The Black Ice limo cruised through the night at forty miles per hour, top speed in a snowstorm like the one that was slamming the Mid-Atlantic region. Andie glanced out the dark-tinted windows. She’d seen few cars on the road tonight, virtually none since they’d exited the expressway. Bahena had told her that they were headed for the airport, but she had her doubts.
“Doesn’t look like a good night to fly,” she said.
Littleton didn’t answer. He was seated across from her, facing forward. Andie was in the other bench seat with her back to the cockpit. The chauffer’s partition behind her head was closed, leaving her and Littleton in privacy. They were forty minutes into the drive, and he had yet to speak a word to her.
Not a good sign.
Andie had ended the phone call with Jack in the nick of time, before Bahena had come around with the company limo. She’d made riskier calls while working undercover, and this one should have gone undetected. But she was beginning to have doubts.
The limo slowed, then pulled off the road to a stop. Andie glanced out the window. They were outside the glow of city lights, nowhere near an airport-nowhere near anything she recognized.
“Why are we stopping?” she asked.
Littleton stared at her, his face illuminated only by the dim, blue glow of the liquor cabinet to Andie’s right.
“Who are you?” asked Littleton. His tone was not cordial.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
He folded his arms across his chest. “Who do you work for?”
“Vortex,” she said.
“I mean who do you really work for? Amnesty International? Some other NGO with a left-wing agenda?”
“I work for your company,” she said.
Littleton tightened his stare, saying nothing, or rather letting his silence do the talking. Andie didn’t flinch, but she noticed the file folder on the seat next to him. Littleton picked it up, opened it, and said, “Bad weather or not, there’s a plane waiting for you.”
“Yes, I understand I’m being activated.”
He smiled sardonically, then shook his head. “You’re not being activated.”
“What’s the problem?”
Littleton pulled a photograph from the file, switched on the interior spotlight in the ceiling, and held the before her eyes. “This is Olga,” he said.
Olga looked to be at least six feet tall and about 180 pounds of solid muscle and steroids. The tight black hot pants, studded leather jacket, and black lipstick were straight out of Capital Pleasures. Her head was shaved, except for a single wisp of red hair that hung in her eyes. Her nose, lips, and ears were pierced with multiple metal rings, and she had her mouth wide open to reveal the tongue piercing. Tattoos covered her neck and right arm, mostly Chinese characters and random figures that vaguely resembled them. Andie took special notice, but she didn’t recognize any gang symbols.
“Olga is one of our most successful level-five activations,” said Littleton.
He returned the photograph to the file and removed another. “This is the last person we sent to meet Olga.”
Andie tried to show no reaction, but the difference between her level-one activation and level five was more dramatic than she’d thought. Olga appeared to be removing the man’s pubic hair with her teeth.
Littleton closed the file and put it aside, but he laid the last photograph faceup on the seat, where Andie could still see it.
“We can go one of two ways here,” he said. “You can tell me who you are and what you’re doing here. Or we can put you on that airplane, you can meet Olga, and you can tell her.”
Andie glanced at the photo, then back at Littleton. “I told you the truth. Would you like me to tell you again?”
Littleton’s smile was even more condescending than the last one. “Yes, tell me again,” he said as he switched off the light.
The partition behind her head slid open and Bahena grabbed her by the hair, jerking her head back. Andie was staring up at the base of his chin. Even in the darkness, she could tell that he was enjoying himself.
“But this time,” said Littleton, “Danilo will make sure you don’t lie to me.”
“You’re making a mistake,” said Andie, her heart pounding.
“No,” said Littleton. “You made the mistake.”