Vortex by Catherine Coulter

Author:Catherine Coulter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2021-08-10T00:00:00+00:00

28

Olivia

She heard Agent Cliff’s voice from the Farm, telling her to blank out fear, to focus on what would come next. Gay would worry soon something had happened, try to call her. Then he’d come looking, maybe track her phone, but he’d be too late. And this man had no reason to let her live once he had what he wanted from her. Whatever would happen was all up to her.

“Drive out of this hideous place and turn right on Wilton Avenue.”

Olivia drove slowly out of the Willow Springs strip mall, turned right.

“Where are we going?”

“It is not your problem. Drive slow, but not too slow. Go straight until I tell you.”

“Where are you from in France?”

He laughed, a scratchy, Gauloises laugh.

“You like the accent? Most American women do, it makes them think of sex and sweaty sheets.”

“Or of smokers’ breath, heavy on the garlic.”

She heard an angry hiss, felt the muzzle dig in, and she flinched.

“Ferme ta gueule! Keep your mouth shut, bitch. No, stop, do not go through that yellow light.”

Olivia stopped as the light turned, watched the crossing cars stream through the intersection, homeward bound. She wanted to ask him which French arms dealer he worked for, but she had to pretend she knew as little about the flash drive as she could. “What do you want?”

“You know very well what I want. You are going to take me to Mike Kingman or you are going to summon him to us. You are lovers, of course you know where he is. You will tell me now or I will have to persuade you.”

“I don’t know where he is, no one does. Don’t you mean what your employer wants? You know, the man who tells you what to do, the man who gives you orders? Who do you work for?”

The muzzle dug in again. She said, “Listen to me, whoever you are, if I knew where Mike is, if the CIA knew where he is, I wouldn’t be in a CIA safe house, hidden from you people. Of course you know all about Monday night, about those two men who came to my house. One of them was called Razhan, an Iranian security agent who’s been killing people for fifteen years for his masters. But you’re French. Who’s your master?”

Olivia felt his gloved hand reach around her neck and squeeze, hard enough that she jerked and the RAV swerved. He cursed, dropped his hand. She looked at him in her rearview. He was wearing sunglasses, a hat and scarf. She wouldn’t know him if she walked past him on the street, but she’d never forget his voice. She grinned at him. “You know Kingman is gone, disappeared. Everyone’s thinking he stole whatever it is your boss wants and plans to sell it to the highest bidder. Chances are he’ll try to sell it to your boss, so why threaten me when your boss can buy whatever it is from him? What’s a few million euros, petty cash to him, right?”

She heard contempt in his voice.

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