“I think I’m going to smell like salmon for the rest of my life,” Tam muttered.
Kip gave her an amused glance as they walked from the cargo terminal at Boise Airport to the passenger ticketing area. A sharp, dry wind needled its way under her jacket, and she was glad to be moving around instead of shivering. “Not salmon. Saltwater. It’s all over our shoes.”
The flight had been very lowkey. Money changed hands, and for a nominal daily fee, the pilot was happy to let them park their car in the little hangar until they came back for it. He was more concerned that they knew the safety information than why they were flying to Boise under such circumstances. Kip had no trouble picturing Luke with his grunge band buddies and all their gear packed into every bit of spare space as they droned their way to Eugene or Chico for gigs.
Her suitcase bumped along on the path behind her, rapidly losing its squeaky new finish. Tam had stressed hers with dirt and dropping it repeatedly in the motel parking lot. “I was thinking that when we get to Miami we should ship a bunch of this stuff to Mercedes Houston maybe? And tell her where to find both cars if mine hasn’t already been located.”
Tam’s nose was tipped with red and her cheeks bright in the midday sun. “Wouldn’t it be just another fitting moment of this case to have our papers get lost in the mail?”
“I’d hate to have the papers with us taken by someone else. Official or otherwise.”
“What do you mean by ‘otherwise’?”
Kip shared the worry that had been plaguing her since her hasty shower before bolting out of the motel. “If a fraud like Markoff can hire a hacker, why wouldn’t he hire someone else to keep us from finding the evidence we need? Maybe it’s not just the FBI we should be afraid of finding us.”
“You mean muscle? Guys with broken noses?”
“Yeah.” She glanced up at Tam, who was frowning.
“Well, I suppose that’s possible. Fortunately I have an almost Secret Service agent with me.”
“Tam…”
“I know. Here’s how I see it. The entire campaign against me has been discredit, distract and harass. Even if we find the evidence, and even if we’re given an all clear by the authorities, it’ll be several weeks before life is anything like normal. The rumors will go on forever, too, thanks to the Internet.”
Kip knew that. “It’s just that the FBI is worried about what we’re running from, not what we might be running toward. So I wondered who would be thinking more like we are.”
“I was working out motive and other factors on the plane. I thought about what exactly Markoff hoped to achieve. To permanently neutralize me, or for only a little while? Permanently, well, Markoff could have afforded that, too. But he’s a white-collar thief, not a killer.”
“Okay.” Kip felt foolish for having been fixated on the good guys who wanted to talk to them to the point of not realizing that bad guys could want them not to talk at all. “So this is a lot of time and expense for a temporary outcome?”
“Markoff’s at the limit of continuations. His attorney keeps asking for and getting them, though after the last one the judge said no more. The trial is at the due process limit. If it doesn’t go to trial in two weeks he walks for lack of a speedy trial. So the prosecution can’t ask for a continuation to wait until I’m available and cleared of suspicion. They would have no choice but not to use me as a witness. Without me, and likely without anyone from SFI, the case is harder to stitch together and a lot of evidence can be challenged because one of his accusers—me—isn’t there to validate the chain of evidence. Markoff is the person with the most to gain from all of this, and all he needed was me out of the picture for about three weeks and in a way that doesn’t track back to him for new charges. He’s already gotten one of those weeks.”
Kip thought it over. “That all makes sense to me,” she admitted.
“As for who else is thinking like us, Hank and Diane in particular will be ahead of them, too. They’ve likely anticipated where I’m going.”
Kip nodded and took a deep breath. The passenger terminal was only the length of a football field away. “It’s about time for you to move ahead.”
She gave Kip a steady look. “I’ll see you at the gate.”
“Promise?”
“Promise, ma’am.” It was Tam who gave a mocking salute as she used her long legs to slowly outdistance Kip. It was best for them not to be seen together, not to buy their tickets together, not to go through security close enough together to be seen in the same camera shot. Tam had found them an itinerary from Boise to Miami, through Denver. They only had to get past the security here. Until they got to Miami they were strangers.
She didn’t really have time to appreciate the gleaming Rockies to the west, which ended the long flat of desert. When they’d landed she’d seen forested land to the north and a river splitting the populated area in two. As Tam’s distance increased with every step the wind’s edge felt colder and the sky’s span loomed larger.
Her nerves jangling with fear of discovery, Kip presented herself at the ticket counter. It went like clockwork, just as it should. Kip was braced for a dark-suited figure to fall into step alongside her at any moment, right up until she boarded the flight. But it didn’t happen. She received her boarding pass and at security the driver’s license passed scrutiny.
Her anxiety was eased by the sight of Tam seated in the boarding area, reading a newspaper. She stopped at the convenience market to buy a magazine and some M&Ms. She boarded before Tam, and as Tam passed her on the way to open seats in the back of the long, slender craft, one hand brushed her cheek.
She was immeasurably comforted. She might have spent the whole flight fussing about whether it was right, or ethical, or moral to feel the way she did, but instead an unexpected sense of safety welled up inside her. She tried to tell herself she was losing her edge, that worry and suspicion were her basic survival skills.
She kept repeating that until she fell asleep just after the plane leveled off and turned south toward Denver.
* * *
Feeling refreshed for a frozen yogurt, Kip nevertheless had trouble shaking off the effects of the brief nap on the flight. Denver’s airport featured huge panoramic windows in all directions, but she favored the one that faced west. In Denver’s mid-afternoon sun the Rockies in the distance were towering and nearly black. She tried to talk herself out of the sense of isolation that continued to grow. Finally, the useful aspects of fear began to make headway with her errant common sense.
Maybe, she scolded herself, she felt isolated because she was.
And why was she isolated? Because she had chosen to stick with a suspect and a primary source of more information, without going to the authorities. Now, forty-eight hours later, she was totally dependent on that suspect unless she surrendered herself. Her inner devil’s advocate reminded her that she could summon federal agents in two minutes or less in an airport.
She hoped—prayed—that she wouldn’t have to explain to anyone why she hadn’t done exactly that.
Reflected in the glass, several feet behind her at a narrow WiFi station, Tam was tapping away at her little computer. Last night she had very much wanted to ask Tam about her childhood. Why was it such a secret? Every time she was about to bring it up she could see the wariness in Tam’s eyes. Her shoulders and stance tightened, as if braced for a fight, and it made Kip’s heart ache. She kept thinking about getting Kim out of the car with their drunk father at the wheel and she wished she had been able to take Tam away from whatever it was that had shut down that part of her life.
That protective impulse could be exactly what Tam wanted. She could be on the receiving end of masterful manipulation, she reminded herself.
That inner voice sounded pathetically uncertain and weak—no help whatsoever. All through the boarding process she tried to fan the flames of suspicion and perk up her paranoia, but it just wasn’t working. Instead of sleeping she thumbed through the in-flight magazine. The Sudoku was no real challenge and took only a few minutes, so she turned to the crossword. One across was a six-letter word for “One is born every minute.”
She penciled in “s-u-c-k-e-r.” It was going to be a long flight.
* * *
From the Miami airport they took a shuttle to a nearby convention hotel, carefully sitting some distance from each other. A couple of frat boys sat far too close to Kip, trying to engage her in conversation, and Tam watched, annoyed by their presumption and amused as Kip’s Secret Service face eventually silenced them. The hotel was large and impersonal, and it was still bustling at nearly eleven o’clock at night. They registered for separate rooms but Tam slipped Kip the sleeve where the clerk had written her room number. They’d agreed to rendezvous and share a room service meal to plan their tight schedule for the next day.
She’d already logged onto the Internet when Kip quietly knocked on the door. It was all Tam could do not to hug her—so much of the day had been spent apart. She restrained herself, but it became doubly hard when she realized Kip’s hair was wet. She’d showered. Even with hotel products, Kip smelled like Kip.
“I hope I didn’t take too long. My eyes were so dry that I knew a shower would help.”
“No problem. I haven’t ordered food. I wasn’t sure what you wanted.”
“Considering I ate a house yesterday and snacked on M&Ms and chocolate frozen yogurt all day today, maybe something light we could split?”
Tam pointed out the room service menu on the little side table in front of the window. Kip suggested several options and Tam tried to pay attention, but a preoccupied part of her was picturing Kip not demurely seated in the utilitarian side chair, but half-naked on the king-sized bed, still damp hair spread out over the pillow.
They agreed on a grilled shrimp and mango salad and a bowl of Cuban ajiaco stew. Tam noticed Kip looked longingly at the desserts—the photo of a seductive hot fudge sundae practically crooned from the top of the page—but set the menu down without asking.
I could love her for that alone, Tam thought, just for being so completely human.
The moment the thought was complete blood roared in her ears. She masked the wave of vertigo by gesturing at her computer. “There’s an upscale shopping mall not far from here. We can probably get the last things we need when they open.”
“And then we go to the port?”
She nodded. “To the last-minute purchase office. There are berths available on two cruise lines, both going first to Nassau. We book, then when asked for our passports, we explain they were stolen and present our licenses and voter registration cards. The cruise line staff gives us an affidavit to fill out wherein we attest that our passports are unavailable, we are who we say we are and we’re not intending to immigrate illegally or commit any crimes.” Tam felt steadier for dealing in the mundane details. “We’re not in any more trouble for signing the affidavit than we are for using the fake identification to begin with. This is all routine for the port. It won’t really raise an eyebrow.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I read it at soyoulostyourpassportandstillwanttogoonacruise dotcom.”
Kip laughed. “You did not.”
“Seriously. Same place you land if you query ‘what do I do if my folks lost their passport on the way to the ship’ on Google.”
Kip’s laughter faded and she looked suddenly wan. From the desk Tam thought she detected a glimmer of tears, but that might have been the light. “Sorry,” she muttered.
“What is it?”
“Scared. Tired. Trying to figure out how it made sense that we’re here.”
Tam sat down on the bed. “I think we’re going to be okay.”
“You really don’t think there are bad guys with broken noses out there looking for us?”
“I could be wrong.”
“But you’re not often wrong.” Kip’s expression was rueful. “When you said earlier that you had the protection of an almost Secret Service agent? Well, that almost agent’s gun is locked up in her apartment, three thousand miles away. Pretty stupid place for it.”
“You couldn’t have brought it on the plane anyway.”
Kip shrugged. “No matter. Do you really want to know the reason why I’m an almost agent and not a bona fide?”
Tam blinked. The mystery had annoyed her, true. She realized, though, that she knew what mattered about Kip. It was the truth when she said, “You don’t have to tell me.”
“It embarrasses me. Most of the time.” She shrugged. “I failed the final simulation run. Tried it several times, but was never going to pass. I did great up until the end. You can’t imagine how loud it was—big warehouse, almost like a movie soundstage with set after set. One minute I’d smell smoke, the next pizza, then sewage. There was fog everywhere and buses honking, and the sound of an overhead train never stopped. And I did great. Stalked, ducked, covered, rolled, shot the bad guys. Kept moving. The mantra, it’s a rhythm. It gets in your heart. Protect POTUS. Protect POTUS.”
Her gaze was far away, and Tam had no doubt that for Kip, the memories were close, real and painful.
“I finally got to the limo. Everybody’s down, just the President and the driver. Driver can’t get out—that’s his orders. So it’s up to me when a figure appears out of a side alley. Luck of the draw, I guess. Nine times out of ten it’s a woman with a bomb. I might have fired and I wouldn’t be here. But I got the one time out of ten it was a baby, not a bomb. Didn’t fire—which is fine. But right behind her, a few seconds later, woman with a bomb.”
She was silent long enough that Tam gently supplied, “You didn’t fire?”
“I did—but in a simulator four seconds is a lifetime. Enough time for the dummy to light up twice as having detonated. And when I did finally fire I missed. So that’s your protection.”
Tam didn’t know what she had expected, but that hadn’t been it. “How could I fault you for a women and children first philosophy?”
“I don’t know if it’s because I’m a lesbian and part of me just refuses to believe that women can be so fanatical and venal. It’s not rational, because I know that it might be rare, but it’s real. Women can do anything. But I froze—and it didn’t help to have my trainer screaming in my ear to ‘blow the bitch away.’ But the Service rightly held it against me.”
“So you started over.”
“At the time it was the Service or nothing for me. Then I heard about Sterling Fraud Investigations and…” Again, her smile was rueful. “And here I am.”
“A new life and career built.”
“Not if we get caught tomorrow.” Kip appeared to be studying the faded laminate surface of the table.
There were a lot of things she could have said, but what she might have chosen went out of her head when Kip abruptly scrubbed at her eyes.
“Please.” Her voice broke. She took a deep breath and started again. “Please don’t be the woman with the bomb. Please don’t leave me wishing I’d pulled the trigger the moment I walked into your office.”
“Oh Kip…” Tam slid to one knee next to her, gazing up into her face. Taking one hand between both of hers, she said simply, “I’m not that person. I promise you.”
Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “So there you have it. All my secrets.”
I’ll tell you mine, Tam wanted to say. Kip had put all of her past on one side of the scales. It was time for Tam to match it. She couldn’t make her mouth move. She had no practice at the subject. Where to start?
A knock at the door was followed by a cheery, “Room service.”
Kip sighed and pulled her hand from Tam’s grasp. “I’ll wait in the bathroom.”
* * *
Pressing a washcloth to her eyes, Kip told herself she’d done all she could. The ball was in Tam’s court now. She heard the clatter of the room service cart and had the irrelevant thought that she hoped her only choice in swimsuits wasn’t a butt-floss bikini.
None of which mattered. Gun or not, she was on a case. She had a client who expected results. Utterly convinced Tam wasn’t involved, in spite of no confirmation by the facts, Kip knew her responsibility now was protecting her client. She couldn’t do that if she was weeping over lack of parity in their honesty with each other.
She had felt so naked, and hoped that maybe Tam would share something, anything. It was clear who didn’t trust who. At least she thought so.
Pull yourself together, she thought. I’m sure as hell of no use to anyone if I’m worried about a swimsuit making my butt look like a barn. Personal and professional weren’t supposed to mix. That was why there were rules at SFI about exactly that conflict.
She patted her eyes dry and gave herself a scolding look in the mirror. Imitating her grandfather’s voice, as best as she could recall it, she said, “You’ve got a job to do, little Kipling. Your only choice is how well you do it.”
“All clear,” Tam said from the other side of the door.
“That smells good,” she said as she emerged.
Tam had put the plates on the table and was just transferring a small vase of wildflowers as well. She draped a white napkin over her sleeve. “Your midnight buffet awaits, madam.”
Kip decided to keep the light tone. There wasn’t really anything else to do. “Thank you, garcon.”
The stew turned out to be delicious and more hearty than she had anticipated. Spiced chunks of chicken were in a rich gravy, redolent with roasted and fresh peppers. The other ingredients included different tropical taro, a South American sweet potato Kip recognized, and roasted plantain both in the stew and on top, crisped and in slivers. By comparison, the salad, when they traded plates, was pedestrian, but still tasty. They discussed food adventures as they ate. Tam’s experience was much broader than Kip’s, but none of the disclosures came close to the moment when Kip had thought Tam might finally explain the mystery of her childhood.
Calmed by the banality of talking about their meal, Kip wasn’t sure she had a right to know. A couple of kisses didn’t mean anything these days. She had no reason to think Tam knew that kisses weren’t casual to Kip, not in the least. And even if she did, why should something so painful to Tam be any of Kip’s business? Did Kip’s not knowing interfere with their investigation? Did not knowing keep Kip from doing the job she had to do? If not, it was none of her business.
The dishes empty, Kip said, “We should be at the stores when they open at nine, shouldn’t we? Then back here to check out and take a cab to the port?”
“That seems right,” Tam agreed. She might have been pale, or maybe it was just the lighting. But her air was as professionally distant as Kip’s. “There’s still enough time to get a good night’s sleep.”
A good night’s sleep, right, Kip thought, once she was in the elevator. It didn’t seem likely to her.