“What do you think is on this flash drive?” I asked.
“I’ve got my people working on that. All we know so far is that it contains information that is critically important to the government.”
“Why do they think Robin has it? Alex could’ve left it in a safe-deposit box. Or somewhere in his apartment.” I stopped and held up my hand. “Wait. He had an apartment here and he went to college here, supposedly. But he was deep cover in Toronto? How did that work?”
“He worked in San Francisco for a Toronto-based company and traveled back and forth regularly. It was a good cover.”
I was still frowning. “Show me again how big this flash drive is.”
Derek finished a bite of salad, then said, “Give me your hand.”
I reached out and he took hold of my hand. Wrapping his thumb and finger around the first knuckle of my pinkie, he said, “It’s smaller and thinner than the tip of your little finger.”
“Huh.” I tried not to obsess over the feel of his hand touching mine. I ask you, how could scarred knuckles and a callused palm be such a thorough turn-on? “How in the world are we supposed to find something so small?”
“It’s probably hidden in something bigger. It might even be hidden in plain sight. Affixed to a small makeup mirror in Robin’s purse or slipped inside a checkbook or cigarette case. Or a key ring.”
“So we’re back to thinking that Robin had it?” I popped a tomato chunk into my mouth.
“Just theorizing.” He pushed away from the table and disappeared down the hall, then returned with my purse. “May I?”
“Sure.”
Reaching into my bag, he first pulled out my small bottle of aspirin. “You could tape the flash drive to the bottom of the inside of this container and fill it with aspirin. Or you could cover it in plastic wrap and shove it into a jar of face cream, then smooth out the surface. Something like that won’t show up on an airport security screen.”
“You know too much about this stuff.”
“It’s a job.”
I put down my fork, feeling defeated. “We’ll never find it.”
“That doesn’t sound like my daring sleuth.” He grabbed my hand and shook it playfully. “This is why we need to go through Robin’s movements that night, step by step.”
“You really think Robin was a soft target?”
“It’s the only way to explain why Alex drugged her.”
My shoulders slumped. “Another detail I forgot about. So you’re thinking Alex drugged her so that while she was sleeping, he could hide the flash drive somewhere in her house.”
He waved his fork. “That’s one possibility, of course.”
“But you clearly don’t think so.” I pondered as I sipped my martini. I’d never been crazy about the taste of martinis, but I did like the feeling of sophistication that drinking them gave me. Sort of like playing dress-up when I was young.
“It would make more sense if he thought Robin had it,” I conceded. “Then he drugged her and searched for it.”
“It would make more sense,” he restated, probably for my benefit.
I took a quick bite of crunchy romaine, then shook my head. “But that would mean that Robin had the flash drive. And why in the world would she have a flash drive with Ukrainian government secrets on it?”
He stared at me steadily as he chewed.
“What?” Then it hit me and I choked on a laugh. “You can’t be serious. You think Robin is some kind of . . . what? A secret agent? A spy? You’re way offtrack.”
“All right,” he said with a casualness I didn’t trust for a second. “You tell me. Why did Robin have something so critical to the Ukrainian government that they would send one of their top operatives to steal it?”
“Who says she had it?”
“We’re just tossing around scenarios right now. Examining things from all angles. Every possibility is on the table until it’s eliminated.”
“Then let’s eliminate this one first.”
“Yes, let’s,” he said mildly. “Tell me how Robin met Alex.”
“Okay, she walked into a take-out restaurant. Alex was already in line and they struck up a conversation. There was no preset meeting, no weird intrigue, no brush pass.” I used air quotes to indicate my contempt for the whole idea that Robin could be involved in some idiotic spy game.
“All right,” he said. “Then what?”
I started to go on, then stopped. I searched my memory banks and played back my original conversation with Robin. Something was off about my starting point. And it bugged the heck out of me to admit it. “I was wrong. Robin was in line at the restaurant when Alex came in after her.”
He reached for my hand in a show of sympathy. “Go on, love.”
“While they were waiting for their food, they struck up a conversation.”