All the Queen's Men Read online

  Niema knew her own nature. She loved the thrill, the adrenaline rush, of danger. She had been seeking that thrill, though in pursuit of a legitimate goal, and she had gotten Dallas killed. If not for her, they would have been looking for a home on the North Carolina coast, as Dallas had wanted.

  If not for her, Dallas would still be alive.

  So she had given it up, that high-voltage life she had so loved. The cost was too high. Dallas’s last thought had been for her, and that knowledge meant too much for her to carelessly put her life in jeopardy again.

  Medina pulled up to the curb just past her driveway, then reversed into it so the car was heading out. House key in hand, she got out of the car. Dallas had also parked so the car was heading out, too, a simple precaution that allowed for faster movement and made it more difficult to be blocked in.

  Funny how she hadn’t thought about that in years; she simply pulled into the garage, as millions of other people did. But Medina’s method of parking brought so many things back to her in a rush: the sudden alertness, the clarity of her senses, the quickened pulse. She found herself looking around, examining shadows and searching with her peripheral vision for movement.

  Medina had done the same thing, his surveillance much faster and routine.

  “Damn it,” Niema said irritably and marched up the sidewalk to the curved archway that sheltered her front door.

  “’Damn it,’ what?” He was beside her, moving silently, positioning himself so that he reached the archway first. No assailants lurked there, not that she had expected any. She just wished she hadn’t noticed what he was doing.

  “Damn it, I spend half an hour with you and already I’m looking for assassins in the bushes.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being alert and aware of your surroundings.”

  “Not if I were Secret Service, or even a cop, but I’m not. I just fiddle with gadgets. The only thing likely to be lurking in my bushes is a cat.”

  He started to reach for her house key, but she stopped him with a look. “You’re making me paranoid. Is there any reason for all this?” she asked as she unlocked the door herself and opened it. Nothing sinister happened; there were no shots, no explosions.

  “Sorry. It’s just a habit.” She had left a couple of lights on and he looked inside, his expression interested.

  “Would you like to come in? We didn’t get around to drinking any of the coffee at Vinay’s house.” Until she heard the words, she hadn’t known she was going to invite him in. They weren’t exactly on easy terms, though to tell the truth she was surprised at how easy it had been to talk to him. Still, he was John Medina, not a steady, reliable, respectable bureaucrat who had just taken her out to dinner.

  He stepped inside, his head up and alert, his gaze moving around, absorbing details, watching as she opened the hall closet door and disarmed the security system. She had the sudden impression that he could describe everything he had seen in that brief sweep, and perhaps even tell her the security code.

  She started to close the closet door and he said, “Humor me. Reset the alarm.”

  Because he had good reason to be acutely security conscious, she did.

  Niema had bought the house three years before, when a hefty raise had given her the means to buy instead of rent, even with the outrageous property values around D.C. It was too big for one person, with three bedrooms and two-and-a-half baths, but she had justified the size by telling herself she would have space for her family to come visit, though they never had, and that the three bedrooms would make it easier to sell if she ever decided she wanted something else.

  The house was vaguely Spanish in style, with arched doors and windows. She had painted the interior walls herself, choosing a soft peach for most of the house while her furnishings were dark green and turquoise. The carpet was an undistinguished beige, but it had been in good shape, so instead of replacing it she had covered it with a large rug in a geometric pattern of greens, blues, and peaches. The effect was cool and welcoming, feminine without being fussy.

  “Nice,” he said, and she wondered what conclusions he had drawn about her by seeing the way she had furnished her house.

  “The kitchen is this way.” She led the way, turning on the overhead light. She loved her kitchen. The room was long, with a bank of windows on the right wall. A long, narrow island topped with a mosaic of blue and terra-cotta tiles provided a wonderful work area for any cooking project, no matter how ambitious. Small pots of herbs grew on the window sills, lending their fragrance to the air. The far end of the room was a cozy breakfast nook, the small table and two chairs flanked by lush ferns.

  She began making coffee, while Medina went to the windows and closed all the blinds. “Doesn’t it get old?” she asked. “Having to always be on guard?”

  “I don’t even think about it now, I’ve done it for so long. And you should close the blinds anyway.” Hands in his pockets, he strolled around the kitchen. Pausing in front of the block of oak that held her knife set, he pulled out the chef’s knife and tested its edge on his thumb, then returned it to its slot. His next stop was the back door, the top half of which was glass; he closed the blinds there too and checked the lock.

  “I usually do. I don’t believe in inviting trouble.” As soon as the words were out, she realized her own lie. Trouble didn’t come any bigger than John Medina, and inviting him in was exactly what she had done.

  “You need a stronger lock here,” he said absently. “In fact, you need a new door. All anyone has to do is pop out one of these panes of glass, reach in, and unlock the door.”

  “I’ll see to it first thing in the morning.”

  The dryness of her tone must have reached him, because he looked over at her and grinned. “Sorry. You already know all that, right?”

  “Right.” She took down two cups from the cabinets. “The crime rate in this neighborhood is low, and I do have the security system. I figure if anyone wanted in, they could break any number of windows and get in through them, not just the ones in the door.”

  He pulled one of the tall stools away from the island and propped one hip on it. He looked relaxed, she thought, though she wondered if he ever truly was, given who he was and what he did. She poured the coffee and set one cup in front of him, then faced him across the tiled island top. “Okay, now tell me why you drove me home, and don’t say it was for old time’s sake.”

  “Then I won’t.” He seemed to be lost in thought for a moment as he sipped his coffee, but whatever distracted him was quickly gone. “How undetectable is this new bug you’ve developed? Tell me about it.”

  She made a face. “Nothing is totally undetectable, you know. But it doesn’t cause a fluctuation in voltage, so an oscilloscope can’t pick it up. If anyone swept with a metal detector, though, that’s a different story.”

  “Frank seemed excited about it.”

  Niema was immediately wary. “It isn’t that big a deal, because like I said, it’s good only in certain situations. If you know how someone routinely sweeps for surveillance devices, then you can tailor the bug to fit. Why would he even mention it to you?” The bug had useful applications, but it was far from being an earth-shattering discovery that was going to change the face of intelligence gathering. Why would the deputy director of operations even know about it, much less call her to a meeting at his private residence?

  “I asked how you were doing. He told me what you’ve been working on.”

  Her wariness turned into outright suspicion. Okay, it was feasible that Medina would ask about her, but that didn’t explain why Vinay would know anything at all about her, much less anything about her current project.

  “Why would the DDO know anything about me? We work in totally different departments.” The vast majority of CIA employees were not the glamorous operatives of Hollywood fame; they were clerks and analysts and techno nerds. Until Iran, Niema had craved the thrill of fieldwork, but not now. Now she was content to work on the electronics side of int