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Katie leaned forward across the tiny bistro table. “What can you tell me about something called Cold Intent?”

“Where on earth did you hear that?” he blurted.

“I read it. Alex doodled the words.”

“Katie-kins, I’m urging you in the strongest possible terms to drop that line of inquiry. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you,” she stammered. “And of course. Consider it dropped.”

Charlie exhaled in relief.

“Can I ask about Alex’s mother and if you’ve turned up anything on her?”

Charlie’s shoulders went rigid once more and he painted on a ghastly imitation of a smile. Whoa. What was up with Alex’s mother that had her uncle so freaked out?

He spoke so quietly she had to strain to hear him. “Claudia Kane. That was her name. She was American.”

“Was? Is she dead?”

“Her file is closed.”

God, she wished she knew how to interpret that. If only Alex were here to dig through all the innuendo and doublespeak. She made careful note of Charlie’s body language to describe to Alex later. Her uncle swallowed convulsively and wiggled an uncomfortable shoulder.

“How did she get to Moscow and meet Roman? Was she one of yours? Surely, she was. Civilian Americans didn’t get into Russia easily at that time.”

“Leave it alone, Katie.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m asking you to.”

“I’m sorry. That’s not enough. Alex is falling apart, and he needs answers.”

“Falling apart?” Charlie echoed in quick alarm.

She sighed. “Something happened to him at Gitmo. He was drugged, and he’s been wound very tight ever since.”

“What did they give him?” Charlie demanded.

“I don’t know. I saw two empty syringes. The only one left with serum in was filled with a pale yellow liquid.”

Her uncle frowned. “Scopolamine and the other standard medications are all colorless. Describe to me how tight he’s wound. Is he violent? Psychotic?”

“Nooo,” she answered slowly. “I’d describe him as acting a lot more paranoid than usual. Defensive. Angry. Maybe even a little schizophrenic.”

“Those are not typical symptoms of truth serums. They’re designed to lower inhibitions, not raise false ones. Sounds to me like they hit him with a mind-altering substance of some kind.”

“They who?” she demanded low and urgent. “And why?”

Charlie opened his mouth to answer. Snapped it shut. He knew . But he wasn’t going to tell her.

“Can you at least tell me how long the effects will last?” she pleaded.

“Stuff like that usually runs its course in about a week. Maybe two at the outside. Of course, it’s possible for residual effects to persist for years, or permanently.”

“Don’t tell me that,” she groaned under her breath.

He shrugged apologetically.

“What more can you tell me about his mother, this Claudia Kane?”

“Nothing.”

His eyes were wary. Guarded. He totally knew more about Alex’s mother than he was telling her. She would bet the woman was a CIA operative. Yep, she was right about Claudia Kane or else her uncle was the tooth fairy.

“Was she a sparrow? Was she sent to Moscow to seduce Roman, or was that an unplanned side excursion in her mission?”

“You know I can’t answer that, Katie.”

But his gaze had flickered down and to the left evasively. She’d guessed correctly. Claudia had been a sparrow—an agent who used sex to compromise targets and to gather intelligence via pillow talk.

Charlie lifted his gaze, spearing her with an intense stare. “I’m telling you. Leave it alone. You have no idea who or what you’re messing with.”

She frowned, staring back questioningly. If she wasn’t mistaken, he’d just warned her off of more than just Alex’s mother. He’d warned her off of all of it. Anything and everything to do with Alex Peters.

He gathered his hat and newspaper. “You’ll send me those pictures, yes?’

That was an abrupt shift of topic. “Yes. Of course,” she mumbled.

As another customer walked into the café, he said in a normal speaking voice, “We must do this more often. It’s delightful to catch up with you like this, Katie-kins.” He startled her by leaning down to kiss her cheek affectionately.

“Be careful or people will think you’re having an affair with a younger woman,” she muttered.

He chuckled, put on his hat, and turned to leave.

She stayed a few more minutes, finishing her coffee so it didn’t look like they’d just come in here for an information trade. One more bit of tradecraft she’d picked up from Alex.

The man in the corner of the café with his nose buried in the business news glanced up briefly as Katie finally left the café and hurried away. He pulled out his cell phone and placed a phone call.

“Tell Reggie he missed last night.” And knowing the sniper, the guy was going to plenty steamed about it, too.

The voice on the other end betrayed no hint of dismay, or any emotion at all, for that matter. “That’s a shame. Where’s the target, now?”

“Moving east from here. On foot.”

“Roger. I’ll acquire the target momentarily. No need to follow.”

“Great,” the man replied brightly. Frankly, he was surprised he wasn’t receiving orders to follow the girl and clean up Reggie’s mistake.

“Come in, now. We need to revise the strategy. I’ll meet you in the usual place after the bird lands in her nest.”

“Ya think?” he retorted jokingly. “Okay, I’m outta here. I’ll see you a bit.” He picked up his gym bag. A metallic clank and its unusual weight were the only hint as to its lethal contents.