"Where've you been? We were getting worried!"

Nicole lifted her head only to find that she'd somehow made her way back to the restaurant on autopilot. Both Danielle and her father were both staring at her. The father's expression was unreadable but she recognized the look on Danielle's face. Nicole had seen it before-when she told Danielle she was moving out; concern and worry were etched in the lines wrinkling her brow, but the hurt in the depths of those green eyes back then was missing now.

Nicole quickly relayed a tale about the restroom being closed and her inability to find another without a lengthy line. She watched their reactions, searching both of their faces for a flicker of-what? Disbelief? Doubt?

Perhaps criminal justice or psychology course or two might have helped prepare her for this crazy situation that still seemed unreal.

"Dad and I have been coming up with a plan," Danielle announced excitedly as Nicole slid back into their booth. "No doubt, they know where the bonds are hidden. It's just a matter of time before they try to get them before you do, so we have to move first. Beat them to the punch, so to speak."

"They?" Nicole turned and fixed her eyes on Danielle's father. "Do you have any idea who these people are?"

"They're high up, that's for sure," Rhyse murmured vaguely.

"So why remove the stocks from the bank at all?" she persisted, more than a little unnerved at how prophetic Kira's words had been. That has to count for something, she thought. "Isn't that the safest place in the world to keep them right now?"

Father and daughter quickly exchanged a glance, and Nicole could have bitten off her tongue. She'd just confirmed the stocks were indeed at the bank.

"Remember who we're dealing with. These people are professionals of a caliber equivalent to the CIA," Rhyse said. "They've probably already obtained a warrant or some other sham doc.u.ment to get inside the bank. Everyday working stiffs are easily conned. If someone looks the part and acts with confidence and authority, no one questions them. Combine that facade with bogus credentials, or maybe even real ones, and they're in."

No doubt spoken from experience, Nicole thought. The waitress came and placed the bill in the center of the table. A shiver ran down her spine as she watched the colonel's long, thick fingers grab the check. She swallowed hard, fighting her revulsion.

"While you two go to the bank, I'm going to see an old friend at the Department of Justice who might be able to help us," the colonel said, pulling several ten-dollar bills from his wallet and laying them down next to his empty plate. "Call me when you have the stocks," he ordered, looking at Danielle. "We'll coordinate a meeting place. Stay safe, both of you, and if you see anyone suspicious, call the police."

Call the police?

Was that guidance a criminal would advise? Was he just saying the words for effect? Nicole was confused-but then took a deep breath. Just be aware, she reminded herself.

They parted ways at the taxi stand outside baggage claim. As the colonel climbed into a cab and disappeared from sight, Nicole mused on the possibility that Rhyse Taylor could be telling the truth about everything. But if he were, then Kira was a liar. And she didn't want to even consider that as a possibility.

"Where to?" Danielle asked as they exited the airport. Nicole plugged the bank's address into the Garmin and Danielle let the computerized man's voice dictate when and where to turn. They didn't say a word to one another, and the atmosphere in the car grew increasingly strained with each pa.s.sing mile. Nicole didn't have it in her to make polite conversation, at least not with a microphone strapped to her chest transmitting every remark she made, so she sat rigidly in her seat, loosely gripping the stun-pen her pocket.

"Do you think we might be friends when all this is over?"

Nicole looked over at Danielle. She was doing a good a job of acting the innocent. Far too good-was she that good an actress?

"Are you serious?" she asked, conscious of the wire taped to her chest. "You pretended to be my friend. Everything was a lie between us."

"Not everything," Danielle said quickly. Nicole knew she was referring to their brief kiss, and she felt a blush steal over her cheeks. "What if it was your mother, Nick? Wouldn't you have done the same if you were in my shoes?"

Nicole remembered what Kira had told her back in the restroom. If it was indeed true, right now Danielle believed her mother to be bound and gagged, sitting in the back of a car with two strange men. Something just didn't fit, and she couldn't figure it out. She longed to reach over, grab Danielle by the shoulder, and demand she come clean about everything-but the impulse remained nothing more than a fanciful whim. They were already at the bank.

"I'll wait here and keep a look-out," Danielle said, her voice unsteady as she parallel parked the Escape in an empty spot between two compacts. "Be careful. They might have been following us."

Nicole sighed heavily as she extricated herself from the air-conditioned interior of the SUV. Hopefully, Danielle was right. She cast an uneasy glance at the traffic zooming by. Where was Bogie?

The sidewalk was busy. A group of three young girls hurried past her, gripping grease-splattered paper bags from a fast-food restaurant, their faces glued to their phones. She looked around, trying not to appear too conspicuous. Were any of the pedestrians plants from the government, ready to pull a gun from some hidden holster at the slightest sign of threat?

Inside the bank, it was quiet and cool. A man in a suit and tie tried to make eye contact with her, but she made a beeline straight toward the garishly made-up woman who'd helped her yesterday. Once inside the vault and the safety-deposit box was open, Nicole quickly scooped up all the stock certificates and shoved them into her bag. She glanced at the bundles of cash and decided to leave them behind-no one had said anything about the cash, after all. Before returning the box to its slot, she looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching. Placing an index finger over the hole in her shirt where the camera lens was filming her every move, she folded the envelope with the incomprehensible gibberish printed on one side of paper and the names written on the other and stuffed it inside the cup of her bra. On her way out, she grabbed the pen-shaped stun gun and tightly clutched it inside the folds of her fist.

"You have them? They were still there?" Danielle asked when Nicole returned to the car. The stun gun in Nicole's hand became hot and slippery as she reflexively clenched and unclenched her fingers around its slick metal. Sitting on the center console of the car was a leather pocketbook the color of warm paprika. It was wide open, as if recently rummaged through.

"Are you really going to do this?" Nicole questioned in a sad voice. She studied Danielle's face, paying close attention to her demeanor.

"Well, are you?" she repeated, trying to discern some little change in Danielle's expression that would confirm or deny her guilt. But there was no telltale bead of perspiration dripping from her hairline, no nervous shifting of the eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Danielle put the Escape in reverse, turning the wheel sharply to maneuver the front of the vehicle away from the curb. "Were the stocks still there or not?"

"I have them."

Their eyes met. In the depths of the hazel eyes looking back at her, Nicole saw nothing but honesty. And there was still that smidgeon of suspicion wedged somewhere in the back of her subconscious concerning Kira. How else could she explain the envelope stuffed inside her bra, the sharp corners of the stiff paper irritating the tender swell of her breast?

"Danielle, there's still time to get out of this. I'm not sure how your father is involved, but you don't have to take the fall with or for him. I'm positive they'll be lenient if you confess and help them with their investigation."

"Investigation?"

Nicole squirmed uncomfortably but said nothing. Had she just blown everything?

"Tell me what on earth you're talking about, Nicole." Danielle put the vehicle back in park. Her hands went to her lap and Nicole's eyes followed. Ensconced almost imperceptibly in the crevice between her two exposed thighs was what appeared to be the b.u.t.t of a gun, its dull faux-wood grain a sharp contrast in texture to the smoothness of Danielle's tanned flesh. Nicole cast a nervous glance out the windshield. Where was the cavalry? Where was the SWAT team shouting for surrender from a megaphone? She fumbled with her shirt. Maybe when she'd stuffed the envelope inside her bra, a wire had come undone. She had to do something and quickly.

"Gun!" she shouted into the collar of her borrowed T-shirt.

Danielle's eyes were round with astonishment and incomprehension. The pen was still in Nicole's hand, but before she'd even contemplated exactly what she was going to do with it, a kaleidoscope of red and blue lights were flashing all about them. Someone flung the car door open, jerked her into the street and into the arms of a uniformed police officer. After regaining her balance, she turned back. A pair of ebony arms pulled Danielle roughly from the car. An object fell from her grip. Nicole watched it crash to the asphalt with disbelieving eyes. Not a gun, but a hairbrush.

Chapter Twenty-three.

People were shouting. Sirens were now wailing. Nicole felt as if she'd just stepped off a roller coaster. The presence of the police officer standing somewhere to her left was rea.s.suring but it didn't stop the ground beneath her from shifting just a tad unevenly or the world all around her from beginning to spin wildly. A white Lexus emerged amidst the chaos and pulled up directly in front of her, its tires screeching as they came to a fast stop. The driver's side window was rolled down.

"I couldn't ride in on a white horse, but I found a white car." It was Stella. Nicole fought an irrational wave of disappointment that it wasn't Kira.

"Come, kiddo, get in," Stella fervently urged, reaching over in her seat and pushing the pa.s.senger door ajar with her right arm. "Everything's okay now."

She wanted to move but couldn't. Her legs had gone wooden. Okay, so it had been a hairbrush and not a gun, but her body needed more time to adjust to that reality. For a brief, blood-curdling moment, she'd been envisioning the muzzle of a gun pressed against her forehead.

Suddenly warm, strong hands gripped her shoulders from behind, steering her around the hood of the car, then positioning her suddenly limp body into the seat next to Stella. Delicately feminine fingers pulled the seat belt across her lap and shoulder, tugging at the harness to ensure it was secure before fastening it. It took a moment for Nicole to realize that it wasn't the police officer tending to her well-being. The shapely, manicured fingers belonged to the same determined hands that had pulled her from the Escape.

"Get her away from this madness," a woman's commanding voice dictated in a clipped tone. "I'll find you when I'm done here."

It was Kira. Nicole felt something tight inside her release. Stella was right. Everything was going to be okay.

"It was a hairbrush, not a gun," she managed to mutter through lips that felt a bit rubbery. Her breathing was growing slow and shallow. She had to fight to catch her breath.

"Nicole, you're going pale. Listen to me. Inhale. Deeply. Here, let's remove the camera and mic." With a quick, deliberate efficiency, Kira reached a hand down the front of her T-shirt and gently pulled the tapes and wire from her skin. The paper was still tucked into Nicole's bra. "Look at me, let me see your pupils." She searched Nicole's eyes. "Good. Breathe. Deeper this time, slowly." Kira took Nicole's wrist between two fingers while staring down at her watch. She was still in the same s.e.xy business outfit she'd been wearing at the airport, although the carefully coiffed chignon at the nape of her neck had come a bit undone.

"For a moment I thought you might be going into shock, but your vital signs are normal."

"Your car. You found it," she said almost accusingly.

"Not my car, my uncle's. Your new friend at the truck stop was clocked doing almost ninety in it early this morning. Don't worry, no charges were pressed against her, but the local sheriff's office was very pleased because her cooperation," she stressed sardonically, "led to several other arrests involving the operation of an illegal chop shop and moonshine still. Now promise me, if you feel faint, you'll tell Shevchenko. I'd ride with you, Nicole, but I have to finish up here."

Bogie's deep, baritone voice echoed over the roof and into the interior of the car, a trace of disappointment in the pitch of his words. "Nothing else in the bag but the stocks."

"Go now, Shevchenko, but watch her color closely," Kira ordered before the car door was slammed shut and they sped away.

Nicole turned in her seat to cast a glance backward, looking for Kira's magnificent form amidst the growing swarm of humanity converging upon the frenetic scene, but she couldn't find it and soon all of it vanished as they turned onto Sixth Street. The lulling sounds of soft piano music playing on the car's stereo and the comforting coolness of the air conditioner gradually soothed her tattered nerve endings. A few blocks away, Stella looked over at her, a frown marring her dark brow. "You okay, kid?"

"Better now. Thanks, Stella. I don't know what happened. I almost lost it back there."

"Perfectly understandable. You've been under great strain."

Nicole reclined the seat a notch, closed her eyes, and did as Kira had advised, inhaling deep, calming breaths. Her body felt as if it had been zapped with a million volts of electricity. Her arms and legs were numb, her hands shaky as she grasped her head between them and squeezed, hoping the pressure would bring some relief. The headache that had been threatening all morning was coming back, knocking on the back of her head for entry. "This has got to be the craziest thing that has ever happened to anyone," she muttered tremulously. "I still think I might be hallucinating. Maybe I'm in a hospital in Kenya, delirious with that fever, and this is all a by-product of my imagination."

"I hope not," Stella said. "That means I won't be getting paid this week."

Nicole gave a weak smile. Her eyes were still closed and she replayed the entire scene back at the bank with Danielle and the hairbrush.

"Danielle is innocent," she said, lifting her head and opening her eyes. Stella turned sharply and Nicole repeated herself. "She's not involved. I mean, yeah, she is, but she was just trying to protect her father. She didn't know anything about my mother being kidnapped and used as ransom for the stocks."

"How can you be so sure?" Stella asked, uncertainty in her tone.

"I just do." The air conditioner was going full blast and now she was getting cold. Tiny goose b.u.mps ran the length of her arms and she rubbed them vigorously for warmth. Seeing this, Stella turned a control on the dashboard and the temperature in the car immediately began to warm.

"What about Rhyse Taylor? Did you guys get him?"

"Who do you think was driving his taxi?" Stella volleyed back, her accent strong as a smile tugged the corners of her full lips.

"So where was he going? He told us he was on his way to Department of Justice."

"He'll end up there, one way or another." She smirked. "That is a very bad man." They were at a stoplight and Stella directed another glance her way. This one was inquisitive but not without a trace of humor. "You look tired. Maybe because you didn't get enough sleep last night?" Her voice was teasing. Nicole was certain her face was no longer pale, but a bright shade of red.

"I'd rather not talk about that," she admitted feebly, turning away from the Ukrainian's probing stare. The light changed and Nicole was grateful Stella's attention was pulled back to the traffic. "I'm glad to hear you're getting a paycheck for all this, Stella. But I'm just curious-who actually pays you?"

They were crossing over the Potomac, heading toward Arlington, the Pentagon visible in the distance.

"Your Uncle Sam, kiddo."

"And just how is it that someone from the Ukraine ends up working for the United States?"

"It's not a very exciting story, Nicole. When Chern.o.byl exploded, I was only eighteen. My brother and mother worked there." Hearing Nicole's horrified gasp she amended quickly, "Oh no, they weren't hurt, but I knew I didn't want to follow in their footsteps, stuck at that plant forever. Not a lot of people realize this, but the plant is still open. The reactors are of course not operating but my family still works there, maintaining the remains. They must work in shifts to minimize their exposure to radiation." She shrugged her shoulders, pushing a strand of long, black hair from her face. "That's where everyone in the town I grew up in went to work. There isn't much else. After the accident, I knew I had to go to school, study computers, learn DOS. It was my ticket out. And I get along much better with a keyboard than humans." She snorted, sharing a private joke with herself. "While in school, a professor from the great country of America came to teach one of our cla.s.ses. He liked the programs I created, said they were complex but simple, whatever that meant. Next thing I know, he gets me a visa to do work here in DC. Some, how do you say, I forget all the American colloquialisms-bigwigs-they asked me to help with some of the Russian coding. They are very good at writing viruses. And they're great hackers too, always trying to break into everyone's systems and cause mayhem."

Nicole vaguely remembered Kira telling her that all the old mainframes in the Kenyan bunker had originally been programmed in Russian to disguise their country of origin. That would explain why they'd needed someone with Stella's expertise.

"I kept studying, staying very busy working and finally, I received security clearance. Eventually, I became an American citizen. And now, here I am. No Chern.o.byl, but sometimes, I think," she smirked again, "I would be safer back in a nuclear power plant."

Nicole smiled. After a long, quiet moment she gathered her courage. "There's no right way to ask this, so I'm just going to come right out with it. Have you and Kira," she hesitated and cringed in advance of the words, but her need to know outweighed her reluctance, "been romantic?"

A sharp, hysterical burst of laughter erupted from Stella. The Lexus swerved but was quickly reined back in.

"I'm sorry, little one. I didn't mean to laugh, but what you said was too funny. I don't want to say anything that might make you mad at me because I know you have feelings for Kira." Stella didn't look her way, but if she had, she would have only seen the top of Nicole's head because she suddenly found her seat belt fascinating. "But Kira and I, well, we are like a cat and dog that live in the same house. We respect each other's territory, but you cannot keep us in the same room together for very long. So no, Nicole, you don't have to worry. Kira has eyes only for you. But we'll talk more later, kid. We're here."

Nicole looked out the car window, disappointed to see a uniformed doorman rushing to open Stella's door, a jacketed valet at his heels. She'd wanted Stella to keep talking.

They were at the Ritz-Carlton, one of the most opulent hotels in the capital. Several National Guardsmen hovered about the polished entryway, their heavy camouflage dress and wool berets looking dreadfully uncomfortable in the heat of the late afternoon. As she and Stella entered the lobby, half a dozen tall, clean-cut men clad in dark, conservative suits wearing earpieces scrutinized her every move. The Secret Service?

"For some reason, I thought we were going to the Pentagon," Nicole whispered, feeling considerably underdressed in the Old Navy T-shirt and smudged linen pants she'd been wearing for two days in a row. "Isn't that where the Department of Defense is based?"

"We can't meet on government grounds since this mission is not only still active, but one that is-let me think of the words," she held up both hands and made quotation signs with her fingers, "hush hush. And the people Kira must meet with have a dinner here tonight."

They took the elevator to the eighteenth floor, emerging onto a carpeted hallway decorated in elegant tones of deep yellow and dark blue. Stella stopped at the second room on the left, inserting several different hotel key cards she'd pulled from her back pocket into the lock until finally a light within the door's mechanism turned green.

"Here, this is your key."

The hotel room was actually a two-room suite with a sitting area separate from the bedroom. It was so different than the motel room Nicole had slept a few hours in last night that it might have been on another planet. She rushed to the window, stared in amazement at the panoramic view of the skyline for all of ten seconds before feeling the stress and fatigue of the past twenty-four hours creep into her bones. She collapsed into a handsome, high-back armchair positioned directly across from a crisp blue and white striped sofa.

"You need a drink, little one. A real one. It will calm your nerves."

"You know, Stella, I have to confess. Up until the moment the police showed up at the bank, I wasn't sure that you, Kira, and Bogie weren't the real criminals."

"The three of us are an odd cast of characters," Stella said agreeably.

Nicole peered over her shoulder. Stella was at the mini-bar, pulling out a bottle of Perrier and a tiny bottle of clear liquid with a colorful label. "Stoli." She held it up for Nicole's inspection. "We Slavs know our vodka."

Nicole nodded, then turned back to stare out the window. She could hear a cap being unscrewed and bubbly liquid poured into a gla.s.s. She made to get up but Stella was already at her side. The mineral water with the vodka tasted like cold medicine, but it was cold and refreshing. She was thirsty and drank more.

"I must be so tired I'm seeing things. Is that my duffel bag on the bed?"

"Your clothes are in the bag. Drink. I'll come back for you in a few hours."

A wave of deja vu came over Nicole, so strong she almost dropped the gla.s.s she was gripping onto the beige Berber carpeting. Her trip to Africa was repeating itself all over again: her luggage mysteriously appearing from out of nowhere and the same woman with a heavy accent insisting she stay hydrated.

"Wait, Stella, what happens next?" she asked, seeing that the Ukrainian was heading toward the door.

"We'll all meet up later. Now take a nap. At least try, okay? You've had a very long day."

"Will you tell me one thing before you leave?"

Her hand on the door handle, Stella turned, the slight inclination of her dark head indicating she would grant Nicole's request.

"When I was leaving Kenya, you wrote on my airplane ticket, remember the tin man. What did you mean?"

A gleam appeared in Stella's dark eyes. "If you remember the tale, the tin man searched the entire city of Oz for a heart, but one was inside him the whole time." She shot Nicole a penetrating look. "Think about it, kid."