Undeceived (19 page)

Chapter 28

Darcy stumbled into the kitchen the next morning after waking up, bleary and alone.

“
Dobrý den, bratř.
”

“Good day to you too, little sis.” He leaned over and kissed the top of her head as she peeled an orange. “Where is Elizabeth?”

“She said something about using the studio this morning.”

“She’s a dancer in addition to her medical training and knowledge of languages and tradecraft…”

Georgina smiled indulgently. “You don’t have to convince me of her accomplishments, William.” She shooed him toward the door. “Go find her. Go!”

He found her in the studio, heavy-rhythmed music pumping from the stereo speakers at the end of the room. She wasn’t dancing as he expected, but instead, she was posed in a graceful lunge, facing the window overlooking the bay. Her arms reached over her head, parallel to each other, fingers pointed toward the ceiling. He watched as she straightened the bent leg and brought her body forward, straight back, facing the ground, delicately balanced on that front foot, the other leg straight out behind her, arms now parallel with the floor. Finally, she brought the back leg forward to meet the front, her body swinging upright. Sweeping her arms overhead, she bent forward, placing hands outside her feet, head almost to the ground.

He pushed off the door frame and slowly approached her from behind, appreciating the view. Thinking to surprise her, he reached out a hand to her well-rounded buttock.

***

So, he plans a sneak attack.
Elizabeth bent her knees, reached back, and grabbed both his ankles. With a mighty yank forward, she dumped him on his very fine ass.

“Ha!” She whirled around to face him, hands on her hips. “Don’t sneak up on a woman with hand-to-hand combat training, Darcy!”

He pushed himself up to sitting. “Don’t be silly! You just caught me off guard. I was distracted. By your ass…ets.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“That rudimentary training you get at The Farm is nothing compared to mine.” He tapped his thumb against his chest. “Military man. I should probably show you some techniques in case you—”

She pounced, landing with her inner thighs on either side of his ears.

“Ow! That was my head that just hit the floor!” He stopped. “Intriguing position though.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Okay, military man, let’s get a mat, and then you show me what you got.” She pulled a large mat and spread it out on the floor. As she stood, he got her from behind—one arm across her neck, pinning her arms back against his body.

“You understand the element of surprise, darling, I’ll give you that. But the fact is, I’m bigger than you, and bigger usually wins.”

She reared back and missed head butting his nose by an inch or two, but it put enough space between them that she got him in the solar plexus with her elbow—just hard enough to get away.

“In real life, this is where I’d run like hell.” She bounced on her toes and held her arms up, boxing style. “But I’m having fun.” She landed a playful kick on his side then threw a punch toward his jaw, which he blocked with his open hand. Keeping hold of her fist, he twisted her arm behind her and slammed her back against him. His free hand drifted down her abdomen to her hip. “Gotcha,” he whispered into her hair.

She roared in frustration and tried to bend down, to throw him over her head. He barely moved.

“You gotta mean it, Beautiful.”

They grappled as she tried to bring him to the mat once again. “Oh, I mean it, tough guy.”

“If only you had a blunt object within reach.”

“I’d crack it over your thick skull.”

“That’s exactly right. Use whatever’s handy.” He pushed her face down on the mat, holding the squirming mass of her with his torso.

She tried to kick him in the crotch, but her heel bounced helplessly off his buttock.

“Vicious little thing, aren’t you?”

“Truce?” She turned her head to the side.

He leaned down and kissed the up-turned check. “Truce.”

He rose onto all fours, and she caught him with the back of her hand as she rolled over and tried to scramble away. He pinned her to the mat so they were face-to-face, center-to-center.

“You said truce,” he growled.

She bucked and writhed under him. “No truce!”

“Yes truce!” He ground himself against her.

A harsh groan escaped her, sending heat straight to his loins. He took her mouth, demanding entrance. She gave in, her body limp at first then undulating under him. He drew back, taking in her disheveled appearance—hair in disarray, face flushed—and grinned. “I like fighting as foreplay.”

She pushed him off her and sat up. “You, Darcy, are a perv.”

He laughed. “Apparently. Who knew?”

“Oh, I did.” She grinned back at him, fine eyes sparkling with dark delight.

“Good Lord, woman. I want you more every day.”

Her eyes roamed up and down his form, singeing him where he sat, three feet in front of her. He wondered whether he was leaving burn marks on the studio floor.

“Then you’re going to have to”—she crawled toward him and kissed him, licking his lips as she did so—“catch me!” She leapt forward, her feet hitting the ground at a run. He caught her almost at the studio door, and they embraced with a feverish intensity, lips and hands roaming and grabbing everywhere as he backed her through the doorway and into the hall. Looking around, he spied a changing room. “In here,” he panted.

“We can’t. Not here.”

“It’s my damn house. We sure as hell can.” He pushed her back against the changing room door, pushed up her shirt, and rubbed his thumbs over her bra. The back of her head made contact with the door, a gentle thud. Hands pushed down shorts simultaneously. He lifted her with one arm, so she wrapped her legs around him and held on as he took her against the door. She was lost—in him, in the moment—a bundle of light and heat being batted around without form, without purpose. He groaned, louder with each thrust. At one point, her gaze landed on an arousing view from the mirror on the opposite wall. She watched them move together, filled her hands with the damp waves of his hair, and let his voice fill her ears as he lost control. She stared at the mirror, into her own eyes, and let herself fall after him.

***

Gabrielle Reynolds looked up from her paper at the sound of squealing and laughter overhead. There was a flurry of running footsteps, and then a door closed with a mighty slam.

Georgina sipped her last bit of tea. “I guess he found her.”

The elegant, reserved housekeeper raised an eyebrow and looked across the table at her charge. “Seems so.”

“I will go practice piano now.” Georgina stood, lips twitching in amusement. “At the other end of the house.”

Gabrielle watched Georgina leave. Then she picked up her newspaper and her coffee, and stepped out to the table on the back terrace.

Well, look at you two! I have to say, I’m surprised. I never saw that one coming. Oh, I knew how you felt; having been a man in love myself, I could read the signs. But her? She surprised me. And what a surprise she was! Never knew she had it in her.

I don’t like surprises.

And while my surveillance gave me a little prurient thrill at first, a couple of days was enough. To be honest, you two bore me. Yawn. Holding hands. Running up and down the beach. Salsa dancing in the Chestnut Tree Lounge. Canoodling in the Lambton Restaurant. How pedantic. How predictable. How pathetic.

So, enjoy her. The happiness of these days in paradise will torture you for years after she’s gone. Welcome to the seventh level of hell, Darcy.

Chapter 29

Darcy pulled his Jeep onto the gravel drive at Elizabeth’s villa on Tobago. Putting the vehicle in park, he turned to her, one arm across the back of her seat, the other hand on the steering wheel.

“How about you ask me in?”

She laughed and shook her head. “No! Haven’t you had enough to last you a while?”

“Darling, I’ll never have enough, not of you anyway.” He leaned forward and the kiss he gave her was gentle, tender. He skimmed a finger across her jaw. Her heart shimmered and melted a little more.

“Elizabeth. Let me stay with you.”

“I can’t. First contact with my asset tomorrow.”

“I’ll go with you. I know the area you told me about. Mrs. G’s sister lives in Castara, and the cove is just north of there.”

She shook her head. “Not necessary. Besides, this may be my last assignment for counterintelligence, and I want to do a good job.”

“Training your replacement?”

“No. Well, maybe. And I’m not doing an end run around you either, Station Chief.”

“Meeting the asset on Tobago is an odd coincidence, which makes me think it’s not a coincidence at all.”

“Don’t worry. I can take care of myself. I’m not sure why Wickham’s asset chose this locale, but most likely so he would have some neutral ground to give information.”

“Makes me uneasy, having an unknown prowling around here.”

“I do know that, Darcy. I’m being careful. I’m just the courier. Since this is the first contact, I only check the drop. He won’t even lay eyes on me.”

“I wish you’d let me come along.”

“You need to maintain your anonymity on Tobago. I, on the other hand, will be gone in a matter of days.”

“I still don’t like this.” He sighed. “But I know I can’t talk you out of it. Call me as soon as you get back.”

“Sure thing.”

He kissed her again. “The minute you walk in the door.”

“I promise.”

“Goodbye, darling.”

“See you soon.”

Elizabeth turned and watched the Jeep disappear down the street, holding up her hand as Darcy sent her one last wave. She turned back to the door and fished out her keys. With a sigh, she shoved her way inside and set her bag on the table.

“Doing the walk of shame?”

She whirled around, caught off guard without a weapon or any way to defend herself.

The light blinked on, and there on a bar stool in the corner of the kitchen sat George Wickham.

“George!” She covered her heart with her hand. “You scared the shit out of me! What are you doing here? I thought you were in Washington.”

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for four days.”

“I took a couple days off.”

“You’re not here to take vacation. You’re here to retrieve information from an asset.”

“Back off, Wickham. You’re not my boss.”

“I sense some hostility here.”

“Why are you even on Tobago?”

“Definite hostility.”

“Answer the question.”

“The director wants another set of eyes on the situation. He was concerned about you when my attempts to contact you came up empty. Looks like he was right to be worried, given the company you’ve been keeping.”

“I don’t have to justify my actions to you.”

“Perhaps not, but you might have to justify them to the director.”

“Look, I don’t want to argue. I just want to make this meeting and move on with my life. I’ve decided to leave the CI department. You were wrong about me all those months ago, George. I’m not cut out for counterintelligence, and I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“Never thought this would happen to you.”

“What?”

“Never thought you were the type to fall for the Darcy mystique.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I saw who brought you home. Nice little romantic scene in the driveway.”

“No one likes a voyeur.” Elizabeth’s cheeks burned with anger and embarrassment. “Darcy and I have gotten to know each other over the last several months.”

“Looks that way.”

“Let’s just say, I’ve discovered he improves on acquaintance.”

“Does he now? Has he stopped massaging the facts to cast himself in the best light? Does he no longer treat everyone he considers beneath him with contempt? Is he no longer a pompous ass?”

“You misunderstand me. When I say he improves on acquaintance, I don’t mean that
he
has really changed all that much, but rather that my opinion of him improved the longer I knew him.”

“Best watch yourself. He’ll bury you to suit his own agenda—just like he did me.”

“You would have liked to stay in the field?”

“Very much. I was a good field officer.”

An image of Georgina swam before her eyes, and anger shot through her. “Bullshit. Just bullshit! I’ve seen the tapes. I’ve read the reports. I’ve got a damned file on you. I know now you weren’t quite the field officer you claimed to be. I learned your screw-ups led to Jirina’s capture, despite Darcy’s attempts to protect her, and that you somehow bamboozled the director into investigating Darcy because he reported you.” She reached inside her bag and put her hands on her revolver, just in case she needed it. “I know the story, and now I’m wondering if Jirina’s capture was only the result of your incompetence or there was more to it than you led me to believe.”

“I’m not sure I like what you’re suggesting.” His voice was cool, but she saw the flush of temper on his face.

“Did you set Jirina up to betray her to the Czechoslovakian secret police? Are you setting me up tomorrow too? Are you on the Soviets’ payroll to solve your financial woes?”

He pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his shirt pocket, lit it, and studied her. “You really think I’m capable of that?”

“I’m curious as to why, instead of answering me directly, your default response is to answer a question with a question.”

He bolted upright in his chair, making her jump. “Damn it, Lizzy! What do you expect me to say? You’ve got your damn information from the FBI and think you know it all. What answer could I give that you would even believe at this point?”

She didn’t respond, not knowing what answer would possibly convince her.

“That’s what I thought.” He scanned the room for an ashtray and, not finding one, stepped over to the sink to tap the ashes off his smoke. He took another drag off of it then stubbed it out.

“Tell you what, Officer Bennet.
I’ll
check the drop tomorrow. You can just go along for the ride. You’ll see that, not only am I on the up and up, but this new asset is everything I said he’d be.”

“You’ll check the drop?”

“Of course. I know there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“It’s
my
job to check the drop, and I always do my job.”

“I said
I’ll
do it.” His voice was tinged with irritation. “You can still send the message to Langley and ‘do your job.’ And I will get my job back. This mission will show that I’m still good enough for fieldwork. No one can argue with me after I bring in a big fish like Viceroy.”

“That’s a stupid code name,” Elizabeth muttered under her breath.

“You think? The director came up with it.” He grinned, a shadow of his old charm, but it was unsubstantial, fleeting, like the man himself. “You’re one to talk about stupid code names, Fine Eyes. The eyes aren’t your best feature, by the way.” His gaze roamed her figure.

She watched his every move as he made his way to the door and turned back to face her.

“So yeah, I’ll check the drop. You come along to play witness and take my triumph back to Langley and to Darcy since you and he are”—he air quoted with a smirk—“
close
now. Let him gnaw on my success awhile. He can’t stop me forever. I’ll be back in the field in no time.”

“Fine then. Suit yourself. You can check the drop.” Elizabeth crossed her arms and stared him down. “Now, if you don’t mind, tomorrow’s an early day, and I need some sleep. My vacation wore me out.”

“Sad. Not so much a woman of the eighties now, are we? Just like every other female agent since the OSS: dangle a man in front of her and her brain goes to mush. And they say men think with their dicks.”

“I won’t remind you what a hypocrite you are. Poor Lidia.”

“Who?” He chuckled. “Just kidding. I remember her. I remember all of them. Pick you up at 5:30 a.m. Drop is right after dawn, but we’ll surprise him. I want you to actually lay eyes on the son-of-a-bitch. That should prove it to you. Good night, Ms. Bennet. I’ll show myself out.”

“Asshole,” she said as she locked the door after him. “Just get through tomorrow, Elizabeth. After that, you’ll never have to see George Wickham again.”

***

He was late. No surprise there. His horn blared in the pre-dawn light, and she climbed into his rented Jeep without a word. They rode in silence down to the secluded cove on the leeward side of Tobago. Elizabeth could hear the ocean as they approached the predetermined drop point. She’d agreed to it, but now that she was here, she didn’t like it. Left to her own devices, she would have bolted.

“This is sketchy, George. I don’t like the isolation, the time of day. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“Viceroy wants privacy. He says the intel he has will shake up the agency, and he’s nervous about being identified. He doesn’t want the local CIA involved.”

She pulled out her pistol, checked it.

“Glad to see you’re armed. Try not to shoot me in the dark though.”

“And you do the same.”

He cut the engine and rolled to a stop beside the path. “We’ll walk in from here.”

“The message said the drop is beside a rock formation down next to the water.”

As they approached the knoll above the meeting place, the crashing of the waves grew louder. Looking down on the beach, Elizabeth saw a lone figure approach. Asset looked male, about five foot ten, she observed. Short hair, but it was still too dark to see his face.

“There he is. See: real person, real asset. No funny stuff. No KGB. We’re all alone—just the three of us.”

“Yeah.” She folded her arms across her chest, rubbing them to shake the sudden chill. The man knelt down beside the rocks, fumbled in the dark for a minute, then walked away, scanning all around him before he disappeared into the trees.

“Okay, I’m going down there. Wait. Shit.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t have my flashlight. It’s darker than I thought it would be. I’m gonna have trouble finding the drop among those rocks.”

“Maybe you should have waited until the appointed time like he said. Then you’d have sunlight.”

“Run back and get the flashlight for me, would you? It’s in the glove box.”

Elizabeth sighed, exasperated. “I’m not your flunky.”

“Just get the damn light, Lizzy. I’ll meet you down there.”

She trudged back to the Jeep and began digging through the papers, wrappers, and junk. She found the flashlight and closed her hand around it. That’s when she heard the gunshot.

Her heart leaped into her throat, preventing her scream from escaping. At the same instant, she rose up and hit her head on the roll bar. Still seeing stars before her eyes, she reached for her pistol as she stumbled down the path toward the beach. She’d gotten maybe fifty feet when someone took her to the ground. Fighting, she wiggled away, but he caught her legs and held her down. Her gun had been knocked out of her hand, and it was lying on the sand just out of reach. She made a sound of terror, of desperation, and fought even harder when he covered her mouth.

“Shh, shh, darling. Elizabeth. Shh, now. The shooter hasn’t left yet.”

She froze.

“You’re okay. It’s me. It’s William.” He stroked her hair, brought her head to his shoulder as they lay on the sand.

“What are you doing here?”

“Shh. I’ll explain later. Are you hurt?” With shaking hands, he cataloged her limbs, her torso, her face, checking for injuries.

“No.” She wanted to sob, to babble, so she pressed her lips together firmly to keep any sound to herself.

Staying low to the ground, he led her by the hand toward the knoll overlooking the beach. Right before they reached the crest, he dropped to his belly and commando crawled up to peek over the ridge. He pulled small night-vision binoculars out of his shirt pocket and adjusted them.

Elizabeth had calmed enough to stop perceiving time as if it were stretched and distorted. She lay beside Darcy as he watched the scene below. In the predawn, she could see the shooter, a dark form running toward the rocks. She saw him crouch, roll his victim over, and sit back suddenly. Then he stood, running fingers through his hair as he paced back and forth a few times before picking up something and flinging it into the sea. She heard a roar of frustration, and then he turned, heading back to the other side of the beach.

“Got the wrong officer, didn’t ya, asshole?” Darcy muttered.

Elizabeth heard an engine roar to life then fade off into the distance.

“I bet he doesn’t know you’re here. He thinks Wickham came alone, last minute change of plans. He might double around to Wickham’s Jeep to make sure, though. We need to get out of here.”

“We can’t just leave George down there.”

“We won’t if we can help it.” He cradled the side of her face, forcing her to look at him. “You didn’t bring anything with you, did you?”

“Nothing except my weapon.” She crawled forward to grab it.

“No papers, no keys still in the Jeep?”

“No. Spy Rule Number Five, remember? When sneaking around and worried you might get caught, leave your ID at home. And I hid my key outside the villa.”

“Good girl. Now we don’t have to risk going back.”

“How will we get out of here?”

“I have a way. Come on.” He led her down to the beach, using the foliage to mask their approach until they had to step out into the open. “Cover me,” he whispered and took off toward the rocks where Wickham lay in the sand.

She moved toward the two men, the ocean at her back as she scanned back and forth, pistol at the ready.

“I think we’re in the clear.” She squatted down next to Wickham’s head. “Surely he would have taken a shot at us by now if he was still around. How’s Wickham?”

Darcy looked at her, his mouth set in a grim line and shook his head.

The heavy presence of Death lurked at the edges of the scene as the red light of dawn crept toward them over the sand. “Oh, surely not, Darcy. He can’t die.” She began to inspect the wound. “At least he’s not conscious.”

“Not at the moment. He was a second ago.”

“Did he know who shot him?”

“I don’t know. He only said, ‘Should’ve known. Wilhelm.’”

“That’s the name—”

“Anneliese gave me before she died, I remember.” Darcy yanked off his shirt as he talked, and used it to cover Wickham’s wound. “Help me take him down to the water. Mrs. G brought a boat down here yesterday. It’s anchored just beyond that grove of trees.”

“You followed me?”

“Yes.” His reply was terse, without apology.

Moving Wickham was a risky business, but with Elizabeth’s help, Darcy managed to heave him over his shoulder. She covered them while they made their way to Darcy’s Zodiac boat. While Darcy pulled up the anchor, Elizabeth found the first aid kit and rifled through it, but there was little besides clean gauze. The two of them said nothing but became more somber by the minute. Wickham’s wound was serious, more so than Darcy’s gunshot in East Berlin. It was becoming clear there was little she could do.

Darcy’s hands flew over the console as he started the boat, steered out of the bay with a terrific spray of water, and picked up the radio mouthpiece. “Henry? I’ve got a medical emergency here. No, it isn’t me. Have a team standing by. If he makes it, they’ll probably air-vac him to San Juan or Miami.”