“Workman was the mole? He’s been missing for days. Is that why?”
“It’s no use, Kristin.” Teddy took his gun out of his shoulder holster and held it in his lap. “If it’s any consolation, you’re very good at what you do.”
“Not good enough, apparently.”
“No one ever is. There’s always someone better.” Teddy smiled sadly and shook his head. “Why, Kristin, why?”
“You know why.”
“I assure you I don’t. You were trained by the CIA. How could you betray them?”
“The CIA wanted me to be an errand girl. I wanted to be a spy.”
“Oh, come on.”
“I met a man in Berlin, on one of my babysitting missions. He was the real deal. He was everything I wanted to be.”
“He was on the other side.”
“What are sides? It’s all a game. Just different uniforms.”
“It’s not a game, Kristin. These are bad men. You know what they are buying? A deadly virus.”
“Why is that so bad? We have warheads. We’re not going to use them, but having them makes us strong.”
“That’s how you justify it?” Teddy shook his head. “James Bond is fiction, Kristin. There’s no such thing. But you were very good.”
She smiled a sad smile. “I liked you.”
“I liked you, too,” Teddy said.
Kristin lunged for the gun on the coffee table.
It broke his heart. She must have known it was hopeless. But she couldn’t let herself get arrested. It wasn’t in her nature. She was a storybook heroine, a romantic to the last. The type of agent who would have swallowed a poison pill, if she’d had one.
She grabbed the gun and aimed.
He pulled the trigger.
88.
TEDDY MET DINO at Stone’s house.
Dino was surprised to see him. “You’re Felix Dressler again?”
“It’s a long story. Everything set on your end?”
“Pretty much. The handler’s getting antsy. Wants to know when he can go home.”
“Probably tomorrow, but you can’t tell him that.”
“It seems like there’s a lot of things I can’t tell people.”
“That’s what the spy business is all about. Is the prefect going along?”
“He sees the wisdom of catching the Syrians at the handler’s house, but he still likes the idea of stopping them at the airport.”
“You pointed out that a photo op on the runway would tip off the Syrians, whereas a nice shot of the Paris prefect marching Rene Darjon off in handcuffs would be all over the evening news.”
“I think I phrased it a little more tactfully.”
“I’m sure you did,” Teddy said. “And you suggested obtaining a search warrant for Rene Darjon’s safe?”
“Yes, I did. He wanted to know why.”
“And you said it was so you wouldn’t have to take credit for it.”
“That seemed to be the best answer.”
“Okay, I got the time for him. It’s eleven o’clock. He should hit the handler’s house, the doctor’s lab, and Rene Darjon’s office exactly at eleven.”
“I’ll pass it along.”
“Okay, I won’t see you again until it’s over. If you want to grab a ride home on the Strategic Services jet, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”
“Are you flying with them?”
“Not likely,” Teddy said. “I wouldn’t want to get in a discussion with the handler.”
“I see your point. I think I’ll fly commercial, too. If we’re on the same flight, should I acknowledge you?”
Teddy smiled. “If you recognize me.”
89.
FAHD AND AZIZ waited on the runway in front of hanger forty-seven.
A panel van drove up and the handler and the goons got out.
“Where’s the dog?” Fahd said.
The handler jerked his thumb. “In the van.” He led Fahd around to the back and pointed through the window. The dog was in a crate.
“Take him out,” Fahd said.
“Not on the runway,” the hangar pilot said. “You drive the van into the hangar and load the dog. Then I’ll tow the plane out for you to board.”
“You don’t leave until we do,” Fahd told the handler.
“We’ll wait until the plane is away, in case there is any problem,” the handler said.
“Good,” Fahd said. “Load the dog.”
The handler and the goons got back in the van and drove into the hangar. The handler slipped a leash on the dog’s collar and let him out of the van. The goons folded up the crate, carried it onto the plane, and set it up. The handler put the dog in the crate, and threw in a couple of treats. While the dog gobbled them up, he draped a blanket over the crate.
“Night, night, Rocky.”
The handler and the goons left the dog on the plane and drove out of the hangar.
* * *
• • •
THE LUGGAGE HATCH opened and Teddy Fay crawled out, pushing his backpack ahead of him. He was somewhat cramped from having been in the compartment for more than an hour. He stood up, stretched, and lifted up the blanket.
“Hi, Barkley. How you doing?”
Teddy had treats in his hand. Barkley slurped them gratefully. Teddy took a leash out of his backpack, opened the crate door, and snapped the leash on Barkley’s collar. He let the dog out of the crate, told him to sit, and gave him a treat.
Teddy shoved his backpack into the crate, closed the door, and draped the blanket back down over it.
Teddy pushed the hatch open wide, and with a handful of treats, led the dog into the baggage compartment. He closed the hatch behind him, plunging them into darkness.
“Easy, boy. It’s okay.”
A sudden jarring told him the pilot had hooked up the tow to pull the jet out of the hangar. He could feel the plane start to move.
Teddy pushed the hatch open and dropped to the ground.
“Come on, boy. Jump!”
Barkley leapt off the plane. Teddy caught him and helped him land gently and quietly.