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“That’s what I said the last time this happened.” Ava walked over and felt her forehead.
“Why do you keep doing that? My stomach hurts. I’d know if I had a fever.” Aine went to sit in the living room. When she told Ava she thought she might have an ulcer, she’d been kidding. But the pain seemed to be getting worse. Maybe she should try to make a doctor’s appointment. But whom would she go to here? Better to wait until she was back in Yachats and could see her primary care physician.
“Do you need to go to urgent care?” asked Ava, sitting down next to her.
Aine stretched out and put her legs on Ava’s lap.
“I’m sure I’ll feel a lot better if you give me a foot massage.”
Ava pushed her legs away and sat in the chair. “There are plenty of spas in town where you can get a massage. I’m serious, though. Maybe I should take you to the emergency room.”
“Actually, I’m feeling a little better. I’ll probably be completely fine if we stop talking about Striker so much.”
—:—
“Here she is,” said Doc, holding his hand out to Merrigan. “Who was that?”
“Quinn, she was checking in to see how I’m feeling.”
“Are you ill?” asked Striker.
“No. Not at all,” she smiled and rested her hand on Doc’s arm. “We’re having another baby.”
“Congratulations,” said Striker, once again surprised by how happy, news of someone having a child made him. Maybe it was just because he cared so deeply for Merrigan, but then, he’d felt similarly when Mercer announced that Quinn was pregnant.
“Thanks. I think I’m over the worst of the morning sickness at this point.”
“The first trimester is the hardest,” explained Doc, as though that might mean something to Striker. But it didn’t.
“Tell us what you came down for,” said Merrigan, winking at his unease.
Striker nodded. “I haven’t briefed anyone else yet, but I wanted to fill you both in on my meeting with Ambassador Jiménez.”
“How is Santiago?” asked Doc. “I haven’t seen him in years.”
“He appears well.”
“One would think he’d give that post up soon,” said Merrigan. “I can’t imagine Bogotá is an easy place for a US diplomat to be.”
“No, it isn’t. Particularly when one of your top advisors is a mole.”
“What makes him think that?” asked Doc.
“Juan Carlos’ death right before we arrived.”
“Could be a coincidence. I’m surprised he wasn’t killed weeks ago.”
“What about this mole?” asked Merrigan. “Does he have any idea who?”
“Negative. I even had Diesel poke around while Ranger and I met with him, but no one stood out as suspicious.”
“What about you? Any ideas?” Doc asked him.
“None specifically, but if whoever it is isn’t connected to the Islamic State, it’s got to be someone working for either Franz or Mao.”
Juan Lehrer, head of the powerful Medellín Cartel, was known as “Franz” because of his surname as well as his Germanic coloring, even though he was born in Armenia.
Carlos Deodar, head of the Cali Cartel, was often called Mao, primarily for his communist beliefs, but also because of his eerie likeness to the man the world once referred to as “Chairman.”
