by Lyn Stone
She walked on to the nearest fountain, glancing now and then at the area around the obelisk for a man in a suit with a red tie. That had been his idea. She had told him she would wear all black, which really was about all she had with her anyway.
Place de la Concorde spooked her a little. During the revolution nearly three thousand people had had their heads chopped on that spot where the obelisk stood now. Locals declared then that cattle wouldn’t even approach the place because the smell of blood was so strong. She imagined she could smell it now over two centuries later.
She hoped Bahktar’s choice of rendezvous didn’t have a hidden meaning.
There he was now, approaching. He looked around fifty, rather handsome, tall, dark, neat mustache and stylishly cropped hair. He was wearing an expensive, tailor-made raincoat. The picture of a well-to-do businessman, impatient to complete his transaction and get somewhere out of the rain. The knot and upper half of his red tie stood out against the white shirt and gray lapels. He carried his closed umbrella like a cane.
Marie wandered to the edge of the fountain, where rain was disturbing the surface. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Grant pass by her and head toward the obelisk. He paused near it, ignoring Bahktar, and took out what appeared to be a guidebook. His glance went from book to monument and back again as if comparing written facts with reality.
He was wearing her baseball cap. In his loose, all-weather jacket, worn jeans and scuffed running shoes, Grant looked and moved like a determined tourist with limited time to see the sights.
Bahktar watched him closely for a few minutes, then shrugged with flagging interest when Grant headed in the direction of one of the statues, still paging through the little book. Where had he secured that prop? It was probably the car manual, she realized.
She waited a few moments, took a deep breath and began her approach, fingers tucked into the flat pockets on the front of her slacks. She kept her head down, watching the uneven pavers and the gathering puddles at her feet. She was nearly soaked through but hardly noticed that discomfort.
Bravado spurred her on, right up to the wrought iron fence that surrounded the obelisk. She stood about six feet from Bahktar and sensed him staring at her profile.
“You want the last installment transferred to the account?” she asked without preamble. She spoke in English using a Flemish accent. “There is a price.”
Bahktar walked closer to her. Marie kept her eyes averted, waiting to see how he would respond.
“You have the ransom?” he asked, his words clipped but sounding quite relaxed considering the tense situation.
“Not yet. Shapur had the girl stashed somewhere, and I couldn’t find her. If you know where, tell me and I’ll handle the switch. If you don’t, our business here is finished.”
“Not quite. I believe you have a number for me.”
“First the girl’s location. If you don’t want her ransom, I do. That’s the price of your precious number. I would have used it myself, but he didn’t give me the name of the bank. You have that, I presume?”
“Give me the number or I will kill you,” he said succinctly. “I will kill you right here.”
And he might try that, Marie thought. Almost all of the foot traffic in the area had disappeared. Except for Grant. She couldn’t see him without turning around, but trusted he was within range.
“Kill me and forgo the stash Shapur sacked away for you? I don’t think so.” She looked straight at him then, chin up, and she smiled with confidence, running the bluff for all she was worth.
And saw instant shock and recognition in his eyes. Omigod, he knew who she was! How did he know?
She immediately placed her open left hand on her chest, the signal to Grant for help. With her right arm straight down, she lifted her leg behind her and went for the gun near her ankle, hoping Bahktar wouldn’t notice what she was doing until she had it in hand.
He moved like lightning, caught her off balance and grabbed her in a stranglehold, his back against the fence. One arm clamped her to him; the other braced her shoulder, his knife at her neck.
“Let her go!” Grant demanded, his Glock leveled at Bahktar. And also at her, since she was his shield. She felt the blade. Where the devil had that come from, the umbrella? He must have planned all along to dispense with her silently right here by the obelisk.
“Drop the pistol,” Bahktar said to Grant with deadly calm. “If you do not, I will slice her jugular. Do it now.”
Marie had to do something. Grant would probably concede in an attempt to save her, but she knew she was done for, no matter what he did, unless she got out of Bahktar’s grasp.
“He won’t shoot you without an order,” she gasped, addressing her captor. “Loosen up and I’ll call him off. Kill me and it’s over for you. I hired him for protection. He’s a pro.”
She felt the pressure lighten a little, but the knife still lay too close to the carotid for her to make a move. “Back off!” she called to Grant. “It’s okay. I’ve got it covered.”
“Toss the weapon and take a walk,” Bahktar added.
Marie watched Grant hesitate. He shot her a questioning look. She smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. After a few more seconds, he crouched down and laid his gun on the pavers. Slowly he backed away from it. Now there was trust, she thought, wondering if she could live up to it.
Bahktar still held her but lowered the knife a few inches. “Who are you, woman?” he asked.
Marie issued a nervous chuckle. “I’m Beauclair. Shapur hired Onders to snatch me from the embassy. Since my family wouldn’t give a worthless franc for my life or anyone else’s, I persuaded him to let me in on the deal and I would help him with the next mark.”
“He was a fool. How did you persuade him?”
“Exactly how you think I did. Yeah, that, plus I promised to make it child’s play to grab the next one if he’d give me 10 percent of his take.”
“Shapur agreed to this?”
“We didn’t tell him. The only time I spoke to Shapur was when he was dying after the explosion. He begged me to bring you the number and plead with you for his daughter’s life.”
Bahktar scoffed. “She’s been dead for two years.”
Marie scoffed right back. “Like I care? Let me go, I’ll give you the number and you tell me where that last girl’s being kept, the one from Amsterdam that Shapur’s other man took. I’ll do the deal and we’ll split the ransom. Better deal quickly before some yahoo calls the gendarmes!”
“First the number,” he insisted.
Grant still stood about twenty feet away, his weapon out of reach. He looked ready to pounce. She knew he had a backup under his jacket and dearly hoped he was ready to use it. She made the sign of a pistol with her hand.
“It’s on the paper in my left pocket,” she replied easily. “Get it yourself.”
He let go of her waist with his left arm and slid his fingers into the tight flat pocket. As she’d hoped, his right arm shifted, creating a wider gap between her neck and the knife.
Marie grasped his right wrist, kicked backward to his knee and quickly threw him to the ground. He slashed out wildly as he fell, slicing her leg with a vicious swipe of the blade.
A shot rang out and Bahktar lay still. She ripped the gun off her leg and released the safety. The wound near where she’d had it taped began to throb and she felt faint. She sat down on the pavers to check the damage.
“Lie back,” Grant ordered as he ran to her. He knelt and pushed on her shoulder. “Dammit, Marie!” He had his belt off and was wrapping it around her thigh as a tourniquet.
She groaned and blinked to clear the rainwater from her eyes. And saw Bahktar sit up, knife in hand and start to lunge.
Grant! Without thinking, she put a bullet right in the middle of Bahktar’s forehead. He dropped like a rock.
“Oh, God, I…killed him!”
Now they would never find Cynthia Rivers. She had failed her mission.
That was her last thought before
she fainted.
Chapter 18
“T he next plane, Tyndal,” Mercier ordered. “Be on it.”
“I’m not leaving her. Fire me if you have to, but I’m here until she’s on her feet and I know she’s okay.”
A moment’s silence ensued. Grant tried to steady his breathing and sound reasonable, not the basket case he had been in the hours since Marie had been admitted to the hospital.
“Look, sir, I just need another day or so before I report. I’ve given you all the details, and everything’s square with the local authorities. I can’t just abandon Marie here in Paris. Let me wait until she’s released from the hospital and I’ll bring her with me when I come back.”
“She’s not coming,” Mercier informed him. “I just spoke with her. Grant, don’t make this harder for her, okay?”
“What do you mean?” Grant asked, a chill suffusing his body.
“Give her some space,” Mercier suggested. “If you don’t, we’ll lose her.”
And if he did, he might lose her, Grant thought.
“The decision must be hers. Trust me on this.”
“What did she say?” Grant asked without much hope Mercier would tell him.
“She’s been through a lot in a very short length of time. You can’t expect her to make any life-altering decisions at this juncture. Surely you can see that. So, go tell her about Rivers, say a quick goodbye, wish her luck and get your ass back here before I send someone to get you.”
Well, that was not much in the way of minced words. Grant had to admit it made sense to do as ordered, especially after Marie had accused him of hovering.
He’d done his utmost to stop doing that. Hadn’t he let her walk right into that meeting with Bahktar with nothing but a peashooter and a smile to defend herself? Look how that had turned out.
What the hell did she expect now? That he’d just walk away and hope she came to her senses and saw that no man could ever love her like he did? He had already told her, shown her and done all he could to convince her.
Mercier had already hung up, assuming he’d get what he wanted with that threat. Well, maybe he would. The man had a point, even if Grant didn’t like what he heard.
Okay, then. If breathing room was what Marie needed, that’s what he’d give her. Up to a point, of course. If he hadn’t heard from her in a week, he was coming back after her. Maybe two weeks would be better if he could stand being without her that long.
He drew in and released a fortifying breath, stuck his phone in his pocket and marched back to the elevator. She had passed out from losing so much blood and he had talked with her only once since she woke up in the hospital. All of that conversation had been about her wound before the nurse made him leave the room.
Marie would have a scar about four inches long, but she hadn’t seemed the least bit upset by it. “My first badge of battle,” she had said, sounding a little too proud of herself. Grant had wanted to cry, imagining that beautiful, perfect leg marred in that way.
He entered her room with a smile pasted on that didn’t even reach his teeth. “How’re you doing now that the goof shot’s wearing off?”
“Fine! Hardly hurts at all,” she replied. The perky little cheerleader ruled and Grant couldn’t stand it. He knew she must feel like hell.
“They found Rivers,” he told her, wanting to make her cheer for real.
“Seriously? Great! Where was she all that time?”
“Root cellar not far from the clinic’s kitchen. Eric Vinland, one of our agents, managed to mind link with her and found out she was in an underground structure. The entrance was concealed by debris, so they hadn’t found her until he did that.”
“So, she’s alive?” Marie asked, her eyes wide with hope.
“And mad as hell, they say. Dehydrated and dirty, but alive and kicking.”
“Thank God. I’ve been so afraid I’d sealed her doom by shooting Bahktar. He is dead, right?”
“As the proverbial doorknob. You’ll have to get some counseling on that, I expect.”
“I know. Right now I don’t feel a bit of guilt. It was him or you.”
“You saved my life. Did I say thanks?”
“Not necessary. You saved me from that explosion. We’re even, I guess.”
Grant watched her toy with the edge of the sheet as she spoke. Was she uncomfortable with his being here? Did she think he would demand more of her than she was ready to give? Yeah, there was that little hesitant quiver of her lips. She probably wanted to say something but didn’t know how without hurting his feelings.
He bit the bullet. “Mercier’s ordered me home to make paperwork and get grilled. When are you being released?” Please, please say you’ll come with me, he chanted in his mind.
“Tomorrow. They’re sending someone from the embassy to escort me back to Germany. Lots to do there, clearing things up.”
Grant held back the questions. Would she go back to her job there? Would she be satisfied with minor snooping after she’d tasted real action? Would she forget him the minute he was gone?
Instead of all the questions, he walked over to her bedside, took her hand, kissed her on the forehead and faked a grin. “If you get bored, come to McLean. I’ll marry you and give you pretty babies to keep you busy.”
She laughed and squeezed his hand. “That sounds…really interesting, Tyndal, but I’m not quite ready for that much excitement.” Her gaze dropped away. “There are things I need to do before I settle anywhere. I hope you understand?”
He released her before he broke down, begged and vowed he was serious about the offer he’d made. “All right, then, but just so you know, the invitation’s open-ended.”
“You’re leaving now?” she asked, sounding a little breathless, something, he had learned, she did when she was feeling nervous or apprehensive.
“Next plane out.” He looked pointedly at his watch. “Goodbye kiss okay?”
“Goodbye kiss mandatory,” she replied, and raised her face as he lowered his.
He made it a sweet one, devoid of the passion he wanted to show. Marie was a miracle that had happened to him when he had given up on miracles. Magic all over. Her lips were so soft and giving, trembling a little under his. She was the one who drew away.
How could she let it go so easily, all that they could be together? Know that I love you with everything I am, he thought, wishing to God he had Vinland’s telepathy as a gift, that the thought would transfer.
Without another word, he gave her a last, longing look. Then he turned and left her lying there. It was the hardest goodbye ever.
The worst part was that he knew now he couldn’t come back for her. The next move, if there ever was one, would have to be hers.
Grant’s flight home proved uneventful, but when he deplaned and retrieved his bag, there was a surprise in the baggage area. Mercier stood there, waiting for him.
“Welcome back.”
“What’s up?” Grant knew it must be something big. The boss wouldn’t have driven all the way out to Dulles to meet one of his agents otherwise.
Mercier shrugged. “Not much at the moment. Pretty quiet, just the way we like it. I probably jinxed us by saying that.” He headed for the exit. “When we get to the office, I’ll be debriefing you about the op, but on the drive back I thought we might dispense with the personal problem and get that out of the way.”
“You mean Agent Beauclair.” It wasn’t a question. “Not a problem. I did as you suggested.” Ordered, really.
Mercier shot him a thoughtful glance and continued walking. By the time they reached the parking lot and got into the car, Grant had tamped down his resentment to a manageable level. No use holding Mercier responsible for the loss of Marie.
“Good job, by the way,” Mercier said as he backed out of the parking spot and began the trip back to McLean.
“That’s a laugh. Marie rescued herself, basically. And I wasn’t able to do a thing to save Cynthia Rivers. Thank God Vinland was able to.”
Grant flashed back to the confrontation at the obelisk in Place de la Concorde. “Marie was severely injured because of me. She might have been killed.”
“She told me you played it exactly right, followed her signs to the letter. You both took Bahktar out. That’s what is important, Grant. The kidnapping spree is over and it wouldn’t be if you hadn’t been there.”
“Is this the debriefing already?”
Mercier smiled. “No. This is the little talk where I commend you for teamwork, reluctant as you were. You’ve been a loner in the past, but you aren’t one by nature, I think.”
“I work better by myself.”
“Sometimes that’s true but sometimes not. Delegation and trust are the main things you need to work on. You led the investigation to Holland, then on to Paris with your expertise. Otherwise it would have been a dead end in Germany. Eric Vinland used an ability you don’t have to locate Rivers. That was his part of the job, and he did it well. Marie employed her CIA training to the max, both in her escape and in every other instance. Give her that credit, Grant. You don’t have to do everything all by yourself. It’s a lesson it took me a while to learn, too.”
“I lost objectivity.”
Mercier nodded. “It happens when you’re personally involved with a partner. I know from experience. That’s why I discourage it whenever I can.”
Grant said nothing. He couldn’t pry into the boss’s life, but he did wonder.
“I met Solange on an op a few years ago, shortly after we organized SEXTANT. Fell like a damn bungee jumper. Nearly cost both her life and mine.”
“That’s why you ordered me to cut Marie loose.”
“No, I didn’t order that. I said to give her some space to make up her own mind.”
Grant’s resentment returned with the force of a blow to the head. “I’ve lost her because I followed orders.”
Mercier shook his head. “No. If you lost her, it’s because you held on too tight, rushed her, tried to think for her and do for her. She probably resented that. Wouldn’t you? Anyway, you don’t want a woman who doesn’t want you back, do you?”