Exit Strategy

The rush of gratitude had a tinge of desperation to it that startled Kristie, and she quickly reassured their guest. “You don’t need to thank us, Miranda. But believe me, we’ve always wanted to meet you, too. Sit down, okay?”

Miranda nodded and took a seat next to McGregor, across from Kristie.

McGregor gave her a reassuring smile. “You’re probably wondering why we asked you here today. Like Kristie—Ms. Hennessy—said, we’re pleased at this chance to meet you in person. But we also have a favor to ask.”

“Anything,” Miranda told him. “Just name it.”

“It’s not a favor,” Kristie corrected, sending McGregor a warning glance. “It’s an assignment.”

“Even better. Name it.”

McGregor laughed. “Don’t you want to know the details first? It’s strictly voluntary. And a little odd.”

“Sight unseen it’s better than anything I’ve been doing lately,” Miranda replied. “And like I said, I’d do anything for you two.”

Kristie sighed, knowing from Miranda’s file that indeed her recent assignments had been dismal ones, mostly consisting of dates with politicians or minor criminals. Nothing tawdry—at least, not exactly—but certainly nothing interesting. And definitely nothing that used the marksmanship talents that had earned her entry to the CIA in the first place.

To put it bluntly, Miranda Cutler had been typecast over the last year as a femme fatale, and while she was indeed pretty, Kristie had no doubt it was the sexy videotape with Ray Ortega that had short-circuited the young operative’s career.

Miranda looked from Kristie to McGregor, as though trying to fathom their hesitation. “It’s fine. Really. Ask me anything.”

“Okay.” Kristie took a deep breath. “How much do you know about Ray Ortega?”

“What?”

“I mean, about where he’s been and what he’s been doing these last eleven months.”

“I have no idea. And I don’t care.”

Kristie winced, but persisted. “Did you know he left public service—”

“Left it? As if he had a choice? He’s lucky he isn’t in prison! I’ll never understand why President Standish pardoned him.”

“Because he saved my sister’s life, for one thing,” McGregor told her, his voice soft.

“Oh. I didn’t know that.” Miranda arched an eyebrow. “I’m guessing it’s his fault she was in danger in the first place though, right?” When McGregor nodded, her green eyes flashed. “Why are we talking about him? Has he done something else?”

Kristie reached across the table and grasped Miranda’s hand. “Ray went into seclusion after—well, after the pardon. He wanted to cleanse himself spiritually. To restore balance to his life. He was riddled with guilt, Miranda. It’s so unfair. He’s a good man. A great man, really. You know that in your heart, don’t you?”

Miranda stared at her for a moment, then spun toward McGregor and demanded, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t blame you for being confused. What you don’t know is that Ortega and Kristie are close friends. He hired her. Trained her to be a spinner. She owes him a lot. Loves him like a brother.”

Miranda gave a cool smile. “I guess that makes sense. But it doesn’t explain why you asked me here.”

“It’s simple,” Kristie told her. “Ray doesn’t want to have anything to do with me—with any of us—anymore. But we need his help. There’s a global conspiracy brewing—a dangerous paramilitary cartel—and he’s the only person in the world who can thwart it.”

“I doubt that,” Miranda drawled.

“No, really. He once saved the life of a major player in this conspiracy. A man named Jonathan Kell. We think Ray can get Kell to confide in him.”

Kristie had expected Miranda to scoff again, but the redhead surprised her by smiling with delight. “That’s what you want? Great! I won’t let you down. I’ll get Kell to talk. Believe me, I’ve had practice. And I’m embarrassed to say, I’m pretty good at it. Just tell me what you need to know, and I’ll make him spill it.”

Ignoring McGregor’s chuckle, Kristie insisted, “No, Miranda. You’re missing the point. We don’t want you to talk to Kell. We want you to talk to Ray.” Before the CIA operative could protest, Kristie forged ahead. “I’ve tried, but he shuts me out. He won’t talk to Will—Director McGregor—either. But he feels terrible about what he did to you. How he lied to you. Plus—”

“Kristie, don’t,” McGregor cautioned.

But the spinner knew she was right. “He fell for you that night, Miranda. I think you can get to him where all the rest of us have failed.”

“Fell for me?” Miranda repeated, as though she couldn’t trust her own hearing. “You’re kidding, right?” Her voice grew strident. “Ray Ortega used me. Lied to me. Made a fool out of me. Humiliated me. Ruined my career. That’s what happened that night, Ms. Hennessy. You think he feels guilty for it? Good! I hope you’re right about that. But don’t kid yourself. I was just a dupe, like he said in his stupid statement. I was naïve—”

“You were young and beautiful, with flowing red hair, a perfect face and a great body. And a warm, beautiful smile. Just the kind of female that gets to him. He said it to me himself, when we were investigating the murder together in L.A. He said he met a girl who made him remember what it’s like to fall in love—”

“He was lying! To save himself. My God, you’re worse than I was. I understand he’s your friend, Ms. Hennessy—”

“Call me Kristie. And listen to me, Miranda. I’ve seen the video. I know what happened between the two of you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Drop it, Goldie,” McGregor muttered.

But it was too late. Miranda Cutler was on her feet, clearly upset by the reference to the alibi tape. “You want to know what happened between us that night? He screwed me. Literally and figuratively. That’s what you saw on the video.”

“Miranda—”

“When the cameras stopped rolling, Ortega was just getting started. He seduced me, just like he and Jane Smith planned. But don’t kid yourself. It had nothing to do with genuine feeling. It was all part of a scheme. Then he planted the idea in your head, too. Which makes you a dupe, too. Welcome to the club.”

Before Kristie and McGregor could even begin to respond, Miranda added unhappily, “I’m sorry. I know you think he’s your friend. And I’m sure he cares about you in his own way. But I’m sure he used you, too. Just like he used me. I thought he was this heroic, noble, patriotic guy. He played that part so well.”

Settling back down, she murmured, “He had just killed a man, but he flirted and teased as though we were really on our first date. That’s the Ray Ortega I know.”

“We owe you an apology, Miranda,” McGregor told her with quiet insistence. “We didn’t know how—well, how fresh all this was to you. Or how deep your feelings ran. Obviously, we don’t expect you to contact Ortega.”

“I’ll contact Kell instead,” she interrupted, her passion morphing into confidence before their eyes. “Trust me, I’ll get the information you need. Just tell me where to find him. If he’s heterosexual, he’ll talk to me.”

“I’m sure he would,” McGregor agreed with a chuckle. “But it’s not that simple. Kell’s a little unbalanced. Probably harmless, but he’s not your normal, run-of-the-mill mark.”

“Harmless nuts are my specialty,” the redhead assured him, her eyes sparkling.

McGregor’s eyes were twinkling, too, and Kristie felt a twinge of jealousy. Then she laughed at herself, deciding that this was a good sign. Miranda’s year as a seductress had made her so irresistible, even Will McGregor wasn’t completely immune.

Which meant Ray Ortega would be even more certain to capitulate!

“I don’t think the powers-that-be would be willing to let you handle that part of the assignment on your own,” McGregor was explaining to Miranda. “Talking to Ortega is one thing. Approaching Kell is another.”

“Aren’t you running the op?”

“Just the domestic portion.”

Miranda’s face fell. “So even if I get Ortega to cooperate, I won’t be part of the larger effort?”

“If you get Ray to come back here with you, he’ll be in charge of the op, and I’m sure he’ll want you on his team,” Kristie told her eagerly. “It works for everyone. See?”

“And even if you can’t convince him, we’ll put in a good word for you,” McGregor added.

Miranda bit her lip, visibly torn by the proposition.

“You can do it, Miranda,” Kristie whispered. “You can reach him. I’m sure of it.”

Miranda gave her a curious stare. “You’re so sure he’s a good guy. But if he really is, if he really cares about his country—about SPIN, about you—why is he refusing to help you break up a dangerous paramilitary cartel?”

“It’s complicated. He doesn’t trust himself anymore. He’s sure his instincts are out of whack, so he’s gone into voluntary exile.”

“And he insists he’s already given us all there is to know about Kell,” McGregor added. “He was thoroughly debriefed after the mission where he saved Kell’s life. That was almost ten years ago. When we contacted Ortega about this—asking for his help—he assured us Kell would be suspicious if he showed up at his place. He said we’re better off using the intel from the debrief and just sending someone else in.”

“I agree with him. You should send someone else. And that someone should be me.”

“Your assignment, if you’re willing to take it, is to lure Ray back here,” Kristie corrected her.

“Lure?”

The spinner grimaced. “Okay, bad choice of words. Just talk to him. Convince him to come back. Then the four of us will plot a strategy for infiltrating the Brigade.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s what they call themselves. The Brigade.”

“Catchy.”

Kristie was relieved to see Miranda could be intrigued, and she decided to make the assignment even more irresistible. “There are five members. We know the identities of four of them, one of whom is Jonathan Kell. But the leader—who calls himself the Brigadier—is a mystery to us. In fact, even the other Brigade members don’t know who the Brigadier really is.”

“Amazing.”

“We’re hoping Kell can provide some clue to the Brigadier’s identity without even realizing it. That’s the most important piece of information we need at the moment, although we’d also like to get a clearer picture of the Brigade’s agenda. So far, they don’t seem to have broken any laws. But they’re raising a fortune, and training paramilitary personnel. It’s all very ominous.”

When Miranda glanced at the file in the middle of the table, Kristie slid it over to her, assuring her mischievously, “It gets better and better. Trust me. You’ll love this assignment.”

“You don’t have to decide right now,” McGregor added. “Take some time to study the file. Everything we know about Kell is in there. And a lot of information about Ortega, too—about his relationship with Kell, and about his current whereabouts and activities. See how you feel after you’ve read it.”

Miranda locked gazes with him. “And if I help, you’ll use your influence to get me on the team that goes after the Brigade? Even if Ortega refuses to come back with me?”

McGregor nodded. Then he seemed to read something in her eyes and murmured, “You trust us, don’t you?”

She sighed. “If you keep your word, I’ll be eternally grateful. And if you don’t, well…” She shrugged her shoulders as if to say it wouldn’t be the first time she was duped, and probably not the last.

McGregor turned sideways in his chair and grasped the young agent’s hands in his own, forcing her to look at him. “You can trust us, Miranda.”

Her cheeks flushed to a gorgeous crimson. “Thanks.”

A new jolt of jealousy, much stronger than the last, surged through Kristie and she drawled, “Do you two need a room?”

Visibly startled, Miranda pulled her hands free and jumped to her feet. “Sorry! I’ll—I’ll take the assignment.”

Kristie stood, too, mortified. “I’m so sorry, Miranda. McGregor and I—”

“Forget it.” Miranda snatched the file off the table, then insisted, “I’ll study this today. Tomorrow I’ll make contact. You’ve got my cell phone number. I’ll keep you informed of my progress.”

She strode to the door and opened it, and for a moment Kristie thought she was going to leave without saying another word. Then she turned and assured them, her voice ringing with pride, “I can do this. I will do this. Thanks again. For everything.”

As soon as Miranda had darted into the reception area and disappeared from view, McGregor turned to Kristie and arched a disapproving eyebrow.

“Okay, okay. Stop yelling at me.” The spinner covered her face with her hands. “I can’t believe I said what I said. Poor Miranda. She must think I’m such a jerk.”

To her relief, McGregor started laughing. “I’ve never seen your jealous side. It was flattering. Horrifying, but flattering.”

“Very funny.” Kristie gave him a wry smile. “I kept thinking how pretty she was—how Ray wouldn’t be able to resist her. Then I suddenly remembered that you kinda like redheads yourself.”

“Just because I like you in your red wig doesn’t mean I like redheads,” he corrected. “I fell in love with a wacky blond spinner who has no idea how good-looking she is. There’s no one else for me.” Resting his hands on her shoulders, he suggested, “Why don’t we cut out of here early? We can go back to your place and you can find some way to apologize for making a scene.”

“You’re not going to make me wear the red wig, are you?”

He laughed again and shook his head.

“Well, then, let’s go. I’m just shocked you’re willing to leave work early for a change.”

“Actually…” He cleared his throat. “If we want to spend some time together, we don’t have a choice. My flight to L.A. leaves at ten.”

“But you just got here!” Kristie scowled. “This is getting old, Will. We never spend any time together.”

“You could come with me. Run your ops from L.A. for a few days.”

She was tempted, but reminded herself that if Miranda succeeded in luring—or rather, convincing—Ray to come back, he’d want to work from SPIN headquarters. “Miranda might call….”

“She’ll call,” McGregor agreed. “With bad news, I predict. Better brace yourself. If he turns her down, you’re going to have to let go of him. Maybe for good. Or at least until he’s ready to make the first move. Can you do that? Let go of that friendship?”

She sighed. “It’s not just for me that I want him back. It’s for SPIN, too.”

“I didn’t think David and I were doing such a bad job running the place,” McGregor replied coolly, pulling his hands away.

Uh-oh…

“That’s not what I meant, Will. You were Ray’s choice, and you’ve been terrific. Sheesh, now we’re both jealous with no reason.” She stepped as close to him as she dared, given the open blinds. “You don’t have to compete with him. He’s my friend, but you’re my everything.”

“I’m not worried about competing with Ortega. Mostly because I’d win,” McGregor assured her. “He’s a dropout. A head case. He almost got us killed, remember? He ruined Miranda Cutler’s career. Maybe even her life. Believe me,” he added with a growl, “I’m not worried about measuring up.”

“Wow.” She moistened her lips, confused by the condemnation behind McGregor’s words. “Why didn’t you say something before we sent Miranda to bring him back?”

“We need his help with Kell. And he’s your friend. I know you want to see him again. That’s fine with me. I’m not jealous,” he added firmly. “Let’s just drop it. We’ve got seven hours before my flight leaves. We can spend it talking about Ortega, or we can spend it having make-up sex. Your choice.”

“Close the blinds and I’ll make up with you right here, right now,” she challenged playfully. Then with a glance through the glass wall to make sure no one was looking, she brushed her lips across McGregor’s.

“Speaking of make-up sex,” she added mischievously. “Can you imagine the sparks that will fly when Ray sees Miranda again?”

“Unless it was all an act. A way to cement her loyalty, and to put you off track.” McGregor gave a rueful smile. “I guess we’ll find out. Meanwhile, we’ve got our own sparks to worry about. Right?” He tilted his head toward the door, suggesting, “Let’s go.”

“Okay.” She followed him out of the office, trying to look forward to their unscheduled interlude, but for the first time, a warning bell was going off in her head.

He’s a dropout. A head case. He almost got us killed, remember? He ruined Miranda Cutler’s career. Maybe even her life.

McGregor’s assessment had been harsh, but also true. That was exactly what had happened the last time Miranda got mixed up with Ray Ortega.

And now, because of Kristie, she was about to get mixed up with him again.

The more Miranda read about Jonathan Kell and the Brigade, the more excited she became over this new assignment. The file told an amazing story of a young research scientist working for a drug company in South America, investigating the efficacy and potential of various remedies used by the natives of the rain forests. Then a drug lord who styled himself as a revolutionary had kidnapped the scientist, demanding a ransom from the employer and also seeking information from young Kell about his experiments. The drug company refused to pay, leaving Kell to die in a filthy cage in Benito Carerra’s jungle hideaway. But not before Carerra tortured Kell mercilessly.

Into this drama had come Ray Ortega, an operative unaware of Kell’s plight, sent by the CIA to assassinate Carerra. Ortega seduced Carerra’s wife to learn the location of the husband’s secret headquarters. Unfortunately, a CIA mole tipped off Carerra, who was ready for Ortega and threw him into a cell with Kell. For two weeks, the men were alternately tortured, starved and neglected. According to Ortega’s debrief transcript, Kell had confided that he had been searching for a cure for phobias because Kell himself was riddled with them. Those irrational fears, coupled with the rational ones associated with kidnapping and torture, made the ordeal even worse for Kell. Ortega did his best to help the man stay strong. Stay alive.

And Kell helped Ortega, too, teaching him some relaxation techniques he had developed to help with the phobias. Ortega insisted neither of them would have survived the torture without those skills.

Finally Ortega managed to overpower a guard and confiscate a pistol and crossbow. The two detainees had just reached the vehicle that would take them to safety when a furious Benito Carerra had confronted them, guns blazing. Still cool, even after his ordeal, Ortega had calmly drawn the crossbow, sending an arrow that caught Carerra through the neck, pinning his body to a tree. At the sight of their leader’s ghastly fate, the other guards had fled, and Ortega had rushed Kell to a hospital for treatment.

Kell had pledged undying gratitude to Ortega. But he knew his country hadn’t sent the operative after Carerra on his account, and he cursed the United States for not intervening sooner. As for the drug company? Kell sued it, claiming that it had abandoned him, despite the existence of an insurance policy that would have paid his ransom, because the executives had hoped he’d be killed and the company could appropriate Kell’s valuable research. A court agreed, and Kell was awarded millions, which he used to buy a fortress in the Swiss Alps, where he declared he was no longer an American, and would now conduct and fund his own experiments. Thereafter, he reportedly lived like a virtual hermit, terrified of the world yet also defiant.

And easy prey for the Brigadier, or so the file speculated. The working assumption was that the anonymous leader had promised each of the Brigade members some enticement—be it revenge, security, wealth, or raw power—in exchange for their loyalty and services. Kell could offer his brilliant research; the other three had talents and resources of a military, financial or technological nature.

But even those four men were not trusted with the actual identity of the Brigadier, although SPIN and the CIA hoped Kell might have knowledge Kristie and the CIA analysts could use to deduce that identity.

Miranda shivered with excitement. For the second time in her career, she had an assignment that thrilled her. Inspired her. Made her feel as though she could make a meaningful contribution to her country.

Of course, the last time she had felt that way, it had been a fraud. And she had been a dupe. She couldn’t help remembering that as she stared at the map in the file that gave directions to Ortega’s retreat in the Sierra Nevada mountains.

But this time, the only potential dupe was Kristie Hennessy. Miranda was going into it with her eyes wide open and her expectations at zero.

And it was always possible Kristie was right. She was, after, all a spinner—a psychologist trained to evaluate others. To predict how they would react, and to plot successful scenarios accordingly. It was because of Kristie that the Ortega alibi mess hadn’t led to loss of innocent lives. She was clearly deserving of the trust and respect the SPIN director had placed in her, their apparent love affair notwithstanding.

And even if Kristie’s judgment was clouded this time because of her friendship with Ortega, the worst that would happen was he’d refuse to cooperate. Miranda almost hoped he would! She trusted Will McGregor’s word that he’d recommend her for participation in the CIA’s anti-Brigade op either way, and that was all she really wanted out of this—a chance to redeem herself. To prove her value to the company.

If one more encounter with Ortega could get her that, then all she could say was, Bring it on.

Chapter 3

O rtega had chosen a perfect location for his self-imposed exile. A twisty mountain road provided the only access to the parcel, which was surrounded by jagged outcroppings and steep terrain that would discourage even the most adventurous hikers. According to the file, Ortega had installed some sort of monitoring system to alert him when a vehicle approached, which Miranda guessed didn’t happen very often, and never by mistake. It was simply too inhospitable a drive for anyone to undertake without a very, very good reason.

By the time she was within a thousand yards of the place, she knew he knew she was coming. He would be prepared. And luckily, so was she, mostly because of the eight-month stint she had served on the Farm—the CIA’s training facility that doubled as an ongoing societal experiment. During Miranda’s stay, she had been inserted into a hostile society with disorienting customs. Surrounded by people she couldn’t trust, in an atmosphere of duplicity and challenge, she had honed the skills needed to thrive in such an environment.

She had done well. Now she was headed for another such experience, and she had no doubt she’d survive again. The prospect of seeing Ortega, while distasteful, was overshadowed by the excitement she felt over the anti-Brigade operation. She knew that if she focused on the goal, and didn’t get distracted by the alibi disaster and its accompanying humiliation, she’d do fine. And if he tried to manipulate her in any way, well, he’d be surprised. Because thanks to him, she had had a full year of developing her own manipulative skills!

Not that she really thought he’d try anything. A close reading of the file suggested he really did want to be alone, which meant that the worst he’d do would be order her off his property, as he’d done to every other person who had tried to visit him.

If that happened, Miranda could go back to SPIN and report that she had done her best. She had no doubt that McGregor would keep his word. And thanks to a late night phone call she had gotten from Kristie Hennessy, she knew the spinner would accept the truth and move on, too. In fact, Kristie had almost tried to talk Miranda out of going to Ortega after all, belatedly noting what all the rest of them had been trying to tell her: that she “might have” miscalculated, and “maybe Ray won’t be as receptive to this visit” as she had hoped.

As the cabin came into view, Miranda was able to confirm the spinner’s prediction firsthand. Ortega was standing in the gravel driveway, his hands on his hips, his expression murderous. And despite all of her preparation, she felt a twinge of intimidation, not only from his stance, but from the fact that he looked bigger than she remembered. Bigger and more dangerous.