“Sorry for all this. I thought it was a simple favor.”
“It’s not your fault. I seem to have a way of finding trouble.”
He ended the call.
The front door opened and Gary walked toward him on the sidewalk.
“What are you going to do?” his son asked.
“I’ll take a quick look for Ian. Antrim is the real deal. He’s CIA. You’ll be okay here with him.”
“He seems like a good guy. He told me I could see some of the things he’s working on.”
“I won’t be long. Just a few hours. Then we’ll find a hotel and get out of here in the morning.”
He’d meant what he’d said to Stephanie. Farrow Curry had definitely been into some odd stuff—especially for a government counter-intelligence operation being conducted within the borders of an American ally.
“You know why I wanted to spend Thanksgiving with you.”
He nodded.
“Mom told me about my real … I mean, my birth father.”
“It’s okay, son. I know this is tough.”
“She won’t tell me who he is. I want to know. She really never told you?”
He shook his head. “Not until a few months ago and she never mentioned a name. If she had, I’d tell you.”
And he wasn’t trying to undercut Pam, it was just that you can’t choose to tell half a story. Especially one this explosive.
“When we get out of here,” Gary said, “I’d like to know what happened before I was born. Everything.”
Not his favorite subject. Who enjoyed reliving their mistakes? But thanks to Pam, he had no choice. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
“I wish Mom would do the same.”
“Don’t be too hard on her. She’s kicking herself bad on this one.”
They stood on the street, the curbs on both sides lined with parked cars. A busy avenue, a hundred feet away, hummed with traffic.
“You think Ian could be in trouble?” Gary asked.
He heard the concern and shared the anxiety.
“I’m afraid so.”
Twenty-four
ANTRIM WAS PLEASED. HE’D CONNECTED WITH MALONE AND convinced him to go after Ian Dunne, feigning enough frustration to telegraph that his entire operation was in trouble. Which had not been all that hard since it was the truth. Ordinarily, though, he would have never shared those problems with a stranger.
But he wanted a little private time.
After all, Gary was the whole reason he’d maneuvered Malone to London.
“You lied to me,” he said.
Pam Malone stared back. She stood behind her desk on the twelfth floor in a downtown Atlanta office building. Two days ago he’d run into her at a mall. They hadn’t seen or spoken to each other in sixteen years. Back then he’d been a CIA operative, assigned to a duty station in Wiesbaden, Germany. Pam was a navy wife, her lawyer husband a lieutenant commander, part of the United States’ NATO contingent. They’d met, had a brief affair, then she ended it.
“I never lied,” she said. “I just never told you anything.”
“That boy is mine.”
He’d known it the first moment he met Gary Malone. Everything reminded him of himself as a teenager. And—
“He has my gray eyes.”
“My ex-husband’s are gray.”
“There you go. Lying again. I remembered your ex-husband’s name. In fact, I’ve come to hear it many times since you and I were together. He was quite the agent. But I pulled his jacket yesterday. His eyes are green. Yours are blue.”
“You’re delusional.”
“If I am, why are you shaking?”
He’d located her with a quick check of the Georgia State Bar directory. Their talk in the mall had been brief and light. She’d mentioned that she was now a lawyer so it had not taken much to find her. He’d appeared unannounced, wanting to catch her off guard. She’d at first informed the receptionist that she was busy, but when he told the woman to pass on that he’d “just see her at home,” he was led to her office.
“You’re a sorry, useless bastard who likes roughing up women.”
Their breakup was not without consequences. She’d rebuked him with no warning or provocation. Which hurt. He’d actually cared for her. More than most. He’d always been partial to the unhappily married ones. They were so giving, so grateful. All you had to do was pretend you cared. She’d been no different. Convinced that her husband was cheating on her, she’d wanted reciprocity and eagerly gave herself.
“I made a huge mistake with you,” she said. “One I prefer to forget.”
“But you can’t. You have a reminder every day, don’t you?”
He saw that his assessment was correct.
“It’s the only part of my son I despise. God help me.”
“There’s no need to feel that way. And, by the way, he’s our son.”
Her eyes flashed hot. “Don’t you say that. Don’t you ever say that. He’s not our son. He’s mine.”
“What about your ex-husband? I’m sure he has no idea.”
Silence.
“Maybe I’ll tell him.”
More silence.
He chuckled. “This is obviously a sore spot with you. I can understand that. Seeing me in that mall had to have been a shock.”
“I was hoping you were dead.”
“Come on, Pam. It wasn’t that bad.”
“You broke my ribs.”
“You broke my heart. Just up and told me to get out and never come back. And after all the sweet times we shared. You surely didn’t expect me to just walk away.”
“Get out of my office.”
“How long was it after that you found out you were pregnant?”
“What does it matter?”
“Did you know when you broke it off?”
She said nothing.
“I … should have … ended the pregnancy then and there.”
“You don’t mean that. Aborted your child? That’s not you.”
“You condescending prick, you have no idea who I am. Don’t you get it? To this day I look at that boy, whom I worship, and see you. Every day I have to deal with that. I came so close to ending that pregnancy. So damn close. Instead, I carried the child and lied to my husband, telling him the baby was his. You have any idea what it’s like to live with that?”