Trent waited, but Robb didn’t seem in any hurry to get started. Instead, he turned in his large, leather chair, gazing out of his office window and over the Sydney skyline, out to where the water sparkled in the early morning sunshine.
Finally, his mouth flattening into a long, thin line, Robb turned back to his desk, taking out a piece of paper from a stack to his right. He pushed it across the dark wood to Trent, his finger tapping on the photo on the upper left-hand side.
“Zina Alden,” Robb said, as he took his finger away. “Does that name ring any bells to you?”
Trent sucked in a quick, harsh breath, his blood running cold in his veins. He glanced down at the photo, blinking.
It’s her.
Of course it was her. He’d know her anywhere – it didn’t matter how much time had passed, every detail of her features was engraved on his memory, set down in stone.
There was nothing stony about the face of the woman in the photo, though – she was beautiful. High, wide cheekbones; full, pillowy lips. She wasn’t smiling in the photo, but her ebony eyes held a hint of laughter. Her hair was pulled back, but Trent could still see the springy curls where they fell down past her shoulders behind her.
Of course that name rings a bell to me.
“Zina Alden,” he said, forcing his eyes back up to Robb’s face. He couldn’t tell if Robb had clocked his reaction to the sound of Zina’s name and the sight of her face. Given how sharp he was, it seemed likely. But at the moment, he was still simply regarding him quietly, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, maybe a little bell, right at the back of my mind.” He swallowed. “Why? Should it mean something to me?”
Robb didn’t answer right away. He seemed to be thinking something over.
“Hmm,” he finally said, after a long, painful pause. “Well, you’ve met her before.”
I know I have,Trent thought, trying not to let the thought show on his face.I’d never forget about that.
“Righto,” he said, nodding. “I meet a lot of people. Want to give me a hint?”
Robb cocked his head, his eyes sharp enough to drill little holes right into Trent’s head. “Think back. London. About three years ago. You were on a mission there.”
Trent did his best to look like remembrance had suddenly hit him. “Oh!Right.The American – I remember now.”
“Caused you a bit of trouble as I recall, if your mission report was anything to go by.”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” Trent shrugged, to – hopefully – cover up the fact that his heart was beating at double time, his inner kangaroo lifting its head and twitching its ears frantically.
What’s this?it asked, instincts going into overdrive.What’s this about our –
Trent gritted his teeth, shoving it down inside him, ignoring its furious grunts and the angry kicking of its back legs.
“She sounded like a tough one,” Robb said, raising an eyebrow.
“She was good, I’ll give her that,” Trent said cautiously. “But that was three years ago. Why are you asking me about this now?”
Robb’s lips pressed even more tightly and thinly together, if that was even possible.
He didn’t answer in words – he simply pulled another piece of paper from the stack to his left and pushed it across the desk toward Trent.
Trent looked down at it – and felt his heart stop.
It was another photo of Zina Alden, though in this one she looked different – her hair was shorter, chopped to shoulder length, and all the laughter was gone from her eyes. But the main difference was that the wordsBURN NOTICEwere written in large, black letters across the bottom of her photo, just below her chin.
There was some text below the photo, presumably detailing just why Zina had been burned, but Trent couldn’t say he was really in much of a mind to take any notice of it.
He stared at the photo, then at the words stamped across her photo. A burn notice was serious – it meant the agency Zina worked for had completely disavowed her, and had informed every other intelligence agency out there that she wasn’t to be trusted. Nothing she said or did should be considered reliable.
In other words, she’d been dismissed as an agent: she’d done something bad enough that her agency was willing to throw her to the wolves, and offer her absolutely no protection now that her identity was known.
She was fair game for whoever wanted to take a shot.
Trent glanced up at Robb. Distantly, he was aware that his mouth had gone completely dry, his breath shallow in his throat. Cold sweat had broken out across the back of his neck.
