Code Name: Dove. Judith Leon
if she wasn’t wearing black cowboy boots. This was his partner, all right.
He snatched his bag and coat and waded through the emerging passengers.
“I’m Joe Cardone.”
His words came out automatically, which was helpful since the thinking part of his brain suffered a brief short circuit. Her face was pretty and feminine, but her eyes were striking. Like a cat, his mind said as it jerked back into action. Green eyes with the merest, really no more than a subliminal hint, of almond shape. Twisted jade earrings the color of her shirt framed uncommonly fair skin.
Passengers streamed around Nova as she sized up her new partner. The flight had been long and bumpy, but the excitement of her newest mission hadn’t faded.
Agent Joe Cardone was good-looking, but young. Maybe her younger sister’s age, twenty-six. And while she might have expected him to be giving her a thorough going-over, too, he seemed to be captured by her eyes. She couldn’t resist a slight smile. She extended her hand. “Nova Blair. Glad to meet you, partner.”
His grip was warm and firm. He said, “We’ve got to hustle to make our connection. They’ve called the flight twice.”
“Let’s hustle then.”
They stooped to pick up her bulging bag at the same moment. She said, “I can handle it.”
She caught a frown from the kid, as if he felt she’d rebuked him. Let’s hope Mr. Cardone isn’t going to be uncomfortable taking orders from a woman.
“Yep,” he said, a cool edge on his words. “I bet you can handle it just fine.”
He spun on his heel and led the way at a fast clip. At the cockpit of their next flight, he paused. “Carrying?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. You?”
“Never when I’m in my IBM disguise.”
“IBM,” she said, and smiled. “Interesting cover.”
Most seats already held warm bodies. They had a window and a middle seat in row twelve. The aisle seat was already occupied. Her partner shoved his overnighter and coat into the overhead bin, climbed over the man on the aisle, and sat in the window seat.
Nova stashed her things overhead, and slid past the man on the aisle seat and sat in the middle.
Nova listened as her partner quietly flipped through the pages of a magazine. She wondered why they had paired her with someone so young rather than an old hand. She guessed Agent Joe Cardone could not yet have had more than a couple of assignments. Perhaps this was his first.
Fairbanks met them with a light drizzle, a low, leaden sky and a chill wind. They deplaned and hurried across the tarmac, the wind licking up the edges of their overcoats. They had privacy enough now for her to talk freely to him.
“Any other luggage?” he asked right away.
“No,” she said. “This is it.”
“We’re supposed to meet our Company man at city hall. That’s where the FBI has set up its Area Command Center. He’ll drive us to the hospital.”
She frowned. “I don’t know when you were in contact last, but I called in from Seattle. I was told the terrorist is in really bad shape. He might not make it.”
They entered the main receiving area. From long habit, she did a thorough visual sweep of the room as she continued talking. “Also,” she continued, “the Alyeska man may be—probably is—the only survivor from any of the pumping stations. It’s questionable whether either will be around much longer. We’re to observe the FBI’s interrogation, absorb what we can since the terrorist is the hottest lead we have. Apparently there is evidence of foreign involvement, in which case the Company is going to be brought in and they want eyes and ears here right now. I say we don’t waste time picking up our man. I’ll rent a car and get directions. You call and tell our contact to meet us at the hospital.”
She sensed him tense. Just the merest straightening of his shoulders gave him away. And the slight smile he offered was stiff. She was quite sure that he wasn’t used to taking orders from a woman—or perhaps might resent it. Only time with him would tell. And whether it was going to be a problem.
Chapter 3
Fairbanks, 3:30 p.m.
Sunday, May 15
Nova brought up the car, a Ford Taurus. Within minutes she and Agent Cardone were speeding up Airport Boulevard toward downtown Fairbanks. She’d buckled her seat belt. Her partner hadn’t. The kid’s still sure he’s going to live forever.
She snatched a quick sideways glance. He was frowning as he studied the rental agency map. She liked his looks: a broad face with brown, alert eyes set wide apart, dark brown wavy hair. He stood several inches taller than she. Broad shoulders and chest. She usually characterized a man’s body by sport type: with Car-done she thought boxer.
He wore the low-key suit associated with an IBM representative, but he carried it with a cool confidence. There was something flamboyant about him. He put a finger to the map and smiled, and she knew at once it was the movie-star smile that had given her the flashy impression.
“Got it,” he said. “The hospital’s a few blocks south of this main drag.”
Cardone navigated, pointing and saying, “There.” At the hospital, an intensified wind propelled needle-like rain as they scurried from the parking lot toward the building entrance. A score of media types paced like hungry cats waiting for a press announcement feeding. Inside, she and Cardone shed their dripping raincoats. Cardone strode to the information desk. She followed.
A gray-haired matron sat waiting patiently to provide assistance to the lost. Nova’s partner flashed his Company ID. “We’re here to see the two patients brought from Pumping Station No. 6, and I’ll just bet you know where they might be.”
The matron beamed at Cardone, clearly captivated.
Apparently remembering suddenly that the couple asking directions was on solemn business, the woman smothered her smile. She said, “Isn’t all this such a dreadful thing.” She pointed to a schematic of the hospital. “You’re here, right in the center of this main floor. Take the elevators to your right. Go to the top. Fifth floor. The police and some FBI people are already up there. The nurses’ station is just across from the elevators.”
“Thanks.” Cardone unleashed another dazzling smile.
In the elevator, he punched the Up button. Nova caught her breath when the car took off like a startled racehorse. She had expected the usual hospital elevator—a tired nag. She checked the time. Four-fifteen. Generally a pretty quiet time in most hospitals.
Two uniformed policemen stood guard beside two rooms across from the nurses’ station. One man, tall and lanky, leaned against the wall next to his chair, arms crossed. The other, sporting a beefy, bloated face, sat studying a sheet of official-looking paper, presumably the names and descriptions of personnel allowed to see the patients.
Nova scanned the floor. Only one orderly. As she had expected, things were quiet.
Her partner outpaced her. She trailed him to the desk where a nurse in wild purple-and-blue pants and top sat filling in a chart. Both guards caught Nova’s attention and smiled. She smiled back.
Cardone flashed his ID. “Who’s the physician attending your two special patients?” He cocked his head to indicate the guarded doors.
“Dr. Graywing.” The nurse examined the ID carefully.
Cardone continued. “Can we talk to him?”
“She’s with another patient, but it shouldn’t be long. Anyway, you need to check in down the hall.” The nurse leaned forward and pointed to her right.
Nova walked with