Lazlo’s Last Stand

Chapter 11

“It’s the only possible thing to do,” Corbett said. “I have to go back immediately. You know that.”

“Of course I know that,” Lucia said with exaggerated patience, a ploy he thought was intended to keep her from falling apart completely, and which he could tell was only a good breath or two away from complete and utter failure. “What I do not understand is why you won’t let me come with you.”

“I’ve explained why,” he said, in a manner that matched hers and, he was sure, was about to cause an inevitable flare-up of her temper. “I need you to stay here, try to access the Lazlo system, and ferret out our mole.”

“Which I can do just as well on my laptop from anywhere on the planet,” she shot back furiously, sitting up in bed and turning on him, evidently forgetting for the moment that she wasn’t wearing any clothes. “Which you well know, dammit.” The last word emerged with added emphasis as she snatched at the down comforter and jerked it up to cover her breasts.

In spite of the ache of sadness that seemed a permanent part of him now, he had to quell an urge to smile. Given her present state of mind, he didn’t like to think what she might do if she thought he was laughing at her. Which was the farthest thing from his mind.

What was on his mind was trying to recall exactly how they’d come to be engaged in discussion at all, instead of the vastly more enjoyable activities they’d both had in mind when they’d reached the mutual conclusion that he should spend the night in his own bed-with her. But somehow, between the blood-stirring embraces in the kitchen and the unavoidable processes involved in retiring for the night-the teeth-brushing and the like-Lucia had asked him about, or he might have mentioned, his plans for the following day.

“Édesem…” He reached across her to hook a forefinger over the comforter where it draped between her breasts. Half expecting her to bat his hand away, he pulled it down to uncover her nipples. Finding them pertly erect in spite of the comforter’s cozy warmth, he smiled. “I do know that. The truth is, I don’t want you anywhere near Cassandra until she’s been neutralized. In fact,” he added fervently, “if I could find a way to send you off-planet, I would. She’s vowed to kill you, you know. And I believe she means it.”

“But you said it yourself,” Lucia said, looking at him along her shoulder, her mouth set in a stubborn pout he was sure she had no idea made it look more delectable than determined. “It’s you she really wants.”

“I believe I’m a bit more able to look after myself than you are.”

Oh, the confident smile, the lazy arrogance in his half-closed eyes…Even though Lucia knew what he said was true, and even though she knew the smile and the arrogance had more to do with what his hand was doing to her than what he’d said, she couldn’t resist twisting around to stare pointedly at the fading bruises on his torso and murmuring, “Oh, yes, I can see that. What if-”

“Lucia,” he interrupted in a stern, warning tone, without causing the slightest interruption in the slow sensual way his thumb was circling the rigid tip of her breast. “Don’t make me play the I’m-your-boss card.”

She valiantly narrowed her eyes and swallowed before attempting to speak, but still, the words came out slurred. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I think you know I would.” She felt him shift behind her, felt the warm flow of his breath on her naked shoulder. “Since I can tell you’re going to leave me no choice…” She felt his mouth move in clever ways that shivered her skin into goose bumps and made all the nerve-rich parts of her swell and sing shamelessly, and entirely against her will. “I’m making it an order.” She tried to turn her face away, but with a single finger touched to the underside of her chin he brought it back so that his steel-dagger eyes could stab relentlessly into hers. “Lucia Cordez, you are to stay here and catch me a mole, whilst I return to Paris to see what has become of the agency formerly known as the Lazlo Group. That is a direct order.”

He leaned slowly forward and touched his lips to hers. Warm and firm and satiny, they moved over hers with the skill of an artisan, and she closed her eyes and her mind and gave herself up to him, and knew in that terrifying moment that this man, Corbett Lazlo, was not only her boss and her lover, but also master of her heart and soul. My love…when did you become everything in the world to me? Painter of my heart’s dreams…maker of my soul’s music…

“You are not to follow me until I tell you it is safe to do so. Do I make myself clear?”

A shudder shook her and she opened her eyes, trying desperately and without success to free herself from the web of enchantment he’d woven around her. She wanted to be angry with him, fight with him, scream at him in fury, but instead, she wanted him to make love to her. And the worst of it was, she knew he knew it.

How had she let this happen? When had he become master of all her being? Master of her heart and soul-that was one thing. Master of her body? Well, okay, some of the time. When she allowed it. But master of her mind?

Never.

“Perfectly,” she purred.

“Promise me.” She could see the wariness in his eyes. The man really did know her too well. “Promise me, Lu. I want to hear you say it. You will stay here until I tell you it’s safe.”

“I promise.” She whispered it, surprised by the ache that had come to her throat from out of nowhere, and even more by the tear that was making its way slowly down her cheek.

He kissed it away, then took her mouth so sweetly, so tenderly, she knew he’d misunderstood the reason for the tears. He couldn’t know it was the lie, not the promise, that was breaking her heart.

“Don’t cry, édesem,” he said huskily. “It’s going to be all right, you know. I just don’t think I could bear it if anything happened to you. You’ve become part of me, you see. From now on, for the rest of my life, you are a very important part of me.”

She touched her finger to his lips and in a choked voice, said, “Promise? I want to hear you say it…”

His smile was beauty itself. “Yes, love, I promise to love you dearly, cherish and protect you for the rest of my life. How’s that?”

She couldn’t answer, but only stifled her gathering sobs in his mouth. And she thought, Will you still love me, my dearest one, when I’ve broken the very first promise I made to you?

Corbett felt the shudders that racked her body and recognized them for the struggle they betrayed. He knew his Lucia very well, and knew what it had cost her to make him such a promise. And, to be completely honest with himself, he didn’t entirely trust her to keep it.

Which was why before he left tomorrow he intended to make it very clear to Josef and Kati that they were to make absolutely certain she did.

For now, though, he was only glad the conflicts had been resolved to his satisfaction, and with the woman he adored softly, sweetly compliant in his arms. He still felt his lovemaking skills somewhat hampered by his injured ribs, but the tenderness he felt for her, and his gratitude for the way she’d given in, he hoped would make up for that.

The fact was, he’d never before made love in the grip of such powerful emotions. He felt they’d changed him in ways he hadn’t begun to understand yet, but which scared him a little. He knew for certain that when he left this house tomorrow he wouldn’t be the same Corbett Lazlo he’d been when he’d arrived. What he didn’t know was…would he be less strong because he had so much to lose? Or all the stronger for having so much to fight for?

For now, there was, thank God, Lucia. Only Lucia.

It confounded and amazed him how happy he was to be with her, touching her, kissing her, hearing her earthy little sounds of pleasure. Before Lucia, sex had been at best mildly enjoyable, on those occasions when he’d had needs of his own to be met, and at worst a chore that left him feeling soulless and depressed. Even with Cassandra, as wildly exciting as that liaison had been, there’d also been an element of fear, of danger, involving, at times, a good bit of adrenaline. He’d never gone to bed with her without feeling at least a smidgen of dread.

But Lucia…making love with her was complete and utter joy. He wondered if it might be because her love for him matched his for her, and that he didn’t have to be anything other than who and what he was. He didn’t have to think about what he was going to do, what way to touch her, what part of his body to put where. All he had to do was feel, and his body fit naturally with hers, and everywhere they came together there was only sweetness and pleasure.

He didn’t have to wonder what might please her, or whether he was pleasing her. He knew his simply being pleased her, knew it because she told him with every breath she took. She told him with her shining, tear-filled eyes and kiss-swollen lips. Told him with the way her skin grew moist and dusky and her body trembled and writhed closer to him when his fingers gently stroked its tender places. Told him with the way she hesitated, at first, when he kissed her thighs and belly, asking her with his touch to let his mouth caress those tender places…then yielded to him with complete and total trust.

That trust and the way she opened her body to him touched him deeply. He felt it more intensely than any pain, as if she’d opened his heart and physically touched him there. Penetrating that most intimate part of her body with his tongue seemed to him a sort of parallel to what she was doing to the most intimate part of his being. And when, as he kissed her deeply, then more deeply still, he heard her sharp cry, and while he held her close with his mouth and hands through her body’s shuddering, throbbing release, he felt the echoes of those same responses swell through him like a tsunami after an earthquake.

In its aftermath he held her in his arms and comforted her while she sobbed, and she held him tightly, too. And he wondered who needed the comforting more.

He’d gladly have held her like that until she fell asleep, but she wouldn’t hear of that, especially when her wandering hands found him hard and hot and in some discomfort still. She wouldn’t let him take it slowly for her sake, either, but quickly, firmly guided him, kneeling, between her thighs. As she opened her body to him, her eyes and lips smiled up at him, lush reminders of the welcome waiting for him there.

And so, whispering her name in awe and love, he pushed himself between her still moist, still swollen folds and felt her softness give way to him and her warmth envelop him. Felt her hands stroking him…belly, buttocks, thighs. Felt them press the aching place in the small of his back, press it hard there, urging him deeper, deeper…then releasing the pressure as her body moved in perfect sync with his.

All too soon, he felt her hands grasp and hold him tightly as the spasms caught him and his muscles clenched so fiercely they seemed to be trying to turn him inside out. And in the midst of that cataclysm he heard her whispering over and over the words he’d said so often to her:

“Édesem…édesem…”

It was sometime deep in the night, after he’d kissed his restless love and told her again to sleep, that it came to him, the reason why he couldn’t seem to follow his own advice, and instead lay wide-awake with a sense of dread lying cold and heavy on his heart.

He’d made a terrible mistake.

Lucia loved him. Loved him the way she did everything, wholeheartedly, completely, passionately. And, dammit, the devil take her promises-she was never going to let him go alone to face Cassandra! He knew her too well. Lioness that she was, and having already convinced herself-admittedly with some good reason-that she’d saved his life once, she would find a way to be at his side, or at least his back, during the next confrontation. That clever and agile mind of hers had probably already figured out a dozen ways to thwart whatever plan he might come up with to prevent her from following him back to Paris.

In the bleakest, coldest hours of the night it came to him. He knew there was one way, and probably only one way, to undo his mistake. One way he might convince her to stay here, where she’d be safe. And that was to break her heart.

Corbett was gone when Lucia woke up. She knew before she opened her eyes that there was only emptiness where his warm body had been, silence instead of the deep, masculine breathing that had found its way into the rhythm of her sleep. Only his scent remained, and she gathered the pillow that held it into her arms and pressed her face to it and tried to make the pain inside her stop.

He’s gone.

She curled herself into a ball around Corbett’s pillow while the battle between anger and misery raged within her, tearing her throat with dry, tearless sobs and tying her stomach in knots.

She’d known he’d try to slip away without disturbing her, and she’d tried so hard to stay awake. Several times she’d jerked herself out of a doze to find his arms still around her and heard him whisper, “Shh, édesem, go back to sleep.”

And so she had, and he’d left her without saying goodbye.

As she lay wrapped in her ball of misery, she heard a clatter from the kitchen-most uncharacteristic of Kati, who somehow managed her culinary miracles with a minimum of disturbance, save for her singing. Lucia sat bolt upright in bed, adrenaline shivering through her body, heartbeat thumping. Maybe he hasn’t gone yet. He must still be here, in the kitchen, having his breakfast, his coffee. I can still catch him!

She scrambled out of bed and tore through her suitcase, snatching up items of clothing without regard to type or style. Somehow, jangled and shaking, desperate to think Corbett would finish his coffee and leave and she’d have missed him by only seconds, she managed to throw on a pair of jeans and a soft-knit pullover-sans underwear. Barefooted and breathless, she threw open the kitchen door.

He was there, not relaxing at the table with his coffee, as she’d imagined, but rinsing his plate and cup at the sink-the source of the clattering crockery that had alerted her. He turned at the sound of the opening door to look at her.

And several realizations hit her in the blink of an eye.

His face had registered no surprise or chagrin at seeing her there.

Of course! He can move like a cat when he wants to. He made that noise on purpose, to wake me.

But there was no leap of joy in her heart. She’d already seen his eyes.

Something’s wrong. Something’s very, very wrong.

Fear with neither name nor shape crawled coldly along the back of her neck.

Corbett watched her face, saw her skin go from sleep-flushed to gray, noted the way her taut nipples pushed against the soft material of her shirt and the way she folded her arms protectively across them. She was sensitive, as well as brilliant. Of course she already knew something was wrong. She’d sensed it the way a doe senses danger.

“Sorry I woke you,” he said with a small, tight smile, steeling himself for what had to be. “I meant-”

“-to steal away like a thief in the night-I know.” She came to him and lifted her face for his kiss. “Why is that, I wonder?”

“Why, indeed,” he said dryly. He kissed her with lips that didn’t soften-however much they wanted to-then gripped her arms and put her firmly from him. “Perhaps because I knew you’d try to persuade me to let you come along. You are going to try, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes, but Corbett-”

“Lucia.” He closed his eyes and ran a weary hand over them. “We’ve been through all this. I don’t want you-”

“Corbett, I won’t be a liability. I think I’ve proven that I can handle myself in a crisis situation. I know you think-”

“Good God, Lucia, you have no idea what I think!” He spun away from her, in part because he couldn’t bear to see the flush of earnestness on her cheeks, the fire in her eyes, in part because he couldn’t let her see the anguish in his.

When he had himself in hand again, he said coldly, “The fact is, I don’t want you in this fight with me. Do you understand?”

“No, I don’t.” But she said it faintly, and he could see she was beginning to.

He swore under his breath. Raked a hand through his hair. “Look-Lucia. I don’t want to hurt you. I really don’t.” He paused, then let it go in an angry rush. “You really are going to make me say this, aren’t you? Dammit, I can’t let you back me up in this fight, because…hell, the truth is, I don’t know if I can trust you.”

She stood absolutely still, head slightly tilted, as if straining to hear some faraway sound. The silence between them rang in Corbett’s ears like a clamoring of bells.

After what seemed like whole minutes had passed, she whispered, “You think I’m the mole?”

He had to grip the back of a chair and pray for the strength to finish, looking her straight in her hurt-filled eyes. “My dear, you are one of three people in the world it could possibly be.”

She gave her head a disbelieving shake. “But…last night-”

“Ah-yes. Last night.” He smiled crookedly. “Last night I may not have been thinking clearly-certainly not with my brain, at any rate. In the clear light of day it’s simply not possible to ignore the fact that there are only three people with means, opportunity and know-how to feed information to Cassandra. And of those three, I’ve known both Edward and Adam a whole lot longer than I have you.” He shrugged and wondered whether his expression looked as sick as he felt. “Sorry, love. But until I know for certain, I’d rather not have you along when push comes to shove. Do you understand?”

She opened her mouth, cleared her throat and, finally, incapable of speech, simply nodded.

“Good. All right then. I’ll be off.” He pushed himself away from the chair that had been his anchor and support and moved jerkily to the door. He didn’t kiss her…couldn’t bear to touch her. He took his coat and hat from their hooks near the door and half turned, not quite looking at her. “You won’t be able to contact me, so just sit tight until you hear from me-understand?” He didn’t wait to hear her reply.

In the passageway he paused to take deep breaths and swear softly and vehemently at the ceiling in two languages. For a few insane moments he was bitterly angry, not with himself, as would have been well-deserved and reasonable, but with her. With Lucia. Damned quick, she’d been, to swallow the whole load of lies. Had she so little belief in him? Did his words of love mean nothing to her, that she could think him capable of being such an unmitigated cad?

But then…he closed his eyes and let out a long breath. Of course. It was too new, this thing between them. Too fragile and untried. She’d be full of wonder and uncertainty, as he was.

And it hit him then-the worst thing about the terrible lies he’d spoken to her was that maybe they weren’t lies at all. That maybe, just maybe, deep down inside, he did have his doubts about Lucia even now.

They hadn’t yet learned to trust each other. He wondered whether…he hoped and prayed…they still could.

Lucia’s knees buckled and she sank heavily into a fortuitously placed chair. For a long time she felt nothing. Not sorrow, grief or even outrage. Just…nothing.

Then gradually, like a rumbling beginning far away and moving steadily closer, closer, she could hear words, words that grew louder and louder until they were a thunder inside her head she could no longer ignore.

Find me a mole.

It isn’t me. It isn’t me. It isn’t me.

That was the only thing that was real to her now. She knew she was not the person betraying Corbett and the Lazlo Group. Gradually, with that thought as her anchor and her starting point, her mind began to function again.

And with its function came emotions. Anger. Pain. Anger again-yes, that was better. She could work with anger.

Okay, if Corbett wanted a mole, by God, she’d find it for him. And hand it to him on a silver plate. Personally. Even if the truth broke his heart. Or hers.

Adam or Edward? She knew it wasn’t her, and it wasn’t Corbett, so it had to be one of those two.

She couldn’t believe it of Adam. He’d been Corbett’s best friend since their days in British intelligence, and it had been Adam who’d worked so hard and sacrificed his own career to clear Corbett when he’d been framed for treason. He’d helped to found the Lazlo Group. It seemed inconceivable that he’d now want to destroy it along with the man who’d been like a brother to him.

But then…how well did she really know Adam Sinclair? A person’s circumstances could change. Maybe he had reasons she didn’t know about.

Then there was Edward Lazlo, Corbett’s own brother. A bit of a bounder, it was true, but still loved and in a strange way looked up to by his younger and much more worthy brother. In an even stranger way, she realized Corbett felt responsible for his brother, which was why he’d made him controller for the Lazlo Group. It would devastate Corbett to learn his own brother had conspired with his worst enemy to destroy him.

Edward or Adam?

Either way, it wouldn’t be good news for Corbett.

Lucia sat quietly, her mind working feverishly to map out her plan of attack. One phrase kept creeping into her thoughts, one she’d heard many times before-admittedly, mostly in movies and television dramas, but it did seem to make a certain amount of sense. Follow the money.

Yes, she thought, that might just be the fastest way to the truth.

She was still sitting there an unknown amount of time later when Kati came in, muttering sorrowfully over Corbett’s absence, to prepare her breakfast.

Corbett found it fitting that, as he drove down from the mountains of northern Hungary to the Danube River valley, he should leave behind clear skies and a brilliant moon casting its winter enchantment over a landscape lying peacefully under a fresh dusting of snow, only to have the coming of daylight reveal a dismal gray-and-brown world and a sun reluctant to emerge from behind a pall of dirty fog. He felt every bit as gray and dismal and was no more eager than that surly red sun for the task that lay ahead of him.

He had plenty of time during the drive to Salzburg to contemplate what that change of heart meant to his life and his future. He’d expected his feelings for Lucia to have changed him, of course, but he hadn’t expected to discover he’d completely lost his taste for his chosen profession.

Although, when he thought about it more, it wasn’t really his work with the Lazlo Group he dreaded. That work had given him considerable satisfaction-not to mention financial reward-over the years, and he’d made a good many lasting friendships because of it, both among the agents he’d employed and worked with, and the clients he’d served so well. He’d have been more than happy if that was what he had to look forward to today.

However, the Lazlo Group was currently in a shambles, and most of his best people in hiding-too many others dead or missing in action. Add to that the fact that he was about to face down the woman responsible, who also happened to be the woman he’d once treated abominably, plus the son who hated him so much he’d tried three times to kill him.

Then there was the other person he had to face-the one who’d stabbed him in the back. He had plenty of time on that long drive to think about that, as well, and doing so left him with no conclusions and a gnawing ache in his belly.

Not Lucia. She’s too open, too honest. I’ve worked side by side with her, taught her everything I know, and I’ve always known she had feelings for me, I just didn’t want to let myself believe they were real. Maybe didn’t believe I had a right to her love…who knows? But I know she’s not capable of betraying me. And certainly not without my knowing. It’s not Lucia.

Not Edward. He’s my brother. More to the point, he’d have way too much to lose by destroying the Lazlo Group-it’s the only thing keeping him financially afloat, most of the time. Although, I suppose…if someone made him a better offer… No, he’s my brother, dammit! It’s not Edward.

Not Adam. He’s been my best friend for more than half my life, the one person I could count on to watch my back when it counted. He’s saved my life a dozen times. Why would he betray me now? For the sake of a woman? Is it possible that because of Lucia…No, dammit, I know him! It’s not Adam.

But it had to be one of the three, didn’t it? He’d been over it a thousand times, looking for a loophole in that conclusion. And there wasn’t one.

The gnawing pain in his belly was joined by a pounding one in his head.

He thought again of Lucia and the dawning realization that his life was half over and there was a whole part of it he’d missed out on. The part that included a home filled with warmth and children and love. And not having to go through life all alone.

He thought of Edward. Even as greedy and vain as he could be, he had a family, nice wife, kids, though he probably didn’t know the real value of them. Edward’s son, Josh, for instance. A great kid, who’d grown into a fine man and one of Corbett’s best agents. And now about to marry the prime minister’s daughter. From all accounts Prudence Hill could be a bit of a handful, but Corbett knew if anybody could deal with a bright and feisty woman, it was his nephew.

Thinking of that made Corbett smile. It had been one of the bright spots in an otherwise trying time.

Although, when he thought about it, there had been others, these past six months, Lazlo Group agents past, present and future, who’d somehow managed to find new love-or rediscover an old one-in the midst of the chaos and mayhem all around them. Mitch and Dani, back from the dead. Witt and British SIS agent, Marina Bond. The return of Sean McGregor to the fold, and his reunion with his former wife, Natalie-another British intelligence agent. And just last month, perhaps most surprising of all, Mark Alexander and that American undercover agent, Renee Sabine…

Food for thought, certainly. Corbett hadn’t quite got to the point where he was picturing himself puttering around in a rose garden or building model trains in the basement, but he was beginning to wonder whether it might be possible after all to have all those things he’d been missing-wife, kids, family-and still run the most respected private-security agency in the world. It would depend, he supposed, on the outcome of his current mission.

And whether Lucia would ever forgive him.

It turned out to be even easier than Lucia had thought it would be, finding the proof. Of course, it wasn’t the first time she’d been called upon to access confidential financial records, but in this case there’d been a determined effort to hide the ill-gotten gains, and she was quite proud of the way she’d managed to untangle the web of deception and follow it to its sad conclusion.

It wasn’t going to be easy for Corbett to hear this. Nor was it going to be easy for her to tell him, even if it did mean her own vindication.

After she’d transferred the incriminating records to a flash drive, she sat for a long time gazing at the monitor, chewing on her lip and wrestling with her choices. Corbett had made it abundantly clear he didn’t trust her. If she disobeyed his orders-and broke her own promise, even if it was one she’d had every intention at the time of breaking-wouldn’t she simply be proving him right? What if he decided he could never trust her again? What if-the very thought made her feel cold and sick-she lost him forever?

On the other hand, she knew he’d want to have this information immediately, no matter how heartbreaking he was sure to find it. But she had no way to reach him and no choice but to sit here and twiddle her thumbs and go quietly mad until he decided to contact her.

And in the meantime he was going into what could be a life-or-death confrontation, and what if he chose the wrong person to trust?

She could still lose him forever.

It really was intolerable. And, she told herself, Corbett had been wrong not to trust her. Wrong to ask her to do something so unfair and unreasonable. Anger rose up in her and spilled over in the tears she’d been keeping bottled up. Damn him! Why didn’t he trust me? How could he think I would ever betray him? He doesn’t know me at all! And if that’s the case, what hope is there for us?

Having convinced herself she had nothing to lose, Lucia wasted no time. She scrubbed away her tears with her shirt sleeve, popped the drive out of the computer, zipped it into a weatherproof pouch and left the study, fully intending to go straight to her room, gather up a few essentials and her cold-weather clothes and slip quietly out of the house. Once past the gate, she reasoned, she would make her way to the village, where she would knock on doors until she found someone with a telephone. And sufficient knowledge of English to be able to help her make transportation arrangements as far as Budapest. From there she would take a commercial flight to Paris. Piece of cake. She could be there by…well, either very late tonight, or at the latest, first thing tomorrow.

The only thing was, in order to get from the study to her room, she had to pass through the kitchen. And in the kitchen she found Kati, seated comfortably at the kitchen table as if she’d grown roots there, diligently working away on a piece of embroidery. She looked up when Lucia came in, her round, kind face registering dismay at the obvious evidence of her recent weeping. She immediately put down her sewing and bustled to Lucia’s side, patting her shoulder and cooing her concern in animated Hungarian, inquiring whether Lucia would like some coffee? Some wine? Some cake? Lunch? Food and drink-the cure for all ills.

Lucia smiled tremulously, shook her head, waved Kati back to her work and went into the bedroom, where she lowered herself onto the bed with a dejected exhalation. Escaping from her prison wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d hoped. Clearly, Kati and Josef had been designated her keepers, and given their devotion to Corbett, Lucia was sure nothing short of knockout drops in their tokai or a bonk on the head with a bit of crockery was likely to induce them to abandon their posts. And, since she lacked both knockout drops and the stomach for violence-the premeditated kind, anyway-she would simply have to come up with something more…creative.

Creative…

Like…sewing or embroidery. Like needlepoint.

Rising swiftly, she went to her suitcase and took out the large, handwoven bag she used to carry her needlework. She turned it upside down and dumped out everything into her suitcase. Then she put back into the bag a sweater, a change of underwear, several pairs of warm socks, her gloves, some essential toiletries, her flashlight, her wallet with her driver’s license, credit card and a few euros, the flash drive and, lastly, the needlepoint project she’d been working on before that fateful night, the evening that was to have been a fairy-tale date with Corbett to the British Embassy Christmas party. It seemed a lifetime ago.

She sat for a moment staring down at the piece, a chair seat cushion cover that was part of a set she’d been working on forever, it seemed, she supposed in the expectation she might someday have a set of chairs to put them on. Looking at it now, it struck her that it didn’t fit at all with either her lifestyle or her personal taste, which meant it would ultimately end up where all her needlework projects did-hanging on the wall of some elderly relative or rolled up in her mother’s cedar chest. But before it did, this one, at least, might serve a better purpose. She had only the beginnings of an idea of how she might escape her loving watchdogs, but she was sure the rest would come.

Her lips curved in a secret little smile as she placed the square of fabric neatly into the bag so that it covered the items already there. The plastic case containing scissors and needles she dropped in, as well. Who knows, she thought, they might come in handy as a weapon.

She hoped the shiver that rippled through her wasn’t a premonition.

She closed the suitcase and picked up the bag, then stood in the middle of the room and looked around, going over everything again in her mind.

Shoes. She’d need the ski boots. Hopefully Kati wouldn’t notice, or if she did, wouldn’t think it odd that she’d chosen to wear them indoors. She sat down on the bed to change into the boots, and as she did, her reading glasses, there on the nightstand, caught her eye. She’d need them, too, of course, for the sewing. She slipped them on and stood up…and once again inspiration struck. Smiling another secret smile, she removed the glasses and put them in the sewing bag, pushing them way down to the bottom.

Yes, she thought, the pieces of her plan were coming together. It was going to depend on a lot of things going her way, but it just might work.

When Lucia returned to the kitchen, Kati beamed and nodded, and when she saw the needlework Lucia pulled out of her bag, gave a little crow of delight and hastily pushed her own things out of the way to make more room on the table. The other woman’s obvious pleasure in having company during her assigned vigil made Lucia’s stomach clench with regret.

I’ll make it up to you, somehow, she silently promised as she bent over her sewing bag, making a great show out of searching for something and her consternation at not finding it.

When Kati asked what was wrong, making it clear from her eager expression that perhaps she could produce the missing item from her own supplies, Lucia shook her head and pointed to her own eyes with a perplexed frown.

“I can’t find my glasses,” she explained. “I know I left them…Oh-no, wait!” Lord, forgive me, and please make me a good enough actress to pull this off… “I remember now. I think I left them in the cave yesterday, when I was, um…when Corbett and I were…I mean, when I was taking a bath.” As she augmented her English explanation with elaborate pantomime she could feel a blush warming her cheeks. At least she didn’t have to fake that. “I’ll just…go…” She rose and gestured toward the storeroom door.

Kati nodded sagely and gave her a sideways look, eyes sparkling with the glee she didn’t try very hard to hide.

Having made it as far as the storeroom, and with the door safely shut behind her, Lucia paused for a moment to lean against it and send up one last prayer for forgiveness. Then she dug her flashlight out of her sewing bag, drew a deep breath and ventured into the cool, damp darkness of the cave.

Lucia was fairly familiar with the path as far as the thermal pool. Beyond that, she’d be venturing into unknown territory. She had no way of knowing whether there would even be a path. She wished with all her heart she’d found a way to explore, maybe even find the chimney, before this. Now all she had was the flashlight and a very powerful incentive.

But as she paused beside the thermal pool, she felt shivers of apprehension and the first real shadows of doubt.

Am I doing the right thing? Will Corbett forgive me?

Even if he did forgive her for disobeying his order, he’d probably never forgive her-or Kati and Josef, either-if she got herself killed.

Nevertheless, it was vitally important that she get the information about the identity of the mole to him before he did something that couldn’t be undone. For that, she knew, she’d never forgive herself.

She would simply have to make certain she didn’t get herself killed.

It’s no different from any other search. Use your head. Use your logic.

How had she tackled the search for the mole?

Follow the money.

In this case she was looking for a tunnel, a chimney that might be a way out of the cave. How had she known about the existence of such a thing in the first place? Air currents. She’d felt the breeze stirring through the cave. All she had to do was find that breeze again, then follow it.

Follow the current…

It wasn’t that easy, of course. She’d never been a Girl Scout, and those wilderness trips with her parents hadn’t included spelunking. But eventually she did find a spot where there seemed to be a breath of fresh air, apparently coming from an offshoot of the main cavern that appeared to be a dead end.

Her heart beat faster as she made her way into the smaller passageway, and it dropped into her stomach when the passage seemed to grow steadily smaller and narrower, and its ceiling lower, until she had to grope her way forward on her hands and knees, pushing the flashlight and her sewing bag ahead of her.

Nightmare scenarios kept her company in the darkness: What if the chimney is no longer passable? What if its been blocked by a cave-in or rock slide?

If that did turn out to be the case, the worst that could happen would be that she’d have to turn back, and either try to find another way to slip past Kati and Josef or convince them to let her go. Since neither of those seemed a very likely alternative, she pressed on, although she was conscious, now, of the unknown tons of earth and rock pressing down on the ceiling above her. Having allowed the notion of cave-ins and rock falls to invade her thoughts, she’d let fear creep in with it. Fear that turned her skin clammy and her knees weak. A sudden attack of paralyzing claustrophobia seemed like a real possibility.

The only thing that kept her from giving in to panic completely was the realization that the air current did seem to be getting stronger. The chimney must be up ahead, somewhere. And getting closer.

And then she came to the end of the passageway.

Close to despair, she directed the flashlight all around the walls, searching for a seam, a crack of some kind. Finding nothing, she pounded her hand against the smooth walls in frustration. How could this be? The breeze…

The breeze was gone. She didn’t feel it anymore. When had it disappeared?

Creeping backward, she directed the light toward the ceiling. And a few yards back she found it-an opening big enough for a man to stand upright in. In her frightened focus on moving ahead she’d gone right past it.

She stood up shakily and aimed the flashlight’s beam higher into the hole. There-she could see where rusted iron spikes had been driven at intervals into the rock walls of the chimney. The first seemed too high to reach, but she discovered that by standing on her tiptoes she could just get a hand round it. It seemed solid enough. If only the others were, as well.

Now…how to hoist herself up into the chimney? She was no monkey; her upper-body strength wouldn’t be nearly up to the task. The problem had her stumped, until a search found shallow toe-holes carved in the tunnel walls directly below the shaft.

Thankful now for the height that had seemed such a burden to her in her gangly, geeky youth, Lucia tucked her flashlight into the waistband of her ski pants, looped the handles of her sewing bag securely over one shoulder and began to climb.