Page 25 of Belgian Betrayal

Fearghas shrugged. “Uncle Sam?”

Catya shook her head. “I don’t know anyone with the initials U.S.”

“Maybe it’s not his name,” Fearghas said. “Perhaps it’s the initials of where he’s from. Like the U.S.”

“I don’t know anyone from the U.S. who would send me a message to meet with him at the Van Gogh Museum,” Catya said. “It worries me that someone knows I’m close enough to get there by the time it opens at nine.”

“Another setup?” Fearghas’s fists clenched.

“It’s possible,” she said.

The satellite phone rang, making Fearghas jump. He grabbed the device and received the call, tapping the speaker button so Catya could hear.

“Fearghas?” Dmytro’s voice boomed.

“Tell me you found Atkins,” Fearghas said.

“Not his exact location, just the city,” Dmytro said. “I ran facial recognition software on all the major airports and train stations. I got a hit a few minutes ago.”

“He’s in Amsterdam,” Catya stated, her lips pressing into a tight line.

“That’s right,” Dmytro said. “You already knew this?”

“Catya got a cryptic message a few minutes ago on her computer.” He read the message aloud, “Take a chance. Today’s a date. Join me where the almond blossoms bloom ASAP, and don’t be late. It could be our last chance. U.S.”

“Is U.S. an alias for Peter Atkins?” Dmytro asked.

Catya’s gaze met Fearghas’s, and the corners of her mouth tipped upward in the closest she’d come to a smile since he’d arrived. “Actually, it is,” she said. “I didn’t want a partner on the job. I made that clear to Atkins. U.S. stands for Unwanted Sidekick. It’s Atkins. He wants us to meet him at the Van Gogh Museum when it opens at nine o’clock.”

Chapter 7

Catya carefully crafted her disguise, knowing how dangerous it would be to step out in broad daylight. She wore a gray wig, covered her dark eyebrows with gray fake brows and drew lines at the edges of her eyes and mouth, making her look forty years older than her thirty-four years. She’d dressed in layers, starting with black leggings and a long-sleeved black shirt. Over these items, she’d pulled on an oversized dark gray shirtdress and a bulky coat to hide her slim figure. Black boots finished the outfit.

She’d insisted Fearghas dress in a similar fashion with a short gray wig, bushy gray eyebrows and the slacks she’d loaned him. She dragged a plaid shirt and sweater out of the wardrobe for him to wear.

When they were ready, each eyed the other and smiled.

“You’ll make a sexy old lady someday,” Fearghas said.

“You’ll be the hot old guy the widows will fight over.” She dug a cane out of the wardrobe and held it out to him. “Lean on this. You look too straight for an old man.”

He reached for the cane.

When Fearghas wrapped his hand around the shaft, Catya didn’t release it. Instead, she used it to tug him closer. “I bet if we kiss in public dressed like this, we can make the teenagers cringe.”

Fearghas waggled his bushy brows. “I’m willing to test that theory.” He bent to claim her lips in a brief kiss that promised more of the same when they weren’t in a hurry to make the rendezvous. They had fifteen minutes to make it to the museum on foot, taking a meandering route in case someone followed them.

Catya left her hidden apartment first to ensure no one was around to pounce on them or see that they’d emerged from behind a bush.

She was glad Fearghas hadn’t argued and insisted on going first.

“You’ve managed to keep your safe house secret for some time,” he’d said. “It’s a testament to the fact that you know what you’re doing.”

Her heart swelled at his confidence in her. Most men would discount her abilities because she was a woman. That misconception had played in her favor on more than one occasion. Some men who’d underestimated her had paid with their lives, making her job easier.

Though they represented two older people, they moved quickly through the streets until they arrived in front of a large building with a sign hanging over it—Van Gogh Museum.

Catya had visited the museum several times while she’d been in Amsterdam. She liked the different floors displaying the artist’s works at various stages of his life.

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