What Doesn't Kill You

by Iris Johansen

  “Just remember she’s a U.S. citizen just doing her job. You don’t treat her as if she were running a drug cartel.” He gave her Pat Gower’s address. “She has an apartment a few blocks away from where Andrews lives.”

  “Send me her photo. I’ll call you when we have anything.” She hung up and turned to Gallo. “Andrews’s security system has to be disabled, but we need Pat Gower to get past any guards. That means we have to go after her, too. Which one do you want to deal with? Andrews or Pat Gower?”

  “I have a choice? How kind of you. I’ll choose Andrews. There’s always the question of a woman wondering if rape is a motive and getting hurt fighting off an assailant.”

  She nodded. “Then get to Andrews’s place and disable the security alarms. I’ll meet you there with Pat Gower as soon as I can.” Her phone was pinging. She glanced at the photo of Pat Gower. Thirtyish. Shoulder-length brown hair, brown eyes, thin, pointed face that appeared a little elfish. Attractive. She was looking out of the photo with directness and intelligence. Catherine glanced at her watch. “It’s almost ten. Let’s aim for midnight.”

  “If they’re home and not out politicking the night away.” He turned and headed for the exit. “Remember, this is Washington.”

  * * *

  THE SECURITY ALARMS FOR PAT Gower’s apartment had been a little more difficult than Catherine had thought, but they were not state of the art. She managed to disarm them in a short time.

  Next question. Was Gower in the apartment?

  She carefully disabled the lock on the front door and swung the door open.

  Darkness.

  There was another door several yards to the left.

  Probably the bedroom.

  Quiet. The last thing Catherine wanted was to wake the woman before she was in a position to subdue her quickly. Then she’d be able to have her chance to defuse any resentment while she explained why she was doing this.

  A very slim chance, she thought wryly. It was very difficult finding a valid explanation for kidnapping.

  She glided forward and silently opened the door.

  A bed was against the wall across the room.

  Something was wrong.

  The covers were tossed to one side, which meant—

  Shit!

  She ducked to one side as a baseball bat came out of nowhere and down toward her head. The bat missed her head but connected with her shoulder.

  Pain.

  The bat had not come out of nowhere. It had come from behind the bedroom door.

  Catherine crashed the door back against the wall, pinning the wielder of the bat behind it.

  Cursing. It had to be Pat Gower. It was a woman’s voice muttering expletives even as she pushed against the door to free herself.

  Catherine felt like cursing, too. Her shoulder hurt like hell, and this wasn’t turning out as she’d planned. She slammed the door again, harder. Then jerked it open and ducked again as the bat came at her again.

  “Don’t do that!” She jerked the bat out of the woman’s hands and threw it to one side. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “You bet you’re not.” Pat Gower dove forward and butted her head against Catherine’s chest. “But I’m going to hurt you.”

  The woman’s head striking Catherine’s sensitive breasts was already hurting her. And it was clear she wasn’t going to stop.

  To hell with trying to do the job with the least mayhem possible.

  “I take it back. I will hurt you.” She stepped forward and gave her a karate chop to the neck. “Nothing lethal. But I don’t mind causing you a little discomfort.” Then she followed the blow with a right uppercut to Gower’s chin that dropped her to the floor. “I don’t like baseball bats.”

  She crossed the room and turned on the bedside lamp to see how much damage she’d done.

  Not much. Pat Gower was evidently fairly tough. She was sitting up and shaking her head to clear it.

  “I’m not trying to hurt you,” she said. “I’m only trying to get your cooperation. My name is Catherine Ling. Venable may have told you about me.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake.” Pat Gower stared at her in disgust. “CIA? It’s no wonder the CIA is always in trouble with the authorities. You can’t go around breaking laws and giving law-abiding citizens karate chops. Now get out of here before I call the police and have you arrested. I might do it anyway.”

  She was totally fearless, Catherine realized. She had a Brooklyn accent, and it made her tone sound even more belligerent. She was sitting there on the floor, brown hair mussed, bruised, wearing ridiculous pink-poodle pajamas, and ready to take Catherine on again. Ordinarily, Catherine would have admired that courage, but she could use a little intimidation right now. “Let’s get this clear. We’re in this position because you made a stupid decision, and I’m having to go out of my way to make sure it doesn’t hurt William Andrews.” She paused. “And if he ever does become president, you’d better get down on your knees and pray that the CIA is still around to make sure that no one blows up the world on his watch. Now get up and get out of those stupid pajamas and into your clothes. We’re going to wake up your boss.”

  “The hell we are,” she said fiercely. “You’re not getting near him.”

  “I’m talking to him within the next two hours. John Gallo, my partner, is already at his apartment waiting for us. I could tell Gallo to go on without us, but it might mean gunfire from Andrews’s security team, and Andrews might get hurt. We’re trying to avoid that happening.”

  “Or this Gallo might get hurt.”

  Catherine shook her head. “That’s highly unlikely. The best way to avoid having William Andrews damaged in any way is for you to go with us through the security guards outside the apartment. Once we’re inside, you can go with us to see him or not.” She stared her directly in the eye. “But we will talk to him. And if he throws us out, then that’s his decision.”

  Her gaze narrowed on Catherine’s face. “And then you’ll give up?”

  “No, this isn’t only about him. I have to keep him alive. I’ll just do it without his help … or your help.” She shrugged. “I can understand your not wanting to stick your neck out. Why should you care? You only work for him.”

  “Yes, I only work for him.” She moistened her lips. “It’s a wild story Venable told me. I can understand some crackpot taking a shot at William, but that’s different from calculated … murder.”

  “Very different.”

  Silence. “And I have to keep all the craziness away from William. He has enough ugliness without having to deal with nonsense like— But what if it’s not nonsense? I try so hard to protect him. What if I’m protecting him from the wrong thing?”

  Good God, she cared deeply for Andrews. Perhaps she even loved him. “That’s the question you’ll have to answer. Or do you want me to answer it for you?”

  “No, why should I trust you? You come in here and try to kidnap me and—” She was silent again. Then sat up straighter on the floor, and said brusquely, “I want to see your credentials. How can I be sure who you are anyway? Though who else but the CIA would be this arrogant and lacking in—” She stopped again. “I’ll get you in to see William, but if you make me look foolish to him, or if this is just some crazy, idiotic scheme, I’ll find a way to make you pay, Catherine Ling.”

  “I’m sure you will,” she said gently. “And you won’t look foolish to him. I promise you.” She showed her credentials, then picked up the baseball bat and looked at it ruefully. “I wasn’t expecting this. It hurt, dammit.”

  “My father gave it to me when I left home and got my first apartment.” She examined the credentials closely and handed them back to Catherine. “He was a Yankee fan, and it was autographed by most of the team. He treasured that bat. But he said that he wanted me to have it and to use it if anyone gave me any trouble.” She got to her feet. “You gave me trouble. I’ll get dressed now.” She scowled. “And these aren’t stupid pajamas. My niece gave them to me.�
��

  “Well, that makes a difference. Of course they’re not stupid. I’m sure the pink poodles are brimming with intellect.”

  “My niece is twelve years old and saved up her allowance to buy them for me. These are great pajamas.” She opened her closet and took out a tailored blouse and skirt. “So shut up about them.”

  And Catherine would have felt the same if Luke had given her those pink monstrosities. In fact, she would have wanted to treasure them, not wear them. “Sorry. You’re right, they’re fantastic.” She took out her phone. “And while you’re busy shedding those fantastic pajamas, I’ll call Gallo and tell him that you’re going to cooperate and make it easier for us.”

  “He’ll be relieved?”

  “Maybe. Probably not. Gallo doesn’t like easy. He prefers balancing on the edge. But he’ll just have to live with it.”

  * * *

  “GALLO, THIS IS PAT GOWER.” Catherine glanced around the quietly luxurious lobby. With Pat Gower running interference, Catherine and Gallo breezed through the security team outside William Andrews’s apartment, and here in the lobby, she saw only one man. “Any trouble?”

  “A shakedown, but when Ms. Gower called, they backed off.” He inclined his head to Pat Gower. “Many thanks. I don’t think I could have tolerated the direction in which they were traveling. I was getting a little uptight. Literally.”

  “At least, you didn’t get hit with a baseball bat.” Catherine stepped on the elevator. “Pat called Andrews and told him we were coming. Surprisingly, he wasn’t upset about our nocturnal visit.”

  “He trusts me.” Pat pushed the button. “And he’d better keep on trusting me.”

  “She took out insurance,” Catherine said. “She called Venable and double-checked with him. She even sent him a photo of me.”

  “It was either that or bring my baseball bat,” Pat said straight-faced. “You could have stolen and altered credentials.” She studied Gallo. “I guess I don’t have to check on you. You look pretty much as Catherine described you.”

  “And so I’m totally innocuous?”

  “No.” The elevator doors opened. “But I think Catherine can take care of any problem you bring us.” She was leading them down the hall. “And if she can’t, there’s always my bat.”

  She stopped at a door, rang the bell, and her voice was suddenly intense. “And I’d use it. William is a great man and a great person. No one is going to hurt him. Do you understand?”

  “You’ve made that very clear,” Catherine said. “We’re all on the same page as far as that’s concerned. We’ll do everything that we—” She broke off as the door swung open.

  “What the hell is going on, Pat?” William Scott Andrews stood there, glaring at Gallo. “And who are you?”

  “He doesn’t matter. Though I know he looks a little intimidating.” Pat Gower stepped forward. “Just listen to Catherine.”

  “Cut to the quick,” Gallo murmured. He stepped aside and gestured for Catherine to enter the apartment ahead of him. “At least I’m good enough to watch your back.”

  “And who is supposed to watch my back?” Andrews asked as he turned and strode back into his apartment. He was fully dressed in black slacks and an open-throated white shirt, and William Scott Andrews was just as arresting as Catherine had thought he’d be. Force, power, vitality, and spellbinding presence. “It appears I’m the one at risk.” He suddenly turned back to Pat. “Are you okay, Pat? You’re bruised. Did these bastards hurt you?”

  “I’m fine.” She smiled. “Catherine and I had a misunderstanding. But I came out on top.”

  “Your dad’s baseball bat?” He smiled. “Good for you.” He turned to Catherine, and his smile faded. “I don’t like this. If you want to go after me, do it. But Pat only works for me, and I won’t have her harassed.”

  Catherine could see why Venable liked Andrews. He was very genuine. “I’m not harassing—well, maybe a little. But she wouldn’t have brought us here if she hadn’t thought it was necessary. As to who is watching your back, you’re looking at them.”

  “Listen to them, William,” Pat said quietly. “It sounds really crazy, but I think there’s a chance that it could happen. It scared me.”

  “Nah, not you.” His smile was suddenly even warmer. “You could take on the whole damn world.” He turned to Catherine and Gallo, and said crisply, “Assassination plot? Talk to me. Details. Proof. Solutions.”

  “Over to you, Catherine,” Gallo said. “Hu Chang is a little difficult to describe, and you’ll be better at it than me. The discourse would definitely be less obscene.”

  “That’s not helpful, Gallo.” Catherine gazed directly at Andrews, and said, “Though he’s right that it has to start with Hu Chang. But I want to make it clear that Hu Chang is not one of those criminals. I’m sure he’ll try to stop Nardik from—”

  “Stop defending him and tell the man what Hu Chang has been up to,” Gallo said. “He can make the judgment for himself. Of course, if he’s going to become president, it may mean he’ll have to send Hu Chang to Guantanamo.”

  “Hu Chang is not—” She drew a deep breath. “Hu Chang is not like anyone else. Let me tell you about him…”

  And she did tell him, in detail and as completely as she could do it for the next twenty minutes. He listened, silent, his gaze narrowed on her face. When she stopped, she searched his expression for any hint of what he was thinking. Futile attempt. Dammit, he is as enigmatic in his way as Hu Chang. “It’s the truth,” and she added bluntly, “Do you think we would have wasted our time coming here if we hadn’t thought you’d be dead in a few days if we didn’t? Now help us, dammit.”

  “Subtle and diplomatic she’s not,” Gallo said. “But honest, Andrews. You can always count on honest.”

  “And full of passion. I respect anyone who cares passionately for anything. Passion burns away everything mediocre in its path,” Andrews said. “And what about you, Gallo? Do I detect a hint of conflict between the two of you? Is this Hu Chang all she’s saying?”

  Gallo was silent. “He’s probably more.”

  “But you don’t trust him?”

  “I’m not a good judge. I’m a bit emotional about him, and I can’t see beyond the surface. Should you believe his drug can do what he claims? Yes. Will he try to save you if he can do it without endangering his creation? Yes. That’s all I can promise you.”

  “I don’t want promises. I want solutions.”

  “You said that before,” Catherine said.

  “Solutions are the only thing worthwhile in this world,” he said wearily. “You’re in Washington, D.C., where we’re surrounded by promises. Promises aren’t any good.” The weariness was suddenly gone, and his entire demeanor was vibrating with the force of his will. “I have to have solutions. I will have solutions.”

  Catherine couldn’t take her eyes from him. Total conviction. Total determination. Oh, yes, here was a man who could move mountains. No wonder he was considered a threat to any opponent. “I imagine you will.” She moved her shoulders, trying to shake off the effect of that personality. Her job wasn’t to help him move mountains. It was to keep him alive. “So let’s find a solution to make sure Nardik doesn’t get in your way. This is July 1. What are you doing on July 3? Where will you be?”

  “He was going to debate Howard Wallace at his ranch in Sugarland, outside of Houston,” Pat Gower said. “And on Independence Day, he was going to give a speech at the Astrodome. Those two days should have clinched his bid for the presidency. We’re expecting a tidal wave of support after those two events.” Her lips tightened. “I’ll cancel the arrangements.”

  “No,” Catherine said.

  “What do you mean no?” Pat asked fiercely. “You’ve just told us that Nardik is going to try to kill him. We can stop it by just canceling the Fourth of July plans.”

  “Until the next time,” Catherine said. “Do you really think they’ll stop? We have to get rid of Nardik and scare off the people who are payi
ng him. That’s the only way to make sure Andrews is safe.”

  “And you believe Wallace may be paying him?” Andrews asked thoughtfully. “It’s possible. Wallace is ambitious, and I stand in his way.”

  “I don’t know if it’s Wallace himself or his handlers,” Gallo said. “They’re desperate to avoid appearing to be involved. That’s why they’re willing to pay Nardik so highly for the use of Hu Chang’s formula. Once we get our hands on Nardik or the man he sends to actually give you the drug, then we might find out more.”

  “Then get rid of the bastard,” Pat said. “Just don’t involve William.”

  “We’ll try,” Gallo said. “But it may come down to the night of that debate. It’s the only time we can be sure that there will be evidence of the—”

  “No,” Pat said harshly. “Screw your evidence. I won’t allow him to go meekly to—”

  “When have you ever known me to be meek, Pat?” Andrews asked gently. “And they’re right, the best way to get rid of the threat is to make sure that the trap is sprung.” He grimaced. “Providing I’m not in it.”

  “Be quiet, William.” Her eyes were glittering with moisture. “I won’t let you do this. You’re too valuable. I’ve only known two men in my life who were worthwhile, who made a difference. My father died on 9/11, and now you want to take a stupid chance when everyone needs you. I need you.”

  “Shh.” He was suddenly beside her, taking her in his arms. “If I didn’t take stupid chances, you wouldn’t have come to work for me. Everyone said I was some kind of crazy idealist, and you still stuck around and made them eat their words. This is just one more risk we have to take, Pat. Don’t fight me, help me.”

  He didn’t even realize how cruel that request was, Catherine thought. He meant only kindness, and he did care about Pat. Perhaps not enough. But what did Catherine know? She was an outsider and could only guess.

  Pat buried her head for a moment in his chest, her arms tightening around him. “I’ll help you.” She cleared her throat then stepped back. “And I won’t let them kill you … even if you are being stupid.” She turned to Catherine. “You’re not to leave me out of this. I’ll give you a complete copy of his itinerary, and we’ll keep the security force as it is. Anything else would be suspicious.” Her lips twisted bitterly. “Someone might think we actually believe someone is trying to kill William. That wouldn’t do, would it?” She turned toward the door. “Now we’ll let you go back to bed and get some sleep, William. You have three TV shows tomorrow morning.”