by Ana Leigh
He winked at her. “I’m off duty at eight.”
She started back when the force of a loud explosion threw her to the ground. Stunned, she raised her head. The fiery remains of the ship lit up the dock.
Chapter 18
Dave and Kurt had also been thrown to the ground from the shock of the explosion. “Are you okay?” Dave asked as they got up and helped her to her feet. Ann nodded.
“Where’s Amy?” Kurt asked.
Still slightly dazed, Ann stared in horror at the remains of the blazing ship. “On the ship,” she said in despair.
Struck by the full impact of her words, in near hysteria she cried out, “She was on the ship,” just as Mike and Don Fraser raced up to them.
“Anybody hurt here?” Mike asked.
Ann was too dazed to wonder where he came from, or why he was there. Her eyes were wide and liquid with mounting hysteria. “Mike, Amy’s on the ship.”
“I’ll cover her,” Mike said, putting his arms around her. He nodded toward the ship. “Check it out.” The three agents sped away.
The heat of the blaze was tremendous and drove back the men. Patches of burning oil and debris floated on the water as they scanned it.
“There. Over there,” Dave said, pointing to an object. “It looks like a body.”
“It is,” Kurt said.
They shoved their weapons and wallets into Don’s hands and the two men dove into the water.
Attracted by the explosion and blaze, a crowd had begun to gather by the time they’d recovered Amy’s body. Don put his head to her chest.
“She’s got a heartbeat.”
Fiery cinders sparked the air and smoke stung the eyes and nostrils. The night was rent with the sound of sirens as emergency vehicles raced up and screeched to a halt.
A crew of paramedics shoved the agents aside and took over with Amy. She had not sustained any burns, and the fact that she’d been on the opposite end of the ship had kept her from going up with the ship when it exploded. However, it was too soon to determine if it’d been enough to save her life. The force of the explosion had blown her off the ship, and the medics had no way of determining the severity of internal injury she had sustained. They put her on a gurney and rushed the unconscious model away to the hospital.
Mike had made Ann go inside the trailer and sit down while she related to the police what had preceded the explosion. Then they thanked her and left her alone.
Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at the articles still clutched in her hand—a wig, bandanna and an earring. With loving strokes she smoothed out the strands of the black wig. The image of the long, black curls dangling to Amy’s shoulders brought a tender smile to Ann.
Mike stuck his head in the door. “We can leave now, Ann.”
Without conscious awareness she stuffed the articles into her purse, and then she stepped outside.
It was a drastic change from the earlier holocaust. The crowd had dispersed and now only a single squad car remained and a few firemen hosed down the charred remains of the ship.
Mike had called Barney to inform him what happened, and he was already at the hospital when they arrived.
“How is she?” Ann asked as soon as they joined him.
“Don’t know too much,” Barney said. “She’s regained consciousness and they took a lot of MRI’s and other tests. The doc said they’re pretty cer there’s no brain damage, and she can move her arms and legs, which is a good sign that there’s no spinal damage, either. But he said the shock from the blast and being blown into the water could very likely have caused internal damage. It’ll take a couple days before they complete all their tests and know the results.”
“May I see her?” Ann asked.
“Doc says for just a few minutes. I’ve been waiting until you arrived. They’ve given her something to kill the pain and help her to sleep, so we better go in now.”
Mike and the rest of the squad waited outside Amy’s room while Ann and Barney went inside. When they came out, Ann had some of the color back in her face and her spirits had perked up a little after talking to Amy.
“How is she doing?” Kurt asked.
“She’s pretty doped up, but she still smiled. She said she hoped we got the license number of the truck that hit her.”
Barney pulled Mike aside. “Do the police know what caused the explosion?”
“They think the hot lights all day on that old, decayed wood caused a spontaneous combustion, and the fire then crept to the fuel tank.”
“That makes sense,” Barney said.
“I’m not buying it,” Mike replied.
“Why not?”
“None of us saw or smelled a fire until the ship exploded. And it rained most of the afternoon. How could the wood have been that dry?”
“So you’re thinking someone deliberately started the fire,” Barney said.
“Look, pal, there’s a damn good reason why we’ve been trying to protect Ann. And I think we better get her out of here. She still looks pretty peaked.”
Barney went over to Ann and told her not to worry about coming to work tomorrow. Then he hugged her and told her to try to get a good night’s sleep.
Once back at the apartment, Ann went directly to her room. Shortly after, Dave brought her a sandwich and a cup of tea.
“I’ll take the tea, but I don’t want the sandwich. I’m not hungry. And you can tell your boss I’m fine, Dave, so you guys don’t have to treat me like I’m an invalid.”
“I’ll deliver your message.”
“And, Dave, thanks. I’m glad you men were there tonight. I don’t think I’d have gotten through it without you.”
“Sure you would. You’ve got a lot of grit, Miss Ann Hamilton.” He picked up the sandwich plate. “And don’t forget to drink that tea.” He winked at her and grinned. “We spiked it.”
Smiling, she picked up the cup and took a sip of the tea. She almost choked. He hadn’t exaggerated. There was enough brandy in it to curl her hair. She drank the whole cup.
Soon the brandy kicked in and Ann began to relax. She took a shower and washed her hair to get the smell of smoke out of it.
Then she put on pajamas and climbed into bed. Thanks to the effects of the brandy, she slept soundly throughout the night.
The next morning when she left her room, all four of the men were seated around the table, which was unusual; Mike had always insisted one man be stationed in the lounge when she was there.
She paused before entering the kitchen when she heard Mike say, “Okay, let’s brainstorm. We’ve all worked with explosives and know that a timer wouldn’t have been used to detonate the charge.”
“So if it wasn’t an accident, a remote was used,” Dave said.
“But it doesn’t make sense,” Don said. “If Ann was the intended victim, he’d have to be close enough to know that she was on the ship. So why would he blow it when she wasn’t?”
“He thought she was,” Kurt said.
“Why? Amy Heather has dark hair and Ann is a blonde,” Mike questioned.
“Amy is a blonde, too, Mike. That was a wig she was wearing.” Kurt suddenly snapped his fingers. “Come to think of it—”
“She wasn’t wearing the wig at the time of the explosion,” Dave interjected, finishing the sentence. “That’s why Ann came back to the trailer to get it.”
“And so whoever it was mistook Amy for Ann and blew the ship,” Mike said. “Mistaken identity!”
“I wouldn’t doubt that’s what happened to that lawyer Ann’s been trying to find, too,” Dave said.
“Charles Breton?”
Dave nodded. “He and his yacht are probably at the bottom of the ocean.”
“Yeah, but don’t you think someone would have spotted some wreckage by now?” Don asked.
Dave snorted. “Yeah, if they knew where to start looking.”
“Dave’s right, Don,” Kurt said. “There’s a lot of ocean out there and no one knows where or when it happened.”
“There’s another possibility we aren’t considering,” Mike said. “Maybe this Breton is behind Burroughs’s death and the attempts on Ann’s life.”
“Motive being?” Kurt asked.
Mike shrugged. “How the hell would I know? I understand Burroughs was loaded. If Breton handled the guy’s estate, could be he swindled him and Burroughs discovered it.”
“Too simple,” Dave said. “I don’t think the Agency would get involved if they didn’t think it was all linked to the sabotage of that satellite.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” Kurt said. “The Agency deals in intrigue, so they pin that label on everything and end up complicating the issue.”
“You’ve got that righ
Ann heard all she wanted to. Disturbed by all she’d overheard, she went back to her room. If they were right about Charles Breton, it would mean there’d be an indefinite delay in settling the custody of Brandon.
Against Mike’s orders, she picked up the telephone and put in a call to England. The sound of Brandon’s voice was music to her ears after the chaos and near tragedy of the previous evening.
“I don’t want to stay here anymore, Ann,” Brandon said. He started to cry. “Why can’t I stay with you?”
“You can soon, darling.”
“Please come and get me. I miss you and Grandfather. Please, Ann?”
“Darling, I’m doing whatever I can to arrange for us to be together. It’s taking longer than I thought.”
“Then why don’t you come back here? If you love me, you’d come back to be with me. Please, Ann. Please come back.”
“I will, darling.”
“Pro-promise,” he sobbed.
“I promise, sweetheart. I’ll figure out a way I can get you.”
She finally succeeded in getting him to stop crying, but by the time she hung up, she was on the verge of tears. The whole situation was too heartwrenching.
Ann opened her purse to get a tissue to wipe her eyes. She paused in surprise and pulled out the wig and stared blankly at it. When had she put these items in her purse?
She fingered the wig. Mistaken identity. That’s what Mike had said.
Suddenly she thought of a simple solution to the problem about Brandon. Just what the men were discussing. Sometimes by overlooking the obvious, the issue becomes too complicated. Valuable time had been wasted by doing just that.
The time had come to take matters into her own hands. Reaching for the telephone again, she dialed information.
Five minutes later Ann hung up. She calmly calculated her next move. She had put the ball in motion, now all she had to do was get out of the apartment undetected. And if her luck held, there would never be a better time than now.
Grabbing her purse, she checked the contents to make sure she had everything she needed, then she opened the bedroom door and peeked out. The drone of the men’s voices still sounded from the kitchen—the war room was still plotting their strategy.
Ann cautiously crossed to the door and stepped out into the lounge. Her luck hadn’t run out. General Bishop had called in the troops, and there was no one there on duty.
She pushed the elevator button and held her breath as she listened to the whir of the ascending elevator. Within seconds the doors opened.
On the way down she pulled the black wig out of her purse and put it on. If anyone was watching the building, he’d be looking for a blonde.
The doorman was assisting a woman out of a cab when she got outside. Ann walked away hurriedly before he could even make eye contact with her and was instantly swall up by the teeming pedestrians.
A block farther she flagged down a cab, and exactly seventy minutes later she settled back in the seat of a plane bound for Kourou.
It had all been so simple—so uncomplicated.
Chapter 19
It was late when the taxi pulled up in front of her condo in Kourou. Ann told the driver to wait. It would take just a few minutes to get her copy of the codicil out of the safe, and then she would get back to the airport. That way she wouldn’t be tempted to hang around and start packing up her belongings.
The sooner she got out of there and back to New York, the less angry Mike might be. As much as she hated breaking her promise to him, she had Brandon’s interests to consider, too.
Ann retrieved the spare key from the false bottom of her mailbox and unlocked the door. As soon as she turned on the light, she gasped with shock. The place had been ransacked: drawers and cupboards were left open and cushions pulled off chairs and sofas.
Her bedroom was in just as bad condition. Shoeboxes had been yanked off closet shelves and dumped on the floor, as well as the desk and dresser drawers. It was almost as bad as what those abductors had done to the bedroom at the mountain villa.
She wanted to cry, but what would that solve? The object was to stay the course—get the codicil out of the safe and go directly back to the airport. The mess could be cleaned up later when she returned to pack up.
Whoever had searched the house must have done it so hastily that the culprit failed to discover the wall safe hidden behind one of the pictures. He probably didn’t expect her to have a safe, and she wouldn’t have had one, either, if the previous owner hadn’t had it installed.
Ann grabbed the codicil, kissed the document and stuffed it into her purse. Then she swung the strap over her shoulder and across her breast like a bandolier of ammunition. Nothing or no one was going to separate her from that purse. On the spur of the moment she grabbed a suitcase and quickly threw some pieces of lingerie, a couple of pairs of shoes, blouses and slacks into it. Seeing her expensive camera equipment lying on the floor, on impulse she picked up her favorite camera and shoved some rolls of film into the suitcase as well. And remembering the wig, she pulled it off, relieved to get the hot thing off her head.
After a final quick look around, Ann grabbed the suitcase, turned off the light and locked the door on her way out.
She hurried down the walk and came to an abrupt halt. The taxi was gone. Even if the driver hadn’t heard her tell him to wait, why would he leave without being paid? This latest setback was frustrating. She was on a tight schedule to get back to the airport to catch the return flight to the United States.
Ann hurried back into the house to telephone for a taxi, only to discover the telephone was dead. Slamming it down, she tried again, but there was no dial tone. Why? She hadn’t ordered it disconnected.
What now? This was a residential neighborhood; there’d be no cruising cabs to hail. All could do was try to wake one of her neighbors. So much for slipping in and out unobserved.
She was about to go outside to ring the doorbell of the neighbor when the lights went out. Ann gasped with fright. Too late she realized that none of this was coincidence. Someone was out there stalking her. Would it do any good to scream? Her neighbor was a seventy-five-year-old retired schoolteacher with defective hearing. The condos had cement walls between them to muffle sound and deter fire. If the woman was asleep it was unlikely she’d hear her screams.
Why hadn’t she listened to Mike? Heeded his warnings? As if she could out think or outsmart people trained in covert action. Think, Ann. Don’t panic. She had no weapon, but she was a fast runner. If she got enough of a head start, she might be able to outrun him. Of course if he had a weapon, she’d be an easy target. That was the chance she had to take. It was better than standing there like a sacrificial lamb waiting for the slaughter.
Ann’s heartbeat was deafening in her ears as she listened for the slightest sound. She saw, rather than heard, two shadowy outlines cross the living room window outside. That meant there were at least two of them and they were headed for the front door.
Crouching down, she moved to the kitchen. After carefully slipping the chain off the back door, she unlocked the dead bolt and eased the door open.
The yard looked deserted. If she made it undetected to the copse of trees about fifteen yards away, there was a good chance they mi
ght think she was still hiding in the house.
As soon as she heard the front door open, she eased the kitchen door closed and took off at a run. She heard them shout, the door slam and the sound of footsteps in pursuit.
She made it into the trees when suddenly a hand clamped over her mouth and she was literally swung off her feet and pulled against a hard body.
“Quiet and don’t make a sound.”
Awake or in her dreams, she would recognize Mike’s voice anywhere. She wanted to cry with joy, collapse in his arms and throw her arms around his neck. Everything would be all right. Mike was here. How never entered her thoughts.
He released her and motioned her to crouch down. She didn’t hesitate but did as told. When he drew a wicked-looking knife out of his boot, reality set in again and she started to tremble.
Peering through the darkness, she saw the two figures enter the trees and split up. One of them moved closer to where she was crouching. Ann turned her head to look at Mike and discovered he was gone. Where was he?
The man was practically on top of her now. In a few seconds he’d have to be blind not to see her. She was seized with panic and wanted to jump up and run.
Suddenly Mike appeared from behind him and grabbed the man around the neck. She clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming when Mike gave the man’s head a quick jerk and he fell to the ground.
Gunshots shattered the night’s stillness. Mike dove to the ground as bullets sprayed the area, splintering the tree limb above his head. Then suddenly the firing ceased as quickly as it had begun.
Ann was horrified. Was Mike hurt? He’d ordered her not to move, but she couldn’t sit still he was wounded or possibly even…
Without any thought of her own welfare she crawled over to where she had seen him fall. There was no sign of him. She looked around in desperation and knew she was in the right spot because a shattered tree limb hung limply from the tree.
When she saw a body on the ground, she choked on her sobs and crawled over to it. With a mixture of horror and relief she stared down at the lifeless face of the dead man. It wasn’t Mike, but the face was familiar. Then she had a total recall when she realized where she had seen it before. He was the man who had attacked her when she was jogging in D.C.