Page 100 of Hot Intent

“Ahh.” She held her hand out. “Give me your phone. I’ll suggest numbers while you type.” He passed her his phone and she started rattling off old addresses, and the names and birthdates of various people associated with Brian Remolatto.

Alex made a sound of satisfaction and then muttered sarcastically, “How sweet. The guy used his mother’s birthday as his passcode.”

He scrolled quickly, cruising the dead man’s phone for useful information. He announced under his breath, “Huh. Here’s the mission tasking to eliminate us with extreme prejudice.”

“Both of us?” she asked, shocked.

“Looks that way.”

“Who sent it?” she demanded, aghast.

“An excellent question. Sadly, it came from a numbered ISP address.”

“What’s that?”

“Without waxing technical, it’s an anonymous Internet location that will be untraceable.”

“What about his contact list? Have you checked that out?” she asked over his shoulder.

“Well, lookee, here,” Alex crooned, “A contact labeled ‘Boss.’”

She chuckled. “That’s either his CIA supervisor or his wife.”

“Given the number of women in his contact list, and the number of X-rated texts in his message folder, I’m going to postulate that young Brian was single.”

The train stopped, and they climbed the stairs into Grand Central Station. The place was mobbed with commuters striding in every direction across the cavernous space.

“This crowded enough for you?” she asked under the din.

Alex nodded and unwrapped his headphones from around his cellphone. He put one ear bud into his ear and passed her the second one. She huddled close to him to listen as he dialed the phone number of Remolatto’s boss.

A male voice answered. “Go ahead, Remolatto.”

Alex replied easily, “This isn’t Brian. It’s Alex Peters.”

“Peters?” the man exclaimed. “What the hell?”

“Hey, I need to get in touch with the director of the op. Something’s come up and I need to have a face-to-face conversation with the top brass.”

“Christ, Peters. I had no idea you were read in on the op. I thought you were a blind asset.”

“Obviously not. Brian said you could hook me up, though.”

“Kane left the office about an hour ago. She’s on her way home if I had to guess.”

Katie’s jaw dropped. As in Claudia Kane? An icy chill passed over her. Alex’s mother was the director of the entire Cold Intent operation? Even Alex seemed staggered. He physically shook himself, swallowed convulsively, and then said more lightly that she’d have been able to pull off, “I guess I’ll just have to call her there. How long will it take her to get home?”

“Well, she’s got to get all the way out to Fairfax. I’d give her an hour. Traffic’s a bitch at this time of year. Damned tourists flock to Washington and clog up all the roads.”

“No kidding. Can’t get a parking spot or restaurant reservation to save your life,” Alex griped.

The guy at the other end snorted in commiseration.

“Okay, well thanks, anyway, dude. Brian and I will take it from here.” Alex disconnected the phone. He passed her his ear bud, and she wound the thin wire around her hand while Alex deftly pulled out the phone’s battery and sim card.

“Killing it so they can’t track us with it?” she murmured.

“Yup.” He stowed the pieces in his pocket. “C’mon. We need to get to Washington.”

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