Secrets Read online

  “You’re right,” she said, smiling. “Would you like some cookies?”

  “You didn’t make those apricot ones, did you?”

  “A double batch.”

  Smiling, Jeff went to the kitchen and Cassie nodded toward the refrigerator. He opened it, shifted the plastic wrap, and came out with three fat cookies. “I don’t know what we’d do without you,” he said, then kissed her on the cheek on his way out of the room.

  “Then don’t throw me out,” Cassie said under her breath as she started cleaning up the kitchen.

  5

  THE SECONDJEFFwas out of Cassie’s sight, he practically ran down the hall to his bedroom. As soon as the door was closed, he flipped open his cell phone and speed-dialed Roger’s number. “What the hell have you done?” he asked as soon as Roger answered. “Cassie’s ready to skin you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I went fishing with you today, remember?”

  “Yeah, and in case you’re asked, you caught two fish.”

  “So who came up with that one?”

  “Elsbeth.”

  “How did you create such a dear, smart child?”

  “I married well,” Jeff said quickly. “Where are you?”

  “You know where I am.”

  Jeff groaned. “Okay, get out of there ASAP. Something’s up with the womenfolk.”

  “No!” said Roger in a voice that was mostly groan. “Anything but women trouble. I can take it all but that.”

  “You and me both,” Jeff said.

  “If that were true, you’d ditch Skylar.”

  “Would that I could, old buddy. I really wish I could. Meet me on the landing in ten minutes.”

  “Better make it thirty,” Roger said. “Her Royal Highness has me, and you know how that is.”

  Jeff grimaced. He knew that Roger and Althea had a chummy relationship that he’d never developed with the woman—and had never wanted to.

  “Okay, thirty minutes,” he said, then hung up.

  The house was quiet, and he had papers to grade, but he didn’t feel like doing it. He had no idea what had happened, but something had agitated Cassie today. He well knew that she and Skylar hated one another, but it seemed to be more than that. Whatever it was, Cassie hadn’t been herself.

  He felt the vibration of his phone and looked to see who it was. Leo. Or rather, code name 386. None of the people Jeff worked with used their names. He flipped the phone open.

  “Hey, old friend,” Jeff said. “What’s up?”

  Leo didn’t waste time on preliminaries. “I need a favor.”

  Jeff smiled at Leo’s elegant English accent. Leo could say horrible things and it came out sounding as though he was inviting a person to afternoon tea. “Shoot.”

  “You remember that cabin you and I had the meeting at about four years ago?”

  “Sure. Roger’s place.”

  “Does he still own it?”

  “Yes. You want to borrow it?”

  “I want you to meet me there the weekend after this coming one. The twenty-eighth. I need you to take delivery on something for me.”

  “Me? This is an honor.”

  “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. My contact is an old man, and he only trusts your father. I talked him into handing it off to Thomas’s son. Can you do it?”

  “I don’t see why not. Fax me the details and I’ll arrange it all with Roger.”

  “Great. Thanks a lot. I’ll owe you one.”

  Jeff waited for Leo to say more, but he was silent. “Anything else you need?”

  When Leo still said nothing, Jeff understood. Years ago, he and Skylar were an item. “You want me to bring Skylar, don’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t mind seeing her again.”

  And I wouldn’t mind turning her over to you, Jeff thought but didn’t say. “So who will you be?”

  “Myself,” Leo said, laughing. “I look forward to a whole weekend of no disguises and time with my friend and a pretty girl. When we get back from the drop, I’m going to get into swim gear and laze in the water with Sky. Tell her to wear that tiny purple suit of hers.”

  “Gladly,” Jeff said as he hung up.

  He looked at his watch. He still had twenty minutes before he was to meet Roger, and since he was with Althea, he’d probably be late. Leaning back in his chair, Jeff closed his eyes for a moment and thought back to the time he’d told his father about Skylar.

  The derelict building was roofless and had a thousand bullet holes in the walls. The floor was covered with chopped bark that made footsteps soundless. Four men and one woman, all clad in black and wearing ski masks, slipped about in the shadows. They each carried a handgun held at arm’s length. Their breathing was as controlled as they could manage, but their hearts were pounding with anticipation and fear.

  Suddenly, a lean, agile form came around the far corner of the building, and in an instant, there were three blasts from his gun. Behind him came another person, but the man spun and shot. They saw the man quickly raise his gun and fire the fifth round, this time at the figure crouched on top of the wall.

  “Damn it!” said the man as he jumped to the ground. “I thought I had you that time.”

  Their teacher, Jefferson Ames, had shot all five of them with the red paint slug, then removed his mask and was now reloading. “I heard you and I saw you.” He looked up at them, their masks now removed and their young, eager faces looking at him with wide eyes.

  “Have any of you reloaded?” His voice was full of the frustration of having to tell them the same things over and over.

  “No, sir,” three of them said sheepishly.

  “A good agent—” Jeff began, but then he saw the face of the girl. She was good at the book work, but she had a long way to go with the physical aspects of being an agent. Right now her eyes were open wide in astonishment, as though she saw something behind her teacher.

  Jeff spun, but not fast enough to shoot first. The intruder’s gun went off. Exactly over Jeff’s heart, in a perfect shot, a red blob of paint marred his black running suit. In front of him was a man wearing a pair of khaki trousers and a dark brown leather jacket, his face hidden under a black ski mask.

  Behind Jeff were his five students, and he could feel that they were standing absolutely still. Who had had the audacity to shoot their teacher? And who had been able to sneak up on him and get that deadly shot off?

  Jeff turned to the students. “May I introduce my father? Thomas Ames.”

  Jeff smiled at the respectful silence that hit his students. His father’s name was in the textbooks and on award plaques around the school. Thomas Ames was a legend to those training at the CIA school, the school that the United States government said didn’t exist.

  Thomas pulled his ski mask off, revealing his handsome face and thick gray hair, and smiled at the students, who still hadn’t recovered enough to speak.

  “Our guest lecturer for the next hour,” Jeff said, and he was pleased to see his father’s slight frown. Thomas hated teaching. He was a man who learned by doing and thought others should learn that way too. Jeff knew his father had come to have lunch with him, but the elder man couldn’t resist showing off by shooting his own son in front of his students. So his punishment was to have to teach for an hour while Jeff showered and changed.

  Thirty minutes later, Jeff went back to the classroom to find his father reading a book, his feet propped on Jeff’s old desk.

  “What did you do with them?” Jeff asked. “They didn’t deserve a holiday.”

  “You’re too hard on them. That blond boy has potential.”

  “Maybe. He’s too impetuous for my taste.”

  “I seem to remember saying that to someone else.”

  Jeff smiled. For all that his father said he hated teaching, when Jeff was growing up, they had played endless games of “find the spy”—or whatever name they came up with. By the time he was in the second grade, Jeff was figuring out simple codes. When he was tw