Page 39 of Trust No One

Her smile widened. “It’s in the city. In the same complex as the U.S. Navy Medical and Surgical building. It was the original OSS building and then became the first CIA building. Most people moved to Langley a long time ago, but there are still a few offices there. Kingsley’s is one of them.”

“That makes no sense,” Dev said., frowning at her. “We both know Kingsley. He’d want to be where the important people have their offices. No way would he want to be relegated to an old building where I’m guessing only a few bureaucrats are located.”

“That’s why he’s there,” Mel said, pointing her fork at him. “He doesn’t want to be in the spotlight. Doesn’t want his boss breathing down his neck. He probably started in that office when he first went to work for the CIA, and just stayed there.”

She ate a final piece of her French toast and set her fork on the plate. Leaned closer to Dev, and the scents of cinnamon and maple syrup washed over him. They reminded him of tumbling out of bed with Mel, then sharing breakfast with her at the U.S. embassy in Kabul.

Now she spoke in a low voice, although no one was paying attention to them. “With all the crimes Kingsley’s committed since he started working for the CIA, he knows he’ll go to prison for the rest of his life if he’s caught. So he wants to keep as low a profile as possible. And staying in that old, small building fits perfectly into his plans. He can meet with whoever he wants, and they don’t have to check in. Don’t need to be cleared to see him. That building is perfect for his needs.”

“Okay,” Dev said slowly, trying to ignore Mel’s scent. “You’re right. He has a lot of good reasons to stay under the radar. But how do we get close enough to that building to watch him?”

“When we drove by it yesterday, I noticed a group of tents on the side of the building near the interstate. If we hang out by the gate, people going into and out of that building will assume we’re part of that group.

“I figured we’d go to a theatrical supply store and get what we need to make sure Kingsley doesn’t recognize us. Wigs. Make up. Old clothes that we’ll find at a resale shop. We’ll be far enough away from the homeless people that we’re not infringing on their turf, close enough to the gate to see who’s coming and going.”

Dev sat back in his seat and took a sip of coffee as he thought about her plan. “Good plan,” he finally said. “No way will we get into that building. And we don’t even want to try. We need to stay as far away from Kingsley as possible, but still watch him.”

“Exactly,” Mel said, looking up and signaling their waitress for their check. “Let’s start at a resale shop. Find some old, battered clothes and shoes. Then we’ll google theatrical supply companies and get the props to complete our transformation.”

Dev studied her excited, eager expression. “Maybe you should have been part of the ops groups in Afghanistan,” he teased her.

She rolled her eyes, but her tiny smile told him she was pleased by his compliment.

Three hours later, Dev drove the car into a municipal parking structure three blocks away from Kingsley’s office building. They’d gone back to their hotel to change into the used clothes and apply their makeup and wigs. Dev had gone with dirty blond dreads, and she’d chosen a wig with short, spiky black hair. They’d talked to the clerk at the supply store and told her what they wanted. She helped them pick out the makeup and accessories they needed to look a lot older than their real ages. The last thing she gave them were soft inserts for their cheeks to make their faces look completely different.

Mel donned faded, ratty jeans with holes in the knees and frayed hems and a Georgetown sweatshirt. The fabric was thin and stretched out, more gray than blue, and it had been washed so many times that the logo on the front was cracked and peeling. The shoes she’d chosen were a dirty red and had holes in the toes, but they were comfortable, and they’d be easy to run in, if that became necessary.

Dev also wore faded, worn jeans, but he’d chosen a dress shirt that had faded from tan to a dirty beige. He’d topped it with a sports coat that had holes in the sleeves and was missing most of its buttons. His shoes were battered and worn, but also would hold up if they had to run.

“You ready?” he murmured as they prepared to walk onto the sidewalk.

“As I’ll ever be,” Mel whispered. As they passed a trash can, she spotted a coffee cup someone had discarded. She reached in and grabbed it.

“What’s that for?” Dev asked.

“Our reason to be sitting on the sidewalk,” she said. “We’re panhandlers.”

Dev shook his head. “I don’t like this. We’ll be sitting there, asking Kingsley to look at us.”

“No one looks at homeless people,” Mel said, looking around at the crowds parting for them. “They avoid eye contact at all costs. So Kingsley’s not going to look at us. And even if he does, we look nothing like Mel Melbourne and Dev Smith.” She touched his arm. “This is the safest way I could come up with to do surveillance on that bastard.”

“Okay,” he said. “But I think it’s dangerous.”

“You have a better idea?” she asked.

“No, just registering my opinion.”

“Okay, then we’ll compromise. Instead of crossing the street and getting closer, we’ll sit over here,” Mel said, dropping to the sidewalk across the street from the Naval Medical building. “We’ll have a clear view of anyone going into or coming out of the building on this side, but we won’t be as close as I’d prefer. And it helps that we’ll be in front of another parking garage. We can watch who goes into it, as well.”

Mel always looked for the compromise. Even with him. But he’d hurt her too many times, and she’d finally given up on him. “Yeah, this is better,” he said, keeping the pain out of his voice as he folded himself onto the ground. “Not so ‘in your face’ as right next to Kingsley’s building.”

They stayed where they were for the rest of the morning and late into the afternoon, seeing no signs of Kingsley. Around five, he emerged from the building and walked toward them. When he spotted them on the sidewalk, he veered toward them.

Mel felt Dev tense beside her, but she didn’t change her expression. As he passed them, he bent and dropped five bucks into the coffee cup.

“God bless you,” Mel said, her voice a hoarse rasp that no one who knew her would recognize.

Kingsley nodded and stepped into the parking garage. Ten minutes later, a late model silver Toyota sedan bumped out of the exit. Kingsley.

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