. He pushed the door inward and pulled back flat along the hallway wall at the same time. No sounds came from inside. He waited.

Silence. No one spoke or shifted position or cocked a pistol. He risked a quick look into the room. Empty. He entered the room in a low crouch, because anyone waiting in ambush would expect the quarry to be standing. From a crouched position Catlin swept the room with a single turn of his body, left hand locked around right wrist, arms straight before him, gun ready.

There was no target, no one waiting in ambush, nothing but the furniture and the closed bedroom door. Everything normal – except that Catlin had not closed the bedroom door on the way out that morning. He always left all interior doors wide open, flat along the wall. Otherwise it was too easy for someone to hide behind a door and wait for the target to open it and walk blindly into gunfire.

Soundlessly Catlin crossed the room to the door that should have been open. It wasn't latched. He heard nothing in the bedroom beyond, neither movement nor word.

The door burst wide open as Catlin went through in a low, diving roll that ended as he came to his feet in a crouched shooting stance. He found a target instantly, two men who should not have been there. Even as Catlin's finger took slack from the trigger, his mind registered the identity of the intruders – Stone and O'Donnel. They were standing very still, their arms held away from their bodies, empty hands clearly displayed.

"That's a hell of an easy way to get yourself killed," Catlin said, uncocking and bolstering the gun in a single motion.

O'Donnel let out his breath in a long sigh that was also a curse. "Mother of God," he said, shaking his head. He looked over at Stone. "You were right. I never even heard the son of a bitch."

Stone smiled slightly and wished he could light a cigarette. He couldn't, though. Neither Catlin nor Lindsay smoked. The smell would linger as a signpost to the maid or anyone else who might be interested in Lindsay's visitors.

"Lindsay?" asked Stone.

"Down the hall," Catlin said curtly, turning away even as he spoke.

He went quickly to Lindsay, saw the relief on her face as she ran to him, relief and something more, something that sliced through him until he wanted to cry out in a paradox of triumph and despair. She shouldn't look at him that way. The game was almost over, the lies nearly all spoken, the act all but complete. Her real life waited for her, and it waited without him.

"It's all right," Catlin whispered, lifting Lindsay off her feet as he returned her hard hug. "Just Stone and O'Donnel."

Lindsay nodded to tell Catlin that she understood, but her arms didn't loosen. She held him with all her strength, reassuring herself that he wasn't hurt. Finally she breathed deeply, filling her senses with Catlin's masculine scent. Her hands relaxed, stroking the soft corduroy of his jacket and the familiar textures of his hair and cheek and lips.

"I was afraid for you," Lindsay whispered, her voice catching.

Catlin closed his eyes for an instant as his emotions and his mind pulled him in opposite directions with racking force. Very gently he lowered Lindsay until her feet were on the ground again.

"Stone will have a lot of questions," Catlin said. "I'll try to keep Wu's name out of it."

"Would the FBI arrest him for smuggling?"

"No. Spying."

Catlin felt Lindsay stiffen.

"What?" she whispered, searching Catlin's eyes. There was compassion in the golden depths, but no confusion. He had said exactly what he meant.

"Think," murmured Catlin, holding Lindsay's chin in his palm. "Who stands to gain the most if relations between the U.S. and the People's Republic go to hell?"

She opened her mouth but no words came to her.

"Taiwan," Catlin said softly. "Every step we take closer to the People's Republic is one step farther away from the Chinese Nationalists on Taiwan. Without our support, the genteel fiction of two Chinas is dead, and with it, Taiwan. The Nationalists aren't stupid. They know that their only hope of survival is to keep the People's Republic and America at each other's throat."

"But Taiwan is our ally," Lindsay protested.

"And a spy is an unregistered agent of a foreign government," Catlin continued relentlessly, wanting Lindsay to understand even though the knowledge would not be comforting. "The Nationalists are rich in American dollars, so Taiwan can afford to contribute heavily to various American organizations, societies, politicians, churches and student groups whose interests are congenial with those of the Nationalists. Anti-Communist, in a word. I suspect that the Chinese Christian Benevolent Society enjoys the generosity of Taiwan."

"Is that illegal?"

"No. Every foreign government that can afford it buys favorable opinions in the U.S. It's called freedom of speech."

Catlin hesitated, searching the darkness of Lindsay's eyes, wondering if she understood yet. She said nothing, simply watched him in turn.

"I'm afraid Wu's involvement is much deeper than just accepting foreign contributions in the name of an American Chinese benevolent society," Catlin said after a moment. "I think Wu is a foreign agent paid directly by the Nationalist government. I think he has been for a long time. Since Hong Kong, certainly, and probably before he met your uncle in Xi'an."

"How do you know? Can you prove it?" demanded Lindsay.

"Why bother? Taiwan is a drop in a very large ocean of world power. The Nationalists in America are just one in a spectrum of refugee groups, and not even a particularly important one. The Nationalists are history," Catlin said bluntly. "They're like Albanians or Spanish Loyalists plotting political millennia in sidewalk cafes. Taiwan wasn't even enough of a threat to think of using the Qin charioteer as an international political football. It was Deng's enemies in the People's Republic who thought of it. Like the Nationalists on Taiwan, the mainland isolationists want to keep America and the PRC apart."

"But aren't the Nationalists and the Communists enemies?"

Catlin shook his head and laughed harshly. "Yes, and politics makes strange bedfellows. But it's hard to imagine anything as strange as Wu, Pao and the tightly laced Madame Zhu in bed together. Yet there they are, flailing around in the dark, trying to screw each other without being screwed in turn. And then there's Chen Yi on the sidelines, trying to use me without losing his nuts in the process. And me, trying to pay off an old debt to the family of Chen."

Impatiently, Catlin shrugged, dismissing plots and counterplots, old debts and recent payments. He wasn't there to help Yi or the isolationists, Wu or the FBI. He was there to earn back one half of a coin by protecting Lindsay Danner from the consequences of her own idealism.

"Once this mess is cleared up," Catlin continued, "the Nationalists in Chinatown can go back to hatching futile plots over tea and mah-jongg and watching their kids grow up to be neither Nationalists nor Communists, but Americans. Wu is a dinosaur. Burning down his political house of cards won't help the U.S. particularly, and it would hurt you a great deal. I don't see the point in that, but I'm not Bradford Stone. My job isn't to catch spies."

"Is that Stone's job? Catching spies?"

"It's called the Foreign Counterintelligence Division of the FBI. Stone heads it." Catlin smiled sardonically. "You should be flattered, honey cat. You're being watched over by America's number one counter spy."

"What is your job?"

"Protecting you. Period," Catlin said bluntly. "I tried to do that by yanking you out of the game before it had really begun. You refused that option. Have you finally changed your mind? Have you learned that lies are contagious and the truth is a chimera? Will you let me take you out of the game now?"

"I was warned. I gave my word," Lindsay said simply.

Then she smiled at him, a sad, off-center smile that made Catlin want to cry out in protest. But there would be no point in protesting. He had given his word, too. He knew what had to be done. So did she.

The game would be played. Only the details remained to be decided.

"It's up to you," Catlin said. "Keep Wu's name to ourselves or give it to Stone."

"Is Wu really… harmless?"

Catlin thought of Wu calmly promising the permanent removal of one Lee Tran. Any man who could do that wasn't harmless, but that was different from being a continuing threat to the security of the U.S. "You mean harmless as a spy?"

"Yes."

"Wu will be safe enough once the bronzes are out of the way. I guarantee it," Catlin said.

What he didn't say was that he would make a special point of extracting a promise of good behavior from Wu as soon as the furor over Qin's bronzes died down.

"Thank God," Lindsay said raggedly. "I couldn't bear knowing I'd betrayed two uncles in one lifetime."

Catlin had known she would feel that way. It was the reason he had decided to protect Wu, if possible. Not for Wu's sake, but for Lindsay's. Catlin took her hand again. Her fingers were almost stiff with the tension radiating through her.

"Ready to face Stone?" Catlin asked softly.

"Do I have any choice?"

"Yes. Say hello, say goodbye and take a shower. I'll handle the rest."

Some of the tension left Lindsay's body. "Maybe that would be best. I still don't lie very well, do I?"

Catlin tilted her face up and kissed her tenderly. "Don't worry. I can lie well enough for both of us. But not to you, Lindsay. Never to you."

She smiled again, the sad, crooked smile that tore at Catlin's control. Neither of them said anything as they walked down the hall and into the hotel room. As soon as they were inside, he locked and bolted the door.

"Roll call," Catlin said loudly.

Stone and O'Donnel walked into the living room.

Catlin pushed Lindsay gently toward the bedroom. "Shower and then nap, if you can. The call will probably come late tonight."

"Wait a minute," said Stone.

"Hello," said Lindsay.

"I have some questions – "

"Goodbye," she said, walking past Stone.

Automatically O'Donnel put out his hand to restrain Lindsay. Catlin moved so swiftly that O'Donnel had no chance to react beyond a sudden gasp of surprise and pain.

"Back off," Catlin snarled, releasing O'Donnel's wrist as suddenly as he had taken it. "Can't you see that she's done? Waiting for the call will be bad enough. She doesn't need to be grilled by the two of you on top of it."

"What call?" demanded Stone.

The bedroom door closed firmly behind Lindsay.

"The one telling us where to rendezvous with Qin's charioteer."

There was a stunned silence, then Stone began laughing softly.

"I'll be damned," he said. "There goes my money." Stone looked at Catlin. "I bet the director a hundred that there weren't any stolen bronzes. But he said it didn't matter – we still had to kowtow to our great and good friend Chen Yi."

"Besides," Catlin said sardonically, "while you're helping Yi, you can learn a hell of a lot about Chinese spies, whether they happen to be Communist or Nationalist, overseas or right in your own backyard."

"How do you figure that?" Stone asked blandly.

Catlin's smile was almost cruel. "Pull the other one, Stone. If the bronzes really do exist, you know that they'll be handled by spies or dupes or both, because this was a political game from the word go. So all you have to do is sweep down on the rendezvous, gather up the bodies, twist them until they talk and then you roll up the spy pipeline all the way back to Taiwan and Beijing."

The FBI agent's smile was a perfect match for Catlin's. "Want a job?" asked Stone.

"There's just one problem with your little scenario," Catlin continued.

"Only one? That'll be the day," grunted Stone.

"Only one that matters," Catlin amended. "If you come cowboying in when Lindsay and I are looking at the bronzes, someone's going to get shot. Wait until we're clear."

"Can't do it," said Stone, shaking his head. "We need to have everybody there with the evidence. Airtight. No room for cute lawyers and bleeding heart judges to maneuver. Besides, what makes you think you'll be allowed to leave with the bronzes? It could be a ripoff. They get information on our foreign counterintelligence apparatus, they get money, arid then they take off with the merchandise and bust a gut laughing at us."

Catlin had expected as much. In Stone's position, he would have done the same thing. "Then we've got a real problem. I'm not taking Lindsay into a trap. Without Lindsay, there's no deal, nothing to wrap up. School is out."

"Is that the way Lindsay wants it?" O'Donnel asked suddenly.

"That's the way it will be."

O'Donnel started to argue, remembered Catlin's speed and lethal skill and shut up.

"I know," Catlin said sardonically. "Safety is high on the FBI's most wanted list. But it's not first. Getting the job done is first."

O'Donnel didn't disagree. It was the truth, and everyone in the room knew it.

"Keeping Lindsay safe is the only thing on my list," Catlin said. "I'll do it any way I have to, including fight you. And I learned to fight in some dirty places."

Futilely, Stone wished for a cigarette. "Tell us what you want. We'll deliver if we can. We don't want anyone hurt, but we're going to get the bronzes and the spies."

Catlin nodded tightly. He had expected no less. "We're going to get a call. If the contact is in Cantonese, I'll call you and give you a translation immediately. We'll be given a certain amount of time to get to a rendezvous point. An extra ten minutes is built into that so that I can flush any tails I have."

O'Donnel laughed. "Ten minutes? You're good, Catlin, but nobody's that good. Not when we can cover you like a bad reputation."

"I know," Catlin said calmly. "Put four men on us. I'll do seven minutes' worth of flushing. At the end of that time, I don't want to see any tails. If I do, I'll take them out the quickest way I can."

There was a taut silence while Stone tried not to show how angry he was at Catlin's calm promise of violence.