by Debra Webb
Alex checked the time on her cell and surveyed the crowd mingling around in the mall’s main thoroughfare. Lots of people. She wasn’t afraid. He couldn’t touch her here without being caught by mall security. One of the security guards had offered to hang out near the fountain. They’d gone to high school together. She’d asked him to senior prom when every girl he’d asked had turned him down. Alex had always felt the need to champion the underdog. Besides, going with a friend was a lot more fun anyway. He was married now, but they were still friends.
A distinguished gentleman of about seventy moved toward her, setting her nerves on edge. Charcoal suit, gray hair, confident stride. Hands right where she could see them and thankfully empty.
“Miss Jackson,” he acknowledged as he moved up beside her at the fountain’s south side.
“Mr...?” She frowned dramatically. “I don’t think I got your name.”
“My name is not important.”
Of course it wasn’t. Why hadn’t she thought of that line? She’d heard it in at least three movies.
“Sorry, pal.” She backed away a step. “I don’t talk to strangers.”
Urgency and no small amount of irritation claimed his expression. “My name is Avery Chambers.”
“All right, Mr. Chambers.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Let’s see some ID—preferably something that tells me who you work for.”
“I’m afraid that’s quite impossible.”
What was it with the spook types? “Whoever you are, I want to know what this whole thing is about.”
He smiled. She was certain it was meant to be pleasant or charming but it wasn’t. “It’s about a technology war, Miss Jackson. Our country is losing, save for a few very special projects. The contact lens Crane was wearing is a prototype. If it falls into the wrong hands...” He heaved a monumental breath. “We’re already far behind on too many fronts.”
“Why was Crane wearing it?” If it was so top secret and so important, what was a guy like Crane doing with it in Miami?
“Crane was a test subject. A ghost living among Miami’s citizens, overlooked and ignored. The type of feedback he was to provide would have been invaluable to the technology’s success. It is imperative that this unfortunate incident not destroy the whole program.”
She had to admit that what he said made some sense. “If Crane was so important to the program why would he kill himself?” He had to know how important it was to protect the device. Why jeopardize something so important?
“We believe he was murdered.”
Tension rippled through Alex. “Why didn’t the murderer take the lens or whatever you call it?” He had to give her more than that.
“We can only assume that he was unfamiliar with the design we’d selected for Crane. The various venues of this technology are a closely guarded secret. Evidently, when Crane refused to give him what he wanted, well… you know what happened.”
“What exactly is the technology?” Might as well get all she could while he was talking.
“I’m sure you’re aware I can’t share that information.” His smile was a bit more sincere this time. “If you have the device, I must reclaim it. There is no reason for this to burden you further. I’m certain you realize how dangerous this could prove.”
She was relatively certain she’d just been threatened.
“First, I’ll need the rest of the information on Murphy you promised. You did say everything. Then we can discuss where the lens might be.” No way was she admitting anything until she felt convinced he was one of the good guys.
His eyes tapered with suspicion. “Are you saying you don’t have the device?”
“If you’re not going to hold up your end of this bargain,” she countered, “we have nothing else to discuss.”
“You’re on the verge of making a very serious mistake, Miss Jackson. I would suggest you do all within your power to get the device back to me in a timely manner. You won’t find anyone else who can protect you from Murphy.”
“What about Murphy?” He’d told her that Murphy was not to be trusted. She wanted to know exactly who Murphy was. “Are you telling me he’s an enemy of this country? That he’d steal our technology to sell to someone else for his own benefit?” Wouldn’t that make him a terrorist? And how do I know you’re not after the same thing?”
The man’s eyes turned cold and hard with impatience as his right hand slid into his jacket pocket. “Miss Jackson, I have a weapon aimed at you right now. I don’t want to have to use it, but believe me I won’t hesitate if the necessity arises. Let’s take a walk so that we may discuss the subject further without any interference.”
Alex studied his pocket where his hand now rested. There could be a gun in there. Her heart had started to beat faster, pumping adrenaline through her veins. She couldn’t help Hitch if she got herself killed. But she couldn’t give this guy what he wanted without knowing who the hell he was and who the hell Murphy was. She refused to let Hitch’s death be for nothing.
“I can prove Murphy killed your detective friend,” Chambers insisted, “but first you must come with me. It’s for your own safety.”
“If you can prove who killed my friend, then we have something to talk about,” she allowed, “but we’ll do it on my terms.”
His face reddened with the rage seeping out around his rigid composure. “You’ll come with me now unless you want to become one of Miami’s sad statistics. How would you like this to end, Miss Jackson?”
Alex refused to let fear get the better of her. She nodded toward the fountain. “You see the security guard?”
Chambers glanced briefly in the direction she’d indicated.
“He’s a friend of mine. How do you want this to end, Mr. Chambers?” She went on when he simply glared at her. “All I want is the truth. I want whoever killed my friend to pay and I want your precious technology to end up back where it belongs.”
Instead of responding, he did the last thing she’d expected.
He wheeled around and hurried away.
What the hell was that about?
Just then, in her peripheral vision, she got her answer.
Wyatt Murphy.
Avery Chambers had scared her.
Damn it. Even after a long, hot bath and a couple of cold ones, she was still shaken.
A great deal of who she was, okay, maybe her entire existence, was tied inextricably with her sense of independence. Being afraid didn’t bode well with maintaining the level of confidence required to feel totally independent.
She’d been all cocky and determined to strong-arm the truth out of the guy, Chambers, but that hadn’t happened. At this moment she wasn’t certain of anything, most assuredly of what she should or shouldn’t do.
The police, including Patton, wouldn’t listen to her when she suggested that Hitch’s accident had been no accident. Even O’Neill had wimped out on her. Giving the kid grace, his friends were dead and he was terrified that he would be next.
Alex was left with no clear avenues to pursue.
How the hell could this happen in real life?
Bizarre computer devices and secret agents! Gimme a break! This was movie and book fodder, not part of the regular workday grind. Now she wondered if that old guy would have killed her had Murphy not been around.
The idea of dying now, at forty, with so much life ahead of her—so many things she wanted to do—made her feel sick to her stomach. Hitch had lost decades of living. Not to mention the wife and kids he’d hoped for. He’d wanted those things and he’d missed out.
Trying to look at the situation rationally, if what Chambers said was true, Crane hadn’t committed suicide at all. He’d been murdered just like Hitch. The scenario didn’t make sense in Alex’s opinion because he’d still been wearing the contact lens. She didn’t buy Chambers’ suggestion that the killer hadn’t known what to look for. That would make for one dumb killer.
Why didn’t the government simply come in and take what was their
s? She could only imagine the surveillance techniques they had at their disposal. Why were people merely assuming she had the device? Why didn’t they know for sure? Her home had been searched at least once. Where was that fancy technology she’d seen used in the movies? Even her ingenious hiding place shouldn’t withstand elaborate gadgets designed for finding hidden items.
Was that why Murphy had shown up in her life? Was he supposed to watch her until he had the truth or the device, whichever came first? Had he been hired to retrieve it at all costs using nothing more than old-fashioned thug tactics?
Which one was the bad guy? Avery Chambers or Wyatt Murphy? Obviously they weren’t on the same team.
A knock on her door made her jump. She checked the peephole.
Wyatt Murphy stood on her porch.
For about three seconds she contemplated telling him to go away, but her curiosity got the better of her.
She opened the door a crack. “What do you want?”
“We need to talk.”
Did they really have anything to talk about? What made him think she would trust anything he said?
“May I come in?”
She pursed her lips and considered the best way to proceed. “Give me your weapon.”
Proud of herself for coming up with that one, she tamped down a grin, squared her shoulders, and waited for him to comply. She hadn’t watched all those seasons of cop shows for nothing.
He reached beneath his elegant navy suit jacket and removed a big black weapon. He held it out, butt first, for her. She took it, surprised at how heavy it was.
“You have a backup piece?” Blue Bloods.
He reached down and removed another smaller weapon from somewhere near his ankle. He handed it to her as well. This one was lighter.
“Anything else?” he growled.
She thought about that a moment. “You have a knife?”
“No,” he said from between clenched teeth.
Testy, testy. She stepped back for him to come inside. “Make yourself at home.”
After closing the door she joined him. She sat on the sofa across from the chair where he lounged. Somehow her grandmother’s doilies didn’t look right draped across the back of the chair with him in the picture.
“What do you want, Mr. Murphy?” Despite the lateness of the hour, his pastel blue shirt looked fresh and unwrinkled. The striped tie, a deep blue like his jacket, completed the stylish look. She almost sighed.
“I need the details of the conversation you had with Avery Chambers.”
Alex wondered if Murphy took lessons in suppressing his personality or if he simply didn’t have one. Then again, guys as handsome as him rarely concentrated on developing their character.
“He called me, asked me to meet with him so he could warn me about you.” She placed the two weapons on the sofa next to her.
Murphy didn’t look impressed or moved in any way. He simply waited for her to continue.
“He told me you killed Detective Hitchcock.”
There was the slightest flicker of something in his eyes. Definitely not guilt or remorse, but something.
“Did you kill him?” she pressed. The irony that two lethal weapons sat on the sofa cushion next to her wasn’t lost on her. As much as she wanted her friend’s murderer brought to justice, she was no vigilante.
“I had no reason to kill Detective Hitchcock.”
She would bet a million dollars that Wyatt Murphy could fool a lie detector test with no sweat. His tone was completely void of emotion. His expression rarely changed. He stared at her, unflinching except for that one imperceptible flicker she’d observed.
How could a man so physically attractive be so cold and unreachable? She never had been able to resist a challenge. In this case that wasn’t a good thing. She hadn’t needed Chambers to tell her that this guy was dangerous. Wyatt Murphy was absolutely dangerous.
“Miss Jackson, I’m going to provide you with information that is in direct conflict with my orders.” Incredibly his droll, seemingly innocuous monotone was turning her on. “I’m convinced that this is the only way to secure your cooperation.”
“I’m all ears, Mr. Murphy.”
“The technology Charlie Crane was testing was stolen from my agency—”
“What agency is that?” she interrupted, deciding that his habit of only hitting the high spots was not going to get them to the heart of the matter.
Another concession to either his mounting frustration or his impatience, his jaw tightened visibly. “The CIA.”
Yeah right. Like she would believe that in a gazillion years. “You can prove this?” She made no attempt to keep the skepticism out of her voice.
He pulled his credentials from his interior jacket pocket and passed them to her. There was a snapshot of his handsome mug, as well as all the other identifying information… but IDs could be faked.
“How do I know this is real?” She passed the case back to him. His fingers touched hers at the same instant their gazes locked. Fire sizzled up her arm. The reaction didn’t actually surprise her. As crazy as it was, she was undeniably attracted to this man.
“I guess you’ll have to take my word for it.”
“Like I was supposed to take Avery Chambers’ word?”
Murphy stared at her a moment before responding. When he did, he spouted off a number. “Call, they’ll confirm what I’ve told you.”
“How do I know that’s the real CIA’s number?” She wasn’t going to make this easy for him.
“So look it up. Get the number for the D.C. office.”
Alex chewed her lip a moment, and then went for it. Using her cell, she Googled the CIA and called the number provided.
“Put it on speakerphone,” Murphy ordered.
She obliged even if she didn’t appreciate being ordered around. When the prerecorded voice had completed the CIA’s spiel, including the part about their normal business hours, which had passed, the voice asked her to enter her party’s extension if she knew it.
She glanced at Murphy.
“Three-oh-one.”
Two rings later a gruff male voice answered. “Weatherly.”
“Director, this is Wyatt Murphy.”
“Tell me what I want to hear, Murphy.”
“I don’t have the technology in hand just yet, sir, but I’m working on it.”
Alex was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to be privy to what the director said next. The man roared about the importance of damage control. The necessity of discretion. And lastly, how time was of the essence. Lots and lots of imaginative adjectives were tossed in for good measure.
“Sir, I have Miss Alexis Jackson here and she needs confirmation that my credentials are legitimate.’’
A moment of silence passed before the director gave her the information she needed. She supposed she should be impressed, but she wasn’t sure about that yet. She thanked him and he informed her of her duty to her country. Nothing she’d heard or seen on this case could be discussed with anyone. She didn’t mention the fact that she’d already talked to Shannon and Bobby. Not to mention Patton who still didn’t believe her.
When the call ended, Murphy settled that intense gaze on her once more. “Now, what did Chambers tell you?”
“Basically the same thing you just did. Top-secret technology, had to get it back, so on and so forth. Well, except the part about you being a killer and very dangerous.”
Murphy looked away.
“What’s the matter, didn’t you catch him?” Chambers was at least twenty-five years older than Murphy. Surely catching the guy hadn’t been a problem.
“He’s dead.”
Fear trickled through her. “You killed him?”
Murphy shook his head. “He killed himself.”
Now we were back to the superspy stuff. “Oh, yeah right, the whole cyanide pill thing, right?”
Intent blue eyes locked with hers. “This is no joking matter.”
Damn. He was serious. Chambers
was dead. “He actually killed himself?” Chambers’ words about Crane’s death filtered through the haze of disturbing thoughts. “He said Crane was murdered.”
“I think Crane killed himself to send me a message.”
Alex shifted slightly, annoyed that the continued hardness in his voice somehow made her even more interested in him rather than his words, especially considering the subject matter. But there was just something about him. “Why would he want to do that?”
“Because he used to be CIA. He was my mentor when I was first recruited by the Agency. After he retired,” Murphy shrugged those broad shoulders, “he changed. Cut off all ties to the people who were once his friends. I thought he was dead until his name surfaced two weeks ago. I think he realized he couldn’t continue to sell out his country and the only way out was death.”
Alex straightened, held up her hands for him to wait a minute. “So, he killed himself with no care as to who would find the lens.”
“He knew we were looking for him and his associates. By killing himself he gave us his position. He knew we’d come and the others would run scared.” That intense gaze searched hers a moment before he continued. “It’s not as imperative that I retrieve the technology as it is that I ensure no one else does. Chambers won’t be the only one looking. He was an enemy of the United States and that’s as much as I can tell you.”
“Why don’t you tell me what the technology does? Exactly.” What the hell could be so important about something that small?
Murphy hesitated, but not for long. “It’s the transfer link for any computer system it supports. Information, satellites, the Internet, the reach is boundless. A simple implant at the base of the brain and the optic nerve allows full control of the technology.”
Sweet Jesus. “So all you want is the contact lens, right?” Maybe all she needed to do, now that she’d verified his identity, was to turn the evidence over to him.
On one condition, she decided, that Hitch’s killer was brought to justice.