Identity Crisis. Kate Donovan
She jumped up. “McGregor! I’ve got to get that.” Sprinting for her cubicle, she managed to grab the receiver one instant before the call rolled over to voice mail. “McGregor?”
“Goldie? Great. I was about to leave a message on your voice mail, but wasn’t sure whether to address it to you or Melissa.”
She sank into her chair, delighted to hear his sexy voice, but also a bit sheepish over answering her SPIN line as informally as she’d done. “Did it go well last night?”
“Better than well. Manny was so relieved about the car, he showed up at the bar just as it was closing.”
“And? Did you commiserate together?”
“I didn’t want to overplay it, so I just slipped out of the place without even talking to him. But the bartender got an earful from me before that. If we’re real lucky, he filled Manny in. If not, I’ll do it tonight.”
“Perfect.” She moistened her lips. “The car will be ready today, but I’ll delay delivery until Friday. That should give you plenty of time to bond.”
“Yeah. I think this will work.”
A shiver of pride coursed through her. “Call me tonight, okay? I won’t be able to sleep until I hear how it went.”
“It could be three in the morning your time,” McGregor protested. “You’d better learn to pace yourself, S-3. This could go on for weeks, you know.”
“Kristie!” It was Beth, calling to her from across the room, then motioning toward the closed door to Ray’s office. “He wants to see you right away.”
Kristie could see through the half-opened blinds that Jane Smith was still in Ray’s office. Conflicted, she murmured, “McGregor? I have to go. But I’ll call you back—”
“Not necessary. I just wanted to say thanks. Take it easy, Goldie.”
She winced as a click echoed through the phone wire. He had sounded so final.
And after all we’ve meant to each other, she reprimanded him, only half joking. But as frustrated as she was over the FBI agent’s attitude, she had to admit that the prospect of meeting Ray’s mysterious visitor was a great consolation prize.
She only wished she hadn’t dressed so casually today of all days. But there wasn’t time to change into the spare suit she kept hanging in her cubicle, so she settled for smoothing a few loose hairs back into her French braid, then hurried to Ray’s office.
“Come on in, Kristie.” He motioned for her to take a seat at the round conference table in the far corner of his office, where his visitor was already sitting. “This is Jane Smith. She runs a counterintelligence unit for the CIA.”
CIA. Kristie tingled as she joined them at the table, but quickly reminded herself that six short months ago, the initials F-B-I had impressed her, too, and now it was just another acronym.
“Nice to meet you,” she told Jane Smith.
She could see now that the woman was older than she’d appeared from afar, perhaps in her midforties. Fine lines surrounded her pale blue eyes, and a few gray hairs were sprinkled among the chestnut ones.
But it was the agent’s attitude that really made an impression on the spinner. Take-charge, despite the fact that this was someone else’s turf.
“May I call you Kristie?” the woman began.
“Yes.” She was tempted to ask if she could call the agent Jane—assuming that was her real name, which seemed doubtful.
The visitor arched an eyebrow. “You’re getting quite a reputation. Did you know that?”
“A reputation?”
Smith nodded. “Your skill as a profiler makes sense, since you concentrated your studies on abnormal psychology. But your talent for strategizing. Improvising. Creating opportunities out of thin air. That’s impressive. To what do you attribute it?”
“Curiosity maybe?” Kristie shrugged. “I’m pretty eclectic in my interests, and I like figuring out how and why things work. Or don’t work. Especially the way seemingly innocuous variations can affect a result. In other words,” she added cheerfully, “I’m a nerd.”
The agent nodded in apparent agreement. “The tiniest detail can spell the difference between success and failure. And in my line of work, the difference between life and death. I suppose that’s the same for your so-called spinning, although on a less dramatic scale.”
“It’s dramatic enough for us,” Ray retorted.
Smith gave him an amused look. “You haven’t changed. Still competitive as hell.” Turning her attention back to Kristie, she said, “I’ve asked Ray to loan you to me for a couple of days. He’s going to say yes because the president wants him to say yes. Isn’t that right, Ray?”
“Loan me to you?” Kristie’s pulse quickened. “To design a strategy for one of your operations?”
“A backup strategy. My best people have already come up with the primary plan, and it’s as close to foolproof as possible, given the multitude of ‘variations’ as you call them. But this job is important—as important as anything I’ve ever done, and definitely more important than anything you’ll ever handle. So—” she smiled grimly “—I decided to get an outside opinion.”
Kristie’s ego bristled, and she expected Ray to defend the importance of work done at SPIN, but he simply said, “We’re willing to help within certain parameters.”
“Which are?”
“You’ll brief us. Both of us. Then you’ll go away. Kristie will design the scenario under my supervision, and when she’s done, we’ll send it over. If you have questions, the three of us will meet.”
“You’re afraid I’ll try to steal her away from you?” Smith rolled her pale blue eyes. “Believe me, that’s not on the agenda. What I like most about this girl is that she’s a civilian. Trained by you—the best profiler in the business, and a pretty good strategist in your own right.”
When Ray ignored the compliment, the agent shrugged her shoulders. “Kristie can bring a fresh perspective to this. That’s all I need. So your rules are fine with me. In fact, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Barely able to contain her excitement despite the tension between Ray and the agent, Kristie demanded, “What’s the assignment?”
“You’ll find what you need in here.” Smith pulled a folder from her briefcase. “It’s fairly straightforward. Your security clearance is something of a joke, so the details are sketchy. But that shouldn’t matter. All we’re asking you to do is plan a good old-fashioned heist.”
“Pardon?”
“I thought that would intrigue you.” The agent’s eyes twinkled. “Our target is a wall safe, hidden in an inner room in a mansion in Palm Springs, California. We have reliable intel on the layout and the security. But we’ll only get one shot, so we want to get it right.”
“What’s in the safe?”
“A disk, maybe two, containing the names and positions of half a dozen moles in sensitive positions in federal government. We’ve known for some time that the owner of the mansion, a shipping magnate named Kenneth Salinger, was working for the other side. We’ve been watching him, and were about to move in when we heard about the disk. We want it.”
“I don’t mean to sound naive, but if you know exactly where it is, and you have grounds to arrest Salinger, why not just—”
“Get a warrant?” Jane Smith burst into laughter. “Why didn’t I think of that! My God, Ray, she’s priceless.”
Ray shot her a silencing glare. “It’s a reasonable suggestion.