Exposure

by Dee Davis

  Jacovitz grabbed his chest and, with a last slow exhale of breath, died.

  Nigel reached down to pick up the fallen knife. "Lovely of you to give me the excuse." He stared at the dead man, wishing he'd caused the bastard a little more pain—for Melissa. Or maybe just for himself.

  It was getting harder to separate the two. She was a part of him. There was no denying the fact, and while he might not be capable of giving her the life she deserved, he'd damn well make anyone who threatened her wish they'd never been born.

  He walked out of the room, turning his back on the body— case in point.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  "YOU WERE GONE a long time." Malik looked up from the warhead. Parts were spread everywhere, the components waiting to be reassembled into an even more lethal device.

  "I ran into some trouble." Khamis threw his jacket and gun on the counter. "Alexi Kirov is dead." "And that's a problem?"

  "No. That was a delight. The man was dangerous to our mission. But with his death I set a trap. A circle that I hoped would lead those seeking answers from the true path." Malik frowned. "Something went awry?" "Not in the way you mean. My plan worked perfectly. Except that the hunters were not who I expected."

  "You recognized them?" Malik's eyebrows raised in surprise.

  "One of them—Melissa Pope." "So she is not dead."

  Khamis nodded, surprised at how calm he felt. "I have seen the man she was with before, as well. I believe he works for the British. But I cannot be sure. I have contacted Bashir to find out if I am right. But until we know for certain, we must tread carefully."

  "Should we call off the operation?" "No. We are too close to success, and I have faith in my ability to mislead. My clues will lead them in circles. Far away from us."

  "Arrogance is a dangerous thing, my friend. You are certain you are not underestimating their abilities?"

  "I am not discounting anything. That is why I maneuvered things so that the Russians will be blamed. And it has played out even better than I had supposed. Kirov must have arranged for someone to hunt for the missing Ms. Pope. He was there at the apartment shooting at her."

  "I take it he had no success."

  "Let us just say he is no longer a threat to anyone."

  "But surely it would have been better—"

  Khamis waved a hand, cutting his friend off. "By the time they work out what has truly happened, it will be too late."

  He stood at the window of the apartment, looking down at the passersby. It was a quiet street, but still it was full of people. New York was like a living thing, vile and always hungry. It would be a pleasure to bring it to its knees. "Why are you taking so long?" He turned back to face Malik, who was carefully constructing the components of the warhead.

  "Some things cannot be rushed." Malik didn't bother to look up from the wires he was separating. "If I allowed your frustration to affect my work, we would soon be worth nothing to our cause. Besides, I will be finished soon. You have made all the other arrangements?"

  Khamis nodded. "Everything is in place. I have secured the necessary disguises." He motioned toward a uniform hanging on a closet door.

  "And our escape?" Malik's interest was only passing, his attention centered on placing a laser grid over the device.

  "I have secured tickets for you. First class." Khamis dropped the envelope on the table. "You will be traveling under an assumed name, of course."

  Malik glanced at the ticket, puzzled. "You are not leaving with me?"

  "No." He shook his head to underscore the point. "I want you gone before the device is put into place. That way there will be no way to trace you to the source."

  "But we agreed to see this through together."

  "I cannot ask you to sacrifice your life, my friend. There is too much talent in those hands. Our people need you."

  "But surely they need you, as well?" Malik laid down a pair of jeweler's pliers.

  "Perhaps." Khamis shrugged.

  "You must be gone before my device detonates." Malik's expression reflected concern and fear.

  "I will be gone. Do not concern yourself. If all goes well, I have every intention of being far away from the seat of the explosion. But I will not be traveling by such luxurious means." He tilted his head toward the tickets. "I cannot risk being detected so close to detonation. So, I will avoid the usual methods of travel. As the warheads came in—so shall I go out."

  Malik opened his mouth to say more, but evidently recognized the pointlessness of arguing.

  "I promise you, my friend," Khamis said, "I will not place myself in harm's way unless it is absolutely necessary."

  "I know that we are asked to sacrifice everything for the glory of Allah—" Malik's dark eyes were full of resolve "—but I do not want to lose you, too."

  "Please understand, if I must die in order to secure our success, I will consider it an honor. We're so close to everything we've been working for, we must not fail now—no matter the cost."

  "Sometimes the cost is too high." Malik sighed, then reached for the pliers.

  "Not in this case, and if I must give my life to achieve our goal, then so be it."

  "It is your goal, Khamis. Not mine."

  "You do not mean that. This has been your dream, too."

  "No." Malik shook his head. "I merely followed the orders of our superiors, hoping that Allah will bless me for my obedience."

  "There is more to it than that, surely?" Khamxs turned back to the window, his mind's eye replaying the fires and explosions, long-faded screams echoing in his ears.

  "Perhaps if I look into the darkest corners of my heart, I, too, would find the desire for revenge. What hurts you, hurts me, and yet it is not the same. It was not my wife and children who were lost."

  "No. It was not. But still they were your friends—your family."

  He had known Malik since boyhood, their families close friends. It had been Malik who had urged him to make Kerea his wife. Malik who had celebrated the birth of each of his sons. They had joked that it was the beginning of a dynasty.

  And then in one instant, everything was gone.

  "Of course they were special to me. Why do you think that I have helped you hunt the people responsible for Kerea and the children's deaths? I care. But revenge is a double-edged sword."

  "Revenge is righteous. And I will have mine or die trying." Khamis clenched his fists, fighting against his pain.

  "Then may Allah be with you."

  "And where was He on the day my family was slaughtered?" Khamis rounded on his friend, anger whipping through him like blowing sand upon a rock. But as quickly as it had come, it dissipated, leaving him empty inside. Malik was not the enemy. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. It's just that sometimes it seems too much to bear. When I close my eyes, I can see them, Malik. Hear their screams. Hassan was only three, Najid six. They were babies. Innocents. And they were slaughtered without a second thought."

  "I share your pain, but you are not being honest with yourself. You brought them to the training camp, Khamis, even though you knew it to be dangerous."

  "If it had not been for the American spying, the camp would have been safe. It was that information that caused the destruction of my family."

  "You have no proof."

  "Not before, no." Khamis narrowed his eyes, holding his anger close. "But Alexi Kirov confirmed it. I was right all along. Only when I have avenged my family can they rest in peace."

  "Perhaps it is you who need peace."

  "Believe me, there is no possibility of that." He shrugged. "So instead, why don't you give me the gift of making that thing work?"

  Malik picked up the pliers again. "That will not be a problem. I can do this in my sleep."

  "I pray that you do not, considering the repercussions should you make a mistake."

  "Either way—" it was Malik's turn to shrug "—infidels will die. Isn't that the point?"

  "Yes. But if we follow the plan, success will be all the sweeter."

/>   Malik nodded, edging a metal container carefully into place, his attention returning to the work at hand. Khamis turned back to the window and the people walking below. One more day and the world would bow to him. He alone held the power to control a nation. Perhaps Allah had not forgotten him after all.

  "SO THE BOTTOM LINE is that you found the man who could prove that Melissa was framed and then you killed him?" Cullen asked, the muscle ticking in his jaw the only physical sign of his displeasure.

  It was late, the fire in the study nearly gutted, but Cullen had just flown in from the city and demanded an update. The job had fallen to Nigel, Harrison and Melissa, the three of them having the misfortune of being the only ones left awake.

  Sam and Payton had adjourned almost immediately after the men had returned from Brighton Beach, with Gabe and Madison excusing themselves a short while later. Melissa understood their need to be alone, to reaffirm that everything was still all right. Moments held against the day when quite possibly things wouldn't end as well.

  She understood the need, and at a certain level, she envied the fact that they could so easily surrender to it. But she'd made her own bed, so to speak, and the reality was, she was happy with it. Or she had been—until Nigel had walked back into her life.

  "If he hadn't killed the man," Harrison said, his eyes uncharacteristically cold, "Payton would be dead."

  Melissa shivered at the thought, her mind's eye seeing not Payton but Nigel lying in a pool of blood. Determinedly she shook off the image, forcing herself to concentrate on the conversation around her.

  "I acted in the moment." Nigel's grimace was indication of the strain of the day, and Melissa wanted nothing more than to ease his pain, but despite her desire, it was clearly not the time or place to do so. "Anyway, Cullen, the point is that we now know for certain that Melissa didn't kill anyone."

  "But you haven't got any physical proof," Cullen said, driving home the obvious. "And unfortunately your word isn't likely to go very far in proving her innocence."

  "Well, at least there's three of us."

  "True enough." Cullen nodded. "But I'd feel better if we had something irrefutable."

  "It's quite possible that we will," Harrison interjected. "We've got Jacovitz's knife, remember? If Tracy can tie it to Celik's wound, then that should be the ball game."

  "And there's always a chance that Tracy's folks will turn up something at Jacovitz's apartment," Melissa added hopefully.

  "Absolutely," Nigel concurred. "The man didn't strike me as the overly cautious type. With any luck the box of rat poison will be sitting under his sink."

  "We'll keep a positive thought." Cullen shrugged with a frown. "But don't forget we've still got Kirov's murder."

  "Well, I hardly could have been responsible for that one, Cullen." Anger flashed, heat staining the back of Melissa's neck.

  "I didn't mean to imply that you were. But the fact that he's dead leaves us with a lot of unanswered questions. Specifically, how the hell this all ties together. Basically, we have a dead man we believe was using UN transports to aid black-market and terrorist operations, a second man, also conveniently dead, who is purported to have worked with Kirov, and now a dead member of the Russian mafia who claims to have killed Celik but not Kirov. And then as if matters aren't complicated enough, Melissa could very well still be in danger, and we haven't a clue where the danger is coming from."

  "Well, if the threat originated with Alexi, then maybe she's safe," Harrison said.

  "You're forgetting that someone tried to kill us today, and that Jacovitz swore it wasn't him." Nigel's tone was even more clipped than usual.

  "So maybe Alexi was working with someone else? Someone who knew that Melissa had been sniffing around, and is equally interested in taking her out of the equation." Cullen frowned, obviously trying to assemble the pieces into some sort of recognizable pattern.

  "But why would he have been working with two different people?" Melissa frowned.

  "Maybe because his first flunky screwed up and left you alive." Nigel walked over to the drinks table and poured a bourbon. If it hadn't been for the muscle ticking at his jaw, Melissa would have thought he was talking about a stranger.

  "Well, if Jacovitz is to be believed, it was your handler who gave you up." Harrison grabbed the poker and prodded the dying fire.

  "For a price," Melissa said, shivering at the thought. "Jacovitz said he was dead, right?"

  Nigel nodded, his expression if possible even more grim. "These guys were definitely playing for keeps."

  "But none of this explains why Kirov was murdered." Cul-len settled on the back of the sofa, opening and closing his fists reflexively. "I mean, if it was his operation, what motive is there for someone to take him out?"

  "Maybe he double-crossed the mob." Harrison hung the poker on its hook and turned back to face them again. "Jaco-vitz seemed to think this Stoeler guy could have been involved."

  "Did you find anything at his apartment?" Cullen asked.

  "Nothing conclusive. But we did find ammo that matches the caliber used to kill Kirov. Without a weapon Tracy can't do much with it. But at least we can keep him in the running."

  "Any sign of the man?" Cullen shifted, his eyes narrowing in thought.

  "None at all. Tracy's people are canvassing the building. But there are only a couple of apartments above a grocery. All occupied by Russians. I doubt we're going to find the neighbors all that helpful."

  "And thanks to your handiwork, Jacovitz won't be able to provide any further information. So we're potentially at a dead end." Cullen stood up. "What about Khamis? Anything there?"

  "No link to the Russian mob, if that's what you're asking," Harrison said.

  "And Kirov?" Cullen was like a bulldog, completely unable to let go of something until he'd talked it to death.

  Melissa fought against her exhaustion, more than aware that she owed this man her life. If he hadn't opened the doors to his safe house, she'd have been handling this on her own.

  "There's nothing to connect the two of them at this point," Nigel said, the muscle in his jaw still twitching.

  "If there's a connection, I'll find it," Harrison said. "We've briefed the UN on a need-to-know basis, and in light of the threat, they're supposed to be sending me access codes to the Peacekeeping database. From there I'll be able to tap directly into Kirov's computer and the shipments he was handling. Hopefully there'll be something that will help us isolate an anomaly in one of the shipments. Something that could lead to recovery of the R-VX. Or if not, at least give us a heads-up as to where it might have entered the U.S."

  "Timing is everything," Nigel said, the statement echoing all of their thoughts.

  "It's never too late." Harrison's expression was a reflection of his usual optimism, but there was a shadow of doubt in his eyes. "Look, all we can do is give it our best. And to that end, if you'll excuse me, I'll head back in there and see if the UN has sent the codes."

  "And if they haven't?" Cullen asked.

  "There's always more than one way to peel an apple. I've also got the computer searching various databases using photos of our key players. It's possible that if they've used an alias, face-recognition technology can find them and provide us with new information."

  "By all means, get to it." Cullen made a shooing motion toward the door. "The more connections we establish, the quicker we can fill in the pieces of the puzzle. I'll expect a full report in the morning."

  Despite herself, Melissa smiled. Cullen definitely had a God complex, but he also had a paternal streak a mile wide. He might be angry that they weren't moving fast enough, but if anyone else dared to criticize the team, he'd be on them like a rottweiler on fresh meat.

  "I think maybe I'll call it a night, too. I still need to check in with the White House." He nodded absently first in Nigel's direction and then in Melissa's, his mind already contemplating what he wanted to say to the President. "You two try and get some sleep."

  Melissa turn
ed to face the fire, trying to sort through her jumbled feelings. Everything was so damn complicated. On-the one hand she wanted nothing more than to be alone with Nigel. On the other, she was wishing herself at the opposite end of the planet.

  Nice dichotomy.

  "Hell of a day." Nigel's breath was warm against her skin. As usual he'd moved in silence.

  She turned to face him, taking a step closer to the fire in an effort to keep distance between them. It was hard enough to think without him complicating matters by literally breathing down her neck. "I think we can safely say it wasn't boring."

  "You all right?" His eyes echoed his concern.

  "Actually, I was thinking earlier that in a perverted kind of way, today was fun." He opened his mouth to protest, and she smiled. "I don't mean that I enjoyed getting shot at. I just mean that it was nice to be back in action. Not just sitting on the sidelines waiting for someone else to save the day."

  His answering smile was tempered with worry. "You could have been killed."

  "So could you," she retorted, determined to keep things on an even footing. "Twice. But it's part of what we do, remember? And I for one prefer offense to defense any day, even if it means ducking a few bullets."

  "I know." His sigh said more than words could possibly express, and Melissa felt her heart twist. "I can't deny that I feel any differently, but it's so bloody hard when the risks you. take affect someone you care about."

  There it was right out in the open. The question, of course, being what the hell they were going to do about it.

  Silence hung heavy for a moment, neither of them willing to look the other in the eye. Then Nigel blew out a breath. "I shouldn't have let you come today."

  "You didn't let me do anything." She kept her voice even trying not to read things into his words that weren't there. But it was hard. "It was my choice to make."

  "I know that, but if I hadn't brought you here, there wouldn't have been a choice."

  She hated the sound of regret in his voice, hated the fact that she'd put him in this position. This, along with a million other reasons, was why she'd walked out all those years ago. "I called you, remember?" Her attempt at a smile fell flat. "You were my best bet. I needed help and you offered it. And all this was part of the package." She waved a hand at the cozy study.