O'Hurleys 4a - Without A Trace by Nora Roberts

Author:Nora Roberts [Roberts, Nora]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

"You can't run forever."

"When I stop, you'll wish to God I'd kept going. I've got some things to do." He walked out.

Gillian did something she hadn't done in years. She picked up the nearest breakable and heaved it at the door.

Chapter Seven

After the number of years you've had in service, Agent O'Hurley, I'm sure you're aware that there's such a thing as procedure."

Captain Addison—British, balding and straight-line ISS—sat in Trace's room, drinking coffee and looking annoyed. It was his job to oversee and coordinate operations in this part of the world. After nearly fifteen years of field duty, he was quite content to do so from behind a desk. Under these particular circumstances, he'd been ordered to handle the business face-to-face. The break in routine did nothing to please him. He'd been set to go back to London on holiday when the call had reached him at his Madrid base. Now he was in godforsaken Morocco, in the middle of an incident that would very likely keep him from his steak-and-kidney pie for some time to come.

"You have, I presume, some sort of valid explanation?"

"I was on vacation, Captain." Trace drew easily on his cigarette. Types like Addison amused him more than they annoyed him. It was the possibility that he could become similarly straitlaced that had kept him away from desks and paperwork. "My own time. I thought the ISS might be interested in what I stumbled into."

"Stumbled into," Addison repeated. He pushed his rimless glasses up on his nose and gave Trace a very cool and very clear stare. "We both know you didn't stumble into anything, Agent O'Hurley. You acted on your own, without ISS sanction."

"The woman came to me." Trace didn't bother to put any emphasis into the explanation. He knew very well that men of Addison's type preferred agents to sweat. "I followed up an interesting story and came by some even more interesting information. If you don't want what I've got, it doesn't matter to me. I've still got a week before I punch in."

"The correct procedure would have been to inform the ISS the moment Dr. Fitzpatrick contacted you."

"I consider that a judgment call, Captain. My judgment."

Addison folded his hands. Though he'd been divorced for five years, he still wore a gold wedding band. He'd gotten used to the weight on his finger. "Your record shows a high percentage of infractions."

"Am I fired?"

A creature of habit and order, Addison bristled at Trace's careless arrogance. But he, too, had his orders. "Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on one's viewpoint—your record also show a high percentage of successful assignments. To be frank, O'Hurley, I don't care for showboating of this kind, but the Horizon project and Dr. Fitzpatrick and his Daughter take precedence over personal feelings."

Trace hadn't missed the order of importance. Nor had he expected anything else. "Then I take it I'm not fired."

"You will maintain your cover as Andre Cabot, but from this point on we go by the book. You will keep in constant contact with the ISS base in Madrid on your progress.

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