Alex put in the second disk. “This one has data on it.”
“Anything interesting?”
“Lots of e-mail from one of the people out sick, a Mark Willard. Too much to read right now.” He ejected the disk and replaced it in his pocket. He’d just popped the last disk into the drive when the security chief stepped out of the stairwell and headed toward the construction crews.
Just his presence on this floor made Taylor edgy. “Ira’s inspecting the progress. Hurry. He could come this way.”
“Almost done.”
Taylor glanced over her shoulder at the monitor. She could see a long list of files on the last disk. “Anything interesting?”
“Maybe.”
Alex kept that disk, too. He rose from the desk and joined her. They’d taken just a few steps toward the offices when Ira reappeared. When he spied Alex and Taylor, he jerked his head toward another empty office, indicating that he wanted another private conversation.
Taylor wondered if the security chief intended to question what they were doing at this end of the building or why the gardener wasn’t outside gardening. Instead he shut the door behind them with a firm thud. “What was so interesting in the trash?”
“Excuse me?” Taylor stalled for time, her nerves ragged and as jumpy as oil on a hot skillet. Had the security chief seen them with the general? Had he seen them take the disks from the Dumpster?
“All papers that leave these offices are shredded. But I saw you—” he spoke to Alex “—take a pad out of the trash.”
Taylor prayed he didn’t know about the disks.
Alex took out the pad from his tool satchel and handed it to Ira. “We recycle. There’s nothing written on those pages, but if we’ve somehow violated your security protocol, I apologize.”
“Pretty fancy vocabulary for a handyman,” Ira commented, taking the pad and flipping through the pages while Taylor held her breath, hoping there wasn’t something written on those pages that they simply hadn’t yet found.
Alex shrugged. “Not everyone has a rich father who can send them to college. Some of us have to work our way through. And I’m studying to take my contractor’s test. I intend to have my own firm one day.”
Taylor thought Alex had recovered quite well. Instead of attempting to deny his inappropriate vocabulary, he’d made a reasonable explanation for it.
Ira nodded and handed back the empty pad of paper. “You’re ambitious.”
“Industrious,” Alex countered. “Industrious enough to have already ordered the specialized equipment you requested. We’re expecting delivery this afternoon.”
“When will you complete the installation?” Ira asked, his tone impatient.
Taylor knew Alex had no idea. But he sounded as if he knew exactly what to do and as if he’d done thousands of similar jobs. “Sir, that depends on the carpenters and the electrician.”
Ira clapped him on the shoulder. “Keep me informed.”
Moments after Ira’s departure, Taylor sagged in relief. While she no longer expected anyone to penetrate Alex’s disguise, she couldn’t relax. Not when so many things could go wrong. Not when she had no idea who was after Alex or why.
ALEX FELT a number of undercurrents running through the embassy that came down from Vashmira’s top brass. And during the afternoon the security chief, the general and the secretary of state all found reasons to inspect the construction progress. After crews tore away the singed drywall and checked for stud damage, Alex ran the wiring for the security cameras that both Ira and the secretary of state had requested. No one seemed to notice or question his work, and he didn’t even try to be secretive.
One of the electricians had lent a hand when the procedure turned technical. Pleasure zinged through Alex when he tested the fiber-optic system and his results showed up on a computer screen thanks to dozens of miniature cameras. He’d hidden a multitude of the tiny cameras that were less than an eighth of an inch in diameter in the juncture where the walls met the ceiling, in molding joints and in the lighting fixtures. From Ira’s office, Alex could bring up a clear view of both the secretary of state’s and the general’s offices. And from the security chief’s office he could spy on the general and the secretary of state. With almost everyone spying on everyone, Alex figured they were all better protected.
While he had computer access, he removed Mark Willard’s e-mail disk from his pocket and inserted it into the floppy drive. The man had never shown up for work today, but as Taylor had pointed out, his absence didn’t make him guilty of arson.
Alex frowned at the large file. “There are sixty pages of e-mails on this disk.”
“Why don’t you search for General Vladimir, Anton Belosova and Ira Hanuck to see if anything pops up,” she suggested. “Do we know this Mark Willard’s position at the embassy?”
“He’s an aide to the chief of protocol.”
“Which means?”
“He has access everywhere and to everyone. His security clearance is high. He has to brief our staff when they meet their foreign counterparts. He knows what the delicate issues are and who must deal with those issues.”
“What possible motive could he have to set the fire?” Taylor asked.
“He could have absolutely no reason to commit arson, but have been paid by someone who does have a motive. Or Mr. Willard could be working for one of Vashmira’s neighbors who aren’t keen on my country’s attempt to strengthen diplomatic ties to yours. Or he could be a pyromaniac.”
“And have no reason at all?” She shook her head. “That I don’t buy. Whoever is running this operation against your family has thought out their attack with care. To keep the heat off themselves, they’ve made the other attempts on your family appear to be the work of individuals. And when those individuals failed, your nemesis carefully covered his tracks.”
“Here’s correspondence from General Vladimir, but it looks innocent enough.” Alex skimmed a note from the general that confirmed his meeting with Pentagon officials in another few days. There were two more e-mails from the general, one about security precautions and the other asking about the embassy’s construction progress.
“Do you think it odd we saw the general around the Dumpster this morning and here is his name on the file?”
“Maybe. But there’s nothing odd about the e-mails.”
“Anything between Willard and Anton or Ira?” Taylor asked.
Alex did another search. “Nothing with Ira. But Anton wrote Willard that the secretary of state’s office would approve the funds for extra equipment, which is a little outside Anton’s normal domain.”
She peered over Alex’s shoulder to read the screen. “What kind of equipment?”
“The message doesn’t say.” Alex restrained a sigh. It would have been useful to have Willard’s correspondence to Vashmira, not just the replies. “I want to speak to this Willard, see if he’s really sick.”
They returned to the cottage, took hasty showers and changed clothes, a necessity after their laborious work day. Alex frowned at his smoke-stenched sneakers, then tried not to think about wearing them again.
When they headed back out, Alex’s stomach rumbled. He hoped they could eat along the way. Physical activity always left him with an appetite.
“You have an apartment address for Mark Willard?” Taylor asked him, digging into her pocket for the keys, then locking the front door behind them.
“I found his address on the Internet.” He handed her the directions and noted that she’d kept the keys in hand. “Do we need your car?”
She glanced at the address and nodded. “It’s about a half hour drive. Do you think we should call first to find out if Willard’s home?”
“I’d rather surprise him.”
“While you showered, I used my cell phone to ask a friend to check out Mark Willard’s background. Except for three speeding tickets, he’s never had a problem with the law. He attended college, majoring in foreign languages. He’s fluent in Russian, English a
nd Hungarian.”
“Is he married?” Alex asked.
“Nope. Why?”
Taylor had worked beside him all day, reeling out the fiber-optic wiring, helping tuck it between the wall studs, and all the time keeping her eyes open for anything suspicious. He’d made it a point to touch her throughout the day—just casually, when he handed her a hammer or when he pulled up a chair for her to sit beside him to test the system.
She no longer jumped when he brushed against her, although sometimes her eyes flared with uncertainty, as if she knew exactly what he was doing and couldn’t make up her mind how she felt about his actions.
“I’m just curious about Willard.” Alex wasn’t as suspicious about the other two absentees. Neither held such high-level positions that they had free access throughout the embassy. “I wish we could check Willard’s bank account to see if he’s made any large deposits recently.”
She hesitated. “Let’s check him out first.”
Alex didn’t press her. In Vashmira, he could have had an answer within minutes with a simple phone call, but the United States had much stricter privacy laws to protect the banks and their customers. Unfortunately, those same laws also protected criminals.
Taylor unlocked her car and drove out of the parking lot. Three cars followed them and all were forced to turn right onto a one-way road that was four lanes wide and overloaded with bumper-to-bumper traffic.
Alex glanced at the clock on the dash. Six o’clock; they’d been caught in rush-hour traffic.
Taylor seemed in no hurry. She drove with more patience than he could have shown. Alex leaned back and appreciated her competent hands on the wheel, her smooth working of the gas and brake. Her coordinated, polished and professional efforts led him to believe he couldn’t have placed himself in better hands.
Oh, yeah. He’d like to be in her hands all right. Not that she had any intention of complying with his lusty wish. Taylor had built her protective walls strong and high. As much as he wanted to use a battering ram to tear down the sturdy bricks she hid behind, doing so would just cause her to flee.
So he’d be patient, chipping away at the cracks, satisfying himself that sometimes a brick occasionally fell and he’d glimpse a view of the passionate woman she’d hidden. However, he meant to kiss her again. Very soon. The thought of actually holding her in his arms while he kissed her enticed him, teasing his senses like the promise of rain after a long drought.
Taylor turned right; her eyes checked her rearview mirror. Ten seconds later she rechecked it and frowned.
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
“The silver sedan with the dark-tinted windows is following us.”
Chapter Nine
“What do you want to do?” Alex asked her. Muscles tensed, he was as edgy as a panther about to spring on prey.
Alarmed, but not panicked, Taylor kept driving, considering their options. “We could use my cell phone to call the cops.”
“That probably won’t solve anything. It’s not illegal to tail us.”
“True. I could circle ’round, and we could try to get a license plate number and have the registration traced. Or I could stop and confront the driver.”
“No.”
While she didn’t want to attempt any heroics, she wondered what Alex was thinking. It was unlike him to make such a hasty decision without giving an explanation. However, this time, she didn’t want to hear his reasoning. His adamant no had sounded personal, as if he was worried about her safety. While she appreciated the thought, she wouldn’t allow his concern for her to get in the way of her work.
And since she agreed with him that stopping wasn’t a good option, she simply gave him another choice. “I could attempt to lose the tail, but that would let them know we’ve spotted them and possibly give away our cover.”
“I suppose you’re right. It’s unlikely that a handyman and a gardener would recognize a tail.”
Taylor kept driving, searching for the right traffic conditions. As they moved away from the downtown area, the traffic had lightened somewhat. When a light ahead turned yellow and normally she would have stopped, she stepped on the gas, speeding through the intersection. “Our tail caught the red light. If I make a few turns, they may just think they lost us due to bad luck.”
As Taylor turned down side streets in a seemingly random pattern, Alex kept watch behind them. But Taylor spotted the silver sedan first. “They’re ahead of us. Waiting. Almost as if they…”
“Almost as if they what?”
“Have a tracking device attached to my car.”
“Would that mean they know who I am?”
“Not necessarily. The precaution might be standard procedure after all the trouble at the embassy. I just wish we knew who was in that car.”
“If you stopped our vehicle and we searched under the hood and the chassis, could we find the device?”
“Maybe. Why?”
“If we removed it and put it on another vehicle, then our tail would follow the wrong vehicle.”
Taylor shook her head. “It’s a good idea except I’m not sure we have time to stop. And again, do we want to alert the tail that we know they’re following us?”
“What do you suggest?”
“Why don’t I try to lose them again? Then we ditch the car and take public transportation.”
Her scheme might work. Their pursuers wouldn’t know for sure that Alex and she had spotted the tail or why they’d abandoned the car, and so they would have no reason to question Alex’s identity. Of course, they might already know his real identity, hence the tracking device.
Taylor took advantage of a funeral procession this time, then followed signs to a mall parking lot. They strode through the mall, bought chicken nuggets and lemonade, then sat on a bench to wait for a bus while they ate.
While Taylor asked some of their fellow passengers, who also waited for the bus, about schedules and routes, Alex simply sat back and watched her from behind his sunglasses. The man seemed to find many of her actions amusing, which irritated her more than she wanted to admit.
While they had been walking through the mall, he had casually placed an arm across her shoulders. She’d thought about shrugging out from underneath his touch, but had decided they shouldn’t risk calling any attention to themselves. Besides, she hadn’t minded so much.
Flirting seemed so much a part of Alex’s nature, she figured his actions meant nothing. And since his gesture meant nothing to him, she refused to reveal by shrugging him off that it meant something to her.
When she recalled their kiss, she realized that he wanted more from her than she wanted to give, but she also knew that he would settle for whatever she was willing to give. Alex might coax, but he never insisted. He gave her room to make her own choices. Just knowing she had the freedom to pull away anytime had given her the courage to allow his arm to stay around her.
For several moments she’d even allowed herself to believe she was simply walking through the mall with a handsome man. However, her thoughts kept returning to the tail they’d picked up from the embassy. Had the driver found their car, which was parked outside in the lot? Would their pursuer attempt to follow them into the mall, or just wait until they went back to the car?
Finally, their bus arrived and they found seats up front. Taylor consulted the driver about the schedule for the return route, then settled back in her seat. She couldn’t quite relax and for the next ten minutes kept an eye on the road, looking for the silver sedan.
Alex seemed to sense the moment she concluded that they’d made a clean getaway. “Remind me not to give you a reason to run away from me.”
He was back to teasing her, but she didn’t mind. In fact, his good humor helped keep the tension from wearing her down. As much as she would have preferred to stay at full alert, her body demanded rest between the spurts of adrenaline that were so much a part of this job.
“I wish we could both go on the run and disappear. At least you’d
be safer,” she told him.
“My goal isn’t my own personal safety,” he reminded her, his tone even. “We need to find out—”
“Who is after your entire family.” She again glanced over her shoulder at the road behind them. “We might have made a mistake—not checking out those men, but I have a feeling they’ll be waiting for us when we pick up my car. Maybe we’ll try to sneak up on them, get close enough to have a friend of mine run the license plates.”
“But first we talk to Willard?”
“Yes.”
Willard lived in a large, gated apartment complex. To drive in took a security code. Taylor and Alex struck up a conversation with a tenant walking his dog, and the guard assumed they were all together and waved them through.
Three wrong turns and several staircases later, Taylor pressed the buzzer on Willard’s third-floor apartment.
“Go away,” sobbed a female voice from the other side of the door.
“We’re looking for Mark Willard.” Taylor spoke loudly so her words would carry through the door.
“That S.O.B. doesn’t live here anymore.”
Alex and Taylor exchanged a look. She took a deep breath and tried again.
“Ma’am, can you tell me where he lives now?” Taylor asked.
“Lady, you don’t want him. Believe me.” A tiny brunette opened the door, revealing a black eye, a cut lip and a multitude of bruises. Self-conscious, she held together the ripped shoulder of her dress.
Taylor restrained a wince. The woman’s battered face brought back an onslaught of fears and frustrations and memories of her own helplessness at her brother’s hands that she’d done her best to repress. “Did Willard do that? Do you want us to call the police?”
“Are you all right, ma’am?” Alex asked gently.
While Taylor practically panicked at the all too familiar pervasive feelings of fear and defenselessness, Alex strode into the apartment and headed straight for the kitchen. He opened the freezer, cracked ice out of a tray and wrapped it in a dishrag while the stunned woman watched him with suspicion.
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