Face Of Deception
- -
- 100%
- +
Ann shook her head. “No. Nothing. He never mentioned he was in danger.”
“Think carefully, Miss Hamilton. Tell us exactly what transpired yesterday morning. Don’t spare the minutest detail.” His tone had lost its loftiness, and his clear gray eyes were bathed in kindness.
Ann allowed her mind to drift back to the dreadful morning. “Clayton telephoned me early and said the situation was urgent. I had never heard him sound so grave. He told me to pack an overnight bag and come over at once.”
Ann closed her eyes, recalling the desperation in Clayton’s voice. “When I arrived at his home, he shoved Brandon into his car and told me to drive to his villa in the north. He would join us there later.” She lifted her hands in despair. “That’s all I know.”
“He said nothing more to you?”
“Oh, there was one other thing.” Both men leaned forward attentively. “He said, ‘I know you’ll take good care of Brandon.’”
“He offered no explanation? And you didn’t ask for one?” Waterman asked skeptically.
“No. Everything happened so fast I just reacted automatically without questioning his motives. Why didn’t he come with us?”
“I suspect he knew whomever was found with him would be killed, too,” Baker said.
Tears began to streak her cheeks. “I feel as if I deserted him…abandoned him. If only I had known he was in danger.”
Waterman patted her hand. “There’s nothing you could have done to prevent what happened.”
She jerked up her head and glared at him. “I could have called the police. They would have protected him.”
“Who knows, Miss Hamilton, the police may be the very ones responsible for his death.”
“You’re wrong,” she lashed out. “French Guiana is a beautiful country—a Shangri-la. There is no corruption there. The people there have an innocence like none other I’ve seen anywhere.”
Waterman stood up. “Well, apparently not all are innocent. Mr. Burroughs’s death testified to that.”
“Clayton was not killed by one of the local citizens,” she declared adamantly. “You must have some idea why he was murdered. The CIA wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble of bringing me here if you thought his death was just a…random killing.”
Waterman moved away and sat down behind a desk. “Miss Hamilton, I must have your promise that whatever I tell you will not go beyond this room.” Ann nodded. “As Burroughs’s aide you must have been familiar with the satellite the Israeli government intended to launch.”
“I assume you’re referring to the launch aborted last month because of a mechanical malfunction.”
Baker nodded. “But there was no mechanical malfunction. We have reason to suspect the satellite had been sabotaged. Burroughs was conducting an undercover investigation in an attempt to find out who was behind that destruction.”
Sabotage! Undercover investigation! Ann could not believe what she heard. “Are you saying Clayton was an agent…with the CIA?”
“Let’s say that Mr. Burroughs was engaged in undercover work for the government, but he was neither a trained agent nor an employee of the Central Intelligence Agency. He contacted us because of his suspicions.”
Ann shook her head to try and clear her befuddled thoughts. “Why would he contact the United States? The satellite was Israeli. Why wouldn’t he contact the Israeli government? It was their problem, not the United States’.”
“Whatever he was pursuing was linked to the United States. He had found out that much.”
“And died because of it,” Ann said bitterly. “Clayton Burroughs was the kindest, gentlest man I’ve ever known. How dare you encourage him in this investigation?” Appalled, her voice rose to near hysteria. “If what you say is true, why didn’t you let your own operators investigate this…sabotage?” She glared at Bishop, who had not said a word throughout the whole conversation. “Lord knows you’ve got enough of them.”
Cradling her head in her hand, she refused to give in to further tears. Particularly with three sets of eyes watching her every move.
“You’re tired now, Miss Hamilton,” Waterman said. “This has been a terrible strain on you. I think you should get some rest.”
Ann lifted her head. “Your Mr. Bishop rushed us away so hurriedly that I don’t have any money, not even a change of clothing. And, as you saw, Brandon is in his pajamas.”
Waterman’s smile bordered on a simper. “Agent Bishop’s propensity for expediency is what makes him so effective in the field.” He assisted her to her feet, put a hand on her back and steered her toward the door. “We’ll see that you get whatever you need. And we’ve made arrangements for you at the Watergate.”
Ann stopped at the doorway. “What about Clayton’s body?”
“The British government is handling the arrangements. Mr. Burroughs’s remains will be returned to England for burial.”
“I would like to attend the funeral and then return to Kourou as quickly as possible. Everything I own is there.”
“Of course, Miss Hamilton. You’ll be free to move about as soon as we are certain you’ll be safe. The important thing now is for you and the lad to get a good night’s rest.” The patronizing attitude had returned.
When Bishop opened the door, Ann saw Brandon curled up asleep in a chair. Her gaze sought Bishop and locked with that of the hazel-eyed squad leader.
“Agent Bishop, come in here a moment,” Baker called to him.
Mike Bishop broke their fixed stare and stepped back inside. As the door was closing, Ann heard Baker say, “The woman’s no fool. Do you think she’s telling us everything she knows?”
The door clicked shut before Ann could hear Waterman’s reply. She glanced at Cassidy and offered a nervous smile.
Cassidy grinned and winked in understanding.
Within minutes Bishop rejoined them. Cassidy picked up Brandon and they headed for the elevator.
“We’re moving,” Bishop said into the radio clutched in his hand. The voices of Bolen, then Williams, acknowledged the message through the transmitter.
“I thought you agents talked into your lapels,” she joked lightly.
“Not since I sent my suit to the cleaners,” Bishop replied.
“Bishop, you actually made a joke!”
Bolen and Fraser were waiting when the elevator doors opened.
“Tell me, Bishop, are we all checking into the hotel together?” Ann asked when they stepped outside, and Bledsoe and Williams joined them. “I’m beginning to feel like Snow White.” The six men exchanged startled glances.
“Only thing is one of the seven dwarfs appears to be missing. Which one of the little darlings are you, Bishop— Grumpy or Dopey?”
Bishop’s face hardened into a grim frown. “Did anyone ever tell you, Hamilton, what a pain in the ass you are?”
“Oh, lighten up, Bishop, I was only joking.”
Yeah, she was right, he had to lighten up, Mike told himself. But Violet Eyes was unaware of how close her quip had hit home. Or maybe she did. Maybe she knew more than she was admitting. Maybe she knew why Tony Sardino, the seventh member of the Dwarf Squad—code name Bashful—had been killed the month before in Beirut.
Chapter 5
Brandon was still asleep in the other bed when Ann awoke the following morning. She sat up and glanced around the hotel room, her attention drawn immediately to a flight bag on the dresser. The small satchel had not been there when she went to bed.
Bishop must have brought in the bag while I was sleeping. Doesn’t he ever sleep?
Dressed only in her underclothes, Ann wrapped the sheet around her and padded barefoot over to examine the bag’s contents.
“Bless you, Bishop. I take back every nasty thought I’ve had of you,” she mumbled as she pulled out toothbrushes, toothpaste, a hairbrush, a comb, shampoo, socks, underwear for Brandon and a jogging suit for him, as well. There was even a bottle of her favorite perfume.
Ann stopped momentarily, and her face deepened in a blush when she withdrew the final articles from the bag: a lacy black bra and a matching pair of bikinis.
“Damn you, Bishop,” she grumbled, revoking her earlier benediction. “How did you know my size?”
She tossed them aside and eagerly scooped up the toilet articles. Then, frowning, she reconsidered, snatched up the lingerie and disappeared into the bathroom.
After a leisurely shampoo and shower, Ann poked her head out of the bathroom. She cast a fretful glance at her jeans and shirt hanging on the back of a chair across the room. Brandon appeared to be asleep, but dare she chance retrieving her clothes dressed in only a bra and panties? It would just be the time he’d awaken.
He who hesitates is lost, Ann. She dashed across the room and grabbed the garments. When she turned to run back to the bathroom, she stopped abruptly, and the clothes dropped to the floor. Her mouth gaped open in a scream that froze in her throat when she recognized Bishop.
“What…what are you doing here?”
Ann instinctively wanted to cover herself with her hands, but she fought the reflex. After all, she had photographed dozens of lingerie ads, and lingerie revealed less than today’s swimsuits.
However, standing in the intimacy of a hotel room, dressed only in a skimpy bra and panties that he had bought, somehow did not equate in her mind to the impersonal professionalism of a photo shoot. Especially with Bishop’s hazel-eyed gaze fixed on her.
His damn eyes are like the lens of a camera. They don’t miss a detail.
Bishop slowly rose to his feet, bent over and picked up her jeans and shirt and then held them out to her. “I see they fit.” His eyes glimmered with smugness.
She snatched the garments out of his outstretched hand and pulled on the shirt. “I don’t appreciate this intrusion of my privacy, Bishop.”
“Only doing my job, Hamilton.”
She jerked up her head. “I thought your job involved rescue operations. Do your responsibilities extend to selecting women’s lingerie?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.” He plopped back down in the chair.
“Funny, Bishop.” She moved to the dresser. “How did you know my size?”
“I’ve got eyes.”
That you have, Bishop. Disturbing eyes. She could feel the sweep of them as she worked the jeans past her hips.
Dabbing on a few drops of the Chanel he had brought, Ann asked, “And my favorite perfume?”
“I’ve got a nose.”
“And a big mouth.” She grabbed the comb and brush and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door in frustration.
The noise woke Brandon. The youngster sat up and grinned when he saw Mike. “Hi, Mr. Bishop.”
“Morning, kid. Do you always sleep this late?”
“Not always. Just the mornings I don’t wake up early.”
It was that kind of children’s logic that had convinced Mike he’d never make a good father.
Brandon’s smile quickly vanished as he glanced around the room. Panic began to flood the boy’s features. “Where’s Ann?”
“She’s in the bathroom. She’ll be out in a minute.”
Brandon’s face puckered and he began to cry. “I want Ann. Where is she?”
Hearing Brandon’s cry, Ann hurried out of the bathroom and rushed over to gather him into her arms. “I’m right here, honey.” She glared accusingly at Bishop. “What did you say to upset him?”
Mike moved to the door and opened it. “Get the kid dressed, Hamilton. We’re due back at the Agency.”
Baker and Waterman were waiting in the same room, in the same positions as the day before. Only their clothing had changed. Waterman was now wearing a dark-gray, three-piece suit that didn’t have a wrinkle; Baker had on a brown suit that looked as if he had put it on before going to bed last night.
This time she had a strategy. Before either man could try any of their intimidating tactics on her, Ann took the offensive.
“Gentlemen, how much longer must Brandon and I endure these stringent security measures?”
Waterman offered an ingratiating smile. “We understand, Miss Hamilton. My associate and I have conferred on this matter and have reached the decision that any threat to you was left behind in French Guiana.”
She felt a sense of relief until hit by a sudden thought. “Are you suggesting I not return to that country?”
Baker nodded. “Not at this time. I certainly wouldn’t advise you to do so until we clear up the mystery behind Mr. Burroughs’s death.”
“But everything I own…”
Cutting off her protest, he handed her an envelope. “We’ve made whatever arrangements are necessary. Your account has been transferred to a bank here in Washington.”
Ann opened the envelope and stared dumbfounded at the contents. It contained her checkbook, credit card and passport. “Where…how did you get these?”
“We have our ways, Miss Hamilton.” Baker continued to speak as if by rote, sounding like a police officer reading the Miranda warning to a suspect. “We appreciate your past cooperation and apologize for any inconvenience you may have suffered while under our protection. We only had your interests at heart.”
Ann couldn’t believe how these arrangements had been made so quickly, but she felt a great burden had been lifted off her shoulders. “Then Brandon and I are free to leave.”
Her exhilaration was quickly squelched when the two security heads exchanged a guarded glance. Waterman cleared his throat and began to hedge.
“Well, one minor problem still exists, Miss Hamilton. Legally, Brandon Burroughs is a British subject. Her Majesty’s government prefers he remain at their embassy.”
She tightened her grasp on Brandon’s hand. “I won’t hear of it. I’m the only family he has now. He’ll be frightened without me.”
“It will only be for a few days, Miss Hamilton, while a proper investigation is made to determine if the child has any other living relatives. If not, we are recommending he then be placed in your custody.”
“I can tell you right now Clayton Burroughs was Brandon’s last remaining relative. His parents were killed in an accident. His mother had been an orphan. Brandon’s father had been Clayton’s only son. Clayton’s wife and daughter were both dead, and Clayton had no siblings. I’ve seen his will. He’s appointed me Brandon’s legal guardian.”
Waterman offered an indulgent smile. “Then that should simplify the matter, Miss Hamilton. But we still must follow the proper procedures to determine the legality of the situation for ourselves.”
“I can’t believe with all your apparent…connections, Mr. Waterman, that you can’t cut through the red tape and let Brandon remain with me. He’s so young. This will be frightening and confusing to him. Hasn’t he suffered enough?”
Waterman’s expression softened with understanding, while Baker’s remained inscrutable. “We tried, Miss Hamilton,” Waterman said.
“May I visit him at the Embassy?”
“Every day, if you wish. I shall make the arrangements myself.”
She glanced down at Brandon’s upturned face. The young boy knew he was being discussed, but he couldn’t follow the conversation. “May I have a moment alone with him?”
“Of course.”
After the two men left the room, Ann knelt down and smiled as she straightened his collar. “Sweetheart, I guess we’ve got to split up for a few days.”
“No. I don’t want to,” he declared.
“Neither do I, honey, but since I’m not your real mother, we have to do what these men say.”
“We don’t have to listen to these dumb guys, Ann. We can run away from them.” He started to sob and flung his arms around her neck. “Let’s go back to Grandfather’s house. I bet Mr. Bishop would help if we asked him.”
She hugged him for several moments. “Sweetheart, I promise that we’ll be together again as soon as Mr. Waterman can arrange it.”
She kissed his cheek and pulled back, smiling at him through her tears. “Now, you’re going to have a real good time while you’re staying at the British Embassy. I’ll come and visit you every day until you can leave with me.”
His little chin quivered. “You promise?”
Her heart felt as if it was being ripped from her chest. “Promise.”
As Brandon wiped away his tears, Ann rose to her feet and opened the door. She nodded. “He’s ready.”
Agents Bledsoe and Williams followed the security heads into the room.
“Come on, lad, we’ll stop on the way and get us some ice-cream cones,” Williams announced.
Brandon’s eyes brightened. “Bye, Ann.” He grinned up at Bledsoe. “Can I have a chocolate one, Pete?”
“You bet, lad. A two-scooper.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart,” Ann called out as the two Englishmen took the small boy in hand and led him away.
“We’ll notify you as soon as the legalities are finalized, Miss Hamilton,” Waterman said. “Will you be remaining at the Watergate?”
Ann nodded. “I’ll expect to hear from you.”
Bishop followed her to the elevator and pushed the down button. “I’ll flag you a cab.”
“That won’t be necessary. I think I’d like to walk for a while.”
A bell chimed, the door swung open and Ann stepped into the elevator. She looked up into his troubled gaze. “I want to thank you for everything, Bishop. I’m sorry I snapped at you this morning.”
Before he could reply, the door closed and the hazel eyes were gone from sight. She’d miss them.
Ann had never felt so lonely in her life.
Chapter 6
After the relatively arcadian existence she had been living for the past four years, the sights and sounds of metropolitan Washington were a new experience for Ann. She dodged people and traffic for an hour and then entered a mall. To her surprise the shops were not open, but she saw people using the hallways to do their morning walking and jogging. Ann joined them, perusing the shop windows as she passed.
By the time she finished, she had mentally noted several outfits to try on, and sat down to wait for the shops to open. As she listened to the pleasant music in the mall, her thoughts wandered to Brandon and how he was faring. Remembering the earlier conversation, Ann grinned and shook her head. Good heavens! I wonder if they actually did stop for ice cream at this hour of the morning.
Suddenly she felt an uneasy twinge at the nape of her neck—someone was watching her. She looked around. Several of the nearby benches were filled with the joggers and walkers whom she remembered seeing previously. None of them appeared to be paying any attention to her.
Ann turned back, but the uneasy feeling continued to nag her. So much so, she decided to leave and return later. Just as she rose to her feet, the mall began to echo with the rattle and clang of iron grills as the shop owners began to unlock and open their stores. So instead of departing, she went to the ATM machine and got some cash, then headed for a small boutique to make her first purchase. However, she couldn’t lose the feeling of being followed.
Once engrossed in shopping, her anxiety was forgotten with the pleasure of picking out several outfits, hosiery, shoes and nightgowns. She even stopped and selected a few pieces of lingerie. “Without your assistance, Bishop,” she mumbled in satisfaction.
Ann immediately chastised herself for allowing her thoughts to stray to that overbearing agent when she should have been thinking about Brandon.
To ease her conscience, Ann hurried to the children’s department and bought him several pairs of sweatpants and shirts. As she continued to browse through the store, a gold silk blouse caught her fancy.
“Isn’t it lovely? It just came in yesterday,” the gray-haired saleswoman remarked.
“Yes, I think I’ll try it on.”
“The dressing room is right back here.” The clerk led her to an alcove at the rear of the store and pushed aside the curtain of one of the stalls. “My name is Janice. Just call out if you need any help.”
Ann had just removed the blouse and put her shirt back on when the room was plunged into darkness except for a red exit sign over the door. She quickly buttoned her shirt-front and then groped for her packages in the dark.
Suddenly she had an uneasy feeling that she no longer was alone. Someone had entered the darkened room, and she doubted it was Janice, or the clerk would have identified herself.
Ann felt a sense of peril. Her heart hammered and her senses attuned sharply to every noise around her. She heard a soft shuffle of footsteps at the same instant the distant drone of Janice’s voice carried from somewhere farther out in the store. Whoever was there in the darkness with her definitely wasn’t the sales clerk.
Her nerve ends tingled as footsteps moved stealthily across the floor. Ann held her breath, but the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her ears was so loud she felt the mysterious intruder could hear it as well. Frozen with fear, she was fearful of moving lest she reveal her whereabouts.
No, I’m not going to surrender to fear again. Whoever’s following me is in for a surprise. I’m not going down without a fight.
She groped for her purse in the dark. It was the only weapon she had, and as soon as those curtains parted, she’d swing it at the person’s head.
She heard the faint slide of the curtains. He was checking the stalls. If only he wasn’t between her and the door she’d make a run for it. But not knowing his exact whereabouts, she might run right into his arms.
And where the hell was that clerk? She should have come back to check on her customer. If I get out of here alive, I’ll be damned if I buy that blouse!
She heard a footstep, this time nearer. Now he couldn’t be more than a few stalls away. She raised her purse in readiness.
Suddenly a flashlight beam pierced the darkness. “Ann. Ann, where are you?”
She recognized Bishop’s voice at once. “Here. Over here,” she shouted in relief. The light swung in her direction.
She heard his running footsteps, and the drapes before her parted. With a sob of relief she collapsed against the hard wall of his chest, and his arms closed protectively around her. For several seconds she savored the comfort and strength she felt from the arms enfolding her.
“Let’s get out of here.” His voice was a husky whisper at her ear. She nodded her response against his chest, and his warm grasp closed around her hand.
Once out of the dressing room, the store was dimly lit by light filtering in from the atrium in the mall. Ann turned to look back at the darkened dressing room. Nothing stirred. She wanted to bolt out of the store, but forced herself to take a deep, calming breath.
“What are you doing here, Bishop?”
“I…ah…”
“So you’re the one who’s been following me. Damn it, Bishop, you almost scared me to death back there.” Anger replaced her former fear. “Why did Mr. Baker lie to me? Lead me to believe it was all over, if he intended to continue playing these cloak-and-dagger games with me?” Her voice cracked. “I was frightened, Bishop. Really frightened.”
He didn’t offer any word in defense. Instead he took her arm and led her over to a restaurant opposite the shop.
“I haven’t been following you, Hamilton,” he said, once they were seated in a corner booth, cups of steaming coffee on the table before them as they waited for their sandwiches and fries. “I happened to have been shopping in the same store and saw you enter the dressing room. When the lights went out and you didn’t show, well…I…” He faltered in embarrassment.
“Ran to my rescue,” she interjected in a voice rife with skepticism.
Irritation flashed in his hazel eyes. “Believe what you want.”
“Well, do you have reason to believe it was foul play?”
“Foul play?” He snorted. “Did you pick up that phrase from a Charlie Chan movie, Hamilton?”
“All right then, why did you suspect I was in danger?”
“I’m suspicious by nature.” He picked up the cup and took several swallows of coffee.
He has nice hands, Ann reflected, observing his fingers wrapped around the cup. “Am I still in danger?”
“Agency thinks not,” he answered in his irritating, succinct fashion.