Page 55 of Covert Affairs

Regardless, it got the job done. The doctor, in his robe and slippers and half-asleep, jerked up and came to his feet. “What was that?” He stuck his head out before emerging fully from the room. “Hello?” Lippenstein called.

When only silence followed, he toddled into the hallway, still on alert. He carried an iron fire poker as a weapon. As soon as he was clear of the entrance, Ian slipped inside.

And waited, hearing the man grumble and complain, double-check the door lock, and call out, “Who’s there?”

Maybe the old guy would chalk it up to ghosts. Ian prayed he, himself, didn’t run into any. A place this old had to be full of them.

While it seemed an unreasonable fear for a guy like him, it was one of the few things in life that freaked him out. His foster mom had always watched ghost hunting shows and grisly horror movies, forcing him to join her when his foster father was at work. Those memories still gave him nightmares.

As he expected, the doctor began inspecting the various rooms to make sure he was still alone and there was no intruder. When he disappeared up to the second floor, Ian tapped his earbud. “Study,” he told Vivi.

She slipped in a moment later, grinning from ear to ear. Ian flipped off the television, throwing the room into a shadowed gloom. A single banker’s lamp on the desk gave a soft glow.

He guided her to the long curtains framing a window and made her step behind the thick, velvety fabric. “Stay here until I give you the signal. And don’t go off script. Please.”

That grin was hard to beat. “It felt so good to smash that vase! I think I need more destruction therapy in my life.”

“Hold that thought.” He patted her shoulder. “Weapon ready?”

She held up the baton. “Ready.”

Once he had her in place, he pulled out the fancy ergonomic chair at the desk and sat, placing his Glock on the blotter. He couldn’t wait to see the look on the man’s face when he returned.

The minutes dragged on. Vivi became impatient. “What’s he doing?” she whispered loudly. “Did he go to bed?”

That was a possibility, but Ian doubted it. The unexplained destruction in his entryway should keep him awake and on edge for a while. They simply needed to bide their time until he returned. The element of surprise was crucial. “Patience, Grasshopper.”

She huffed. “Afraid I’m running low on that.”

Ian heard the creak of floorboards. “Ready, player one.”

“What does that mean?” She sounded panicky.

“He’s coming. Hold tight.”

The doctor bombed into the room, the poker still in his beefy hand. His head was partially bald, and he wore glasses. Initially, he didn’t notice Ian sitting there, but seemed more concerned that the television was off. “What in the world,” he muttered, going to his recliner where the remote sat on the arm and grabbing it.

Ian cleared his throat. Clearly startled, the man yelped, fumbled the remote, and dropped the poker. “Have a seat, Doc. We need to talk.”

Lippenstein froze, sheer terror on his face. “Who are you?”

Ian fingered the gun. “Doesn’t matter. Tell me what you know about Dr. Genevieve Montgomery.”

The man’s flabby jaws went slack. “Gen? What about her?”

“Explain your involvement in the events that happened before her death.”

He straightened, bushy brows scrunching together. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Get out of my house. I don’t care which agency you work for, this is a clear violation of my rights, and I demand you leave.”

“Not until you answer me.”

He started to say something, stopped. His lips thinned. “I know about Command & Control. That’s who sent you, isn’t it?”

Interesting. “Why would you assume that?”

“You’re denying it?” The man nodded as if confirming his theory to himself. “I don’t know why Genevieve turned traitor. I’ve already told everyone that. Whatever she was planning, she didn’t confide to me about it.”

There was no obvious tell that he was lying. “She wasn’t a traitor. Someone used hypnosis to manipulate her. I think it was you.”

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