glass door shut behind them, Sydney said, “Are you serious? Do I even want to know what’s going on in Amsterdam?”
“The basics?” he said, his breath visible in the cold air. He peered around her into the glass doors, no doubt to see if anyone was watching them. “Griffin and another woman witnessed a murder. He can’t identify anyone, but the woman he was with may have seen the killer’s face. It’s a quick trip. If you can sleep on the plane, you’ll be able to do the drawing tomorrow, enjoy a little Christmas shopping, then fly home the next morning. I’ve even booked you in first class.”
“The answer’s no.”
Tex gave her a thorough appraisal. “You’re not still sore because Griffin didn’t make it out for Thanksgiving, are you?”
“Sore? Hardly.” Except that her mother had grilled her about the mysterious guest to no end, then wouldn’t let it go when he hadn’t even bothered to let them know he wasn’t coming. After all they’d been through together in Italy, Syd had been looking forward to seeing Griffin, was hurt when he’d failed to show. Since they weren’t dating, technically weren’t even an item, she’d done her best to downplay the matter to her mother. Griffin was now merely an event in the past, not someone she expected to see again. “But a phone call would’ve been nice. You know, something like, ‘Sorry I can’t make it to dinner.’ ”
“I’d tell you he’s not worth it if that would make you feel better.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“Good. So you’ll do it?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“I’ll have a ticket waiting for you at the airport.”
“I haven’t agreed.”
“What if I told you someone’s trying to blame him for the murder, so he’s keeping a low profile?”
“If I thought I could trust anything you guys say to me, I might believe it. But tell you what. I’ll check my schedule.”
“One other thing you should know. This whole thing’s under the radar.”
“Isn’t it always with you?”
“Not like this one, darlin’.”
He left, and she was annoyed at herself for not sticking to her guns. She looked at her watch, wondering what she should do. Fly off to Amsterdam, just because Griffin wanted her to? Hell . . .
Shivering in the cold, she took out her cell phone and punched in Tony Carillo’s number, her former partner when she’d been assigned to the San Francisco field office, where he still worked. He was one of the few people who knew of her involvement with ATLAS. “Tony, you busy?”
“Just about to order lunch. It’s Taco Bell, so not to worry.”
“I need your opinion,” she said, then told him what Tex was asking.
“A drawing for Griffin in Amsterdam?” Carillo said. “When the hell you two lovers gonna quit dancing around each other and get down to business?”
“Since we’re not lovers, I’m going to ignore that question.”
“Yeah, right. Either go or don’t. What’s the big deal?”
“I don’t know. The way Tex said it was under the radar.”
“That’s how it always is with government spooks. Standard disclaimer. It’s why you don’t see these things in any budgets when they’re making a report to Congress. It’d kill ’em in a tax audit. No one would ever be reelected. The question is: You want a free trip to Amsterdam or not?”
She told herself that was the clincher. She’d never been to Amsterdam. Besides, it was only for a couple of days. A quick sketch, see a few of the sights, and fly home before the week was out, all on Griffin’s dime. No muss, no fuss.
More importantly, as Tex said, she probably wouldn’t even see Griffin. What could possibly go wrong?
Chapter 8
December 4
San Francisco
N o sooner had FBI Special Agent Tony Carillo disconnected from his call with Sydney than two CIA spooks walked into the restaurant. He had nothing against the CIA. Except maybe when they decided to show up unannounced at his favorite Taco Bell in the middle of his lunch