Kell?”
“No. About Kristie. And about that mess with Jane Smith. I owe you an explanation as well as an apology.”
Miranda almost growled from frustration. “I don’t care about any of that, Ortega. I just want your help uncovering the Brigadier’s identity. You think you owe me something? Great. Come back to SPIN with me and we’ll call it even.”
“That part of my life was a nightmare. I’ve left it behind forever.”
“Yeah? Well I’m still living that nightmare, thanks to you.” She caught her temper, not wanting him to see how fresh the pain still was.
But it was too late.
“I’m sorry, Miranda. How bad has it been?” When she just shook her head, he asked, “What about the language immersion project? Didn’t that work out? It sounded so promising.”
“They yanked me off that two seconds after you signed your confession. The only immersion I’ve had for the last year has been with men. I might as well be running my own escort service.”
The bronze flecks in Ortega’s eyes lit up with emotion. “Those bastards. They promised me you wouldn’t pay for my mistake. Then they dared pimp you out?”
“Don’t worry. They never actually let me have sex with the subjects for fear I’ll fall in love with all of them.” She paused to allow the sarcasm in her tone to fully penetrate. “I just flirt with potential assets in bars. Set ’em up for blackmail. Nothing demanding, ergo nothing that I could screw up.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated.
She held his gaze in her own. “That’s why I need this, Ortega. My first real chance to redeem myself. I’m not asking you to do it for me. Do it for your country. But in the process, it would really help me out. And like I said, we’d be square.”
Ortega exhaled slowly, then settled into a chair, motioning again for her to do the same. “There’s a lot you don’t know.”
“Fine. Fill me in on the way to the airport.”
He chuckled. “My country doesn’t need me to break the Brigade. Kristie just wants me to come back to civilization because she’s worried about me. She and I have a history.”
“I know. She told me what good friends you were. Are.”
“Did she tell you I once told her I loved her?”
Miranda grimaced, then sat down across from him. “No. That’s a new one.”
“She didn’t take it seriously. She had this idea that I was just infatuated with her alter ego, Melissa Daniels.”
“Pardon?”
His eyes twinkled. “Like I said, there’s a lot you don’t know. When I first met Kristie, she was dressed up in a red wig. That’s why I thought you were her—or rather, Melissa Daniels—when your car pulled up today.”
“Why would a spinner need an alter ego? She doesn’t go into the field, does she?”
“Melissa goes wherever she wants,” he explained with a laugh. “Anyway, it was Kristie who figured out I had a thing for pretty redheads. She told Jane Smith about it and that’s how you got recruited when I needed an alibi. Jane and I figured the president might ask Kris to help with the investigation, and when she saw what you looked like, she’d be convinced the relationship was legitimate.”
“Wow.” Miranda bit her lip, then said, “She’s got something going with Director McGregor now. Did you know that?”
“Yeah. I think it’s great. And I think she was right. I never really was in love with her, although I had a heck of a crush on Melissa.” He leaned forward. “She’s a great friend. A loyal one. She’s worried about me, so she’s using this Brigade situation to bring me back. But I won’t go. I can’t. I’m doing something important out here. Something I need for my own sanity.”
“You can’t take a little break to visit a friend?” Miranda asked, trying for a light tone.
Ortega leaned back in his chair as though tired of having to explain himself. Then he told her, “I don’t expect you to understand. You went through rigorous training, but I went through a completely different program. The kind that teaches a person to suppress his normal reactions. His normal, decent, human reactions. I was an assassin. I did it for my country, and I know it was the right thing to do. But the coldness of it, along with the power, turned out to be something I couldn’t handle.”
Impressed that he was blaming himself rather than the program or his country, she nodded for him to continue.
“The first time I screwed up was when I was sent to assassinate a CIA mole. The one who sold me out to Benito Carerra. Do you know about that?” When she nodded again, he said, “The mole retired out of the blue. In South America. That’s how the agency figured out it was him. They knew he was hanging out with a bunch of drug thugs, so they sent me to take care of it. My assignment was to systematically shoot them all, and I did.”
Miranda bit her lip. “You were just doing your job. Any of us would have done the same.”
“Except I enjoyed it a little too much. I felt like a goddammed superman. Then sirens began to wail, and an ambulance screeched up to the door. This little nurse got out and ran inside the building, and she was staring at the bodies, and then at me. Like I was a monster. And she was right.”
He stared at the table for a moment, then added, “Out of the blue, we heard someone groaning. One man was still alive. And that little nurse ran to where he was and began trying to save his life. And the contrast…the contrast between her and me…” He glanced up, his eyes clouded. “I took a leave of absence, bought this place, and hung out here for about a year. I exercised my body and my mind. Tried to cleanse the demons away. It worked, or so I thought. And while I was here, I got an idea for a new agency where profilers could work behind the scenes, assisting undercover agents in the field. It would be positive work. Saving lives, not killing them. I went to President Standish and he bought the idea.”
“SPIN.”
“Yeah, SPIN. It was supposed to be my redemption. But as the agency earned more prestige, I got more power. And it all began to happen again. I fought it, but when Standish told me he was going to appoint me as Director of the FBI, I lost all perspective. Getting that position was all that mattered to me. I told myself it was because of the good I could do, but it was just the power.”
She mentally cringed. “I don’t need to hear this, Ortega.”
“I think you do.” His eyes blazed. “That night in L.A., when the president’s advisor told me he was going to recommend against my appointment, we had a huge argument. He took a swing at me, I fought back, and he hit his head. It was self-defense, Miranda, but I still knew it would kill my chances for the appointment. So I called Jane. It was the worst mistake of my life, mostly because of the way it hurt you and Kristie. And McGregor’s sister.”
“Ortega?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t care.” She stared straight into his eyes. “I don’t care if it was self-defense.
