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had said the file was the only record of her father's activities. If that were so, there was no way to prove her father's innocence or guilt, one way or another. Worse, there was no one she could ask to look into it. Except Nick.
    Nick.
    Selena picked up her drink. The ice had melted. She stood and went to the kitchen sink and threw away the old drink, got some ice from the refrigerator door and poured herself an Irish whiskey. It was a taste she had acquired since she'd met Nick. She walked over to the windows and stared out over the city and sipped from her glass.
    Nick had kept the file from her. She didn't know if she should be mad at him or grateful. How had she ended up in love with a man who seemed unable to make up his mind about what kind of relationship he wanted from her? She knew he loved her, she was certain of that. At least most of the time she was certain of it.
    She was in love with him, wasn't she? Maybe she should be asking herself what kind of relationship she wanted with him, rather than the other way around.
    Lately she'd found herself thinking about children. If she wanted to have children, time was running out. At 35, it was already a little late to be having kids. Not so much because of physical reasons but because of personal ones. She was used to doing things pretty much as she wanted. It wouldn't be exactly right to say she loved her work with the Project, but there was no denying she loved the excitement  the unpredictability of it. How could she give that up? Children would change all of that. It would change her entire life, really.
    She had a hard time picturing Nick as a father. As far as that went, she could barely imagine herself as a mother. If she did decide to have children, it would mean leaving the Project. She wouldn't be able to accept the risk if she had a child to think about.
    Her thoughts turned back to the file.
    The KGB killed my family.
    Her hand tightened around the glass. It wasn't that long ago, she thought. If the people who did this are still alive, I'm going to find them.
    She downed the rest of her drink and poured another.

 
    CHAPTER 12
     
     
    The next morning Selena called Nick.
    "I'm sorry." She sounded tired over the phone. "I lost it, I shouldn't have gotten mad. I know you worry about all of us, about making sure we get in and get out alive when we go in the field."
    "Okay."
    "I'm angry, I want to see the bastards that killed my father get what's coming to them. But I'm not going to let any of that get in the way of what we have to do."
    "That's good enough for me. Maybe I could have been a little more diplomatic." He paused. "Sorry I slammed the door."
    "So, we're okay?" Her tone was light but Nick knew it was serious.
    "We're okay. Listen, Lamont is getting out of the hospital today. Let's have breakfast at that café near your place and then go pick him up. I'll call and let him know we're coming."
    "Deal."
    After breakfast, they headed for the hospital. Twice, Nick thought he saw a blue car following. He watched for it in the side mirror. When it didn't reappear, he relaxed. Sometimes a car was just a car.
    They found Lamont in his room, reading a back issue of Sports Illustrated and looking bored. He was dressed for the street. His face broke into a big smile as they came into the room.
    "The cavalry's here," Nick said. "Get your gear."
    Lamont held up a red gym bag. "Boy am I glad to see you two."
    "How you feeling, Shadow?"
    "Ready to get out of here. I was waiting for the doctor to show up and sign me out."
    "Let's go find him."
    Lamont had been a Navy Seal before Nick brought him into the Project. Lamont's mother had been a big fan of the Shadow radio show and named her son for the hero, Lamont Cranston. His Seal team had dropped the nickname of Shadow on him. It had stuck.
    There wasn't much of anything except muscle on Lamont's wiry frame. His skin was the color of fine coffee. He had unusual blue eyes, a gift from some forgotten Ethiopian ancestor.