“Why, yes, my dear.” Her contact’s low, well-worn voice sounded amused by her departure from protocol. “I know everything about you.”
Of course he does. The man behind her was the only one in the world who knew the real Quinn Darby. Not to mention every alias she’d ever adopted. Ironic, since she knew nothing about him at all.
“Were you able to retrieve the micro card?” he asked.
She shifted her feet nervously. She’d had some close calls and a few failed first attempts at recovering items she was sent to retrieve before, but nothing as unpredictable as last night. Things got hairy when lightning struck the White House causing a temporary blackout and a mass exodus from the building. While the weather provided the perfect cloak for her to slip away without having to face the person she’d been avoiding for nearly half her life, it also meant she wasn’t able to secure the item she had been sent to the dinner to retrieve. And this time, what she was seeking had dire consequences to her personally.
“No, I don’t have it. But the good news is Alexi Ronoff doesn’t have it either.”
Quinn felt his sharp intake of breath behind her. “You know this for a fact?”
She nodded. “Alexi isn’t aware I speak Russian.”
One of the advantages of growing up all over the world was she’d developed a flair for linguistics. She spoke seven languages fluently and she understood several more. Her talent proved useful in both her careers.
“He was very upset about being hustled out of the White House before the exchange was made. But the seller has already been in contact with him late last night demanding the final payment. Which leads me to the bad news. I suspect someone else unknowingly has the micro card containing the list.”
And she had a good idea who that someone else was. Ben Segar. Her heart raced at the thought. Yesterday evening, Ben had been in the wrong place at the right time. Why he had even been at the White House was a mystery. The exchange was scheduled to take place immediately upon arriving at the dinner. In all the confusion of the sudden darkness, two people had bumped against her and Alexi. One of them was Ben. The way he’d softly uttered her name in the dark nearly paralyzed her when a second body bumped them. The seller must have mistakenly dropped the micro card into Ben’s pocket thinking it was Alexi’s. It was the only scenario that made sense.
It was also the only scenario more catastrophic than Alexi getting his hands on the information contained in that file. Because if she could put the pieces together, so too could Alexi. And he’d already proven he was ruthless enough to kill for it.
Her contact echoed her point. “He won’t stop until he gets that card. The Phoenix was integral in blocking many of Ronoff’s father’s business dealings worldwide. He lost several fortunes at the hands of many of the names on that list. One in particular.”
Quinn sighed anxiously. “I know.” Her stomach felt as if it was turning inside out. Every op she took on came with its own degree of risk. But this one carried an additional peril to the ones she loved. She mentally added Ben Segar to the list of people she couldn’t let down.
“I’m assigning someone else to finish this.”
Despite the fact she anticipated this might happen, she still had to force herself to remain calm at his declaration. His decision made sense in one respect; she’d outlasted her cover story. For the past several months, she’d been cozying up to Alexi, photographing his many homes and estates throughout the world. The pompous Russian never suspected she was there in a second capacity as a mole. It was sheer luck she’d been able to convince him to allow her to accompany him to the White House the previous evening, sweetly demanding to be his escort as a bonus for getting his homes multipage spreads in all the famous architectural magazines.
But Quinn had a bigger stake in the game than any other operative. And with the addition of Ben Segar as a player, she wasn’t going to meekly sit the rest of it out.
“What if I told you I have an idea where to look for the micro card?”
He was quiet for several long heartbeats and Quinn began to fear he’d already left.
“I have to ask how you know this?” he finally demanded.
She was treading a very a fine line here. Her primary goal was to ensure Ronoff did not get the list. If that meant someone had to take her place, so be it. But sweet Ben Segar with the moral compass that never strayed from true north was an innocent in all of this. She’d hurt him once. She’d do everything in her power to make sure he wasn’t hurt a second time because of her.
“As I said, I believe a civilian may have intercepted the micro card inadvertently. It’s so small they likely don’t even know they have it. I’d like permission to retrieve it.”
The silence stretched even longer this time. She could feel the tension practically bristling off the man behind her.
“You’d best do so before Ronoff does,” he commanded eventually. “Be careful, my dear, and trust no one. There is a traitor among us. Someone willing to sell out our kind. Often, it is the person we least suspect.”
She quashed the shiver threatening to traipse up her spine. Such was the life of a spy. It was a good thing she made it a point never to trust anyone. She preferred it that way. Survival within the game was easier when she only had herself to watch out for.
“You know how to contact me once you’ve gotten the list. I will await your signal.”
And with that, he was gone.
While parts of her did a little celebratory happy dance at the potential of another close encounter with Ben, other parts cringed in fear. Or shame. No doubt he already hated her for what she’d done to him over a decade before. But it hadn’t been her fault. She had no control over her life then or now. All she could do was send up a silent prayer that she’d get out of this op without him hating her more than he likely already did. With less than steady hands, Quinn lifted her camera to her face again to capture a shot of the spectacular sunrise, but the vibrant scene she’d witnessed moments earlier had already faded.
*
“Dude, did you sleep in my tux?” Adam’s voice shattered the quiet of Ben’s office. The dark room was tucked in the back corner of the cyber security lab at Secret Service headquarters seven blocks from the White House. “Damn, I’ll never get those wrinkles out.”
It wasn’t unusual for Ben to catch a few Zs at his desk. He often lost track of time when he was working on a case. Last night, however, he’d been hunting through surveillance camera footage, trying in vain to retrace the path of a certain redhead who had seemingly vanished before his eyes.
Again.
The scent of strong coffee made it easier for him to pry his eyelids open. He sighed with gratitude when he saw his friend holding two cups. Adam set one on the desk. Ben wrapped his fingers around it drawing enough energy from the steaming brew to pull himself into an upright position.
“I’ll pay for the dry cleaning, but the bow tie is a goner.” He took a long swallow, letting the caffeine work its magic. “What time did you get away from the Crown?”
Adam slid into the opposite chair and propped his booted feet onto the desk. “Twenty minutes ago.”
“Wow.” Ben glanced at his fitness tracker. Seven fifteen. “It took that long to clear the place out?”