Swordfish

by Andrea Bramhall

  Cassie stilled. Her hands seemed frozen, and even her breathing seemed to stop. Bailey couldn’t help thinking of a deer caught in headlights. “What makes you ask that?”

  Bailey shrugged and tried to downplay it. “You just seem a lot more tense than you were when I left you last night. You seem on edge now.”

  Cassie started breathing again and looked at her hands as she picked at the hem of her sweater. “I just had a bad night’s sleep, and I don’t like being late for anything. It’s probably just that.”

  Yeah, and I can tell when someone isn’t being honest with me. “Well, you go and get ready, and I’ll finish my pastry, then I can drive you to work.”

  “You don’t have to. Really.”

  “I know I don’t. But I’m going that way so I might as well. I’d feel bad if I didn’t. It’s raining.”

  Cassie smiled, and her face seemed peaceful for the first time since Bailey had walked through the door. “Thank you.”

  “No need.” Bailey stared after her as she disappeared down the hallway. “Damn it, Jazz, I said professional. What the hell was that?” Jazz stared at her. “You’re right. That was all me. You were professional. You didn’t sniff her butt or anything.” She sipped her coffee. “She did seem upset though, right? You at least agree with me on that?” Jazz sighed and lay down, resting her head on her paws. “Gee, thanks a lot, girl.”

  “Do you always talk to your dog like you expect her to answer?”

  Bailey jumped and turned around in her chair. “Yeah,” she said. “I usually do. I mean look at that face.” She pointed to Jazz. “Don’t you think she understands every word I say?”

  “I think she understands you. But that isn’t all about language. She reads far more into your body language, tone of voice, and routine, than from the actual words you use.”

  “We don’t have a routine. She’s only been with me a week.”

  “Really? I sense a story there. You can tell me while you drive.”

  Ten minutes later, Bailey threw her trash away, followed Cassie to the door, and did indeed tell her the whole story about Jazz’s rescue and subsequent adoption while she drove her to work. She pulled up on Massachusetts Avenue.

  “You don’t have to tell me what scared you last night, but I know something did.” Cassie started to reply, but Bailey held out her hand and offered her a piece of paper. “If you want to talk about it you can get me on that number any time. That’s my personal number. It never goes to voicemail.”

  “Nothing happened.”

  “You don’t have to tell me, but I know something is wrong, so please don’t lie to me. Secrets are one thing, but not lies. Okay?”

  Cassie held up the piece of paper. “Why?”

  “Everyone needs someone to look out for them once in a while.”

  Cassie smiled sadly. “So you’re my knight in a shining Explorer.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Thank you.” She tucked the paper into her pocket. “I better go. You’ll call me when you have some news?”

  “You have my word. And I mean it. Call me any time.”

  Bailey waited until she was inside the building before driving away. “Jazz, I have a sneaky feeling that the good professor may require a little more help than she’s willing to admit.”

  *

  Cassie turned in the doorway and watched Bailey’s car drive off. The rain was still falling, but that wasn’t the reason she was grateful for the ride. She hadn’t been able to shake the unease that Stephen Knight’s visit had left her with, but being in the car with Bailey had made her feel safe. She’d even been able to relax a little with her in the apartment. She realized that was the first time she’d had someone in the apartment who didn’t make her uncomfortable. She hadn’t once looked at the clock and wished Bailey would leave. In fact, she’d regretted the fact that she was in such a rush.

  She’d expected to feel awkward with her after everything she had shared with Bailey the day before. Not just the information she’d shared, but something much more profound, and she hadn’t even realized it until late into her sleepless night. She’d touched Bailey without even thinking about it. She could still feel Bailey’s tight leg muscle beneath her hands. She’d lived in England the last time she’d touched anyone with so little thought. The time before William had changed her in such a fundamental way. She shook her head. She wasn’t going there. Not today.

  Yesterday, she’d assured Bailey that she trusted her. She’d said the words knowing that Bailey needed to hear them, but Cassie was shocked to find herself actually believing them. Why now? Why this woman? Was she letting her guard down because William was in prison? Was it safe to do that? Stephen obviously didn’t think so, or he wouldn’t have visited her last night. She snorted a laugh. Visited? Breaking and entering from CIA agents is the sum total of my social encounters recently. No wonder I trust Bailey—she knocked. Cassie smiled. And she brought me breakfast. When’s the last time that happened?

  The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as she walked toward the lecture hall. She looked over her shoulder, but she couldn’t see anything but a hall full of students and the usual security guards manning their stations. She rubbed the back of her neck and pulled a few strands of hair out from under her collar. Must have been tickling me or something.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Masood sat under the umbrella glancing idly at the newspaper as he sipped his morning coffee. The turquoise blue waters of Eilat’s marina glistened in the early morning sun, and the boat bobbed on the gentle waves as his crew scurried about, readying the fifty-foot yacht for its next voyage on the Red Sea. He had to admit he enjoyed the opulence and the decadence that surrounded him. He loved the comfort and the ease with which everything came in the highly Westernized resort town. There were no struggles to find food, water, or medical care. Money flooded the resort from tourists who came from all over the world, as well as all over Israel.

  He had trained himself not to spit on the ground at the mention of the hated state, but it was still difficult. He battled the urge to disrespect the ground he walked on even as he thought about how it had been stolen from his ancestors, his family—from him.

  Before the war, his family had farmed the land. They had good fertile ground and their wealth had been plentiful. Now their land sat in the ruins that were the Gaza Strip. Masood could not legally cross the border to see what remained of his extended family and their lands. The newborn Israeli State had claimed it all and forced them from the homes they had lived in for generations. No compromise. No question. No remorse. Fear had driven them to defend themselves. This Masood understood. All-encompassing fear had driven them to a level of violence his ancestors could not withstand. His grandfather had stood armed with a garden fork against an army of automatic weapons, grenades, shells, and hatred. The British army crawled away, defeated by propaganda, treachery from within its own ranks, and a stomach full of war. There was no hope for Palestine.

  Not then there wasn’t. Masood smiled as his latest disposable phone rang.

  “My friend, tell me good news.”

  “She’s working on the toxin.”

  “Excellent. Do you have a time frame?”

  “Not exactly. She said it wouldn’t take long. But nothing more specific.”

  “Anything else?”

  “She said she’s trying to make the antidote more stable. As you know, Lyell only had it about fifty percent effective.”

  “Excellent. You have done well, my friend.”

  “Thank you, General.”

  “What is the next stage of the plan?” Masood listened. “I will make arrangements and see you there.” He hung up, checked his watch, and dialed a different number.

  “Yes, good morning, Hakim. I need you to arrange travel for me.”

  “Of course, General. Where to?”

  “New York.”

  “When?”

  “I need to be there on Friday. I am attending a charity funct
ion.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Cassie paused outside her apartment door, key poised in hand, but something was wrong. I didn’t leave it open. Her heart pounded in her chest and her breath came in short, sharp pants.

  She pushed gently on the door and let it swing open. She peered inside before she thought about moving, and the mess inside brought tears to her eyes. Photograph frames were toppled, the glass broken and trodden into the carpet in some places. The TV was by the window, smashed, and she wondered briefly if a thief had dropped it in a hurry to escape and decided to leave it. There was little else of material value in her apartment. She kept her laptop and cell phone with her whenever she went to work and she owned very little in the way of jewelry. She kept a small amount of cash in the apartment for emergencies—just a couple hundred dollars—and wasn’t at all surprised to find it missing. She didn’t care about the money, or the broken TV, or the broken picture frames. As she riffled through the shards of broken glass, she realized that some of her pictures were missing. One was of Daniela as a child that had been in a silver frame. She found it hard to believe that someone was so desperate for money that they would steal a picture frame, even if it looked slightly valuable. The loss of it cut her to the core. It was a picture she could never replace, and her pictures were all she had.

  She let the tears slide down her cheeks and didn’t realize she had picked up the phone until she was listening to the low alto greet her at the other end.

  “Hello.”

  “I’m sorry to disturb you.”

  “Cassie? Is that you?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry…”

  “Why are you crying?”

  “I don’t know why I called you, but my apartment’s been broken into.”

  “Get out of there and wait in one of your neighbors’ apartments. I’m on my way. I’ll find you when I get there.”

  “Bailey, what are you talking about?”

  “I need to make sure that they’ve gone. Please leave the apartment. I’m on my way.” Cassie heard a door close and knew Bailey was only a few minutes away. “Please.”

  “Bailey, you don’t need to do this. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called.”

  “I’m glad you did. I need to drive now. Please get out of there and call the cops, okay?”

  “There’s no one here.”

  “You’re probably right, but please humor me, okay?”

  Cassie sighed heavily but her unease was actually growing as she stood in the middle of the mess that used to be her orderly living room. “Okay.” She hung up and walked slowly toward the door, trying not to step on any more of the glass. She saw a rapid movement out of the corner of her eye and turned just in time to see an object careening toward her head. She managed to raise her arm enough to deflect it a little, but the blow was solid enough to drop her to the floor.

  *

  “Cassie, can you open your eyes for me?”

  Cassie moaned in response to the question. Her first inclination to tell the questioner where to go was beyond her right that second. She began to catalogue the various aches and pains in her body. She was on her back, and besides the aching head, her shoulder and knees hurt, there was something sticky on her face, and something warm by her side.

  “Cassie, can you hear me?”

  Her questioner was persistent, so she gritted her teeth and tried again to make herself understood. “Yes.” She didn’t recognize her own voice as it passed her lips. It was thick and croaky. I sound like a damn frog.

  “What happened?”

  “There was someone in the apartment.” Cassie kept her eyes closed and followed her body’s advice on staying still. Bailey was here now. She wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

  “I told you to leave.”

  “I was leaving. That’s when he hit me.” Her thought just before she’d been hit finally registered, and she tried to blame the slight feeling of nausea and dizziness on the blow to the head, but she knew better. Bailey radiated an aura that made Cassie feel safe, protected, something she couldn’t remember feeling in a long time. And something she knew she was in no condition to question at the moment. Instead, she allowed herself to enjoy the sensation of being looked after.

  “So it was a man?”

  Cassie tried to recall. “I think so, but I didn’t see clearly enough to say for sure. It may just be that I assumed he was a man.”

  “Okay. I called the police and the paramedics. They should be here soon, and we can get this all taken care of. Did he take much?”

  Cassie shook her head. “Some cash and a couple of pictures.”

  “Pictures? What of?”

  “Daniela. One was in a silver frame.”

  “Ah. You think he took it for the frame?”

  “I don’t exactly have a lot of valuable items here.”

  “Okay, but he didn’t take your phone or your briefcase after he knocked you out. I’d have expected a thief to take them too.”

  “Maybe he panicked.”

  Bailey frowned. “Maybe. Anything else you noticed missing?”

  “No.”

  “Did you check everywhere?”

  “No, I didn’t look in my bedroom. That’s where he must have been when I called you. The window was open, so I thought the apartment was empty.”

  “Rookie mistake, Ms. Finsbury.” Bailey smiled. “That’s why we tell people not to go in and to call the cops.”

  “You know you talk like you’re still a cop, don’t you?”

  Bailey shrugged. “Once a cop, always a cop.”

  Cassie held out her hand. “Can you help me up?”

  Bailey took hold of her hand. “I think we should wait for the paramedics to give you the once-over first.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Jeez, you’re stubborn. You didn’t listen to me about getting out of here. Will you please listen to me this time?” Bailey laughed to take the sting out of it, but Cassie knew she was right, and frustrated.

  “Fine. But don’t think you’ll get away with this again.”

  Bailey smiled. “Trust me, I’m under no illusions.”

  Cassie finally opened her eyes and looked at Bailey. A small worry line formed a deep valley between her brows, but she was smiling. She was cradled in Bailey’s arms, her torso stretched across Bailey’s lap, and the embrace was far more intimate than Cassie was prepared for. One of Bailey’s arms was wrapped securely around her shoulders and the other was holding her hand and resting on Cassie’s belly. Her hand tingled as Bailey’s thumb ran back and forth over her skin, so softly she hadn’t noticed it before, but now she could feel little else. But it was the change in Bailey’s gaze she found the most disconcerting. The concern was obviously still there, but there was a heat, an intensity, that hadn’t been there when she first opened her eyes.

  It was too much. She hadn’t had a chance to prepare herself for the contact. She wasn’t expecting it. The nausea she had felt before rushed back, and it was all she could do not to vomit. Her breath was coming in short rasps. She couldn’t get enough oxygen into her body and the spots she saw in front of her eyes confirmed her fear. It had been quite some time since she’d had a panic attack, since she’d felt so out of control that she had succumbed to the fear.

  “Cassie, what’s wrong?”

  She couldn’t look at Bailey as she tried to roll off her lap and grabbed a paper sack from the coffee table drawer. Her fingers were stiff and quickly becoming the rigid claws that oxygen deprivation made of her hands. She tried to form a tight closure for her to breathe into to help slow her breathing down. The hyperventilation would make her pass out if she didn’t.

  Bailey took the bag from her immovable hands and squeezed the opening closed, holding it to her mouth without touching her. “Just breathe, Cassie. Long and slow.”

  She already knew that Bailey was the type to rescue anyone who needed help. That’s just who she was, and it didn’t mean anything more than that. Cassie closed her eyes and tr
ied to block out the fact that Bailey was not only witness to her weakness, but helping her through it.

  Her breathing began to slow while Bailey talked to her, words Cassie couldn’t remember later, but Bailey’s voice made her relax. Just hearing her voice while still giving her the physical distance she needed helped Cassie get her heart rate back to normal, and slowly, the muscles in her hands began to relax, but she still felt exposed. She felt vulnerable in a way she couldn’t handle. She needed a little distance to find her equilibrium, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to do it while Bailey was so close to her. She needed a distraction. “Where’s Jazz?”

  “I left her in the car for a few minutes while I checked out what was going on.”

  “Go get her.”

  “She’ll be fine.”

  “So will I, while you run and get her. I don’t like dogs being left in cars.”

  “No, she wasn’t keen on it either. You sure you’ll be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine.” Cassie was grateful for the emotional space when she left, but she missed her too. The security she felt when Bailey was near her vanished with her footsteps down the hallway.

  It was less than two minutes before a distressed Jazz launched herself into the apartment alone and was licking at the blood on her face gently, but with persistence, obviously intent on caring for her wounded flock. Cassie smiled, not in the least bit concerned that Jazz had decided she was hers to take care of. She heard footsteps coming up the stairs and whispered to Jazz, “Either your mama’s become a herd of elephants in the last couple of minutes or she’s brought the cavalry with her.” She scratched at the dog’s thick ruff and leaned back against the sofa.

  It took twenty minutes for the police to take her statement and the paramedics decided that they wanted her to go for an x-ray, which she politely declined.

  “Ma’am, you could have a serious head injury, and a concussion isn’t something to take chances with.” The young paramedic frowned as he stared at his watch and checked her pulse again. His shaved head reflected the light, and she squinted.