Flight of the Raven (25 page)

Her own little cries mingled with his as she moved above him. Each new stroke brought its own thrill of discovery. She reveled in the control and power she felt and the electric response of the man beneath her. The potent sensations they created together urged her to a faster rhythm. His hand and then his mouth caressed her breasts, intensifying her need for more of him.

The long weeks of separation had made her ravenous for the joy that only he could bring her. A fine sheen of moisture glistened on her olive skin as she strove for release.

Below her she felt his body stiffen.

“Julie! I love you.” The words were a hoarse cry on his lips.

His shudders of gratification triggered her own shattering climax. She had felt ecstasy with him before. Now their spoken love for each other brought the experience new meaning.

She drifted back to earth slowly, her head on his shoulder, her hair a damp tangle around them.

“Until I met you, I didn’t know what love was,” she murmured.

His hand trailed across her shoulders. Love. Until a few months ago, he had told himself he would never feel that emotion again. After years of desolation, finding it with Julie was all the more sweet. He pushed her hair gently aside and kissed her face.

“I’m selfish enough to be glad that you were waiting for me,” he admitted. “But, Julie, I am a hunted man, a man without a country. There is nothing I can offer you.” His expression was melancholy.

She pressed her fingers to his lips. “Don’t say that. This is your country now. You’ve already given more to preserve our freedom than most men born here.”

He held her close against his side. There might be a home for him here, if he lived long enough to claim it, but for the present, the only haven he could imagine was in her arms.

For long moments neither of them spoke, then he stirred slightly. “This afternoon you asked me what turned me into an idealist,” he finally said. “I didn’t tell you the whole story. I couldn’t deal with all of it then. But you have the right to know.”

She could see the grief of past memories etching his features. “You don’t have to say anything more.”

“It will help you understand.” He turned to her, his eyes questioning. “Julie, did my dossier say that I had been married?”

“Yes.”

“It was a long time ago. We loved each other very much. She was the only person I dared share my real feelings with, the person who made the kind of life I led tolerable.”

Her fingers sought his. “What happened?”

“She died bearing our child. They couldn’t save the baby either.”

“Oh, Aleksei.” The pain in his voice tore at her heart.

“I might have accepted it if it couldn’t have been prevented. Have you ever heard the Soviet establishment proclaim that our medical care is the best in the world? Don’t believe it. Like every other national system in my country, our health care is riddled with incompetence. Anna developed diabetes during her pregnancy. But they didn’t find out until very late. By that time the baby was huge. Some fool of a midwife let her go into labor when she should have had a Caesarean. She was in agony for hours, and all my political connections couldn’t do a damn thing for her. Our son suffocated. Anna hemorrhaged. Even then, they could have saved her with the right injection or even surgery, but...”

“Oh God, Aleksei, what a terrible nightmare.”

Tenderly, so as not to press his injury, Julie put her arms around him. She wanted to take away the sorrow he’d buried inside himself for so long and envelop him with her love.

“For a long time it made me hate.” His voice was harsh. “Then it strengthened my resolve to do something to change things. When a man who had known and respected my father—an American who called himself the Falcon—cautiously approached me, I was ready to listen.” He had told her that part of the story earlier. Now he closed his eyes and let her comfort enfold him.

“Are you all right?” she asked gently after a time.

His lips grazed her brow, her cheek. “I feel better. Sharing the memory makes me feel closer to you.”

“I’m glad. The more I know about you, the more I understand why I was drawn to you from the first.”

“
Dushenka,
I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve anything that brings you happiness.”

“And you, Julie. So do you. I’ve taken so much from you.”

She drew back so that her eyes could meet his. “Aleksei, you’ve given me more than you can possibly realize. You’ve taught me how to share myself with another human being.”

Still his eyes told her of his disbelief.

“It’s true,
Alyoshenka.
My parents gave me everything that money could buy, but they didn’t teach me about love. It wasn’t that they meant to be cold, exactly. But there was a stiff formality in their relationship with people and a high value placed on controlling their emotions. I grew up thinking that was the way I was supposed to be.”

“I assumed your cool exterior was just for me.”

“No, for the whole world. I think now that’s why the turmoil you stirred up in me was so disturbing. It was something I couldn’t ignore and couldn’t control.”

“I didn’t know how to fight my reaction to you either. Even knowing the risks to both of us.”

His hand stroked the silky skin of her lip. With his new understanding of the special gift she’d given him alone, it was impossible not to luxuriate in her closeness. He had been isolated for so long that loneliness had become part of his existence. The years had muted it into a dull background ache—until he met this woman. Then suddenly the knowledge of what he lacked had swelled into a fierce, piercing agony. He pressed his face against her soft breasts, almost shutting out the knowledge of what it would be like to exist without her now.

She sensed his need, and again it mirrored her own. Even when she felt him drifting into sleep, she kept her arms around him.

It was close to two in the morning when the phone rang. Her eyes open, she turned automatically to reach toward the bedside table. His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

“Don’t answer it.”

The ringing stopped, then started again.

He sat up and flung the covers off them. “Get dressed. Someone suspects we’re here. We have to leave—right now.”

Chapter Fifteen

I
nstead of heading directly for the southeastern edge of the city, they took the beltway around to Rockville. By the time they arrived at the park-and-ride Metro station, the first wave of early commuters had already filled the closest rows of the lot. Though there was a risk of discovery if they stayed in the Washington area, Aleksei had insisted on remaining near the capital.

“The Peregrine Connection has to be somewhere close by,” he’d argued. “I must stay here.”

She looked at him with concern as they made their way to the station. To help fade into the crowd, he’d sacrificed the comfort of the sling. If someone on the train jostled his arm, it was going to hurt.

But no casual observer would know what he’d been through recently, she thought with satisfaction. Even in just a few days, she’d been able to put some of the weight back on his spare frame. The July sun had given him the beginning of a tan. And she’d trimmed his longish hair, making it more respectable. The mustache she’d left alone, because she found she liked it for a number of reasons. When she looked at him, she felt a surge of possessiveness. To the outside world his features might be hard. But she knew they could melt to infinite tenderness when she took him in her arms. He belonged to her in the most elemental way, and she belonged to him.

He was wearing slacks and a sport jacket she’d purchased over the weekend at a shopping center near the beach. They were a good fit, she noticed as she gave him a quick inspection out of the corner of her eye. Her own bright sundress, wide-brimmed hat, and sunglasses had been acquired at his suggestion. “Find an outfit you’d never buy, something that’s completely out of character,” he’d advised.

On the drive back to D.C., he’d suggested they stay in a large, prominent hotel. “It’s arrogant. Like Poe’s ‘Purloined Letter.’ Hide something in full view where no one will think to look,” he pointed out.

She laughed and he raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Back in Madrid, when I felt caught between you and Cal Dixon, I thought of Poe, too,” she explained. “Only it was ‘The Pit and the Pendulum.’”

“I see. Which was I?”

“The pendulum, I think.”

From her list of candidates he selected the Mayflower, which was centrally located just a few blocks from the White House.

But as the subway train sped along the tracks into the city, she felt her anxiety rising. KGB agents might be waiting for him here. Suppose he was delivering himself into their clutches?

Despite his calm, matter-of-fact manner at the registration desk, she had to clasp her hands behind her back to keep them from trembling as he signed in a Mr. and Mrs. James Gunderson and left a cash deposit.

It wasn’t until the bellboy had set her suitcase on a luggage rack and closed the door behind them that she felt a small measure of safety. The room was beautifully appointed with a dark wood Queen-Anne-style armoire, desk, and bed. The velvet sofa and chairs that formed a conversation group in an alcove by the window were done in green and mauve. The same color scheme was picked up in the drapes and bedspread.

“Capitalist luxury,” he observed dryly as he noted the phone and hair dryer in the bathroom. But when he saw her tense expression, he quickly crossed the room and put his arm around her shoulder. She pressed her face against his chest, letting his familiar scent and warmth envelop her.

“Our second time in a hotel room together,” he murmured.

“Yes.”

“I ached to make love to you then.”

She tipped her face up so that her dark eyes could meet the cobalt of his. There was a basic, unalterable honesty between them now that no one could ever take away.

She smiled. “Even then, even when I was afraid of you, I went to pieces every time you touched me.”

“I felt it. It drove me wild with need for you.”

Their lips met in a long, lingering kiss. Their lack of any other liberty made the freedom to love each other all the more sweet. His fingers were sensuously stroking the back of her neck when a knock at the door made her jump in alarm. Though Aleksei’s body stiffened, he didn’t remove the arm that clasped her to him.

“Yes?” he called out, his now steely blue eyes focusing on the painted wood as though he could pierce it.

“Housekeeping. Do you need any extra towels in the bathroom?”

“No. Thank you.”

There was a pause and they heard a knock at the next door down the hall.

Julie let out the breath she’d been holding.

“It’s all right,” he said. “We’re both jumpy.” His fingers stroked her shoulder. “But maybe you should get ready to leave. The sooner you finish the business we discussed, the sooner you’ll be back.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, resisting the inevitable. But he was right—tracking down her missing shipment of household goods was probably going to take some time. She couldn’t make the calls here.

“Will you rest while I’m gone?”

He nodded and turned to fold down the bedspread. Then he took off his jacket, and she saw him wince as he moved the injured arm. She tried not to watch as he unbuckled his shoulder holster and transferred his gun to the drawer beside the bed.

After adjusting the pillows, he lay down. It looked like a lazy pose, but his eyes were alert as he studied her appearance.

She noticed his appraisal and pirouetted. “Will I do?”

“Very well. I’d have to look twice to know you were Julie McLean.”

“I was taught the art of disguise by a crafty Russian.”

“Your lover?” His light tone matched hers. He was determined to send her out into the city feeling confident.

Her eyes locked with his. “Yes. Definitely my lover.”

“When you get back, he’ll order room service—champagne and caviar for two.”

“And what for dessert?”

“Something very delectable, I’m sure.”

The moment the door closed behind her, his manner changed. After securing the safety chain, he picked up the early edition of
The Washington Post
he’d purchased at the subway station.

When he turned to the classified section, his lips thinned. At the top of the page was a notice explaining that due to an unrecoverable computer error, a number of ads called in on Saturday had been lost. The management apologized for any inconvenience this might have caused and offered to run any ad that was lost for an extra day.

Quickly his eyes scanned the “Animals for Sale” section. No mynah birds.
Chyort!
He couldn’t wait another day.

Getting off the bed he started to pace the room. Every minute wasted meant the Topaz documents were more likely to fall right back into KGB hands. He had to get to them first. The fact that he didn’t even know where they were made him feel as impotent as a Soviet negotiator at the SALT talks. The walls of the expensive hotel room seemed to close in around him. His first instinct was to get out of there and
do something.
But until he found out where that Russian wolfhound was, there was really nothing he
could
do. Hopefully, Julie would find that out for him. Then her part in all this would be over. Once he knew where the film was, he was going to leave her here so she wouldn’t get caught in any cross fire.

* * *

A
FTER STEPPING OUT
into the muggy Washington air, Julie walked to a nearby Metro stop. Picking a destination at random, she got off at Van Ness Center. Then, armed with several dollars in quarters, she found a phone booth and started making calls. As she’d expected, she was shuffled from office to office. No one seemed to have the information she wanted. But each secretary was sure that another department would be able to help. On the tenth call she reached the supervisor at a warehouse in Newport News.

In her best State Department manner she inquired about the status of the missing shipments. A rough voice on the other end of the line said “Just a minute,” and she was put on hold. Five minutes later the voice said, “Part of McLean’s stuff has arrived. Part of it’s still in transit. That’s why it hasn’t been sent. So tell the pushy broad to stop bitching that her stuff wasn’t waiting on the doorstep when she arrived home early.”