Page 128 of The Lazarus Protocol

He pressed both ends of the vial on Steph’s necklace, and the signal popped up on the monitor. Visible but not accessible, until he worked his way through that password also. That was when he knew for sure the CIA had created this thing. There were always tells in the programming that let him know where the software had been written.

The vial vibrated on the desk between his wrists. Ice lifted it and put it to his ear.

“You have the book?”

Ice started typing on the computer, opening new windows online and running scans on the signal that the computer could see.

“You’re playing a dangerous game.”

Ice initiated a voice recognition scan and said, “How long will you keep up this subterfuge?”

“Who is this?”

“My name is not the point. It’s obvious Silas Ilman is dead.”

“Division Zero has Stephanie-Jo?” The caller paused. “You understand what that means for the future of your team.”

“That we’re harboring a burned spy? That’s all you’ve got to threaten us with?” Ice watched the scan do its thing on the computer monitor. “You kept her on the hook for years.”

Never mind that Ice had determined the first moment he saw her that she wasn’t built for this. Why else drop her on that train? She didn’t need to get caught up in it. He remembered well enough the sight of her in that pickup truck in Turkey, shivering. Pretending she wasn’t in the throes of a panic attack.

Not that a person with anxiety couldn’t be a spy, but something about her made him want to do what it took to get her out of the deal. To free her and watch whatever was happening between her and Adam blossom into something real.

At least someone would be happy. And if anyone deserved it, that person was Adam.

“You think I’ve been lying to her,” the caller said. “As if she’s worth that much trouble.”

The monitor display flickered as the scan finished. Voice identified: Thomas Kraus. Some basic details about him were listed, but nothing related to the CIA position he held.

Ice jogged his knee up and down under the desk. “So why keep her on your books for years?”

“Burnable resources are easier to replace. Agents are a dime a dozen. Every upstart college graduate wants to save the world. I’ve got an army of young adults itching for me to put a gun in their hand and point them at a terrorist or some other kind of bad guy.”

“Like I said, why keep her?”

“You wanna make a deal?”

Ice’s stomach clenched, which didn’t feel good at all. But the idea of bargaining for someone’s life wouldn’t ever sit well with him. It hit far too close to home. “You think I need you?”

“I think there’s a reason you’re at that bar, Ivan.”

Not good. “So you know where I am. So what?”

“You wanna come in, the CIA will listen to what you have to say. Maybe we can come to some kind of agreement.”

“Tell me where to be.” He had to get out of here anyway. He’d identified the caller, and if he was given an address, he’d know more.

Ice heard snatches of people talking in the hall, passing by the door.

At the same time, Kraus rattled off a local address. “It’s a CIA safehouse. The agent in residence will be expecting you.”

“Peachy.”

Ice disconnected the call and closed all the windows he’d opened. He pocketed everything he needed to take with him and headed for the door, trying to ignore the way his head swam and the world felt a bit woozy. Whatever was in that bottle dulled the pain in his abdomen like a champ, but when he threw up later, it wasn’t going to feel good.

The hall was empty, so he ducked out. Went to the end and pushed out the exit door into a stretch of gravel where a guy slept on an old swinging bench that had been set on four gallon-sized buckets because the chains had rusted and broken a long time ago.

A deep snore came from the guy’s throat.