A Fare To Remember_ Just Whistle_Driven - Vicki Lewis Thompson [74]
False rescue alarm, she supposed. Probably best for both of them.
After a short walk down the terminal, the so-called airline official led her to an unmarked door. She slid a card key through the lock and pushed it open. Rachel walked through and the door was shut soundly behind her. The hallway was narrow and dark, with only weak fluorescent lighting lining the path to another door at the end. That revealed a staircase that conveniently only went down. Rachel ventured into what she imagined were the bowels of the airport. When she emerged, she saw only one door to the left. She took a deep breath and walked through, not entirely surprised to see Amelie Tremayne sitting comfortably in a well-appointed luxury suite sporting a full bar, several plush couches, a small conference table and fine art on the walls.
Rachel always wondered where celebrities hung out when they flew commercial. She figured this was it.
“Please, come in, Ms. Marlowe.”
Rachel paused with her hand on the doorknob.
“Do I have a choice?”
Tremayne smiled, and the effect was as sharp as steel. “Not if you plan on leaving the country in half an hour, no.”
“Technically,” Rachel said, closing the door behind her, “Puerto Rico is part of the United States. You’d think someone in your high-ranking position would know that.”
Tremayne toasted her with a highball glass filled with an amber liquid Rachel would bet big bucks was ginger ale. “I should be more specific. If you wish to leave the mainland, then I’ll need a few moments of your time.”
Rachel tossed her backpack on the nearest table. She really didn’t have much choice. But she’d already told the Agency where to shove their long-term job offer. She just wanted to get away.
“You’ve got five minutes,” Rachel said.
“What makes you think I’ll let you go in five minutes?”
Rachel sighed wearily. “Oh, you can keep me here as long you want. But any offer you make me after five minutes won’t be listened to with an open mind, so I suggest you start talking.”
“You’ve gotten much bolder than when Roman first reported on you.”
She crossed her arms tightly across her chest, hating the idea that he’d reported back to this woman about their interactions, but knowing that until very recently, their personal relationship had been a well-kept secret, even from this super-spy. Besides, the bitch was probably just jealous, anyway.
“You’re wasting my time and yours.”
“As you know, your graphics did the trick,” Tremayne said. “We were able to direct the leader of the sleeper cell to a rendezvous point. We identified him, and we’re in the midst of an operation that we’re certain will result in not only his arrest, but the capture of his cohorts.”
Rachel yawned. It had been a long day. “Good for you.”
“Good for you, as well. The higher-ups in the Agency believe that your expertise is needed to continue the success of this mission.”
“I taught your tech how to do what I do.”
“Yes, but for whatever reason that completely eludes me, they want you.”
Rachel grabbed the strap on her backpack. “Not interested.”
“We’re willing to increase your level of both compensation and security clearance.”
Rachel glanced at her watch. “You know what I want.”
“Agent Brach is currently on assignment elsewhere. And besides, we can’t negotiate with the love lives of our operatives.”
Rachel laughed. Loudly.
Tremayne placed her iced drink on a coaster, then stood, straightening her slim, tailored slacks. “Perhaps you’ll be more amenable after your vacation.”
Rachel leaned her weight on one hip. “Unless you plan on making Roman Brach materialize on a sun-drenched Puerto Rican beach, I doubt it.”
“Did it ever occur to you that perhaps Roman doesn’t want you?”
Did it ever occur to her? Who was this woman kidding?
She snapped up her backpack and swung