14
‘Here. This should help.’ Finn offered Kate a chipped Redskins mug filled with hot coffee and a slug of Jameson’s whiskey. ‘You’re damned lucky to have landed in that barberry bush.’
Tersely shaking her head, Kate refused the pick-me-up. Instead, she continued to sit on the sofa with her arms wrapped around her chest, hands coiled around her elbows. Since the blast, the woman hadn’t uttered a single word. They’d just entered the second hour of radio silence.
‘Drink it, Kate. The booze will do you good. I don’t want you fainting on me again.’ He butted the mug against her chest, forcing her to accept the spiked coffee.
Her expression blank, Kate stared straight ahead as she obediently took a sip.
She must have had a sheltering angel standing sentry at the front door. Because, somehow, against all odds, she’d managed to survive the blast relatively unscathed. Scratches, bruises, minor abrasions and a swollen right knee; the kind of injuries that always hurt worse the morning after.
Immediately after the explosion, he’d thrown Kate over his shoulder and hauled ass to Wisconsin Avenue. Needing to find a hidey-hole on the double-quick, he’d flagged down a pizza delivery guy and paid him a hundred bucks to drive them to a houseboat docked at the Gangplank Marina. While he didn’t personally know Major James Bukowski, the owner of the houseboat, he’d once overheard the cocky officer bragging about his waterfront digs. Since Bukowski was currently deployed in Afghanistan, the trespass had been child’s play. He’d even told the neighbour that ‘Jimbo’ gave him the key.
For the time being, they were safe.
Still nameless, still faceless, the enemy possessed the stealth of a well-trained Delta unit. If it wasn’t for the freaking suit jacket, Kate would have been killed in the explosion.
‘If you speak of this matter to anyone, they will be targeted for execution.’
Warning issued. Action taken. Clearly these rat bastards did not make idle threats.
Pricked by a guilty conscience, Finn turned away from Kate and walked over to the window. Pulling the drawn curtain aside, he watched silently as drops of rain plopped against the varnished deck before congealing into plump translucent beads. Scanning the marina, his gaze ricocheted between the dark waters of the Washington Channel and the wood-planked dock.
He let the curtain fall back into place.
‘Listen, Kate, I need to know …’ Finn hesitated, trying to think of a tactful way to phrase the question. Realizing there wasn’t one, he got right to it. ‘Is there anyone – a parent, a sibling, a close friend – that these murdering thugs can go after next?’
The question hung silently between them, Kate, no doubt, wrapping her dazed mind around this new, unforeseen danger.
‘My parents are vacationing in Japan,’ she said at last. ‘I have no siblings. And I’m not altogether certain, but I believe that my ex-husband is conducting field research in Papua New Guinea. As for friends, well, let’s just say that I’ve been something of a loner these last two years. After the divorce, Jeffrey retained custody of our social circle.’
Finn breathed a sigh of relief. One less headache.
‘I just want you to know, Kate, that I’m truly sorry. I never meant to put you in harm’s way.’
‘I would prefer, Sergeant, that you not insult me with a phony apology. All along you’ve been using me. And now, because of you, all of my worldly possessions have been reduced to this.’ Kate held her handbag aloft. Somehow, miraculously, she’d managed to keep it slung across her chest during the explosion.
About to inform her that with a death sentence hanging over her head, being homeless was the least of her worries, Finn thought better of it. Instead, he seated himself next to her on the sofa.
‘You might find this hard to believe, but I know what you’re going through,’ he said without preamble, heartfelt confessions not his strong suit. ‘No matter what, you’ve got to stay strong. Like a sapling. Bend. Don’t break. Got it?’
The pep talk met with a derisive snort. ‘Please spare me the sappy sentiments. I want you to tell me, right now, why someone tried to kill me. For God’s sake! All I did was give you a ride to the embassy.’
‘My guess? They think that I took you into my confidence.’
‘About what?’
‘Unfortunately, I’m not at liberty to –’
‘Cut the crap, Finn! Either you tell me what’s going on or I will pick up the phone and call the police.’
While Kate’s fury was completely justified, Finn debated how much he should, or could, reveal. The mission in Al-Qanawat had been black ops and –
Ah, fuck it.
Whether she knew or didn’t know, Jutier’s henchmen would still be gunning for her. Better that she face the enemy with eyes wide open.
‘You might find this hard to believe, but the men who set the explosive device at your house are after a thirteenth-century relic. And they’ll stop at nothing to get it.’
Her expression said it all – Kate Bauer thought that he was a lying sack of shit. ‘Hard to believe? Try flat-out impossible. And even if I did believe you, which I don’t, what does that have to do with you? Or me, for that matter.’
‘See, it’s like this –’ Leaning forward, Finn braced his elbows on top of his thighs. ‘Four months ago, I led a black ops mission into Al-Qanawat, Syria. The mission was straightforward: grab contraband vials of smallpox and get out of Dodge with no one the wiser. But when we arrived at the coordinates, there was no contraband smallpox. There wasn’t even a terrorist cell. There was just some relic hidden inside a chapel.’
Hearing that, her eyes narrowed suspiciously; the woman was a hard sell. ‘You need to be more specific. For starters, what did this relic look like?’
‘It was a gold disk about yea big –’ he curved both his hands to give her an idea as to its size. ‘At the time I was royally pissed that my team was being used; that we were sent into Al-Qanawat for the sole purpose of stealing a damned relic so a fat cat general could pad his retirement account. I’m a trained warrior, not Indiana Jones.’
‘And what does the mission in Syria have to do with Fabius Jutier?’
‘According to Jutier, he is – or was – a member of a group called the Seven. The group paid General Robert Cavanaugh to retrieve the Montségur Medallion for them. When Cavanaugh failed to deliver as promised, they arranged for him to have a fatal car accident.’
Kate made a T with her hands, signalling a time-out. ‘Back up a moment. What’s the Montségur Medallion?’
‘That’s the name of the Al-Qanawat relic. And the Seven is convinced that I have this Montségur Medallion. That’s why they had an assassin called the Dark Angel murder two Delta troopers from my old outfit and make it look like I killed ’em. Earlier today, a couple of CID agents showed up at the Pentagon and accused me of doing just that.’
Closing his eyes, Finn massaged his sockets with his thumb and middle finger, envisioning the glossy 8 x 10 crime scene photos that the two CID agents had shown to him. He didn’t particularly want those images floating around inside his head. It made him think about the horror, the sheer agony, that his two friends endured before the final coup de grâce.
He opened his eyes. Then shook his head to clear the gory images from his mind’s eye.
To his surprise, Kate placed her hand on his forearm. ‘I’m sorry about what happened to your comrades.’
‘Yeah, me too. I loved them both like brothers,’ he told her, man enough to own up to his feelings. Still grappling with the brutal slaying, he was grateful for the condolence.