Page 73 of The Shadow Friends

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I asked her not to,” said Ingrid.

“Well. It seems I can’t trust anyone. Not my wife. Not my best friends.” Lloyd lurched to his feet and started toward the door. There he halted and turned to face Rodrigo. “If you let anything happen to Ingrid, I swear I’ll—”

“I get the message,” said Rodrigo.

“Lloyd?” said Ingrid. “Where are you going?”

“To get some fresh air!” He walked out.

“Give him time,” said Rodrigo. “He’ll calm down.”

Ingrid rose to her feet. “This can’t wait,” she said, and followed Lloyd out of the suite.

There was a long silence in the room.

“Well,” Maggie finally said. “When do I get to hear the truth?”

“I haven’t lied about anything.”

“I want to know why you dragged Ingrid into this.”

Rodrigo shot a meaningful glance at his two men. They both nodded and quietly left the room, closing the door behind them.

“I should never underestimate any friend of Ingrid’s,” Rodrigo said.

“I’ve known her for nearly forty years. I find it odd that she never once talked about you.”

“I’m disappointed. But not surprised.”

“Things ended badly between you, I take it?”

“She chose Lloyd. I gallantly bowed out.”

A choice between Lloyd and this dark-eyed panther of a man would not have been easy for most women. Age hadn’t dimmed Rodrigo’s magnetism, and he still moved with the energy and purpose of a much younger man.

“Here it is, years later, and you pop back into her life,” said Maggie. “You wiggle your finger and she comes running.”

“The situation is far more complicated than that. This isn’t about our, um, previous attachment. Although the spark is definitely still there.”

“Then what is this about?”

“A mission that went badly wrong. And a chance for us to finally make things right.”

“This was in France?”

Rodrigo paused. “You know about it?”

“Not the details. But when operatives die in action, we hear about it. I know there was an attack on a safe house. I know we lost two men.”

He nodded. “It was a lightning attack. Coordinated. Brutal. The two colleagues we lost, Simon and Gordon, were just starting their careers. Young men, with families. We had to attend their funerals, comfort their wives. We learned later, after our team was debriefed about the fiasco, that the Agency source who betrayed us managed to slip away to Moscow. Our contacts there told us he was rewarded with a luxury apartment. At least, what qualifies as a luxury apartment in Moscow. He spent the rest of his life in comfort, untouchable.”

“He’s dead?”

Rodrigo nodded. “Three years ago. Cancer.”

“Which puts him beyond reach. So how, exactly, can you make things right?”