Identity Crisis. Kate Donovan

I’ll bet.” He cleared his throat. “Is the photo based on you?”

      “It’s computer generated,” she insisted. “If there’s nothing else, Agent McGregor, I’d better get back to my new assignment. Feel free to call if you need me. Or if you just want to brainstorm a little. We’re a team now, you know.”

      “Yeah, I’m starting to get that,” he admitted. “I’ll check in tonight. Take it easy until then.”

      And right on schedule, he began calling her in the middle of the night as soon as he’d left the bar, updating her on his heart-to-heart talks with Manny, who had almost instantly proclaimed McGregor to be the brother he had always wanted. And while the lovesick thug still didn’t discuss “business” with his new friend, he did begin telling other secrets, and McGregor was pleased with the progress.

      Kristie, on the other hand, craved victory not progress. “I keep trying to think of some way to catapult this to the next level,” she told the agent in frustration. “Something you can say to him to make him trust you so completely, he can’t resist sharing details about the syndicate.”

      “Patience, Goldie,” McGregor advised her. “Some things are worth waiting for. I promise.”

      Did he mean it to sound so seductive? she wondered. So prophetic?

      Some things are worth waiting for…

      “Okay,” she told him, struggling to keep her tone cool. “We’ll be patient.”

      “Right. Manny’s like a fish. We’ve got him hooked. Now we’ve just gotta reel him in.”

      So much for seduction, she told herself with a wry laugh, but aloud she insisted, “I’m all ears, McGregor. Educate me.”

      To her surprise, he proceeded to do just that, giving her a string of examples from his own early undercover experiences. And while the nominal reason was to teach her the value of patience, she was sure he was also trying to strengthen their newfound connection. The stories were work related, but also profoundly personal, providing glimpses into his life that she hadn’t dared dream she’d ever get.

      She needed those moments, not just for the visceral thrill and occasional romantic vibe, but also to keep her from becoming obsessed with the Salinger file, which was easily the most challenging case she had ever faced.

      And even if it wasn’t, she was determined to design a scenario that truly knocked the socks off a certain bitchy CIA agent.

      As for Salinger himself, Kristie was learning he was one scary guy. No criminal record, but the CIA file identified him as the mastermind behind several “accidents” that were undoubtedly assassinations. He had made a fortune in shipping, which provided both the financial means and the network for his anti-USA activities, while also allowing him to be perceived by the community as a respectable businessman. He left most of his dirty work to a certain bodyguard known as the Axe—a psychopath devoted to serving his boss’s interests.

      Salinger’s defining characteristic was his thirst for revenge, which translated into a profound hatred for his native country. It drove his every waking thought, fueled by his certainty that his younger brother’s death in the Gulf War had been orchestrated by high-level U.S. officials to prevent a lucrative contract for one of the president’s campaign contributors. According to the CIA’s file, there was no truth to Salinger’s suspicions about his brother’s death. But given Ray’s cynical assessment of Jane Smith, Kristie reserved judgment on whether the file was accurate on that issue.

      Meanwhile, she focused her attention on the target: Salinger’s Palm Springs estate. It was an oasis, carved from the desert, irrigated by the snowcaps of the nearby mountain ranges and resplendent with every luxury known to man, including a private golf course.

      The triple-crowning glories of the place were Salinger’s world-renowned cactus garden, his collection of priceless paintings, housed in a rotunda-style gallery in the center of his home, and the art gallery’s domed skylight, fashioned from delicate Italian glass that had been tinted blue and white to resemble a sky filled with clouds.

      If Jane Smith’s intel was correct, the safe containing the disk was hidden behind one of the paintings in the glass-roofed gallery. And the more Kristie studied the situation, the more convinced she became that she had to see that gallery in person. Providing the reconnaissance team with a wish list seemed inefficient, when she could go on the scouting trip herself. And since the venue would be a harmless garden party, there was no danger at all, either to the mission or to Kristie personally. The actual operation would still be weeks away and by then, she would be safely back to the East Coast.

      She wondered if Jane Smith would see the wisdom in allowing Kristie to attend. Or would the agent just use the suggestion as an opportunity to ridicule SPIN—and Kristie in particular? And even if the agent could be convinced, Kristie knew Ray Ortega would never allow her to actively participate in an operation, however harmless.

      But he might just agree to send Melissa Daniels.