Unknown Enemy (Love Inspired Suspense)

by Michelle Karl

  Dr. Hilden shook his head and gestured to the archaeology lab’s computer. “That is not pertinent to the present situation. Miss Anderson, time to do as promised. Passwords, please. Then search the terms written on the paper next to the keyboard. Delete all relevant items from your accounts. Your student claimed he could conduct the task, but I’m afraid he oversold himself.”

  Ginny couldn’t believe her ears. Instead of the mild-mannered speech and Amaran accent she’d become accustomed to this past week, Dr. Hilden’s voice had become gruff and American. “First you tell me who you are.”

  “I’m calling the shots here, Miss Anderson. Quite literally.” He swung his arm across the room and fired. A clay pot on the back wall exploded into thousands of pieces. “Now do as I say or the next one will have a more permanent impact.”

  Ginny’s ears rang from the gun going off at close range, but she got the gist of what he said. She sat down at the lab’s outdated computer. It had all started to make sense: Dr. Hilden’s lack of understanding about the old photograph technology, his insistence that they do everything in person. Letters composed on a typewriter. Mind games when violence didn’t give him the results he wanted. The man was an old-world villain, plain and simple. She’d met plenty of people in her profession with similar attitudes toward technology. Luddites, they called themselves.

  “You’re all right, Sam?” She sat down and logged into her email, despite the strangeness of the task. Certainly after the meeting they’d had this afternoon, Hilden would know that she couldn’t delete all of her work, as she’d sent out some emails to various publications already. Once she was in and had done as ordered, Dr. Hilden grabbed her arm and yanked her off the seat. He waved his gun at Sam, gesturing him toward the chair.

  “You know what to do, boy,” he growled. “No funny business. I don’t trust the girl to do it.” Ginny saw Sam swallow hard, then pull up a document on the screen that he copied and pasted into an empty email form. With a growing sense of dread, she watched as Sam accessed her entire academic contact list and hit Send on the email. Once it disappeared and the “message sent” notification popped up, Sam leaped off the computer chair as though burned.

  “Is it done?” Hilden snapped. When Sam nodded, Hilden shoved Ginny back down into the chair. “You finish.”

  “Can’t you do this yourself?” Ginny tried to keep her voice steady. “What do you need me for?”

  “Don’t you listen? I thought you were more intelligent than that, Professor.” He tapped the barrel of his gun against her forehead before swinging it back toward Sam. “My employer necessitates this final step, but technology and I have a rather antagonistic relationship. I prefer doing things the old-fashioned way. Which, in this case, means delegating a distasteful task. You know your accounts best, Miss Anderson. Back to work. Time is of the essence. Show me it is done.”

  Swallowing hard against the lump in her throat, Ginny clicked on the Sent Mail folder and waited for the screen to load. The slowness of the old machine was excruciating, and with each moment that passed she felt certain her and Sam’s time would run out. When the screen finally loaded, her heart sank. Written and sent to her entire academic email contact list was a retraction of her work on the ancient summer palace’s location. She scanned the brief email, which painted her work as the ravings of a fanatic amateur who’d been using her position at Gwyn Ponth College to scam her way to fame and fortune. It made her sound crazy, unprofessional and as though her suggestion of the palace’s location had about as much truth to it as the notion of aliens building the Egyptian pyramids.

  It could have been written only by a professional, or at least by someone who knew the exact words to say to get her discredited. As she read the final sentences, a turn of phrase popped out that she recalled reading in one of her students’ papers, time and time again. That very student now stood behind her with a gun to his head. She whirled around in her seat to see the false Dr. Hilden’s gun now trained on her, and a nervous, frightened-looking Sam clutching a long billfold and an envelope.

  “Are those plane tickets?” Ginny blurted as Sam stared at her, then down at the billfold. Her teaching assistant backed into a table, jostling some pieces of pottery and sending them scattering onto the floor. “Sam? You wrote the retraction? How are you involved in all this?”

  “Back to work,” said Dr. Hilden. “The boy is none of your concern. He has played his part and received his compensation.” He flicked the barrel of his gun toward Sam. “I suggest you leave now, boy, if you have any hope of escaping the country before the police catch on.”

  Sam’s frantic glance between Ginny and Dr. Hilden gave her hope for a moment, as she thought maybe he’d leap at the man and wrestle the gun away—but instead, Sam backed toward the lab entrance.

  “Sam?” Ginny could scarcely believe it. “Sam, what’s going on? You don’t have to do this!”

  “I’m sorry, Professor Anderson. Real sorry. But school is expensive.”

  “You won’t be able to go to school if you’re in jail, Sam! He killed Mr. Wehbe, and if you do this—” A hand clamped over her mouth.

  “As I said, I suggest you leave now, boy,” Dr. Hilden growled.

  Sam threw one last anxious look between Ginny and Dr. Hilden, then rushed out the door.

  “Sam!” Ginny screamed as Hilden’s hand left her mouth. Pain blossomed in the back of her skull and sparks flew in her vision. She waited for unconsciousness to take over, but instead the pain simply throbbed. Why had he hit her with the gun? Think, Ginny, think.

  He needed her alive for the time being, now that he’d let Sam go. It was she that he wanted, because she knew better than Sam where she’d sent and hidden all her work. But could she reason with this man? They’d spent hours together over the past week. How could she not have known there was anything wrong?

  “What about us?” One of the lackeys who’d escorted her here crossed his arms in a threatening stance. “Contract’s over. We did our job. Time to pay up.”

  Hilden turned a lazy gaze on the man and sighed, then raised his gun without hesitation.

  Pop, pop.

  Both men collapsed where they stood. Ginny heard screaming, far away and muffled, and then realized the screams came from her.

  “Oh, quiet,” Hilden snapped. “They also oversold themselves. Technology has contributed to society’s penchant for narcissism and overconfidence, it seems. They certainly didn’t deserve the payday they expected.”

  “But you didn’t have to kill them,” she cried.

  “Of course I did, and I’ll do the same to the others once they’ve finished their jobs. My contract involves no loose ends.”

  And yet, he’d let Sam leave. “Sam will go to the police.” Maybe if she kept him talking and didn’t think too hard about the bodies only feet away from her, she could distract Dr. Hilden from what she did on the computer. If she could just send her work to even one major news outlet, and if she could recover her documents somehow—

  “He won’t make it out of the building alive,” Hilden said. “So I suggest you stop stalling and complete the task. Eliminate all traces of your research and the palace’s suggested location. Your student claimed he could do it himself, but I find myself fortunate that you managed to evade my previous efforts at your elimination. It is to my benefit that you have survived to assist with removing any technological loose ends, as inconvenient as it will now be to end this cleanly. You academic types tend to be a bit scatterbrained and your filing systems are abhorrent.”

  “And if I refuse? Why do I have the feeling you’re going to kill me either way?”

  Dr. Hilden laughed, a cruel, dark laugh that clawed into Ginny’s bones. “It’s your choice, Miss Anderson. Be remembered as a crazy, nut-bar academic who proposed ridiculous theories and, tortured by no one believing her, took her own life—or, leave this life with
little to no recognition one way or the other. The latter option, at least, won’t result in the discrediting of Mr. Wehbe’s life’s work for helping you on this project.”

  “I don’t understand. Why does this matter so much? Who cares if I’ve found the summer palace? It’s only a theory anyway, and the land has already been sold.”

  Dr. Hilden slammed his fist on the computer desk and leaned over, his hot, smelly breath infiltrating her senses. She clamped down on the urge to gag. “Do you have any idea what kind of money an oil company makes in one day, Professor? In a week? In a month? And do you have any idea what would happen if the Kingdom of Amar’s government, or the international community, got wind of an ancient historical palace that an expert on Amar’s cultural history believes is buried on the very same land that is now owned by Empress Oil? You’re a smart woman. Take a guess.”

  Ginny swallowed as her theories took shape and became real. “Empress Oil stands to lose millions. Billions, probably, if they’re not able to drill there. Work would be halted for months or even years. If I’m right and a dig team finds evidence of ancient architecture, it could be decades. Some of the ancient sites take ages to uncover properly. If the palace is as big as I think it is...”

  “Billions. Tens of billions, Professor.” He stood and crossed his arms. “Unless the information never reaches the public.”

  Ginny scoffed. “Money? This is all about money?”

  “Didn’t you hear? Tens of billions, in exchange for a few lives. There is no comparison.” He uncrossed his arms and pointed the gun at her temple. How long had he given Mr. Wehbe before he’d killed him? She wasn’t going to make it out of this one alive. She was out of options, out of time, and no one was coming to rescue her.

  “You’re going to kill me regardless, and if I’m dead, it won’t matter what people think of me. I won’t type another word.”

  Where was Colin? Surely he’d noticed that something was wrong by now and come looking for her. But if there were hit men outside waiting for Sam, then it was possible that Colin had run into them, too.

  No. She couldn’t think that way. She had to believe that she’d have another chance—that they’d have another chance. She saw now that she’d been a hypocrite all this time, believing herself unworthy of love because she lacked outward perfection. But she believed with all her heart that God still loved and accepted her, and she’d seen that acceptance in Colin’s eyes, too.

  So what if she felt afraid to let him in? If she survived this ordeal, she’d be able to face anything. Even something as terrifying as opening herself up to love.

  “Time’s up, Professor. Time for the next phase.”

  The darkness in his voice sent a shiver down Ginny’s spine. “And what would that be? If you kill me, they’re going to find you. Colin and the police are looking for me.”

  Hilden chuckled. “My dear professor, you’re distressed. Your work has been discredited and the only true supporter of your work has left this life. Were I to allow you to live, surely you’d convince others that the retraction was a mistake. I and others around you, on the other hand, have witnessed the increasing distress and trauma you’ve faced this week with each passing incident.” He leaned over, whispering in her ear. “You’re a gentle soul, Miss Anderson. You’ve lost too much. Ah, yes, you’ve been a target—but with no land to dig, no curator or expert to support you, and every peer now opening their messages and reading your confession to falsifying your entire career, what do you have left to live for? Nothing. Your career is over and you have no one left who cares.”

  A second chill shot down Ginny’s spine. She’d tried to be strong over the past few days, but it was true—even Colin had commented on how recent events seemed to be wearing her down. When she’d found Mr. Wehbe, the final reserves of her strength had drained away to the point where Colin had even had her removed from the scene. Bit by bit, Hilden had stripped away her strength and brought her to a point where it could seem plausible that she’d take her own life. “Please. Don’t do this.”

  “Ah, but I must. At the very least, it will give me a head start. I have a schedule to keep and a job to finish.”

  This time when the pain blossomed in the back of her skull, it took only seconds to descend into darkness.

  * * *

  At the next red light, Colin abandoned Ginny’s car and ran. Phone in hand, he raced as fast as he could push his legs, lungs burning even as adrenaline flooded his system. When Officer Carlton had come into the museum to tell him that Ginny and a police car were gone, he’d first thought that maybe she’d gone back to the station to rest. But Ginny wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t leave the scene without letting him know. They’d been through enough these past few days to know that it had to mean one thing—Ginny was in trouble.

  The police at the end of the museum driveway said she’d passed in an unmarked patrol car with two officers and didn’t appear to be in obvious distress. The car had turned toward the college. Colin had told them to get their heads out of the sand, get in their cars and meet him at Gwyn Ponth.

  How had he even let her out of his sight? No wonder the Service had dismissed him. He hadn’t been able to protect the woman he’d been assigned to, the woman he’d loved, and now it was happening all over again. He’d truly believed she would be safe with all those officers around. Of course, he’d had no way of knowing two of them were not real, but it still felt like an error in judgment. Once more, he’d stopped being perfect the moment he’d needed perfection the most.

  There was only one source for help he could think of now, and the fact that it came to mind both surprised him and didn’t at the same time. He could imagine the smile on Ginny’s face if she knew whom he was about to ask for help. God, if you’re listening, if you even care, give me the strength to trust you. Ginny believes you’re in control. Clearly I’m not capable of being the one in control all by myself, so if you’re really there, I need your help. You take point on this one.

  The crosswalk signal ahead turned to a solid orange hand. He put on a burst of speed. At the same moment, his phone began to buzz. Colin’s stride faltered. Did he dare pick it up? Caller ID didn’t look familiar, but what if...no, he had to pick up. He’d asked God for the strength to trust Him and needed to be open to whatever that meant. He’d never forgive himself if he didn’t and it turned out to be the difference between life and death for the woman he loved.

  Loved? Yes, loved. He could deny it no longer, and yet rather than feeling like a distraction, the admission motivated him even more. He would save her, whatever it took.

  “Mr. Tapping?” The voice on the other end was frantic but quiet. “I think I’ve done a really bad thing.”

  “Sam? Is that you?” Colin’s feet slowed to a halt at the shock of hearing the boy’s voice. “What’s going on? Where’s Ginny?”

  “She’s in big trouble, and I think it’s my fault, I should never have even talked to the man and I should have known better—”

  “Whoa, whoa.” The student rambled on and on in a state of panic and Colin could barely make out half the words. “I can’t help Ginny if you don’t slow down and tell me what’s going on. Pull it together. Where is she? Why is she in trouble?”

  Sam’s voice shook through the phone. “In the department office. There’s a guy there, from Empress Oil. I thought he was Dr. Hilden, but he’s not. I mean, he is? But not really. He wants Ginny to finish deleting her files, but I don’t know what’ll happen after.”

  “And you, are you safe?”

  “I’m in Beverly Dorn’s office. On her phone. I was supposed to leave, but I snuck back in here. Her office was open. She’s not here. No one is here.”

  Colin’s resolve turned to steel and he took off again toward the college, the sounds of police sirens close behind. “Stay put, Sam. Don’t go anywhere. Hang tight. There are cops coming right behin
d me.”

  “But—”

  “Backup’s coming. Stay there. You’re not going to get in trouble. I promise.”

  Colin’s heart sank as the call ended, but he had to keep moving. Ginny’s life depended on it.

  SIXTEEN

  Colin reached the Daviau Center and began his approach along the side with the least visibility from the upper floors of the building. At the museum, he and Ginny had been targeted by someone from the rooftop, and if Ginny had been led by Hilden to this building for a specific purpose, it stood to reason that someone could be waiting to ambush anyone entering or exiting.

  He managed to slip inside without any shots fired, but the utter silence of the building sent his hopes plummeting. Where was everyone? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, listening again for any out-of-place sounds.

  There it was. A faint, thudding noise from afar.

  “Professor Tapping?”

  Colin turned to see Sam step hesitantly out of the department office. “Sam? Are you hurt?”

  Sam shook his head and pointed with a shaky hand to the end of the hallway, toward the door where Colin had entered. “He took her. She’s not dead yet and I don’t know where they were going, but he took her.”

  “Where?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  Colin grabbed the student by the shoulders and pulled him forward. “Think, Sam. Where would he go? Tell me anything you remember.”

  Moments ticked past as Sam stuttered through half-formed thoughts. “I don’t—it’s not like...look, he might—”

  Colin wanted to scream, but the kid was having a rough time already. Scaring him more wouldn’t help either of them. “Where’s that pounding coming from?”

  “Oh.” Sam looked sheepish. “It’s the staff from the building. An emergency meeting was called for the two departments that work in this building, but it wasn’t a real meeting and Dr. Hilden had me put a cell phone signal jammer outside the room so that no one could, uh, try to excuse themselves from the meeting. I didn’t ask why at the time but it’s getting clearer now.”