Catherine looked hard at the man in front of her. She thought he might have been in his early thirties, but she could not be sure. He was of average height and she caught sight of wisps of brown sticking out of the hoodie. His skin was relatively fair; he had some stubble on his face, but it looked like he’d shaved in the past twenty-four hours.
He was normal. Regular. Utterly nondescript. She wondered if she’d be able to pick this man out of a lineup an hour from now.
That was, of course, if he planned on letting her go at all.
Quickly she said, “You want me to contact someone in Israel?”
“No. I want you to go to Israel. Talk to people you know, but also talk to someone I know.”
“And who is that?”
Six drove out of the cemetery and into the thickening afternoon traffic. “I don’t have a name. He used to be a commando, but now he is working as some kind of a coordinator for their paramilitary units. He helped me get here to the States. He might be able to help you.”
“I’ll need more information than that if I am going to track him down.”
Six thought it over. “He was in the hospital recently.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I shot him.”
Catherine leaned back in her seat, rested her head against the door window. “And he’s helping you?”
“We made up.”
“Right. What else do you know about him?”
—
They spent a few more minutes, he giving her information about the Mossad officer who helped him escape Europe and get into the USA, and she doing her best to remember everything he said while simultaneously trying to regain her composure and understand her situation. After a while she forgot this had begun with a kidnapping. Six seemed to be no threat to her. Instead he presented himself as a man who felt like the world was against him, but nevertheless refused to turn and run away. Whether or not his assertions were true, she still had no idea, but she did not doubt for a minute that Six believed everything he was saying.
Finally he said, “I guess I just have one question for you before I say good-bye. Is there anything else you can tell me about your conversation with Carmichael? Anything else he might have said that stands out?”
Catherine thought a moment. “Maybe so. Were you, by chance, born in Jacksonville, Florida?” She saw no reaction on the man’s face, though she looked hard for one.
“Why do you ask?”
“It seemed to me that Carmichael wanted me to put that in the article. I don’t know what it means, but he said the man they were after was from Jacksonville.”
“Why didn’t you use it?”
“You say you are being played by forces bigger than you.” She sighed. “Sometimes I feel the same way. I don’t particularly like it, either.”
Six drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I don’t know what that means. I was born in Dayton, Ohio.” He looked to her. “Please don’t print that.”
Catherine said, “Other than the fact that you kidnapped me, and the circumstances around that, there isn’t much here that I can print. I can’t talk about this Israeli connection without catching a lot of heat, and all I’ll get from the Agency will be denials.”
As they pulled up to a red light, Six surprised her by smiling. “You don’t need to report it. Not till you have the proof you need. Carmichael has convinced everybody at Langley I need to die for a mistake I never made. You find out what happened in Trieste, you will see I am telling the truth. Then you’ll have your story.”
Catherine took offense to the man’s insinuation. “The story isn’t the only thing I care about, you know. I’m American, just like you. I want what’s best for this country.”
“Okay.”
“Now it’s you who doesn’t believe me.”
Six shrugged. “You are an investigative reporter.”
“True, but I’m more than that.”
“What does that mean?”
Catherine King shook her head slowly. “You didn’t kidnap me to hear my sob story. Let’s just leave it like this. If Denny Carmichael is doing what you say he’s doing, I want to put a stop to it.”
“Then let’s work together. Look into Trieste. You can contact me through my RedPhone number.”
And then, with a quick nod, he pulled the car over to the curb and opened his door. He stepped out and walked between two cars parked in the next lane, and she lost sight of him for a moment.
By the time she climbed out of the passenger’s seat and looked around, he was gone.
—
Court walked for only a few minutes before arriving at his motorcycle locked to a rack outside of the Rhode Island Avenue Metro.
He slipped on his helmet, revved the engine, and began heading west through the city.
He was hopeful something would come from Catherine King’s investigation of Operation BACK BLAST, but he couldn’t allow himself to focus on that right now.
No. Now he had a new problem. He had to go back to his hide site in the middle of the forest, grab as much of his and Zack’s gear as he could fit into a small backpack, and then go purchase another vehicle.