Thin Ice

by Maryann Jordan

  “I landed in town and happened to see them drive by, pure fuckin’ luck. But then I saw you right behind them and couldn’t believe my eyes.”

  Fixing a tight smile on her face, she said, “Well, okay then. You…uh…know where they are. I suppose you saw the other car there. I think it might be Malik’s but, I’m not sure.”

  A short jerk of his head was the only response. His arms stayed in place and she wondered if he even realized he had her pinned in.

  He dropped his gaze back to hers, asking, “How will they test it?”

  Knitting her brow, she shook her head for a second, replying, “I…I don’t know. I…” She stopped and began carefully analyzing the situation. “They didn’t have a lot of the solution with the bacteria in it. I suppose direct contact would be the quickest. Um…shops, restaurants, public places where people touch things… shit! The hotel.”

  She looked up quickly and said, “The hotel is full right now with some tour group. They might be up there planning or even staying, but Logan, the hotel must be the key. It would be so easy to spread the bacteria around. People from all over the country who are up there for the event would not realize they’d been infected until a week or so later and, by then, they could have passed it to others.”

  He glanced back up the road toward the house the Zamans had gone into. “I’ll take care of them, but I need you to get out of here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out her burner phone, tucking it into the front pocket of her jeans.

  She tried to ignore the feel of his fingers pressing so intimately on her hips, but his warm breath across her face could definitely not be ignored. Swallowing deeply, she asked, “Do you have backup…or whatever they call it, for going in to arrest them?”

  Grimacing, Logan shut his eyes tightly, forced to face her innocent, direct question. Knowing she would never accept what he was doing and unwilling to live with a lie, he bent close and growled, “There’s not going to be an arrest, Viv. I’ve got a job and was hired to do it. No arrest. Just termination.”

  Blinking, Vivian tilted her head slightly, staring as she processed his words until her eyes widened with understanding. Voice shaky, she opened her mouth, but the only word formed was, “Oh.” Her head jerked back, hitting the side of his truck, but she ignored the pain. “You…you’re…you’re going to—”

  Standing to his full height, Logan pulled his hands back and placed them on his hips. “Yeah, Viv. That’s my mission. That’s my job. Your job was to figure out what they had and how best to destroy it. You did that and now it’s my turn to do my fuckin’ job. Terminate.” He watched as her face registered shock, but her dark eyes accused.

  Her breath came in a spastic pant as she shook her head. “But surely…this can’t be the right thing to do…to just kill them…”

  “You think who hired me is going to take a chance that the legal procedures would put these terrorists in jail? That justice would be served? They’re to be dealt with one way and one way only. And if you think for one second that those terrorists would spare your life if you got in their way, then you’re way too naïve.”

  Blinking at the sting of his words, Vivian’s mind grappled with what he was saying. Sucking in a shaky breath, she simply nodded, unable to process what he was going to do. But one thing stuck in her mind. Looking back up into his face, she asked, “You’re going alone?”

  “You see a SEAL team here? Didn’t think so. This is what I’m here to do, Viv. Terminate the terrorists before they have a chance to spread their destruction. What I don’t have time for is to stand here and argue with you.”

  She reached out to touch his arm, but stopped short. “Thin ice,” she said, her words soft, laced with pain.

  He jerked back, his brows drawn down. “What?”

  “You’re skating on thin ice, Logan. Out there all alone. But you don’t have to ‘cause I’m here. There’s safety in numbers.”

  Logan dropped his chin, his gaze now studying his boots, his heart piercing. Slowly, he lifted his head, his eyes now on hers. “I appreciate that…more than you know. But this isn’t skating we’re talking about. This is my job. What I’m trained to do. I can’t focus on the job if you are a distraction.” Blowing out a long breath, he added, “And I need you to go.”

  Swallowing deeply, Vivian slipped underneath his arm and walked over to her car, her whole body shaking. Opening the door, she paused, looking over her shoulder. “Will I see you again?”

  His face, set in granite, seared straight through her, saying nothing. But telling her everything at the same time.

  30

  Crossing through the woods, Logan made his way toward the house on the hill. Only two cars remained in the driveway and he recognized both of them—Akram’s and Malik’s. He eyed a tree near the back corner and slipped closer. With a quick assessment, he climbed the tree to the second level. Peeking into a window, he saw an empty room.

  Using a glass cutter, he quickly cut a circle out of the window directly above the old flip lock. Reaching, he unlatched the window and, with practiced ease, opened it and slid through silently.

  Stealthily moving around the edge of the walls where the floor would be more supported and less likely to creak, he peered out the door into an empty hall. Scanning the other open doors, it appeared the entire upstairs was devoid of people as well as furniture. An abandoned house outside town made the perfect hideout.

  He heard voices below, raised in argument, recognizing Akram and Malik.

  “It makes no sense for you to send them!” Malik yelled. “Farrah is a weak link. You know that.”

  “She might be, but Nafisa certainly is not. She will keep an eye on Farrah and make sure she does what she is supposed to do. Once it is done, then Farrah will have no choice but to keep doing as she’s told. She’ll be afraid of being caught and that will keep her in line.”

  “Nafisa shouldn’t have to worry about Farrah on top of what she is doing—”

  “Why do you think I sent Rashad with them? Your feelings for Nafisa are too close to the surface. You would fail where Rashad will succeed. Nothing will deter him from his great jihad.”

  At the top of the stairs, listening carefully, he remembered Vivian telling him that Malik had feelings for Nafisa, but that Nafisa had feelings for Rashad, who appeared to not reciprocate those emotions. Silently thanking Vivian for that tidbit of information, he hesitated before slipping downstairs, wanting to hear where the women had gone.

  Akram’s voice came from the right of the stairs and, from what he could ascertain, it was where the dining room would be. He heard keyboard clicking, probably Akram on his computer, as well as the pacing of Malik.

  Wanting them to be in the same room, he waited patiently until he heard Malik’s footsteps move close to where he Akram and the computer were.

  Slipping down the stairs, his weapon drawn, he rounded the corner, catching the two men unaware. Their eyes widened, first at him and then at his weapon. Malik stood perfectly still, his hands raised by his side, his mouth open in surprise.

  But Akram’s lips slowly curved upward as he stood, one hand slightly behind his back. “Well, well. Mr. Preacher,” he chuckled, “I should have known that name was false. I congratulate you on your charade.”

  “Hands where I can see them.”

  Akram slowly raised his hands, a gun held loosely in one of them. He caught the way his smile dipped slightly.

  “Drop the weapon,” he ordered, as Malik began to babble.

  “What are you going to do? Arrest us? You can’t do this. You can’t stop us. It’s already started—”

  “Our neighbor has no intention of arresting us, do you?” Akram asked, his dark eyes holding Logan’s. “He has to get through us to get to the women.”

  Malik looked between the two men, understanding dawning on him. “Nafisa!” he cried as he whirled, darting for the front door.

  As he shifted his body, firing his weapon, he heard two shots. Malik dropped onto the f
loor, a pool of blood spreading out from underneath him.

  Akram had no chance against a SEAL, the shot he fired going into the wall next to him as he ducked around a corner, firing another shot toward Akram. The bullet hit the man in the arm, sending his gun flying down the hall. Standing, he stalked over, his body leaning over the bleeding man, surprised the smile was still on his face.

  “You cannot stop us. You take down one and a hundred more will rise to take our place.”

  “Your particular jihad stops here,” he growled.

  Grinning, Akram reached his hand to press against his bleeding arm when he suddenly slammed it against his chest instead.

  A beeping began and Logan yelled, “Fuck!” knowing the sound of a timer on a bomb. Whirling around, he snatched the laptop off the table and sprinted toward the door to the screams of Akram.

  “Noooo!” Akram wailed.

  Racing through the front yard, the ground shook as the explosion behind him rocked the land. Throwing himself facedown onto the grass, Logan covered his head as pieces of wood came flying past him. Turning back to observe the blazing inferno, he pushed himself up and ran into the woods by the side of the driveway. Having parked down the street, he raced to his truck, throwing open the door. Once started he gunned it, churning up the gravel, putting distance between him and the destroyed house, assuming the Tanana fire station would respond, just like they had in Ester.

  Two miles down the road, he pulled into a parking lot at the edge of town. Grabbing the laptop, he quickly scanned the last messages Akram sent, desperate to find where Farrah, Nafisa, and Rashad were.

  Arriving at the Tanana Inn once again, Vivian retraced her earlier steps and headed back to the reception desk. The same man looked at her, his head tilted in question.

  Attempting, and failing, a smile, she shrugged. “I thought I saw some friends, but…uh…”

  “Oh,” he nodded. “Didn’t find who you were looking for?”

  “No…no, I didn’t. He…uh, they weren’t who I thought they were… at all.” Looking around the lobby, she said, “I know you’ve got the um…show tour…thing going on. Do you have a room for the night?”

  “Looks like you’re in luck, but it’s not my best room. We’re almost full up, but we’ve got one of the original cabin rooms toward the back that’s rarely used.”

  She scrunched her nose in distaste, saying, “What kind of shape is it in?”

  He threw his hands up in defense and quickly explained. “Oh, no, ma’am. It’s a perfectly fine room. It’s just behind the Inn. There were two of the original cabins left when they tore the others down to build this building. They were the ones closest to the woods. One is for overflow guests and the other is used as the housekeepers’ storage room and hotel laundry.”

  She cocked her head to the side, searching her memory. “I used to spend my summers here with my grandparents when I was little. I remember this inn…it was tiny, individual cabins.”

  A smile spread across his face as he nodded. “Yeah, I always loved those cabins. They were torn down when new owners decided to make this into a hotel, to get more rooms and more money. We usually rent it last, since a lot of customers don’t like the distance or the laundry noise, but other than that, it’s a perfectly good room. And anyway, the housekeepers are gone for the day and the laundry’s all done. So, you should be good for the night.”

  “It’ll be fine,” she replied, with a shrug. “I’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning anyway.”

  Leaning forward, he smiled and said, “I’ll give you a discount since you’re being so nice about it.”

  Smiling her thanks, she handed him her credit card.

  A few minutes later, she walked down the hall, past his desk, leading to a door that opened to a path toward the cabin. The mulched path led her to the door of a tiny, log cabin, it’s front facing the back of the hotel. To the side, back farther in the woods, was an identical cabin with an engraved, wooden sign over the door indicating the laundry.

  Her room key was just that—an old-fashioned key on a key ring with a white plastic tag, her cabin number engraved on it. Entering, she flipped the light switch and breathed a sigh of relief—the room was old, but perfectly clean. The window facing the direction of the laundry had been boarded over, an attempt to keep out the noise and possible prying eyes of the housekeepers. Shutting the door behind her, she dropped her overnight bag on the floor.

  Walking over to the only other window, she pulled back the curtain and stared out over the back of the hotel and parking lot in the distance. Not worrying about the view, she turned and moved to the bed, jerking the covers down. Seeing the clean sheets, she flopped onto the bed, her body finally giving in to the exhaustion of the day.

  Thoughts of Logan and the mission filled her mind. Angry with herself that she agreed to the job without finding out the entire facts first, she had to admit that her supervisor probably did not know the extent of the security specialist’s job description.

  Rolling to her side, she thought of Logan’s deception, but knew he was right when he said that he never mentioned arresting anyone. That was her expectation. So, he didn’t lie…he just let me keep my false assumption.

  The faces of their neighbors and visitors drifted through her mind. She knew they were terrorists…she knew they were working on biological warfare…and they had to be stopped. It’s so much easier being just a civilian who wants terrorism to stop and yet we sit in our safe houses and never know what others endure to make that happen. She thought of Logan’s SEAL team and even his injury. He has the guts to do what it takes to make us safe. How can I sit in judgment of that?

  31

  When her mind refused to stop swirling, Vivian climbed off the bed, listening to her stomach growl, and walked over to her purse. Checking her wallet, she pulled out some cash, deciding to hit the vending machines she had seen in the lobby. Not in the mood for a meal, she thought a soda and some chips would work. And maybe a candy bar…yeah, definitely chocolate. The thought that vending machines should stock wine ran through her mind, but she would settle for chocolate.

  Walking to the door, she hesitated when she heard voices just outside her room. Knowing there were no other guest cabins and the receptionist had said the housekeepers were gone for the day, she leaned closer, placing her ear to the wood. Whoever was outside talking, their voices moved farther down the path.

  Frowning, she stood on her tiptoes to view out the peephole in the door. The viewer was old, but wiping it on her side, she stared onto the pathway, seeing nothing.

  Setting her heels back to the floor, she shoved the cash into her pocket, still intent on getting a snack. Not wanting to startle the housekeepers if they had come back, plus having no desire to draw unwanted attention to herself, she opened the door quietly, slipping outside. Voices were coming from inside the laundry—male and female, but she was not sure how many. The door was partially open but she was unable to see inside.

  Assuming the housekeepers did not finish their work after all, she turned and hurried quietly to the back door of the inn. Once inside, she padded along the carpeted hallway before rounding the corner into the lobby. Seeing the receptionist’s eyes pinned to the small TV on his counter, she headed to the vending machines. Grinning at the low prices compared to California, she soon had a caffeine-free soda, a bag of Bugles, and a Hershey candy bar.

  About to ask if the returning housekeepers would be in the laundry area for long, a crowd of people came from the main hall and into the lobby, all talking loudly and obviously together. She figured it was the tour group. As they passed her, chatting about the bar they were going to for dinner and how it was part of the Men of Alaska film set, she stepped to the side and made her way back to the hallway on the opposite of the lobby.

  Returning down the old, worn, multi-patterned carpet toward the back door, her hands were now full of her snack booty. As she neared her cabin, she shuffled the chips and drink to one hand to snag her room key out
of her pocket. She could still hear low voices from inside the laundry cabin as she stuck her key in the lock.

  Opening her door, she looked over her shoulder. With the laundry door now fully open, she could see two female housekeepers filling spray bottles with liquid from a large plastic container. Housekeepers with their heads covered in hijabs. Gasping, she started to turn back toward her room, when one of them stepped outside. Farrah. She jolted just as the other woman stepped outside. Nafisa.

  Her mouth opened to scream, when a large hand from behind clamped over her face. She rolled her eyes to the side, seeing Rashad, his jaw set, lips turned down in a frown.

  Struggling, he wrapped his arms around hers, pinning them to her side as he dragged her down the path and into the laundry room.

  “Damn,” Nafisa bit out, her eyes blazing with fury. “Why is she here? Spying on us?”

  “I don’t know,” Rashad said, still trying to subdue her. His hand stayed in place, firmly shutting off any chance she had of screaming.

  Stepping forward, Nafisa stood directly in front of her and, pulling out a long knife, ordered, “Kill the bitch.”

  She immediately stopped struggling and Rashad moved them backward. “Are you stupid? Kill her with that…here? We have work to do and you want to bring the police and Feds here to investigate the dead body of a woman left in the laundry room?”

  Nafisa’s eyes narrowed as she stared up at him. “Do not call me stupid. I’m the one who developed what we needed. Me. Not you and certainly not that fool Malik.”

  Rashad towered over the woman, using his height to his advantage, and smirked, “You? The great Nafisa? You think you’ll live to see our plan in action if you spread her blood all over the room? You are a fool.”

  Eyes wide, Vivian attempted to follow their bickering, but her mind stayed firmly on the words Kill the bitch. Her gaze lingered on the knife in Nafisa’s hand, her heart pounding as she watched it slowly lowered.