“Wait a minute. Uzbekistan? I thought you said he wouldn’t tell you where he went.”
“I have my ways.”
“Gonna tell me?” Hunter followed Jackie into the hallway and stood outside the bedroom door, nibbling on a handful of Ritz.
“Why not? You’re going to disappear from my life forever after tonight, aren’t you?”
“Afraid so.”
“I told you I’m a soil scientist. I do forensics. When I was stateside I did a lot of expert witness gigs-tying soil samples to remote crime sites, that kind of thing.” She opened a wardrobe and pulled out a polo shirt and pair of Dockers and threw them on the bed. “If these don’t work for you, help yourself to something else.”
“So you scraped soil off his shoes?”
“I almost forgot shoes. Hope you wear a size eleven, otherwise you’re out of luck.” She handed him a pair of deck shoes. “I think he’s been cheating on me. I wanted to know where he kept disappearing to, so I analyzed the soil. He’s up to something in Uzbekistan, somewhere around Zarafshan.”
“You can be that accurate from little chunks of rock?”
“Actually, it’s the microfauna and microflora that are the dead giveaways. Well, it wasn’t that easy. In grad school I worked summers for Neuberg Mining Corp. We did some extensive studies of the Muruntau deposits-they were trying to figure out the most environmentally friendly way to get the gold out of low grade ore. As soon as the bastards realized they could buy off the Uzbek government and get away with heat-leaching, my trip there got cancelled along with my job.” Jackie took out a bathrobe for herself. “Anyway, all I have here is an old microscope, but I thought I recognized some plant fragments in the soil unique to that region of the Kyzyl Kum desert. I couldn’t imagine what the hell Brian was doing there. Uzbekistan has oil in the south, but nowhere near where the truffles are found. So I sent a sample to a friend in Ann Arbor for an elemental analysis. And guess what she found when she ran an ICP-MS?”
“Not a clue.”
“Gold-along with extremely high levels of methyl mercury concentration in the truffles.”
“You’re way over my head now.”
“I was dead-on-Uzbekistan, Muruntau mines, somewhere near Zarafshan. The Soviets were shameless in using mercury in the mining process-that sample could only have been from a gold mine. And one of my old professors confirmed it was the Kyzl Kum truffle.” Jackie walked into the bathroom and grabbed a towel. “I still think Brian’s been cheating on me-even if he’s doing it in an old gold mine.”
He followed her to the bathroom doorway. “Uzbekistan, huh? You’re damn good.”
“I’m damn bored.” Jackie turned on the shower with Hunter watching. “You keep standing there. You planning on joining me or something?” she said in a way that made him think she was flirting with him.
She was one messed up lady and Hunter realized he needed to move on before she latched onto him even more.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be following you. I was curious about what you were saying and I wasn’t thinking.” He started to shut the door, then paused. “So your husband works for some kind of a oil company?”
“Yup. Rubicon Petroleum.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Green Zone, Baghdad
One hour later
Camille was surprised when Jackie Nelson cracked open the door, but she guessed a lone Western woman at the doorstep didn’t appear too threatening, particularly since they were so rare in the Green Zone. Jackie stood, blocking the doorway, wearing a fluffy white bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her hair. Civilians were such a trusting bunch.
“Jackie Nelson?” Camille held up her corporate identification card-her real one. She knew Rubicon would find out that she had paid a visit to the wife of one of their VPs and she preferred to do it brazenly. She loved to pull Rubicon’s chain-then run like hell. “I’m Camille Black, president and CEO of Black Management. I need to talk to you about this man. He’s in danger.” She showed her a photo of Hunter.
Jackie glanced at it and looked away. Her face was gaunt. “I’ve never him seen before.”
“I’ve heard he rescued you. You owe him your life.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t give me that. I know.” Camille made eye contact and held her gaze. Jackie’s eyes were bloodshot and slightly jaundiced. “You rode here with a Rubicon crew, but you didn’t tell them who you were. Why not? Your husband’s one of their VPs. I’d think they would have been even more helpful if they’d known.”
“Ray said it was too dangerous.”
“Was Rubicon the one holding you captive?” Camille had no idea who had held her hostage, but she couldn’t figure out how Hunter got hooked up with her if Rubicon weren’t involved. Last she knew, Rubicon was trying to kill him. Even if there were no Rubicon link, it couldn’t hurt to wedge some doubt between Jackie and Rubicon. Like Joe Chronister had taught her many years ago, this was how informants were born and she could use one with inside connections to Rubicon. Camille stepped closer, into the cracked door and Jackie moved back a few steps into the apartment.
“Why would Rubicon ever want to hold me hostage?” Jackie said.
“Maybe as an executive perk. Word around here is that your marriage isn’t going too well.” Camille bluffed, but she knew the odds were in her favor. Hardship posts and relationships didn’t mix well.
“I think you better come in and shut the door.”
“Is he here?”
“I stretched out for a few minutes while he showered and nodded off. I woke up and he was gone.”
“He couldn’t stick around in a Rubicon apartment. They’ll be here soon. They tried to kill him a couple of times yesterday. I know because I helped him get away.” Camille listened for any noise hinting that Hunter was in the apartment. It was quiet, except for the hum of the refrigerator and the air conditioner.
“Why would Rubicon want to kill Ray?”
“Do me a favor and play this for me. Background noise.” Camille gave Jackie a CD. A former NSA scientist in Black Management’s expanding intelligence division had mixed special privacy “music” composed of sounds that could not be easily identified and filtered out. It was grating, but effective.
Jackie took it and sighed. “I know the routine.” She turned on the player.
“To answer your question, I honestly don’t know why Rubicon’s targeting him. Maybe he saw something they don’t want him to know about.”
“Rubicon is a paranoid bunch, but it looks like you’re that way, too.” Jackie sat on the sofa and pulled her legs up onto the cushions. She stared blankly down the hall.
“Rubicon is dangerous. Paranoia can mean survival.”
“Why do you want to help Ray?”
“We have to keep it quiet.” Camille hesitated. She didn’t want to have to go there, but it was the best way to get the woman to help her. “Ray and I are engaged,” Camille said, fighting a tempest of emotions. She knew she had to play the part and force herself to be happy about it. The random sounds of the music were irritating and only made her more agitated.
“That’s wonderful. Have you set a date yet?”
We did. “No, not yet. We’re waiting until we can have a big wedding back home.” Camille smiled and it made her feel more hollow inside.
“He’s in trouble and on the run. I do know that much,” Jackie said and then relayed the story of her rescue from the terrorists. She paused frequently, stared down the hallway and shook her head as if another dialogue were going on internally.
“You keep looking down the hallway. Is he here?”