Claimed by the Secret Agent

by Lyn Stone

  “And pray we can get to her before they kill her,” Grant said.

  “So we simply wait?”

  “Well, a showdown’s not practical. There are too many places between here and the Belgian border that Cynthia Rivers could be stashed. She might die before anyone discovers where she is.” He sighed. “And there’s Shapur to consider, too, now that he’s back in there with them. I just hope the old boy’s trustworthy. How did he seem to you?”

  “Fairly bright. We know he’s an opportunist, living on Dr. Shute’s property, probably catering to the grandson so he can stay here rent-free. He must have some deal with him to look after the place.”

  Grant hummed in assent. “He seemed almost too cooperative, though, if that’s the case. I wonder if he’s thought about where he’ll go and what he’ll do after Onders is arrested.”

  Marie kept watch on the house. “You don’t think he’d give them a heads up, do you? I mean, he’s got to know we haven’t called in the locals about this or they’d be here already. And you didn’t even tell him we’re agents.”

  “No, as far as he knows, we’re just here to rescue Cynthia Rivers.”

  “Maybe we ought to go in after them now in case he’s in cahoots.”

  Marie liked that Grant thought about that for a minute before responding and didn’t automatically shoot down the suggestion. “Let’s wait and see what happens next. If he tells them we’re out here, either they’ll come looking for us or they’ll run.”

  Marie finished the thought. “Or he won’t tell them and they’ll head for Belgium by way of wherever they left Rivers.” She kept her eyes on the clinic. “You’re right, we should wait, but I think we should go back to the car and do that. There’s only one way off the property. They can’t go through the fields because of the irrigation ditches.”

  “That means we have to trust Shapur to take care of himself. However, if they decide to get rid of him, we can’t save him anyway unless we take them down now.”

  “Our choice is between ensuring his safety when he might not even need us or sticking with the possibility of saving Rivers. I say we let him handle them. He’s done okay so far.”

  “Let’s go wait with the car, then,” Grant said. “You first and stay close to the hedge.”

  They ran single file down the driveway until they reached the grove of trees where Pieter waited with both vehicles.

  “What is happening?” he asked, his voice pitched high with excitement.

  “We’re going to follow the kidnappers when they leave,” Grant told him. “When we do, I want you to return to Gouda.”

  “Shall I go to the police and alert them?”

  “No!” Grant and Marie answered in unison. Then Grant explained. “We stand a much better chance of recovering the victim if we don’t have an armed posse breathing down our necks. You do as I tell you. Go back and wait for us at the hotel.”

  “Yes, sir,” Pieter said, obviously disappointed at being cut out of the loop before things popped.

  Marie felt a little sorry for him. “Surveillance is tedious, but it’s very important, Pieter. We needed you stationed out here tonight, and you did an excellent job of it.”

  “Surveillance! Yes, I can say I did that, can’t I?”

  “You certainly can, and you’ll get full credit for helping with the mission,” she told him. “Now what you have to do is wait until their vehicle and ours are completely out of sight, then leave, okay? You don’t want to alert them.”

  He nodded succinctly, shoulders straight. “Affirmative.”

  Marie smiled to herself. Did she know how to handle men or what? Grant nudged her and told her to get in the car.

  Forty minutes later headlights appeared, coming down the driveway.

  “Showtime,” she muttered.

  Grant watched the car turn left onto the highway. Waiting until it was nearly out of sight, he then pulled out of concealment and followed with the headlights off. Marie waved to Pieter, who returned the salute.

  “I hope he follows orders better than you do,” Grant said. “He’s seen way too many Bond movies.”

  “Give him a break, Grant. Don’t you remember how thrilling you thought it would be just before you became an agent?”

  “I guess. Nobody bothered to tell me it would mostly involve sitting around waiting for something to happen, spending hours doing prep and background work.”

  “Then there’s the gadding about European countries with fellow agents, like now,” Marie added with a laugh. “Yeah, such boring work. We should have become accountants.”

  “With my math grades? Not really an option.”

  She laughed again. “Seriously, do you like the job?”

  “As of this afternoon, I seriously love it.”

  “Keep your mind on the mission, Tyndal. We’re in pursuit, in case you forgot.”

  He shifted gears. “I’m with it. I just meant that when all things come together, the blood’s pumping and you get down to the wire on a case, it’s all I envisioned. You, too?”

  She blew out a sigh. “Well, I haven’t actually had that much excitement until Onders grabbed me. Before that, it was mostly sneaking around, plundering through people’s desks during parties, eavesdropping, planting bugs, that sort of thing. A bit nerve-racking a time or two when I nearly got caught, but not all that dangerous. Nobody took me seriously enough to credit I was a spy even if I had been discovered.”

  “The dizzy blonde impression is a dynamite cover. You even had me fooled.”

  “And now you realize I’m wise as Solomon and can be trusted to handle any situation? Get real, Tyndal. You still think I’m a cupcake.”

  “Sweet as one, I’ll admit.”

  “Shut up,” she muttered, then tensed. “Look, they’re slowing down. Turning?”

  “Looks like it.” He cut the lights and decelerated. “Yep, there they go.”

  Grant turned, too. Clouds were obscuring the moonlight now and made it impossible to see the road. Minutes later he lost the illumination the car lights ahead had provided. “Where are their damn lights?”

  “Maybe they reached their destination?” Marie guessed. She propped one palm against the dash and leaned forward as if that would help her to see.

  Grant had slowed to a crawl when all of a sudden, high headlights appeared behind them. “Is that Pieter?” Grant growled. “I’ll wring his neck!”

  Suddenly the trailing car roared forward and they were rammed from behind. Grant struggled to keep control, propelled forward by a much larger force. Marie fought the passenger side air bag, which had deployed. Grant lucked out when his failed.

  “It’ll collapse. Don’t panic!” he shouted over the grind of metal and roar of engines.

  They hit the car ahead of them hard and came to an abrupt stop, sandwiched between the two vehicles. He quickly popped his seat belt and saw that Marie was out of hers. “You okay?” he demanded as he slid as low in the seat as possible.

  “Uh-huh.” She had her weapon in hand and was checking the load.

  “When somebody shows, fire at will,” Grant said, hoping that whoever did this wouldn’t riddle the car with bullets before checking things out. He didn’t think they would, since all three vehicles were so close that they could damage theirs and be stranded.

  For a long moment nothing happened. Grant wished he could shield her, but her lower half was wedged in the floorboard. She braced her weapon and aimed at the passenger side window.

  He leaned sideways into the passenger seat, his Glock close to his chest and pointing at the driver’s-side window.

  “Get out of the car!” a loud voice demanded in English.

  Grant and Marie remained silent.

  There was a scuffling sound outside the car, then voices. “Maybe they’re unconscious. Or dead.” This time, the words were in Dutch. Marie whispered a translation.

  “Torch it,” the first voice suggested. Grant understood that much.

  “That could draw attentio
n from the highway. There’s no way out of here but the road in. Besides, we need to see who we have. What if it’s only one of them?”

  Marie whispered again, “They’re approaching. Get ready.”

  A form appeared at her window, but she didn’t fire. Grant realized she was waiting for the other one to show. The headlights from the rear vehicle threw light through their back window, but he and Marie were in shadow.

  All of a sudden, the driver’s door flew open and Grant opened fire. Marie’s weapon discharged not a foot from his head, deafening him. He could feel the discharge of gunpowder, hot on his face.

  His weapon bucked repeatedly, and he stopped just before emptying it of the last three shots. He had to have hit something out there.

  Without pause, he sprang upward and slid sideways out the driver’s door, landing on the ground. A body lay sprawled, arms outflung. He scooped up the dead man’s weapon as he scrambled up and threw himself over the trunk of his vehicle to the opposite side. A figure was running, headed for the nearby trees.

  “Marie?” he called.

  “Get him!” she shouted from somewhere behind him. Grant raised his Glock and fired the last three.

  The runner fell.

  He glanced back at the car and saw Marie climbing out of it. “You hurt?” he asked, and saw her raise her head and say something. She looked okay. “Marie?”

  She ran over to him. “I’m fine. Were you hit?”

  “No. My ears are still ringing but otherwise I’m okay.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Reload and stay here,” he ordered, motioning for good measure in case her hearing was affected, too. Grant got a flashlight out of the car and hurried over to where the second man had fallen to see whether he had survived. He hadn’t.

  “This is the one I saw through the window talking with Onders,” Marie said.

  With a feeling of dejection, Grant picked up the body, slung it over his shoulder and returned to where Marie waited with the other body. He flopped the kidnapper onto the ground at her feet.

  “Onders,” she observed with a fatalistic frown.

  “Dead,” he said, without adding what they both knew.

  Cynthia Rivers wouldn’t stand much of a chance now. The men who knew where she was wouldn’t be telling anyone.

  Chapter 14

  G rant knelt and searched pockets. No identification on Onders. He motioned to the SUV that had hit them from the rear, and Marie went to search it while Grant checked out the other body and the car in front of them.

  He was looking in the trunk when he heard her shout. “Passports!” She waved them out the window.

  Grant gave her a thumbs-up and approached her with the sleeve of paperwork he’d found in the first vehicle. They inspected it in the dome light. Title and registration papers, unfamiliar names. No surprise there. No particular energy emanating from them, either, he noted.

  “Same for this one. Fake names,” she said, “and their passports match.”

  She got out and headed for the first car. “We should go up the road and see what’s there just in case they actually were going there to get rid of Rivers.”

  Grant didn’t hold much hope for that, but he agreed. They got in the kidnappers’ car and drove to the dead end, where a burned-out farmhouse lay in ruin. Its chimney stood like a squat lonely guard over what had once been someone’s home.

  “Maybe they set fire to it with her in the house,” Marie commented.

  “No. Look at the weeds. The fire was several weeks ago, at least. She’s not here.”

  They turned around and drove back to the scene of the shooting. “We have to call the police,” Grant said.

  “Wait,” Marie said. “There’s Shapur. We need to pick him up before he gets away. He set this up, Grant, a clear case of attempted murder. Chances are excellent that he knows all about the kidnappings. He might even be the one who arranged them.”

  “Let’s go. Back that SUV out of the way and let’s see if ours will still run.”

  It wouldn’t. Grant transferred his equipment from the trunk, they climbed into the SUV, and the pair headed back to the clinic.

  Marie had grown deathly quiet. Grant worried that she was dwelling on the shooting. “You didn’t kill him, Marie,” he told her. “I fired the fatal shots.”

  She blew out a sigh. “It’s not that. It just bothers me that I was so ready to do it. I wanted him dead, both of them. Even knowing what was at stake, a young woman’s life, I shot to kill.” Her voice sounded a little teary, but she was holding it together.

  “Training plus instinct,” he explained. “You had no clear shot to wound, and you knew it was them or us. It was, Marie. They were there for no other reason than to get rid of us, and you know that. Don’t second-guess your decision. It’ll slow you down the next time and could cost your or your partner’s life. You must trust your instincts.”

  “We have to find her, Grant. That poor woman does not deserve to die alone and terrified.”

  Grant didn’t point out that they couldn’t save everyone, that some died in spite of the fact that they did their best, prayed their hardest and shot their straightest.

  He had learned that the hard way when leading his navy team on what often amounted to suicide missions. Every death that occurred due to his orders or actions, deserved or otherwise, felt like a gaping wound in his soul. Maybe he would have done better as an accountant, but then he wouldn’t have saved the ones he did save.

  “We just do everything we can, Marie, and hope it’s enough.”

  The clinic appeared dark when they returned. Marie wondered if Shapur had left, too. Perhaps he was in the back, in the kitchen area where lights wouldn’t be visible from the front.

  Grant didn’t make any attempt to conceal their approach. They were, after all, driving the kidnappers’ SUV. The element of surprise would come when they were face-to-face with him.

  The old structure looked eerie, a ghostly shade of blue in the light of the moon. Clouds still drifted overhead, periodically casting the place in moon shadow. “This place is really spooky,” she commented.

  “Just now noticing that?” he asked.

  “Well, we were a little busy before. Looks like something out of a fifties film noir, doesn’t it?”

  Grant hummed an answer as he parked near the front. They drew their weapons and got out. “We need to secure Shapur, then scout the rest of the place,” he said. “Rivers might be concealed somewhere on the premises other than the main building.”

  “I just hope they didn’t kill her before they left.”

  Grant tilted his head to one side as if considering. “They wouldn’t if the ransom hasn’t been denied. And if Shapur is running the show, which is a fair bet, since he sent them after us, he would have the final say.”

  “How do you want to handle it? Do we confront him immediately or let him keep pretending and see what he does? Maybe he’ll give her up if he thinks we don’t suspect him.”

  Grant threw out his arm and stopped her on the walkway as they approached the front door. “Something’s not right,” he said in a low voice. She heard his deep in-take of breath and rapid exhale.

  He had brought the flashlight with him for the search and flashed it on the door. Suddenly, he dropped it, grasped her arm and ran, dragging her with him. Marie stumbled.

  He scooped her up and jumped over something. Then he pushed her down behind the low stone wall that surrounded the gravel drive and threw himself on top of her.

  “Cover your head,” he warned as he did it.

  The horrific explosion lit up the night, the concussion enormous. Debris rained all over them.

  When it stopped, Marie struggled, but he held her there, his arm like a vise around her middle, his body covering the length of hers, his face buried in the curve where her neck met her shoulder. Deadweight.

  “Grant! Can you move? Let me up!” she cried, praying he could move, that he wasn’t injured or, worse, dead. He had saved her
life, thrown himself between her and disaster without a thought for his own safety. What kind of man did that?

  He groaned, rolled off her and lay on his back, one arm covering his eyes. “Lord, that was way too close!”

  “Are you all right? Are you hurt?” she asked frantically. She quickly propped herself up on her elbow as she lay on her side next to him and ran her hand over his face.

  He caught her hand in his, pressed her palm to his lips for several seconds. “I almost lost you,” he growled, slid his arms around her and drew her on top of him.

  The kiss grew fervent, more desperate than sexual. She felt his heart thundering beneath hers and reveled in the fact that they had both survived. She kissed him back, tasting the waning fear and relief they shared.

  He broke the kiss and framed her face with his hands, looking into her eyes, searching. “I love you, Marie. I should have said it before. I knew it before but didn’t want to scare you off. What if we’d been blasted to kingdom come and I had never said those words?”

  She couldn’t speak. Hope flared, choking off speech, even if she had known what to say. Flickers of a future with him ran through her brain like a film on fast-forward. Loving, laughing, living without the constant loneliness she had always accepted as normal for her.

  Then reason intruded and it dawned on her that this was simply an adrenalin-inspired declaration. Like the kiss, just a life-affirming thing, a glad-to-be-alive connection.

  What could she say that wouldn’t sound dismissive or ungrateful? That she loved him, too? No. If she said that, the words wouldn’t be coming from the same place as his. She was afraid she would really mean it.

  He brushed the hair off her brow with one finger, then pulled a small packet of wipes out of his pocket and began cleaning the dirt and dark greasepaint off her face.

  Marie remained motionless as he tended to her, thinking how gentle he could be at times. And how she both resented and welcomed being treated like something too precious to risk. She couldn’t have it both ways. Could she?