She turned and tossed, unable to get comfortable as old injuries poked and prodded her, even though the doctors had insisted that everything was healed. At last she found a good position and lay very still, hoping for sleep, but it continued to elude her. With a sigh, she tried one more turn, and her eyes landed on the photo she’d placed on the bedside table.
Ever since she’d left her parents’ home, Kate Taylor had lived by herself, alone but seldom lonely, and she’d cherished her private space. This had changed dramatically six months ago, when she’d opened her heart to one person, then a second as she’d learned to cherish sharing her space with them. There they were, in front of her on the photo. But she would never see them again.
Kate got up and put the picture into the nightstand drawer, next to the Glock, the knives, and the t-shirt. When she lay back down, she slept a fitful and tiring sleep.
AT 7:55 AM on Thursday, January 7, Macey Sullivan was sitting with two other operatives in a briefing room at Headquarters. On the table in front of him and the others were manila envelopes. There were two empty seats, one with a matching envelope. Sullivan kept glancing at the wall clock, impatient for the meeting to start. He wondered who the missing agent was.
The door opened and an imposingly large man dressed in a rumpled black suit and turtleneck entered: Simon Holder, the senior agent in charge of this operation. He had a shock of thick, dark hair, now threaded with grey, and a powerful, taciturn face with hooded black eyes that could go from blank to menacing in a split second. His size, those eyes, and his deep growl of a voice could intimidate friend and foe, and he exuded a sense of unassailable purpose that commanded attention.
Holder scrutinized each man closely, establishing control over the room without a word. When he got to the empty chair, he scowled and looked up at the clock: 8:08. “One of you is missing,” he said levelly, sweeping his eyes around the table again. His face darkened, and he drummed his fingers on the table.
At 8:10 the door swung open, and a woman appeared. As everyone gaped, she sauntered into the room, nodding to each agent—except Holder—as she made her way around the table to the empty spot. After carefully settling herself, she looked up and locked eyes with the senior agent. Even though Sullivan was annoyed at her for making them wait, he was also impressed, for not many people could engage in that kind of sparring with Simon Holder. Of course, the feeling was nothing new; Sullivan had always been impressed by this woman.
Holder broke the silence. “Well, Dr. Taylor, it’s about time you decided to join us,” he said, voice full of irony.
Kate Taylor dropped her eyes. “I had trouble getting here.”
As Holder’s face sparked in fury at this lame excuse, she raised her head and gazed around the table, bestowing a warm smile on the first two agents. When she reached Sullivan, her smile broadened as she acknowledged their acquaintance. Sullivan basked in her attention.
“Sorry. It won’t happen again,” she said, apologizing to everyone—except Holder. Sullivan and the other team members shot uncomfortable glances at the senior agent, who had smoothed his face back into a neutral mask. They knew something was going on; they also knew that Kate Taylor had won the first round.
Before Holder could speak, a man entered and whispered in his ear. Holder nodded and left. In his absence the room was silent, and Sullivan used the opportunity to study this new Kate Taylor. They’d first met in Vienna in 1982, when they’d been assigned to take out a man the agency believed had gone rogue, Matthew Connolly. Both were unhappy about the assignment to kill a man they admired, and they were relieved when the order had been rescinded at the last second. Sullivan had always been attracted to the woman and wanted to bed her, but she’d never indicated in any way that she was interested in him. In fact, he’d sometimes wondered if she was interested in men at all; in the years before and since he’d never heard about a liaison between Kate Taylor and a man, unless it was whispers about her and Holder. To be fair he hadn’t heard of a liaison between Kate and a woman, either. She seemed the ultimate loner.
Be that as it may, he’d wanted her then, and he wanted her now, despite the fact that she looked quite different than six years ago. Back then she’d been the perfect size, not too fat, not too thin; now she was downright skinny, her face bordering on gaunt. Yet its thinness made her cheekbones more prominent, and the brilliant green of her eyes popped against the red tones in her hair. Her skin was another issue. It had been clear and ivory before, but now it seemed faded, sallow even, and small but noticeable black smudges formed half rings under her eyes.
Of course he knew—everyone in the room knew—that she’d been through hell since he’d last seen her. What really happened had been grist for the Agency gossip mill for months, but all they knew for sure was that she’d been arrested during a mission in East Germany and held in a Stasi prison for months before being exchanged for an Eastern Bloc spy. Although he didn’t know precisely what she’d endured, he could well imagine, and her looks confirmed his fears.
Once Holder returned to the room, his briefing was almost anti-climactic: They would be sent to Colombia to carry out assignments to be designated. For the rest of today they were supposed to study the information in the envelopes.
While the other agents quickly unclasped their envelopes in the briefing room, Kate collected her purse and her envelope and made her way upstairs to the library. She’d always felt at home amongst the books and journals; she also often mistrusted the information the Agency provided and wanted to learn about an issue from all sides, believing it could give her an edge. When she entered the library foyer, she was savoring the sights and smells and didn’t notice the woman coming up behind her.
“Kate Taylor! I was hoping you’d make it up here soon!”
Startled out of her reverie, Kate whirled around to confront the speaker, but instead of a frown, a grin spread across her face.
“Toni, oh, my God! How long has it been? I’m so glad to see you!” she gushed.
Toni Martucci, Kate’s best friend in the Agency, wrapped her in a huge hug. At first Kate resisted, but then she melted into Toni’s arms. “Come on, Kate. Let’s go to my office, if you’ve got a few minutes to chat?”
“Sure. Lead the way.”
When they’d made themselves comfortable in Toni’s workspace, the librarian started to say “How are you” but caught herself. It was clear that Kate Taylor wasn’t doing well, and Toni, like her colleagues, knew the vague outline of what her friend had endured. Instead she said: “It’s great to see you. When did you get in town?”
“Yesterday night. They put me in an apartment about two miles from here.”
“How is it? The apartment, I mean?”
“Like these places usually are. Impersonal but acceptable.”
“Do you have everything you need? Can I help with something?”
Kate considered for a second. “I haven’t figured out what I might need yet. We could go shopping. I don’t have many clothes.”
“Sounds wonderful, hon. You know how much I love to shop.”
They giggled as they recalled shopping excursions in the past.
“You’ll have to be my guide. I’ve been out of the fashion scene so long that I don’t know what’s in and what’s not.” Kate hadn’t meant to refer to her recent past, and when she did, she averted her eyes, hoping Toni wouldn’t follow
