Authors: Renee Simons
"Then you're a better man than I am, Red." He gave her a look filled with irony, then turned and went into the barn. He rummaged through the contents of an old, scarred military foot locker and came up with a change of clothes.
Zan followed him. "Lucky you have those things."
"They belonged to my cousin, Cat. He's the only guy I know anywhere near my size."
As they walked back to the newspaper, Zan wondered where he would sleep tonight. "Does he live here on the reservation? Maybe you could stay with him so you wouldn't have to sleep in the loft."
"He's got a house full of kids. That's more humanity than I can stand right now. The barn suits me fine."
He took her hand in his and Zan examined his palm.
"You got some blisters, today," she said.
"Haven't done any real work to speak of in years."
He made an off-hand gesture. "They'll heal and make calluses and the next
job'll
be easier."
The next day, Zan stood in the doorway of the RV and wondered how he was doing with the cleanup. Once again, he refused her offer of help. "You've got work of your own. Leave me to mine."
"I keep forgetting what a sexist you are," she taunted.
He put his arms around her and held her close as he gazed into her eyes. "At the moment, what you can do with your brain is far more important than what you can do with your muscles," he kissed the tip of her nose and then each cheek, "while I have only brawn to supply and must be relegated to hard labor."
She made an impudent remark about his "brawn",
then
quickly darted out of reach, but her concentration had been minimal. She packed what was surely too much lunch for two and started back to the house.
Or
the place where the house once stood.
When she reached the site, she saw that he no longer worked alone. She watched him for a moment, as he and a helper lifted a charred panel of plaster board and manhandled it into the truck.
Something hot and churning stirred in her as she stared at him. Her gaze fixed on the powerful body, bare to the waist and revealing the play of muscle beneath warm, brown skin glistening with sweat. Her fingers tingled with the memory of the velvet feel of that skin. She recalled the last time they'd been together and how his strength and tenderness had brought a fulfillment wondrously new to her.
She closed her eyes for a moment. My God, Zan, you'd think you were sixteen, with your first crush. But she knew it was more than that. She loved him. She'd never thought the word before, or heard it from him, but it was true. The knowledge frightened her, as did the idea that this risky relationship might not have a future. She still
hadn't
found proof of his innocence, only clues that told her Dar hadn't been the man she'd thought he was. The possibility of failure overshadowed the joy she found in
Stormwalker's
arms. It did nothing to cool her desire.
She opened her eyes and shook off the yearning as she approached the group. Stormwalker had been joined by four others:
Katti
and her sister, John-Two Hunter and a young man introduced as Hunter's son.
She added the food and drinks to what already waited on a trestle table set up under a tree in the side yard. Zan handed
Katti
a glass of iced tea. "Why aren't you at work?" she asked.
"I'm on vacation," she replied. "Saw you two out here yesterday and figured you could use some help. When I realized you'd copped out on this poor guy, I recruited a couple of people to take up the slack."
Zan looked from one grimy face to the other and countered seriously, "Well, the ratio is about right."
After a momentary silence, the owner of the general store hooted loudly and nudged
Katti
. "You asked for that one, Daughter." He slapped his thigh and laughed raucously. "The ratio is about right."
The others joined him in laughter that seemed to free them from the seriousness with which they'd worked. They gathered around the table for a relaxed lunch break.
Now that Stormwalker had all the help he needed, Zan went back to her computer. She probed the Agency's records, cross checking files and coordinating data. When a knock sounded on the door, she leaned over and popped the latch. The door opened and Stormwalker leaned in.
"Can I come in?"
Training prompted her to blank out the screen, but instinct told her to trust him. Hoping that trust was not misplaced, she nodded. "Sure. Come ahead."
He settled on a corner of her work table. "How's it going?"
"It's going. Did you take a break?"
"We finished. Everything's cleared away, so when my mother gets back she won't see the mess, just a place to rebuild."
"Does she know about the fire?"
"Mike went up to Pierre to tell her."
"When is she due back?"
"I'm not sure. She was really upset so he convinced her to take some extra time and visit relatives in Pine Ridge." He leaned over and glanced at the monitor. "Where are you?"
"I just pulled up the medical files."
"Can I sit in?"
"Sure." She silently crossed her fingers. Mac's instructions about sharing knowledge had extended to Stormwalker. The judgment call was hers to make. Maybe the time had come to see how accurate that judgment was.
His eyes held a soft expression, like sunlight shimmering on a calm lake. "I like that you trust me," he whispered. He leaned toward her and brushed her lips with his. "I know it can't be easy."
Her lips warmed to his touch and the feeling traveled smoothly through her body. It wouldn't be easy sitting side by side with this man without remembering their lovemaking. She gave herself a mental boot and turned to the screen.
He watched her sort through the database. "You're looking for someone who's had throat surgery, aren't you?"
"That I am," she murmured as a list of five agents, one woman and four
men,
emerged from the maze of data. "Even if I didn't know the woman agent, we can certainly rule her out. Recognize any of the others?"
He ran a finger down the screen.
"Just this one."
His arm brushed hers. She tingled pleasantly where skin touched skin and glanced at him. His smile told her he, too, enjoyed the contact.
"Working together seems to have an advantage or two."
"The operative word being 'work'," she said, trying to suppress a laugh. She pointed to the name he'd chosen.
"That name is familiar to me, too. How do you know Ian Fields?"
"During my training, he briefed me on the Agency's standard operating procedures."
"What did you think of him?"
Stormwalker shrugged. "He seemed okay. Very urbane and sophisticated, like some of the embassy guys I met in London."
Zan smiled. "I used to call him 'Mr. Continental' because of his salt-and-pepper hair and the way he dressed. And of course, he was always the perfect gentleman."
"Our guy could have been any one of these agents," Stormwalker said, "but remember, Sawyer didn't appear to have any hair."
"Let's pull up Ian's records."
Zan's heart raced as they read the file. "Look at this," she said. Her voice shook with excitement. "He had a cancerous larynx removed only months ago and he's still undergoing chemotherapy." She looked at Stormwalker.
"That could explain the baldness," he said. "Let's check out the others on the list."
Of the agents other than the women, one had passed away six months after surgery and two had retired, one to New Zealand and one to Majorca, leaving Ian Fields as the chief candidate to fill the size 48 suit of Mr. Sawyer.
Of course, it was possible that either of the retirees could have made the trip here, but when she read the bios of all three men, she knew Ian, and only he, fit the profile. The fact that he'd graduated from a prestigious military academy in England had particular resonance.
"This stuff is too familiar. I've seen it all before."
"Where?"
She brought up Dar's biography and they compared the two.
The men had graduated two years apart from the same Canadian university and had, in fact, received appointments to the same military academy in Great Britain. They served in different regiments but both were recruited for work in Military Intelligence. After Ian's separation from the service, he came to the FSA. Dar followed only a few months later.
Zan leaned back in her chair and laced her fingers behind her head.
"What are you thinking?" Stormwalker asked.
"That they had such similar backgrounds, yet the only evidence of a relationship I ever saw was the day Ian brought Dar to see me about getting computer training. Doesn't it seem logical that they would have known each other pretty well?"
"Unless they were in the same graduating class or military unit, they might have known each other casually or not at all before they came to the Agency. Even once they got to the FSA there's no guarantee they would have developed a friendship. Dar and I never did and we worked together in the field."
"Why didn't you?"
He shrugged. "The chemistry was wrong."
She hated having to call Mac, but he had access to information they needed. Without even a thought that he would be anywhere but at his desk, she dialed his office and pressed the speaker button.
"Yeah," he answered.
"McLaren here."
She chuckled.
"How professional."
"If you call this time of night, that's what you get," he said. "So are you over being angry with me?"
"This is business, not personal."
"I see." He sounded resigned that they still had issues to resolve. "Why are you up so late?"
"Stormwalker and I have been into the files and we have some questions."
"What files would those be?" he asked, clearly irritated.
"Nothing compromising, Mac."
"Major?"
"Zan has kept me out of sensitive areas. I haven't seen anything I shouldn't."
"Okay, so what's your question, Zan?"
"Were Dar and Ian Fields friends?"
"Not so anyone noticed."
"When they were processed into the Agency, didn't anyone question their similar backgrounds?"
"Remember that I was only an operative back then, but I know the Agency was actively recruiting people, so it wouldn't have been unusual for two candidates to come from the same source. Each came highly recommended by our friends in the UK."
"The same guys that gave the world Burgess, McLean and
Philby
?"
"Yeah, well, it happens."
"It was Ian who brought Dar around that first time. So if they knew each other, why pretend they didn't?" She glanced over at Stormwalker. "Though I must admit, the major doesn't agree with me about this. And he may be right. Maybe I'm just drawing conclusions from a string of coincidences."
The silence on the other end seemed interminable. "But let me tell you what else we discovered about Mr. Fields."
Mac chuckled. "Uh oh, all that formality means he's been demoted."
She explained their suspicions and their findings. "We need you to check the locations of the two retired agents. Make sure they're where they're supposed to be. And do the same for Fields. I need to know where he is this week."
"The others will take longer. But hang on while I check the database for Ian." There was another long pause during which Zan heard the click of his keyboard as he searched. Finally, he came back on.
"He's out of town for the next two weeks . . . St. Louis."
"Can you verify he's actually there?"
"Yes."
"Please do. I don't think you'll find him. I think he's here."
Zan heard the creak of his chair.