Read Spy Catcher: The J.J. McCall Novels (Books 1-3) (The FBI Espionage Series) for Free Online Page B

excursion. He’d just shoplifted over a thousand dollars’ worth of goods–grand larceny and a lot of trouble if she chose to threaten him. But that’s not how J.J. operated.
    She quickly crafted an out of order sign out of a paper towel and chewing gum and waited for him. Listened. Smelled. Gagged. Her stomach convulsed. The odor permeating the room would make a Marine cry foul. When he emerged from the stall, her tall frame blocked the exit.
    He froze.
    “Who are you? What are you doing in here?” He appeared startled at first, but a moment later the tension in his shoulders released. Now his expression alarmed her.
    J.J. paused before speaking. His colleagues might be searching for him. She had to be careful. Looking downward with her hand covering the visible side of her face, she poked her head outside.
    No passersby. All clear.
    She closed the door and moved toward the nearest stall. In it, she could conceal her presence if someone walked in.
    “I’m Special Agent J.J. McCall with the FBI. Please. Feel free to go ahead and wash your hands.”
    Plotnikov eased over to the sink, pressed his hand against the soap dispenser. He sucked in a deep frustrated breath as he thrust his hands under the stream of water. “Yes. Agent McCall,” he said. “You are quite legendary in the Embassy—or perhaps a better term would be infamous? What pray tell brings you to the men’s room on this glorious afternoon?”
    His comment told her the one thing she hadn’t been sure of until he spoke—he was an intelligence officer. A clean administrative officer would have no concerns about the FBI.
    “Well, if you’ve heard the legend of me,” she fought the urge to roll her eyes, “ then I think we both know why I’m here.”
    He silently walked over to the hand dryer, rubbed his hands beneath, and looked down at his expensive watch. “I’m a diplomat and have no interest in speaking with the FBI. Leave immediately or I’ll file a complaint with the State Department.”
    Her skin prickled, and she flinched.
    “Listen, you don’t have to lie to me. I’m not your security officer. Consider me more like family. I’m not going to talk about your recent acquisitions from Lord & Taylor and Macy’s—nice Movado, by the way.
    “Instead, I think it would be more productive to our relationship if you’d permit me to share some information with you…about your father,” she offered, opting to take a more sensitive approach. He mattered, and J.J. wanted him to trust her. Sources who believed they mattered divulged the most secrets.
    “Don’t you dare speak of my father! Don’t you speak his name!” he said, his expression gruff.
    She froze. The sound of footsteps neared. She watched the door and waited, prepared to conceal herself in a stall. Within seconds, they passed.
    “Sergey Plotnikov, right?” she asked, eager to glimpse his reaction. If he was angry, well...anger was a good sign. “I know what the KGB did to him. And I know what he did.” She said, poking the bear to get a reaction.
    He breathed heavily and growled, “He was innocent!” His stark    expression hardened, knowing and cold. The scars from his memories were still fresh and soul-deep. At that moment, she believed he’d secretly willed her to show up. Somewhere. Anywhere. She would be the vessel he used to exact his revenge.
    “They used him as a pawn, as if they really needed another excuse to justify the Cold War,” she said. “He never worked for us. We targeted him, but he feared for his family’s safety so he refused to cooperate,” she said, referring to U.S. intelligence services, the CIA in particular. “Can we talk?”
    “But I—I have to . . . we’re returning to the embassy in a short time. I must leave.”
    J.J.’s eyebrow rose. A plan. She needed a plan. She expected to cast the bait. She didn’t expect the big fish to bite on the first try.
    • • •
    To his embarrassment, J.J. staged a fake arrest and in