Page 11 of Steinbeck
She nodded, and he ignored the terrible stone lodged in his chest.
That was then.This was now.Him—oh no—trusting her.Again.Please, please...
“Let’s go back to my place,” she said as he pulled out.“They don’t know I’m gone yet.We have time, and I have security.”
“I think we’re living on borrowed time, but if it has a shower and grub, I’m in.”He held up a fist.
She bumped it.
He drove them off the mountain, past the lush estates and wineries, to the farmlands on the outskirts of Sintra.Postcard country.
“Why Lisbon?”He glanced at her.She’d ridden in silence since they’d left Sintra.He noticed a fading bruise on her cheek and didn’t want to ask about it.
“It’s off the radar.Whenever people think about clandestine hubs, the last place they think is Lisbon.It’s all London or Berlin or even Paris.Besides, I love the smell of the ocean.”
“You live on the Tagus River.”
“Close enough.”She glanced at him.“For a girl who grew up in South Dakota, the ocean is any decent body of water.”
He said nothing to her revelation about the life she’d had before joining an international spy ring.Once upon a time, she’d mentioned a single mom, moving around a lot.“Why didn’t you contact your sister?”
Heavy sigh from the passenger seat.“I was afraid they’d trace the signal and...”
“And find her.And use her.”
She nodded.“I mentioned the fading cell signal too, right?I had to make a choice.”
“Harder to track an Internet search than a cell call.”
“I didn’t think they’d make any connection to you.You’re still scrubbed from the Internet, thanks to your SEAL past.”
“Maybe.Hopefully.”
They’d reached the outskirts of Lisbon.“How do we get to your place?”
“Have we been followed?”
He glanced in the rearview mirror again.“Nope.”
“I live near Bairro Alto.”She directed him off the highway, into a neighborhood.They passed milky white stone and red-brick apartment buildings, the streets lined with olive and linden trees that bordered boulevards and parks.As they drove toward the center, the roads turned to cobblestone and the architecture went from modern to historic, the buildings more Renaissance and classical.
“I love the ancient architecture of Europe.”
“Don’t be fooled.These buildings are only two or three hundred years old.An earthquake and a tsunami wiped out the entire city back in the late seventeen hundreds.It’s not Rome or anything.”
“You talk like you’re not from America.Admit it—everything in Europe is old.”
She smirked, and he didn’t know why the smile hung on to him, took root.Hello.Just.An.Op.
As in Operation Free Phoenix and Make Sure Declan’s AI Program Hasn’t Fallen into the Wrong Hands.
“Maybe that’s why I like Lisbon.The city was completely destroyed and they rebuilt it from nothing.I like fresh starts.”
Interesting.She directed him deeper into the city, finally pulling up to a creamy white Renaissance-style building with narrow Romanesque balconies and a clay-tile roof.A streetcar rang as it rumbled by them.The night arched high, cloudless, a thousand stars watching them.
He shut off the car.“You sure this is a good idea?”
She keyed in a code to a gated door.“My sister is a security expert.I promise—anyone tries to break in, we’ll know.We’ll be safe here.”
