Deadly Additive

by Donn Taylor

  As if a dam had broken, memories flooded back, including the elusive one he’d tried in vain to remember. “She did want one thing for me, though. She wanted me to come back to the church. She said I’d never feel complete until I did. We talked a lot about it, and I agreed to do whatever the priest said. I still wasn’t believing, but I was doing it for her. We were on our way to Mass with her family when they ambushed us.”

  He found himself clutching his napkin in his fist. Embarrassed, he let it drop back to his lap. “Well, that’s all of it. I don’t know how I survived. It took most of a year to recover.”

  She watched him with a kindness he hadn’t seen in her before. “If you hadn’t recovered, I might still be Diego Contreras’s prisoner. If I were still alive. I couldn’t have stalled him much longer.”

  “We were both lucky—a good thing, too. Your photos opened the proverbial can of worms, and we’re not finished dealing with them yet.”

  “Those munitions are that critical?”

  “It’s hard enough for an army to defend itself against one chemical agent at a time. With the new munitions, it will have to deal with three at once. And the techies don’t know much about the third one. In the hands of terrorists or rogue nations, those things could kill thousands of people, and we couldn’t prevent it.”

  Kristin’s lips tightened. “The CIA and all of Brinkman’s people are working on it, and we still don’t know who’s behind it. So what do we do now?”

  Sledge grinned. “We follow Roger Brinkman’s instructions—take a few days’ vacation here.” The grin faded. “Afterwards, I’ll work for Brinkman until we find the source of the weapons and deal with it. I’ll never forgive myself if our country gets attacked and I haven’t done all I can to prevent it.”

  Kristin gave a solemn nod. “I feel the same. I’ll follow Brinkman, too.” She looked away and seemed lost in thought, her face pensive.

  He watched in quiet pleasure until, with a sudden movement, her gaze returned to his.

  “When we had dinner in Houston we both confessed we had an emptiness inside. Have you had any thoughts about that?”

  “Only another talk with Glenn Vickers. I gather he’s been through something similar. But that has to wait until I’m finished with the weapons thing.”

  Kristin arched an eyebrow. “Do we have time for this vacation?”

  Sledge pushed back from the table. “We do, for two reasons. We both need the rest, and Roger Brinkman gave us orders. If he needs us, he won’t hesitate to call.”

  He paid the check and took her arm as they walked to her room. She made no move to disengage, but her arm grew tense.

  Is she going to panic again?

  Sledge couldn’t imagine what demon had possessed her when she shrank away from him in the helicopter and again in her hotel in Houston. All he knew was that it happened when he leaned close to tell her something. Well, he wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  He unlocked her room door and returned her key, then took a deliberate step away from her. She stood with her back against the doorframe, fearful as an animal at bay, her eyes searching his. For several moments they stood that way, each one’s gaze fixed on the other’s. Sledge recognized the crucial moment. He had to do something, but he didn’t know what.

  With one hand he reached across the distance between them and touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers. When he spoke, he tried to make the words express all the tenderness he felt.

  “I love you, Kristin.”

  The fear in her face dissolved into pleasure, and tears flooded her eyes. Then suddenly she rushed into his arms. Her grasp was fierce, and their fervent kiss was all he had ever imagined a kiss could be.

  At length she pulled away, her hands still resting on his shoulders. Her voice was husky. “You have no idea what a wonderful thing you’ve done. Someday I’ll tell you why.”

  With that she was gone, smiling tearfully back at him as she closed the door.

  28

  Inside her room, Kristin marveled at Sledge’s unexpected gentleness. There were more facets to his character than she’d thought possible. Earlier, when they’d been caught in the firefight, she’d welcomed the bulk and strength of his body as a shield. She’d felt so awed by his willing self-sacrifice that she hadn’t wondered why her panic reaction to big men didn’t rise up. Then she’d realized she cared very much what happened to Sledge, and as the bullets flew around them she found herself clinging close to him.

  Did that mean she was cured of her panic, or had it only been neutralized by the extraordinary circumstances? She’d worried about that, knowing the critical moment would come when they said good night at her door. But his gentleness and understanding had carried them through the crisis. Now she was certain she would never fear him again. For the first time in years, she felt like a normal person.

  Sleep came quickly but remained shallow. She woke repeatedly, at times to confidence in her newfound emotional health, at others to frustration at the lack of further leads for Roger Brinkman. As glimmers of daylight seeped through her windows, she woke with the sense time was running out on them.

  Relishing her tourism plans with Sledge, she dressed in slacks and low-heeled shoes. But the itch of uneasiness remained. She checked her watch. She had a free hour before breakfast with Sledge. Maybe a walk in the freshness of the morning would banish the uneasiness.

  She picked up her wide-brimmed sun hat more out of habit than necessity at that time of day. Then her purse. Her cell phone was beeping its low-battery signal, for in last night’s euphoria she’d forgotten to recharge it. She plugged it in so it would be ready when she went down to breakfast.

  She saw no one in the hotel lobby as she passed through. Too early for most tourists, she guessed, feeling a bit smug at being up before the others. She stepped outside, surprised again at the tropics’ burgeoning fertility, a presence so fierce it seemed the air itself might be alive. Not just alive. Perhaps enchanted. So different from the barren chill of the Andes and the ordered productivity of her native Minnesota. She breathed deeply and followed the street in front of the hotel.

  She walked quickly, awed by the number of plants and flowers whose names she didn’t know and saddened by her certainty she’d never know them. The fate of every tourist, she guessed. But she could enjoy them without names. Like those bright yellow ones on the bush in front of the hotel she was passing. It wasn’t a bad hotel, but certainly not as luxurious as the one she’d just left. It was busy, though, as indicated by the row of taxis standing at its doors.

  A man emerged from the hotel and hailed the first taxi in line. He was a huge man, corded muscles threatening to burst through his colorful sport shirt, so strong that he handled his traveling bag as if it were light as paper. A big man with a blond head…

  Kristin felt suddenly chilled in spite of the tropical warmth.

  It was the man she’d searched for yesterday, one of the two she’d seen at the factory and the one she’d seen again in the Bogotá air terminal. Last night she and Sledge had felt frustrated at the lack of leads to the criminal organization behind the weapons factory. Well, here was a possible reason there were none. This man had probably been sent here to make sure there were none. But he himself was another lead dropped right in her lap. Even as she watched, the man climbed into a taxi and drove away.

  She mustn’t lose this lead. She raced to the next taxi in line, embarrassed as she spoke the line made trite by a hundred B-grade movies, “Follow that cab.”

  The driver, an elderly man with chocolate-colored skin and ash-gray hair, eyed her shrewdly but complied without asking questions.

  “Keep them in sight,” she said. “We mustn’t lose them.”

  “Can’t lose them, mum,” the driver said. “I heard them say they going to the airport.”

  His information proved true, though he kept the other cab in sight. As they slowed at their destination, Kristin paid her fare and added a healthy tip for the driver’s helpfulne
ss.

  Her quarry strode directly to the airport ticket counter. When he left, she went quickly to the same counter.

  “That man who just bought a ticket. Where is he going?”

  The ticket agent gave her a suspicious look. “Is he some kind of criminal?”

  Kristin returned the haughtiest stare she could manage. “It’s a divorce case. He has a wife in Florida. She retained us to keep track of him.”

  The suspicion turned to cynicism. “If she’s in Florida, she’ll have a long wait. He bought a one-way ticket to Spokane, Washington.”

  Kristin dropped her credit card on the counter, hoping it wasn’t maxed out. “Then sell me one, too.”

  “First class, like his?”

  Pleasant memories of her luxurious travel with Jocelyn flashed through her mind, but she knew that wouldn’t do. Not only too expensive, but she couldn’t get too close to the man she was following.

  “Just coach,” she said with a sigh. “His wife said she wouldn’t pay for anything fancy.”

  The agent returned her credit card with the ticket that showed one plane change in San Juan, Puerto Rico, and another in Chicago. The length of the journey and the magnitude of her task brought a wave of depression. The least she could do was tell Sledge what she was attempting.

  “Where’s the nearest telephone?” she asked.

  The agent frowned. “You don’t have time. They’ve already given last call for your flight.”

  Kristin ran for the gate, one hand holding the floppy hat on her head, the other clutching ticket and purse. For once, nothing beeped as she went through security screening. Breathless, she reached the airplane just before the flight attendant secured the door. Inside, she paused to compose herself before proceeding down the aisle. A quick glance showed the blond hulk reading a magazine in a seat near the front of the aircraft. How could she get past him without being noticed? She turned her face away as she walked the aisle, using the wide-brimmed hat to shield her face. She was glad she did, for every male on the other side of the aircraft got his eyes full. Being an attractive blonde could be inconvenient at times.

  Quite a few seats toward the rear of the aircraft were empty, so Kristin took one where she could see her quarry if he left his seat.

  She chided herself for not recharging her cell phone the night before. If she had, it would be handy in her purse instead of useless on the bed table in her room. Well, she’d find a phone somewhere. Meanwhile, what should she do? Her only plan was to follow the blond thug wherever he went and try not to get noticed while she was doing it.

  The great turbines whined into life, sending their characteristic vibration through the aircraft—so different from the vibration-free ride of a jetliner. The engines growled during taxiing, then roared as the aircraft raced down the runway and became airborne. After liftoff, they subsided into a dull, constant mutter as the pilot throttled back to climbing power. Takeoff usually gave Kristin a thrill of anticipation, but today she only felt a hard sphere of tension in the pit of her stomach.

  She was on her own in the same aircraft with a man she knew to be an international criminal.

  29

  Saint Kitts, Leeward Islands

  For the first time in months, Sledge woke to a feeling of contentment. He was lucky to have found love once. To find it a second time was exceptional indeed. And to spend two days with Kristin in this tropical paradise made him fortunate beyond belief.

  But there was work to be done. Although he was sure he and Kristin had found the weapons transshipment point, they’d found no leads to the organization behind it. That failure tasted bitter. He felt responsible for finding the source of the weapons, and he had the sense some force was moving him blindly toward that end.

  All right, he thought. So let it move me.

  Meanwhile, he’d enjoy being with Kristin. Maybe her presence would dispel his somber thoughts.

  He knocked on her door.

  No answer.

  He knocked again. Same result.

  Maybe she’d thought they were to meet downstairs. He descended to the breakfast room and scanned every corner. She was not there.

  Had she overslept? He used a house phone to call her room. The phone rang ten times, but no one answered. He waited fifteen minutes and tried again with the same result.

  Had she run out on him again? She’d done that in Bogotá—gone back to Chozadolor on her own. No, last night had been too genuine for that. But on two occasions before that, she had flinched away from him. And in his last sight of her, she’d been crying and smiling at the same time. What emotional state did that signal?

  Enough of that, he thought. Something must have happened.

  He asked the hotel desk clerk, “She doesn’t answer her phone. Please send someone to check on her.”

  The desk clerk gave him a suspicious glance. “Perhaps she has gone out.”

  Sledge glowered at him. “She has a heart condition,” he lied. “She did not feel well last night. If anything has happened to her, you are responsible.”

  The clerk blanched. “One moment, sir.” He produced a key, and a bellboy materialized from nowhere.

  Sledge followed them to the room. They knocked several times, then opened the door and called. There was no answer. All three of them entered the room together.

  The bed had been straightened but not made. Kristin’s luggage, fully fastened, rested on the luggage stand. A cell phone lay recharging on a table. The closet stood empty, and Kristin’s wide-brimmed hat was nowhere in sight.

  The clerk gave Sledge a disgusted look. “Perhaps your engagement was not as definite as you thought.”

  Sledge left the room without a word. The missing hat meant Kristin had gone out. The recharging phone meant she intended to return. All he could do was go back to the lobby and wait.

  He did, and his concern grew with each minute.

  After an hour, he knew something was terribly wrong. Regardless of the reason Kristin had left the hotel, something unforeseen had prevented her return. She could be anywhere in the city of Basseterre or, indeed, anywhere on Saint Kitts. He wanted nothing more in this world than to find her and assure her safety.

  But he had no idea how to begin.

  ****

  In flight to San Juan, Puerto Rico

  Kristin grew more apprehensive as the flight progressed. With hardly a thought, she’d assigned herself a task for which she had no training. She would have to depend on her wits to shadow her quarry without being seen. She thought of him simply as The Brute. She didn’t know what would happen if he found her following him, but she knew it would be violent. Anyone involved with the weapons factory would be completely ruthless.

  One advantage she had, though, was that The Brute had never seen her face. She’d shown him only the wide-brimmed hat as she boarded. If she could keep changing her appearance, he might not realize she was following. The flight schedule called for a two-hour wait in San Juan. Maybe she could get to a phone and report to Roger Brinkman.

  She wouldn’t be in this predicament if she’d remembered to charge her cell phone. Sledge would think she’d stood him up or run away again. That would hurt him after they’d felt so much in harmony last night. Hurt him? Pain welled up in her own heart, and tears rose in her eyes. She suppressed the pain and blinked away the tears. She’d best keep her mind on her job. If Sledge was the man she thought he was, he’d understand.

  Kristin’s tension remained as the aircraft landed at Luis Muñoz Marín International Airport in San Juan, the arrival and departure point for flights throughout the Caribbean. She remembered that all commuter flights arrived at or departed from the lower level at this end of the terminal. She didn’t relish the long walk to the other end and the upper level that served the long-range jet flights.

  When the plane came to rest, The Brute stepped into the aisle to deplane. He did not glance in her direction. Everyone would have to go through customs, so she remained in her seat as other passengers crowd
ed past. She followed among the last of them along the lower-level corridor that led to customs. She made sure her hair was well-hidden, tucked up into the hat, and she put on her dark sunglasses to disguise her features.

  When she arrived at customs, The Brute was just clearing. Without looking back, he headed for the terminal’s upper level. Good. She could re-establish contact up there.

  “Your baggage, ma’am?” The customs official’s voice called Kristin back to the present.

  “I…uh…have none,” she said. “I left Saint Kitts in a hurry.”

  “Please empty your purse on the counter.”

  She did so, conscious that the officer’s eyes scanned her person for contraband. He sorted through the unremarkable contents of her purse without comment, then dismissed her with a nod. She thought he looked disappointed not to have found a liter or two of cocaine, but she was too relieved to enjoy the thought.

  She found a phone upstairs near the duty-free area and felt relief when Roger Brinkman came on the line.

  “I’m following one of the blond hulks we saw at the weapons factory,” she said after giving her location. “He’s the same one I saw going to Saint Mark yesterday, and he’s the one we saw in the terminal at Bogotá.”

  “Has he seen you?” Concern showed in Brinkman’s voice.

  “So far as I know, he hasn’t ever seen me.”

  “Don’t let him. His name is Erich Staab. He’s worked with violent terrorist groups in Germany. He disappeared several years ago and Interpol wants to question him.”

  Kristin shuddered. “I’ll make myself invisible.” She gave her flight numbers and arrival times at Chicago O’Hare and Spokane. “Sledge will wonder what happened to me,” she added. “I didn’t have time to contact him. Maybe he could collect my things and send them to me before he goes home.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Brinkman said. “I’ll send you some help in Spokane—not enough time to get someone in Chicago. Meanwhile, don’t take chances. That guy is deadly.”