Kate Hoffmann - A Fare To Remember

The car pitched downward as the driver pulled into an underground parking garage. Rachel held tight to Roman’s hand as they got out of the backseat and went straight into a dark, mirrored elevator. Sensing a gentle vibration in his touch, she squeezed harder. He didn’t like elevators. She’d known that fact for a while. She’d never thought to ask why, figuring he just preferred the exercise of jaunting up and down the stairs. There was so much about this man she didn’t know-could he tell her? Was his fear born of some innocuous childhood mishap or was this phobia rooted in international secrets?

She had no time to ask since the moment the doors swooshed open, they were led into an office with clear glass walls that darkened to an opaque blue the moment the door closed. Flat plasma screens dominated the room, each playing opening credits from a half-dozen documentaries in a successive loop. Rachel recognized the two that were hers and was drawn to the images. They were so familiar and yet…

Roman cleared his throat, trying to divert Rachel’s attention to the smartly dressed woman at the other end of the conference table.

“Agent Brach, report.”

To an outsider his boss, Amelie Tremayne, likely appeared less than intimidating. Physically, she was average height and weight. Her hair was shock white but softly styled, and he couldn’t remember ever seeing her without dangling pearl earrings. She dressed conservatively, but usually wore a brooch or scarf to lend a dash of color to her somber navy or charcoal-gray suits. He wasn’t good at guessing ages, so he’d never try with Tremayne, who had earned the respect of her minions with a cool, ageless wisdom. She didn’t amuse easily, so Rachel’s curious presence didn’t so much as inspire a crack of a smile.

Roman ran down the facts of what had occurred at the hotel, leaving out the most interesting parts, naturally. Tremayne didn’t need to know-and clearly wasn’t interested-in the sexual and emotional precipices that he and Rachel had climbed tonight. She wanted only the details that mattered regarding the terrorists.

“We identified the man in the street,” Tremayne said. “He’s confirmed as a member of the second cell. We know now that their orders are simply to provide support to the first cell, the one receiving their instruction from the graphics.”

Roman’s eyes widened. He didn’t anticipate his boss speaking so freely in front of Rachel. She was, after all, a civilian. Though in all honesty, she didn’t appear to be listening to a word they said. From the moment they stepped inside the conference room, Rachel hadn’t stopped watching the looping opening images and credits to the documentaries. He knew she’d found the message, because she’d also found the remote control. She’d stopped each screen at the precise moment the message flashed on the screen.

“Find anything interesting, Ms. Marlowe?” Tremayne asked, her tone barely interested. She clearly gave little credence to Rachel’s presence, which made Roman tense with worry. Tremayne had the power to make Rachel disappear. She’d come to no harm, but if Tremayne made a case that Rachel’s presence in New York could jeopardize an ongoing investigation, she could be shipped off and tucked away where even Roman might not ever find her.

Roman stepped forward and, despite Rachel’s narrow, concentrated stare, removed the remote control from her hands.

“She didn’t see anything she hasn’t seen before.”

Rachel started to shake her head, but Roman stopped her by clutching her arm tighter.

She responded by punching him hard in the shoulder. Twice. Three times. She’d keep pounding until he released her, so he did.

“Manhandling me in the park was acceptable since you were trying to save my life. But back off here, Roman. I’m perfectly safe.”

Tremayne sat forward, her manicured nails tapping lightly together.

Not a good sign.

“No,” he said, through tightly clenched teeth, “you’re not.”

“Mr. Brach is quite correct, Ms. Marlowe. Your presence here is ill advised. But since Mr. Brach’s judgment has proved questionable so far where you are concerned, I’m afraid I’ll have to take your future under advisement myself.”

No one but him heard Rachel’s sharp intake of breath, but she quickly covered it with a sly grin. “Then take this under advisement, Ms. Spy Boss. I know who designed those graphics. And with a little negotiation, I may let you in on the secret.”

“MS. SPY BOSS MAY BE accurate and mildly clever, but silly nonetheless.” The elegant woman stood and extended her hand. “Amelie Tremayne.”

Rachel arched a brow. “Is that your real name?”

“For the moment.”

With a nod, Rachel accepted her hand. “Fair enough.”

“Roman,” Ms. Tremayne said, her eyes barely flicking toward her operative as she gestured for Rachel to sit. “Would you excuse us? I think Ms. Marlowe and I have a few things to discuss.”

Ice rippled over Rachel’s spine at the sound of her lover’s cool dismissal. She could only imagine how he bristled. Well, she didn’t have to imagine for long. Roman stood his ground.

“I don’t see the logic in that, Amelie. This is my project. I’m still the lead field operative, unless something has changed?”

A miniscule degree of regret glazed Tremayne’s sharp blue eyes. “Quite a bit has changed. You jeopardized the mission by your continued involvement with Ms. Marlowe. Your status on this case is pending at best.”

Rachel didn’t turn and look at Roman. She didn’t have to. She figured humiliation looked the same on proud men as it did on women, and right now, her entire expression radiated beet-red with anger.

She crossed her arms over her chest, tucking her hands tightly under her armpits to keep from jumping up and slapping this rude, vindictive woman. So what if she held the safety of innocents in her hands? She didn’t have to be so holier than thou about it.

“His status better change quickly or what I do know will remain just that-what I know and you don’t.”

Tremayne arched a pencil-drawn brow. “You’re feisty.”

Rachel grinned, pushing away the creepiness of having another woman call her that. “Must be what Roman loves about me.”

She swallowed her wince and forced her expression to remain confident. Love. She’d used the word love. Well, that was presumptuous.

“How do you know he loves anything about you at all? You have too much faith in men, Ms. Marlowe.”

“Actually, until I met Roman, I had none whatsoever.”

Amelie Tremayne took her seat, sliding closer to the table with casual grace. “So you’ve changed your views based on a man who has done nothing but lie to you from the beginning?”

“Ultimately, what he lied to me about was unimportant. When push came to shove, I got the truth. I’m here, aren’t I? And I have information you need. So unless you’re going to try to beat it out of me, I suggest you drop your attitude toward Roman and let’s get down to business.”

A long moment thickened in the air. Rachel had to admit she had no idea if Tremayne would order the information beaten out of her, but she had to trust that she could bluff her way just a little further.

Tremayne’s gaze flicked to Roman and then, after a brief clash with Rachel’s unwavering glare, to the chair beside hers. He sat, a handsomely smug grin on his face. He’d probably pay for it later, but Rachel guessed he didn’t care much. Like her, Roman was a live-for-the-moment kind of guy.

“You win, Ms. Marlowe. So tell me, what do you know about the images you saw?”

“Graphic art is just that-art. There are styles, signatures, sometimes very subtle since the images go by so quickly.”

“We’ve broken down each image frame by frame,” Roman insisted.

“I’m sure you did. Even if you’ve studied every aspect of graphic design, you might not pick up something so insignificant. In fact, I might not have seen it myself if I wasn’t such a geek. I love studying the work of other designers. That’s how I learn and improve. Most working artists don’t really bother.”

“What can you tell us about this person?”

Rachel took a deep breath. “He’s not in New York.”

“It’s a man?”

Rachel nodded.

“Where’s he located?”

She shrugged. “I can give you his name, that’s it. His work is fairly popular. He’s in high demand. Though come to think of it, he’s dropped off the circuit a bit lately. Being really choosy about what he does, from what I hear from production people who wanted to hire him and then got me instead. Our styles are fairly similar.”

Amelie Tremayne’s stare narrowed. “This is a rather convenient coincidence, don’t you think?”

Rachel had considered that, but the truth was the truth. “Perhaps. Or maybe just one hell of a lucky break.”

WHAT HAPPENED NEXT HELD no resemblance whatsoever to what Rachel expected. Even before she’d stopped talking, Roman had dashed out of the room, stopping only to kiss her thoroughly and deeply so that her knees nearly buckled from the overload of pleasure.

Then he was gone.

Tremayne remained for a few minutes more, extending the interrogation until another operative came in and took over. Rachel was given a computer with secure Internet access, and through a portal she was sure wasn’t legal, she was able to tap into her home computer. She pulled up as much information as she could about those old studies, but she didn’t have much more than what she’d told Tremayne and Roman initially. She admired the man’s work.

Then she’d waited. The Agency had put her up in a fairly comfortable room within the same building, provided her with hearty meals and endless entertainment in terms of television, satellite radio and video games. But she hadn’t been interested in anything but the computers.