But she gave no empathy, nor expressed any understanding. Though she had squeezed his hand every so often when he had a difficult time continuing his story.
He glanced at her. The open air of the Jeep swept her hair off her face. She wore purple sunglasses, khaki shorts, sandals, and a blouse, her gaze focused on the mountains in the distance. A picture of beauty.
However that wasn’t what he wanted right now. He wanted something of substance, and substance took time to build. But ten years with Carol hadn’t produced it. That brought a frown to his face.
“Steel, do you mind if I make a personal observation?”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“You’re into guilt and self-punishment a bit much, don’t you think?”
He stared at her.
“Here you are in paradise with a beautiful woman, surrounded by warm air and sunshine, and you still beat yourself to death over Carol and Rachel and whatever else that’s bothering you.” She looked away. “Are you sure you even want me here?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Then act like it.” She turned and smiled at him.
He managed a crooked smile. “Do you have family?”
“My parents and three brothers.”
She kept talking, and he settled back and heaved a sigh. Stealing a look at her, he wondered what she would say if she learned what had happened on the Serpent Op. That was one burden he might have to carry alone.
CHAPTER 60
Steel booked two adjoining rooms in the Four Seasons Resort, each with an ocean view. He paid for five days in advance. Christie’s eyes widened with the hotel clerk’s when he laid out eight thousand in cash.
In his room he changed out of his jeans and pullover into white cargo shorts and a short-sleeved blue print shirt, which he kept untucked.
The Glock went into his belt at his back, beneath the shirt, the disposable silencer into a pocket, and a spare magazine on his belt. A money belt held his credit cards and ID. He slid the OTF knife into the belt-sheath.
Christie stood on their shared balcony, gazing out at the ocean. He watched her while he put a call in to Kergan. Voice mail. He left his hotel room and burner phone number, and joined Christie.
The light-brown sand beach was speckled with people. A few windsurfers raced back and forth in the blue-and-turquoise water and bathers basked knee-deep in the surf. Farther out, sailboats rocked in the waves. Sunshine sparkled on the water and gave a bright glow to everything in sight. A green gecko clung to the balcony railing. It all seemed like a different world to him, free of worry.
“You ever just want to take off, Steel, and be a beach bum?”
“I saw some of the world while spelunking. Over the last years I used to believe I had enough to do in Virginia.”
“I wouldn’t mind seeing more.”
“I have to go out for a short while.”
She glanced at him. “You’re stranding me already?”
He was silent.
“What are we doing here, Steel?”
He put on a pair of black sunglasses. Part of him wanted to tell her, but he was impatient. “When I come back I’ll tell you everything.”
“That’s a promise?”
He frowned. “I keep my word.”
She smiled and playfully hit his shoulder. “I’m a big girl. I’ll sit and read a book or take a walk on the beach. How long will you be gone?”
“Back for a late lunch, if not sooner. I left the Jeep keys on the table in case you want to go out.”
“Bye.”
In minutes he walked along the beach, heading north toward the Grand Wailea. His canvas loafers pushed against the shifting sand. Sea gulls stood on the beach, scattered among the people, and a few black noddies flew above the surf. He didn’t have far to go, but on the way he kept a wary eye to see if anyone followed him.
His thoughts turned to Francis Sotelo. The friar was at risk.
The only good that had come out of his part in the Komodo Op, and all the pain and death since then, was that he had saved Sotelo. MultiSec and Torr still had a vested interest in the friar’s death. And here Sotelo was exposed. It would be far easier to kill the friar here than at the Honolulu Conference Center, where security would be ramped up for the president and foreign dignitaries attending the summit.
He wanted to make sure Sotelo stayed safe. It had to end here. Even if it meant putting a bullet into Torr.
CHAPTER 61
Watching Steel walk along the beach, Christie used her phone to access a secure, members-only website. She logged in and left a message for Danker.
After slipping the SIG Sauer into a waist holster beneath her loose blouse, she grabbed her purse, her small umbrella, the Jeep keys, and hurried out to follow Steel. He was easy to spot. She hung back in the trees paralleling the beach, wondering what Danker had gotten her into. No, what she had gotten herself into.
She was glad she had a gun. She didn’t ask Steel why he needed his. He wouldn’t tell her anyway, and she didn’t want to give him a reason to ask about hers.
Her stunbrella gave her another option. If she pressed a button on the thick handle, eighty-thousand volts shot out of its tip—enough to knock a big man down and keep him dazed long enough to either run or attack. It gave her extra security. And an umbrella on the islands was a natural since it often rained during some part of the day this time of year.
While she walked she considered Steel. She had enjoyed their talk on the drive south from the airport. He had listened to her and asked questions that showed interest. It wasn’t as if she had told him anything significant about herself, but at least she had talked to him without any ulterior motives.
Maybe she would find the dirt he was hiding and they could end the charade. It would be a relief. And it would end the emergence of other feelings that she knew had no place in her assignment.
She had surprised herself by admitting to him that she wouldn’t mind doing some traveling. That sentiment contradicted a decade she had spent climbing the career promotion ladder. Deep down she was weary of that struggle.
Some of the men on the beach gave her brazen gazes. Steel never looked at her that way. It occurred to her that she might not mind a look like that from him. That idea was also amusing because he seemed too straight to pull it off.
Regardless of her feelings, her doubts and suspicions continued. As expected, he had told her nothing about what he was doing here. She decided not to press him further. He might be more suspicious of her if she did, and she wanted him to be relaxed where she was concerned.
Too bad he had to be taken down, but if he was dirty, as Danker believed, then she couldn’t waste time on regrets. Steel had dug his own hole to jump into, without any help from her.
CHAPTER 62
Steel watched the sunbathers, walkers, swimmers, and gawkers. An impossible setting to keep anyone safe in, especially if the individual was targeted by a professional.
He wandered into the Grand Wailea lobby. Flowers gave off fragrance. The large water fountains and pools—along with the large openings in the ceiling and walls—made it feel spacious and relaxing.
There were posters in the lobby about the public talk between Sotelo, a small panel of environmentalists, and three CEOs of corporations that Sotelo wanted to pay for pollution cleanup and reparations in Mexico. The talk would take place the following day in the Grand Wailea’s outdoor Molokini Garden, which could seat twenty-five-hundred people. People had to sign up for seating ahead of time and it was already fully booked. Steel assumed it was because of Sotelo’s fame.
He found a cleaning attendant. For two hundred dollars, and the story that he was a reporter looking for an interview, he learned what room Francis Sotelo was staying in.
After studying the resort layout, he walked back outside along the inner south hotel wing
. He was surprised to see the friar sitting on his balcony. The sight of Sotelo brought back memories of the Komodo Op and his attack on Danker. The danger seemed real again.
Casually glancing around the swimming pools and grounds, he looked for someone out of place. Someone who pretended to be there for the sunshine, but who in fact might also be watching the friar. He did it out of habit, not out of any expectation that he would find anything.
The friar remained at his table for a half hour. Steel felt a sudden urge to talk to him. He struggled with that idea, and then gave in to his instincts and went inside.
CHAPTER 63
It was difficult for Christie to locate a vantage point from which to observe Steel and not be seen by him. She wondered if he knew she was following him—but concluded he didn’t. He went into the Grand Wailea, while she waited behind some trees.
About ready to follow him inside, she paused when he came out again, walking along one of the paths as if he was just enjoying the sunshine. She wasn’t sure what he was doing.
When he turned around and went into the hotel a second time, she gave him a few minutes, and then followed. If he saw her, she would just say she wanted to see what the Grand Wailea was like. It would also give her more of a reason to ask him why he was here.
The fragrant flowers and pool of water off the lobby made her yearn for something pleasant in her life. Returning here for some R&R when this was over sounded nice.
She noted the posters about Francis Sotelo’s talk on the following day with MultiSec’s CEO, William Torr. But Steel was nowhere in sight. The lobby of the hotel was filled with people so she looked through a few of the lounge areas, but still didn’t see him.
Hurrying to the main desk, she showed her military security ID, first to a clerk, then the manager, and asked if Francis Sotelo was a guest. They confirmed he was, and she obtained his room number.
She didn’t understand how Steel knew Sotelo. Or how that played into Danker’s accusations against him. But it was all she had at the moment. She debated between waiting in the lobby for Steel to reappear or heading upstairs.
If Steel met with the friar, they might leave through one of the side exits. She decided to go up to the second floor. The fire exit stairway was empty and she bounded up the steps.
CHAPTER 64
Steel waited in the main lobby only a minute to ensure no one followed him.
Convinced he was alone, he took the main stairs to the second floor and walked down the hallway of the south wing. The wing was nearly deserted. Few people would remain in their rooms during a sunny afternoon on one of the more popular beaches in Maui.
The hotel room numbers he was interested in were to the right. Fifty feet down the hallway a Hawaiian cleaning attendant stood at a door, approximately where the friar’s room should be.
Steel stopped and faced a door on the opposite side of the hallway, pretending to get his keycard out. He didn’t want anyone else present when he met the friar. It was enough of a risk just to talk to the man, and he didn’t know how the friar would react.
The door in front of the hotel attendant opened and the man pushed the cleaning cart into the room.
Steel strode down the hallway, quickly verifying the room was Sotelo’s. Something taunted him at the edge of his thoughts. He focused on what nagged him until it came to him. The cleaning attendant wore sandals, not shoes. Maybe it was a problem, maybe not.
He stepped up to the door and knocked hard.
Silence.
He gave one more solid knock. No response.
Glancing down both sides of the hallway to make sure it was clear, he drew his gun. After quickly attaching the silencer, he kicked the door in. In front of him was the attendant’s cart.
To the left two men lay on the floor, shot in the chest. Francis’ guards. To the far left he saw the bathroom door—closed. He knelt low near the edge of the open door and peered around it to look right.
Bed. Desk. Sofa. Balcony door open. He panicked that Francis was dead on the balcony.
The bathroom door opened a crack. Francis peeked out.
”Get down!” Steel swung his gun right.
The Hawaiian had his gun just over the back of the sofa, firing at the same time Steel did. Steel’s bullets dug holes in the top edge of the sofa, while the Hawaiian’s hit the bathroom door.
Steel scrambled behind the cart and fired two more shots.
Retreating footsteps.
He risked a glance around the cart. The Hawaiian had fled and he gave chase, stopping at the balcony. The killer had bolted over the railing and was hurriedly walking away on the grass below. Fast, agile, and good.
Steel retreated inside. Hurrying to the closed bathroom door, he jerked it open. The friar lay on the floor on his stomach, the hood of his robe partially hiding his head. No blood. Steel bent over to touch the small man’s shoulder. “Are you alright?”
The friar jerked his head up, his eyes and mouth wide. “Yes.”
“Francis Sotelo, my name is Jack Steel. We have to leave.”
“I understand.” The friar pushed himself to his feet, the color returning to his face and his limbs seeming to relax. “You saved my life. I would be a fool not to listen to you.”
CHAPTER 65
Steel’s calf injury burned from his exertions, but he shoved the pain aside. Certain the Hawaiian would have an accomplice, he opened the outer room door an inch.
The hallway was nearly empty, except for a few tourists fifty yards away, walking away from them. The safest course of action for Francis was to get out of the hotel while they held an advantage.
He sidled out of the room, his gun pressed to his outer right thigh. Francis moved to his right side. The friar’s robe helped to hide Steel’s weapon. They walked to the left, but Steel paused and turned almost immediately upon hearing a soft sound.
Twenty yards behind them a stairwell door opened just a crack, and then closed. Simultaneously a man exited a room ten yards beyond the stairwell door and walked toward them. The man wore a dark blue suit, his head buried in an open brochure. Stocky, with a clean-cut beard and mustache.
Steel continued to lead Sotelo down the hallway, away from the man, keeping Francis between him and the wall. He forced himself to not look over his shoulder, but he didn’t want a bullet in his back either.
After counting to five, he stopped and gently pushed Francis with his left hand against the wall. Bringing his right hand up, he stuck the gun under his left arm to keep it hidden. It looked like his arms were crossed and he was engaging Francis in a serious discussion.
“Talk, Francis, say anything.”
“I have faith you will keep me safe,” Francis said softly. “God has sent you to me. I am glad you are here, my friend.”
“Me too.” Steel unobtrusively watched the bearded man walk toward them. The man still had his head down.
The bearded man passed the exit stairwell door.
Steel saw the door creep open again. Maybe the person in the stairwell was the Hawaiian’s accomplice and planned to use the bearded man as cover. It might have been a bad plan to stop in the middle of the hallway, but now he was committed. He kept his right arm loose, ready.
When the bearded man was twenty feet away from them, the stairwell door opened farther.
“Christie,” whispered Steel.
Wide-eyed, she looked at him from the stairway door. No gun in her hand. Surprised to see her, Steel pushed aside rising emotions of betrayal and disappointment, and focused.
The bearded man stopped, half-facing the wall, appearing intent on something in the brochure. He glanced sideways at Christie. His eyes narrowed and his lips tightened.
The brochure seemed to hover for a millisecond in front of the man, and then floated down with a soft rustling as he pulled a silenced gun out from under his suit coat. Dropping to his k
nee, he twisted toward Christie.
Steel shoved Francis behind him with his left hand, swinging his right to take aim at the bearded man’s back.
Voices burst into the hallway as another door opened. Four chatting women exited a room across from the stairwell door.
Twisting away from the women, the kneeling gunman picked up his brochure—using it to hide his gun—and kept his back to the four women who walked toward him.
Dropping his gun hand, Steel partially turned to hide his own weapon.
Christie pushed open the stairwell door and hurriedly followed the women, remaining close to them as they walked through the hallway.
Standing up, the bearded man held his brochure and brushed off his pants, his gun put away. Like the Hawaiian, smooth and quick. The bearded man ignored Christie and strode away in the opposite direction, quickly entering the room he had previously exited. It all took seconds.
Steel waited for the women to walk by before he tucked his gun under his shirt. Christie was at his shoulder, but he gave her only a cursory glance. Gripping Francis’ elbow, he hurried him along.
Christie followed.
CHAPTER 66
Christie felt like a dog trailing its master as she followed Steel out of the Grand Wailea and back to the Four Seasons’ parking lot. She remained beside the friar, often looking over her shoulder and ahead.
Steel did the same thing. Though his face was calm and his brow relaxed. Every few steps he gave an assured look over his shoulder at Francis. The friar glanced everywhere.
Part of Christie wanted to bolt. Make a call to Danker and get out. And part of her said she might be in worse danger if she left Steel’s side.
When the bearded gunman in the hallway saw her, a look of recognition had swept his face. It meant something, but she wasn’t sure what. It tightened her throat. The man would have killed her if given the chance. She didn’t know if she should thank Steel for his help or scream in his face.
Steel Force Page 22