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Rhett cursed inwardly, his gaze flicking to where Blondie’s cell phone sat silent beside the laptop. The phone was off and the battery was out, just like Rhett had instructed. Blondie also ran a cell-signal blocker in her apartment, and there was no way anyone could bypass all of that. Even Rhett’s own phone wouldn’t pick up a signal here.
“Shit. It’s my home phone.” Blondie jerked forward, out of his grasp, her cheeks bright red with mortified embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, Rhett. Nobody ever calls that land-line.” She turned in the chair, smiled up at him. “Probably a wrong number. Or maybe the telemarketers finally got me on their list. It’ll stop in a minute.”
Rhett nodded stiffly, his body tensed up and rigid from the adrenaline pumping through his veins, thundering through his arteries. He frowned deep, a sudden paranoia rising up his throat.
He’d already considered the possibility that Benson might put a Darkwater man on his tail—which was why he’d walked here from Dupont Circle. Rhett was a master of the shadow-game, and while on foot he could spot a tail in any city, in any weather, in any scenario. No way he was followed here by a human. As for electronic surveillance? Well, there was definitely nothing on Rhett’s body. He’d changed clothes, including shoes, before coming to Blondie’s—just in case Benson had managed to hide a tracking device on Rhett during that morning visit.
Rhett closed his eyes and exhaled, satisfied that he hadn’t been followed, that unless Benson could somehow commandeer an NSA satellite on short notice, there was no way the bastard could know Rhett was here. And Rhett had been very careful with Blondie, working her so completely that he was absolutely sure she hadn’t uttered a word to a coworker or a best friend about them.
So it can’t be Benson, Rhett told himself. Stop being paranoid. He tried to spook you this morning and looks like he succeeded. Don’t lose your nerve. It’s been years since you played this sort of game. You’re just rusty, perhaps a bit jumpy. Settle down.
But it was hard to settle down when that damn phone kept ringing like a fleet of fire-trucks coming out of the wall.
“Sorry, there’s no voice mail, so it’ll keep ringing,” Blondie said apologetically. She stood from the chair, hurried over to the white corded phone on the wall. “Here. I’ll disconnect it.” She reached for the wire, then froze when her gaze rested on the caller-ID panel. She stared for a long moment, then turned wide-eyed, the blood draining from her face. “Caller ID says Langley, Virginia, Central Intelligence Agency,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “That would never show up on a call from Langley unless the caller specifically overrides the caller-ID blocking to make sure we know it's the CIA calling. I . . . I should answer it, shouldn’t I?”
Rhett’s vision blurred, and he almost swayed on his feet from the rush of adrenaline-saturated blood throbbing through his tensed-up body. His jaw was so tight he could barely speak, and he just about managed a grim nod.
“Remember, I’m not here,” he rasped just before she snatched up the handset.
Blondie nodded in his direction, then placed the white phone to her ear. “Paige Anderson speaking,” she said in an impressively professional tone that mostly concealed the fear Rhett could see in her eyes. “Sorry? I don’t understand.” She curled a strand of blond hair around her ear, her cheeks reddening, her eyes wide like saucers as she turned and stared at Rhett. “Sir, I’m not currently working on anything for Mister Rodgers. At least, not that I know of. There must be some kind of mistake. I’m at home alone right now. I’m scheduled to work nights at Langley. I’m sure we can clear this up when—” She stopped abruptly, her thin throat tightening as she swallowed hard and flashed Rhett a look of petrified apology. “Yes, Director Kaiser. I understand. I’ll report to your office the moment I get to Langley this evening.” She swallowed again, shrugging helplessly, a forlorn puppy-dog expression making her look very much like a scared little girl as she stretched out a trembling hand with the white telephone. “It's for you. Director Kaiser.”
Rhett stared at the phone like it was an alien succubus come to steal his soul. How the fuck did Kaiser know he was here?!
Rage burned hot in his eyes as he glared at Blondie, wished to hell he’d snapped her neck an hour ago instead of giving her that final ride on his testosterone-fueled erection. Though of course that might have turned out worse for him—given that Director Kaiser already seemed to know he was in her apartment.
Rhett considered just walking out of there without saying a word. But Blondie—he hated the name Paige; it smacked of New Age whimsy that turned Rhett’s stomach—had already gone weak at the knees and given him up at the sound of Kaiser’s voice. Besides, Rhett had no idea how they’d tracked him down here. He was certain he hadn’t been tailed—though perhaps he’d lost his edge and one of those Darkwater guys had followed him after all.
His gut churned as he took the phone and held it silently for a long moment. Rhett had been in situations that had looked way more hopeless than this. And he was still here, wasn’t he? Still in the game. Still with a shot at winning. It was never over until the final buzzer.
Now confidence born out of years of mastery came to Rhett’s rescue. Kaiser wouldn’t be calling if he knew anything for certain. He’d have sent in some hard men through the front door, put a black hood over Rhett's head, dragged him out of there and shoved him into an unmarked Chevy Suburban with tinted windows. In fact it was strange as hell that Kaiser himself would be calling.
Unless it wasn’t Kaiser.
After all, Blondie had probably never spoken directly with Martin Kaiser. She wouldn’t know his voice from another man’s.
“You sonofabitch,” Rhett whispered into the phone, already feeling the coyote-smile on the other end of the line. “You were fishing, weren’t you? Calling every female operations-tech and bluffing your way in like the two-faced cocksucker you are. All right, you got me, John. I’m an unmarried man having an inter-office romance with an unmarried junior staffer who isn’t my direct subordinate. Hardly an earthshattering violation.” Rhett took a breath. He had to assume this was being recorded—perhaps Benson hoped to get something to show Robinson that Rhett was involved. No problem. Rhett could turn this back on Benson. “I see what’s happening here. Your Darkwater cover-ups have fucked Kaiser’s reputation, and you know I’d be Robinson’s pick to replace old Martin. So now you’re trying to fix it for your buddy Kaiser. Get some dirt on me to hurt my reputation with Senator Robinson. But an office-romance scandal? That’s the best you can do?” Rhett knew there were more skeletons in his closet, but Benson and he shared that same thirty-year-old closet. The old coyote couldn’t use their shared history to bring Rhett down because it would make Benson look even worse, taint Kaiser by association with Benson. Confidence swelling now, Rhett turned it up a notch. “Sad to see how far you’ve fallen, John. This is washed-up private-eye level crap. What’s your next assignment? Searching for a missing cat?”
Benson chuckled at the other end of the line. “I’m more of a dog person.”
“You’re a piece of fucking work.” Rhett grinned into the mouthpiece. “Does Kaiser even know you’re making prank calls from Langley?”
“Not yet, but he will by the time Paige Anderson shows up in his office tonight.”
Rhett glanced sharply towards the open laptop. Blondie was hunched over the keyboard, squinting as logfiles and computer code scrolled across the screen. She hit a few keys, then swiveled around to face him.
She shook her head firmly, communicating with absolute confidence that nobody could have caught them in the system. Blondie might be insecure when it came to her looks, but she was unflappably self-assured when it came to her skills with a keyboard and an encrypted network connection.
Which meant Benson was still fishing.
Rhett was still in the game.
Rhett took a breath and considered his options. There weren’t a lot. This phone call wasn’t going to sink Rhett, but it was going to severely restrict his abilities.
Because he could no longer use Blondie.
Benson had taken a player off the board.
Saved her damn life too.
