Duplicity (24 page)

“I see it.” He waited until the last second, then hung a sharp right.

Another crossroad lay just ahead, at the top of a small rise. “They’re still coming,” Tracy said, her voice elevating.

Adam swung left, drove a short distance on the pothole-infested road, hitting puddles. Muddy water splashed against the car, the windshield, obscuring his vision. He drove headlong into the weeds, beyond them into a field of corn, and then cut the lights. In the dark, the car bounced over rows, its frame creaked and groaned, and Tracy’s stomach ricocheted between her chest wall and her kneecaps. She grabbed the dash in a death grip. Her hand stung and her arm ached up to her elbow. The car suddenly halted. In a cold sweat, she wheeled her gaze to Adam. “Why did you stop? Do you want to get caught?”

Ignoring her, he cut the engine, then turned in the seat and looked behind them.

She could just see herself trying to explain this to Jack son. Forget any promotion or status selection I , she’d be doing time in Leavenworth with Adam Burke. “You’ve lost your mind..”

,,maybe.” He didn’t so much as glance at her.

Sounds of their pursuers’ approach filled the car. Tracy’s nerves snapped tight. Oh, God. They too had past the crossroad. Any moment, they would turned left at the intersection and pounce on her and Adam. Would they turn t the authorities? Not likely. Not if they wanted him available to commit more crimes. But then why chase him?

Maybe just observing. That seemed logical. Adam wouldn’t be killed; they needed him, provided he was right about all of this.

But they could kill you, and blame him for your murder.

Panic choked her. “We can’t just sit here.”

“Shhh.” Adam lifted a finger to cover his lips.

She glared at him, then looked back. God, had she ever in her life been this scared?

A black two-door whizzed by without even slowing down.

Tracy swallowed a groan. “Do you think they saw the bent weeds where we came into the field?”

“I don’t know.” Adam turned back into his seat and cranked the engine, “But we’re not hanging around to find out.”

He backed out of the field at an angle. The car bumped and rocked over the rows, threatening to jar her teeth loose and get her stomach started up again. “For God’s sake, Adam, take it easy.”

,,sorry.” He answered as if by rote, then pulled onto the dirt road and headed back in the opposite direction.

When he pulled back onto a semismooth surface, she quit kidding herself. The tremble quivering through her had nothing to do with the car or surfaces, it had to do with fear. She wrung her hands to still them.

“Calm down, counselor.” Adam gently squeezed her hands. “If they saw us, we’ll know it soon enough.”

“Excuse me for being nervous. I’m new at this business of having people run me out of my house and chase me at speeds only demons drive, trying to murder me.”

“Experience doesn’t make it easier to handle,” Adam said calmly.

Rubbing the back of her hand with the pad of his thumb, he obviously hadn’t taken offense, and he happened to be right. Experience wouldn’t.make this easier to handle. She looked over at him. Being in Intel, he probably faced this type of thing often. Even when reading his Intel file, she hadn’t thought about the realities of his job. That had her feeling ashamed. She’d rested under his protective wing, like the rest of the country, and she’d never-not once-stopped to think about what that cover protected her from, or what he and others like him had to endure to offer her that protection. “What does make this easier?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Hating the sound of that, she frowned. “There has to be some positive way of dealing with the stress.”

“You just do it. He shrugged, glancing at the rear view mirror.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” He stopped at the main road, then took the four-lane highway, heading toward Jackson, farther and farther away from Laurel.

Tracy watched the road behind them a full fifteen minutes, but the black two-door never appeared. “I think we’ve lost them.”

“For now.” Adam reached into the cooler near Tracy’s feet, pulled out two sodas, and then handed her one. “Unless I’m way off base about this, they’ll be persistent.”

That prediction had her popping the top on a can of soda, wishing it were a stiff shot of Scotch that would settle her nerves. She took a long drink. It felt good going down her throat. She must have swallowed a ton of dust.

Way off base?

She thought of his note, his bequest, and guilt flooded her. Survivor to survivor, he’d done all he could to protect her. True-she recalled the bathroom-sink dunking some of his methods sucked dead canaries, but he had been effective.

And she’d been ungrateful-and unwilling to give him even the benefit of doubt. “What exactly is your on-base , story?”

‘,Do you really want to know?” Adam put on his blinker, passed a pickup truck with a rusted-out back end, and then whipped into the right lane behind a green van with a bumper sticker that read, “America, Love, It or Leave It.”

“Yes, I do. you kidnapped me, Adam. I think you at least owe me the truth-” How much did she owe him?

Her life? At least that benefit of doubt. Lights from a small shopping center shone up ahead on the right.

Let me think about it.” He turned in at the store, parked facing the plate-glass window of City Drugs, and then turned off the engine. “Can I trust you to stay in the car and not run for the first phone to turn me in?”

He pocketed the key in his jeans.

She looked straight into his eyes. “Maybe.”

“Damn it, counselor, I need to know I can trust you on this. Can I?”

“I don’t know. That’s as honest as I can get-”

He got out of the car, rested a hand on its top, then bent down to look back inside at her. “Unless you want to walk into City Drugs in your robe and Pooh slippers, I suggest you put some effort into inspiring a little more confidence.”

“I’m not going to lie to you, Adam. I won’t.”

He leaned his forehead against his arm and stared at her. Light from inside the store streamed across the car hood and, in it, she saw the lines of his face harden, his body stiffen. He stared at her without a. word, hard and deep, as if doing his damnedest to see straight into her soul. “I trusted you with the truth once. That was hard to do, counselor, but I haven’t regretted it. So I’m going to trust you again and hope you don’t disappoint me. If you do, know that you could get us both killed. I’m only alive as long as I’m not a major liability.” He softened his voice. “I’m not ready to die yet. And I’m not ready to watch you die.”

Having no idea what to say, she kept quiet.

He let out a little sigh and headed into the store, his jeans hugging his lean hips, a baseball cap hiding the yellow paint streaking his hair.

She looked at the storefront. He’d parked right by a pay phone, as if baiting her to use it. Oh, but she should. She really should. If she did, she might just save her job and herself a stint in federal prison.

So why aren’t you moving? Why not just get out of the damn car, walk the ten steps to the phone, and call the base Operations Center, the OSI, the MPS, or even the local authorities?

Still, she didn’t move.

Okay. Okay, so something is going on. Something big. But are you convinced Adam is innocent? No. Of course not. So why don’t you save your neck and turn him in?

Let the authorities handle this. They know how to do it without getting killed.

But would they do it? That was the question that had her staying in her seat, staring through the plate glass into the store. Adam walked up to the cash register. He didn’t so much as glance outside to see if she was still in the car. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his wallet and paid for his purchases. What was he buying?

Hair dye. To cover the yellow paint.

You’re being stupid. Go! Call before he comes out!

Hurry!

She gripped the door latch, ready to pull. Adam set something else on the counter at the register-A bottle of juice. Orange juice. For her.

“Damn you, Adam Burke.” She squeezed the metal tight and then released it. “Damn you to hell and back for making me care about you.”

He returned to the car with a plastic bag, reached in, pulled out the juice, and then passed it to her. “You didn’t do it.”

“I considered it.” She took the bottle, then twisted off the cap. Pressure escaped it with a little hiss.

“But you didn’t do it,” he insisted.

“No, I didn’t do it.” She could admit it, but not while looking at him. She stared at the bottle. What was the difference? He already thought heir incompetent, fluff. What could it matter if he added fool.” to his list of her flaws?

,,I’m glad, Tracy.” He pecked a kiss to her temple.

Stunned, she spilled orange juice down his chest.

His eyes twinkling-, he straightened the tilted bottle, but he didn’t say a word about her soaking him, Actually, the man looked damned pleased with himself. Not sure how she felt about that, she warned him, if you call me fluffy I swear I’ll dump the rest of this over your head.”

She lifted the juice bottle.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “You asked about my way-on-base theory.”

She nodded, still reeling.

He, conversely, appeared calm and collected. “I’m nearly positive all of this is tied to Project Duplicity.”

Duplicity. That snapped her to. “General Nestler’s pet project?”

“Right.” Adam pulled out his keys, started the motor, then pulled out of the shopping center. A muscle in his jaw tightened, as if he really didn’t want to say something he felt he must. “Do you know that a privately owned chemical laboratory is the solesource selection in the potential contract for the project?”

A sole source was a one-on-one agreement between the government and a supplier source. No competition. No bids on the project. In this case, a chemical company. But why would Adam fear knowing that would upset her?

He did fear it; she sensed it as clearly as she felt the juice slide down her throat. “No, I didn’t know. But solesource projects are common, especially when they deal with new technology.” Other than what Adam had told her, a mention from Colonel Jackson, and Ted accusing her of stepping on his toes, she knew nothing about Project Duplicity. Security on it was damn tight.

“This sole source is rumored to be developing a derivative of sarin, a deadly chemical agent.” Adam stared out at the road through the windshield.

Why was he deliberately avoiding looking at her?

“Yes?” She was missing something. Something vital that Adam wanted her to comprehend without him having to disclose it. What, she had no idea, but it had her uneasy. Actually, it had her sweating bullets.

He slanted her a resigned look. “Your ex-brother-in-law owns a chemical lab, counselor.”

“Paul?” She grunted. “Now you think Paul is tied up with O’Dell, Hackett, Nestler, and Randall, and they’re all responsible for what happened to your men in Area Fourteen?”

“It’s possible.”

Anger shot through her. “It’s not!” Paul wouldn’t murder men. He’d been wonderful to her. Domineering and interfering, but wonderful.

“It is possible,” Adam insisted. “Since you joined the military, Paul has become involved with government contracts. Don’t pretend you don’t know it. You were reassigned from working contracts because of that conflict of interest.”

“By my own hand,” she informed Adam. “I requested reassignment.”

“Bottom line is you were reassigned due to Keener bidding on government contracts.”

Tracy stilled. “So he’s involved with Project Duplicity? Is that what you’re telling me? And he’s somehow involved with what happened to you?”

She couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it. But could it be true?

Paul had sworn he would never get involved in government contracts and then he had done it-after she had become an expert in that field. She’d had to start over. Could he be using this project to make another manipulative attempt to control her?

“He is involved with the project,” Adam said. “The jury is still out on whether or not he’s involved with what happened to me and my men. But we’re going to find out.”

Tracy swallowed a bitter lump in her throat, watched the highway signs as they sped by them. She didn’t want to know. She really didn’t want to know. Paul had been there when she’d most needed him. He was all the family she had left. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, get, involved in murder or treason. He just damn couldn’t!

You’re Adam Burke* sun.

Again Chaplain Rutledge’s words ran through her mind, and tears stung her eyes. Her vision blurred and she blinked hard. Matthew and now maybe Paul, too. Was every man in her life destined to betray her?

Adam was right; they did have to find out. Because no matter how much pain Paul’s involvement would cause her, or how much relief determining his innocence would bring, it would cause her even more pain to know Adam could be innocent and yet be deemed guilty because she lacked the courage to look for the truth. The woman in the mirror would condemn her the rest of her days. And justly so.

More fearful than she had been the day she’d gotten out of the hospital and it had hit her like a sucker punch to the stomach that she had to go on with her life alone, she whispered softly, “Yes, we have to find out.”

chapter 18.

They drove east.

At nine P.m., Tracy figured she had kept quiet long enough. She was angry with Adam. Angry because he had frightened her in her home, because he had raised doubts in her mind about Paul, and because he made her feel things for him she didn’t want to feel. And that anger had her lashing out. “I realize I’m your captive, but I’m only human. I’m tired, hungry, and I want a bath.” Since her fever had broken-she still swore he had scared it out of her-she had felt clammy. She needed a shower in the worst way, and a shampoo. Heir tangled hair had dried in clumps. No selfrespecting cat would even drag her in.

“Sorry.” The damn man laughed. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. We just needed to put some distance behind us.”

“That’s another thing,” she said. “Where are we going?”