Gunmetal Gray

EPILOGUE

The covert CIA flight landed in Frankfurt in the early evening and taxied to a hangar used regularly by U.S. military and intelligence aircraft.

Twenty minutes after touchdown Court walked through the space-age-looking Hilton Frankfurt Airport, opened the door to a small conference space on the second floor, and entered the sterile room.

Zoya sat on the table, her legs hanging off the side.

Court hadn’t showered in twenty-four hours and other than a quick washup in the aircraft lavatory he’d done nothing to mitigate the fact he’d been living in cheap guesthouses in the jungles of Southeast Asia for the past week. Zoya Zakharova, in contrast, wore a dark blue business suit; her dark brown hair was pulled back in a short ponytail. He couldn’t see her wounded shoulder through the clothing, but her face gave off no hint of the damage and pain she’d suffered six days earlier in Phuket.

She smiled at Court as she slid off the table and walked across the little room.

“How are you?” she asked.

“I’m okay. How about you? Your shoulder is okay?”

“Hurts a little. Not a lot.”

“Good.”

Zoya said, “I’m sorry, Court.” She sat in a chair and Court sat next to her. Close, but not close enough to touch.

Court looked her over. “What did you do that I don’t know about?”

“Nothing. I just mean… I’m sorry your operation didn’t turn out exactly how you wanted it to. Still… I agree with Brewer. Fan needs to come to the U.S. The Chinese will kill him in Taiwan, and the West needs the intelligence he has.”

After a long time, Court said, “I feel bad for Jiang, though. This isn’t his world. He’s just a goofy kid who’d rather be playing video games or something.”

It was silent for nearly a minute. Court wanted to kiss Zoya, but he wasn’t sure if he should.

Finally he said, “I’m sorry. Sorry for leaving you in Thailand.”

Zoya nodded. “Brewer explained why you did it. You were protecting me. You were about to run off with Fan Jiang, and you did not want me to be an accomplice to your action.”

Court said, “I’m pleasantly surprised Brewer told you the truth and didn’t spin that for her own benefit.”

Just when he felt like he had to, she turned and looked up at him. Before he could react she took his face in her hands, leaned in, and kissed him hard.

It was another full minute before they pulled back and looked into each other’s eyes. She said, “You and I made a good team over there.”

“Damn right, we did.”

Misty tears formed in her eyes. Court cocked his head; he didn’t understand what was wrong.

She understood his look. “Brewer won’t let us be together,” she said. “I wanted you to come visit while I am held in isolation. Could be for months. She said no. I guess I understand. But still… I don’t trust her. I think she’s hiding something.”

“Everyone I’ve ever met is hiding something,” Court said.

Zoya nodded thoughtfully. Wiped her eyes with a tissue she pulled from her pocket. Then she and Court kissed again.

“Where are they taking you?” Court asked.

“Washington, D.C. After that, I’m just along for the ride.”

“Ever been there?”

“To Washington? I’d rather not answer that question.”

Court repeated himself. “Everyone is hiding something.”

Zoya shrugged a little. “Where are you going?”

“I’m a free man as of right now. I can walk out of this hotel and go anywhere I want.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Only because I don’t know. I might just wander for a while.”

“A vacation?”

Court chuckled to himself. “I guess so. Someplace where the beer is good and the people don’t get up in your business.”

“You’ve earned a vacation.”

Court said, “You should come with me.”

Zoya smiled broadly. “No way Brewer would let that happen.”

“We could run down to the tarmac and hijack an airplane.”

Zoya’s laugh filled the conference room. “You are a troublemaker, aren’t you?”

“Sometimes, maybe.”

There was a quiet knock at the door, and then it opened. A pair of men Court recognized from the flight leaned in. He knew they were CIA National Clandestine Service officers, and he assumed they were here for Zoya.

One said, “Ma’am. It’s time to go.”

Zoya grabbed Court quickly and kissed him hard, held on tight, but harder with her left than her right, because of the injuries to her right shoulder. When she pulled away she said, “You be careful, whatever you do.”

Court smiled. “I will.”

“And I’ll take a rain check on that hijacking. Next time we’re together we are totally flying off into the sunset.”

“I like that.”

Zoya left the conference room, and Court stepped out a minute later. The hotel lobby was quiet, and he left without anyone in the building ever noticing him at all.

An hour later he stood in the Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof and scanned the massive board of destinations, a hundred or more cities there for his choosing. He could take a train north to Malmo or south to Athens. West to Dublin or east to Moscow.

Like a restaurant’s menu, he perused the options for ten minutes.

Finally, he decided it didn’t really matter. He made a choice, bought a second-class ticket for the next departure, climbed aboard, and went looking for a quiet compartment to get some sleep while the train took him far away from here.