Daniel had run a preliminary background check on Olivia, and it turned up nothing unusual—or so I’d been told.
A chill coasted down my back.
Was she with another agency, perhaps Canada’s CSIS? Working for one of the Abramo family rivals? Maybe I’d been so filled with lust I’d become blind to what she really was. Had I slipped enough to get played?
“No, I guess not. Who is she?”
“She’s Kathryn Pierce. I don’t know if you were Stateside when her story broke, but it was a big fucking deal.”
The rumble of the engines crawling toward the hangar dropped out.
Ihadbeen blind, too blind to recognize the woman whose harrowing story had been used by the Pentagon as propaganda. It had been right in front of me. Her dark look at the mention of a crash, the way she stayed calm when witnessing death, and of course, her scarred back.
“How’d you?—”
“She looks different now,” he said, “and it’s been a long time, but at the base where I served my first tour, you couldn’t go five feet without seeing her picture. I doubt anyone would recognize her in Europe with the name change.”
She’d lied about who she was. Yet hadn’t I done exactly the same to her? That night in South Africa I’d asked her what kind of secrets she was keeping, and she’d answered me.Plenty.
“I thought you should know,” Jason said.
Maybe I said ‘thanks’ or ‘goodbye’ to him, but I was too focused elsewhere. The plane hadn’t stopped yet. It would take the attendant at least a minute to get the stairs set inplace. I hung up and immediately pulled up the page of the incident on Wikipedia.
There was a picture. Her young, dirty face streaked with tears, under the arm of an Army Ranger, and her too-yellow dyed hair was matted with blood.That was why she didn’t want to go blonde.
The helicopter she’d been co-piloting had mechanical failure and crashed on a mountain in Afghanistan. Kathryn had been the sole survivor and had to wait alongside the dead bodies of her crew, through the long, freezing night for rescue.
During her time on the mountain, she’d had visitors. The explosion that ripped through her back had been a bomb she’d set for the Taliban fighters who’d tried to capture her.
She’d killed three men.
I pocketed the phone, my body numb. This woman had been to hell and back, and she’d made it. A hardened survivor.
“Is everything all right?” Gio asked.
Hearing the Italian brought me crashing back into the present. I blinked slowly, tucking the thoughts away for later, when I could process them away from Abramo eyes. Gio stood before me, drumming his fingers on the strap of his laptop bag, impatiently waiting for my answer.
“It’s fine. How was your flight?”
“Better. I didn’t have to wear an oxygen mask this time.”
He slid into the awaiting limo, and I followed him into the back seat, ignoring the emotions inside me that wanted attention. The impulse to come up with an excuse so I could sneak off and call her was shockingly strong.
“I appreciate the way you handled the Renzo thing with my father.” He said it like a casual thanks and not like I had saved his short Italian ass. “I don’t know that much about you, but you seem... loyal.”
“It’s no problem,” I said. “And I am.”
“Good. Tell the driver to take us to this restaurant.” He pulled an address up on his phone.
When the car turned out of the airport, I focused on my mission. “Can I ask what the plan is?”
“Mr. Dunn believes he has an emergency meeting with his head of Italian distribution.”
Jesus, the Abramos could pull strings fast. “We go in with him?” Right through the fucking front doors of Osterhägen?
He flashed a lazy smile. “No. Apparently, Mr. Dunn is proud of his city and likes to show it off. He takes his one-on-one meetings at this Munich restaurant.”
I’d had a lengthy discussion last night with Daniel about the situation, and once Hendrix, the field office director got involved, I knew I was screwed. Or, more specifically, the Dunns were screwed.Again.
