Reconcilable Differences

The truth hit her like a lightning bolt. She stopped abruptly. “So it was you!”

“What?”

“You’re the one who got me this jogging suit and the other supplies.”

“Somebody had to do it.”

She should have guessed from the beginning that Robert would never consider anyone’s interests but his own. “Thank you, Dave. It was very thoughtful of you.”

“Don’t blow it out of proportion, Mrs. Manning. I’d have done the same for anyone. You’re under my protection.”

“Protection? I’d say it’s more like under suspicion, Agent Cassidy. Prisoner, more realistically. Where do you think I could go? I have no passport, money, charge card or identification. I don’t even have the money to make a phone call.”

“You could always call Daddy collect. I’m sure he’d send the corporate jet to slip in under the radar and rescue his little princess.”

“Do you really hate us that much, Dave?”

“I don’t hate anybody, Mrs. Manning. Not you, your father or that schmuck you married. I’ll just be glad when all of you are out of my life.”

His cell phone suddenly beeped and he pulled it out of his pocket.

“Sneezy here,” Kurt Bolen said, using the code name the agency had assigned him. “Looks like you’ve picked up a friend. We’ve got a make on a guy who appears to be following you.”

“Give it to me.”

“Five eleven. Dressed in jeans and a black jacket. We’re too far away to see much more than that in this fog.”

“Stay with him. We’re about two blocks away from the hotel. Call Dopey and tell him to meet us in the lobby. Sleepy and Happy are to remain with Donald Duck.”

“This soup is getting thicker, so step it up,” Kurt said.

“Donald Duck, Dopey, Sleepy, Happy! That was the most stupid conversation I’ve ever heard,” Trish declared when he slipped the phone back into his pocket. “I hope it was more intelligent on the other end. Do you fellows actually use those ridiculous names? Furthermore, you’re mixing up your toons. Donald Duck is Mickey and Minnie’s friend. The Seven Dwarfs prefer the company of Snow White. I hope you gave me a name, too, in this game.”

“We didn’t have time, but I’d recommend Cruella DeVille.”

Dave took her elbow and hurried her along. She practically had to run to keep up with him.

Suddenly several thuds slammed into the building beside them.

“Dammit! He’s got a silencer!” Dave cursed. He grabbed her hand and they started to run. Another bullet bounced off the sidewalk at their feet.

They ducked into an alley and Dave motioned her to silence. Then he pulled a pistol out from under the leg of his jeans.

Trish’s heart was pounding in her chest. She had no idea what this was all about, but trusted Dave and remained silent. It all was too much to try and absorb. Four days ago she was sweltering in the bright sunshine of Washington, D.C. Now she was crouched in a swirling fog in an alley in Germany with Dave Cassidy—the last man she expected to see holding a gun in his hand. This had to be the mother of all nightmares.

They heard the sound of running feet and Dave shoved her lower and raised his weapon. He gave two short whistles when he recognized the two men who came into view.

Kurt Bolen and Justin Addison ducked into the alley and joined them.

“Sorry, Dave, we lost him in the fog,” Kurt said.

They made it to the hotel without any further incident. Don Fraser met them in the lobby.

“How long have you been down here?”

“A couple minutes,” Don said.

“Anyone come in?”

“Not since I arrived. What’s going on?”

“Is Manning okay?”

“Yeah, Pete and Rick are with him. Manning didn’t like being pulled away from some fraülein he was hitting on at the bar. He’s a real piece of work. Am I the only one who can’t stand that guy?”

“There’s a big fraternity,” Dave said. “Let’s get upstairs.”

After checking out her room, Dave proceeded to give Trish explicit instructions. “Keep the door locked. A couple of us will be outside it all night, so don’t worry.”

“Are you saying someone is trying to kill me?” Trish asked. “How do you know the man wasn’t shooting at you?”

Dave shook his head. “No reason to make me the target. At first I thought it was CIA keeping tabs on you until the shooting started. At this point, we still want to keep you alive.”

“Why would anyone want to kill me?” she asked. “I don’t even know what this is all about.”

“I bet your husband knows. The shooter may have been sending him a message. By the way, stay away from the window. Whoever it was is still out there somewhere.”

“Thank you, Agent Cassidy,” she grumbled. “I’ll try not to keep that thought in mind when I attempt to fall asleep.”

Trish soon found out that truer words were never spoken. After several hours of tossing and turning, she finally managed to fall asleep, only to awaken a short while later to a ringing telephone and bright sunlight streaming through the window.

The call was from Justin Addison, who informed her they would be leaving for the airport in thirty minutes.

Trish jumped out of bed, took a quick shower, then dressed in the jogging suit again. She stuffed her other clothes into the paper bag and was ready when the knock sounded on the door.

Robert was with them. It was the first time she’d seen him since they’d arrived at the hotel. If he was aware of it, he didn’t mention or make a pretense of showing any concern over the attempt on her life last night.

She’d like to tell him a thing or two. He owed her a big apology—not that he’d ever offer one. But thanks to him she now was the target of an assassin.

While waiting for the plane to be gassed up, Dave came over and handed her a paper cup of hot coffee and a Danish pastry packaged in plastic.

“Sorry, this is the best I could rustle up.”

She smiled gratefully. “Thanks.” She took a deep draft of the hot brew. It was perfectly sweetened to her taste. She smiled in appreciation. He hadn’t forgotten.

A short time later they boarded a cargo plane without any further delay and all of them slept most of the way back to the States.

As soon as they landed at Andrews Air Force Base, they were met by the CIA and taken to a room on the base. Same modus operandi, same questions and the same answers from her. The only difference this time was that her interrogators were a Mr. Baker and Mr. Bishop.