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There was a knock on the door, and Claudia froze. She immediately assumed the worst. She should have changed hotels. They had found someway to track her, some new piece of technology she was unfamiliar with. She was wearing a white tank top and a pair of cutoff jean shorts rolled up several inches at the hem. Her professional instincts kicked in momentarily and she searched the room for a weapon. After a second she thought better of it. If the CIA had found her, there would be no escaping. If Louie had been here, maybe they could fight their way out, but she wasn't a killer. Claudia imagined them on the other side of the door-men in black with big black guns waiting to bust the door down. She glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the patio and gravity pool. It was at least a thirty-foot drop to the jagged rocks and the surf.
Claudia collected herself and wiped her nervous palms on the front of her shorts. She stood tall and walked across the room. She would accept the inevitable. She would not run. Claudia didn't bother with the peephole. She unlocked the door and opened it. She was prepared for anything other than what she found.
"You're a hard woman to locate," Louie said. "Do you have any idea how many hotels there are in Ixtapa and Zihuatanejo?"
Claudia was speechless.
"I'm sorry, darling. You were right. I was wrong." Gould handed her a bouquet of flowers. "We should have never taken the job."
Claudia took the flowers, a raging storm of conflicting emotions battling within. She had been so ready to move on only a minute ago and now here she was being pulled back. Her mind struggled to find the proper meaning in all of this. She tried to gauge the depth of her feelings and the sincerity of Louie's words.
"I can't bear thinking of life without you," Louie continued. "Will you please forgive me?"
It was his simple plea for forgiveness that got to her. It was something the nuns had drilled into her as a child. To receive forgiveness, one must be willing to grant it.
63
Ke
Ke
The briefing had been held in her office at 4:15 on Sunday afternoon. Present were the associate deputy director for Intelligence, the head of the Office of Russian and European Analysis, and the deputy director of the Counterterrorism Center, or CTC. One other person arrived late. He was Marcus Dumond, who was CTC's resident computer genius. Dumond informed Ke
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Ke
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Ke
As she began reading the lengthy message any thought of sleep vanished. The rambling two-page letter was beyond surprising, and Ke
She was left with two options. The first involved bringing the State and Justice Departments into the loop, and for several reasons she hated the mere thought of it. First of all, this was a CIA problem. Someone had tried to kill one of her people, and the CIA would take care of the problem on its own. Langley was more suited to play rough, which was what this would take. If she brought Justice and State in on it, they would spend the next five years in Swiss courts, and the only outcome would be a few forfeited bank accounts. No individual would be brought to justice and punished for A