She left. Smith waited, sipping the coffee and watching the ticker scroll across the computer screens. After ten minutes, Nolan returned. She looked pale but determined, and Smith guessed then that the meeting wasn’t going to end as he wanted it to, because she should have looked much more helpful than she did. She resumed her seat behind the console.
“Ms. Russell confirmed your version of events. I asked her this question, and now I’ll ask you: How long do you expect it will take to find this assassin?”
Smith hesitated. That was, of course, the dilemma. He didn’t know who had hired the man in the Grand Royal, what organization he was working for, or whether he worked alone or with the others in the crew that had demolished the hotel. He didn’t have any real credible information to give Nolan, or Russell, for that matter.
“I don’t know. It could take days, or even months. There’s no way to tell when the attack on you will take place.”
She looked alarmed. “Months? The CIA wishes to put me in a safe house for months? No. That won’t work. I have a job to do. A life. I’ll hire a bodyguard this afternoon. Two, if necessary, but I’m not just walking away for months. If I do, I’ll have nothing left when I return.”
Smith inhaled. “If you don’t go, you may have no life at all. You have to get to a safe place while the CIA works this situation out.”
She shook her head. “I have almost a billion dollars of other people’s money to manage and an entire office dependent on me to supervise them. I just can’t pick up and leave today with no way of knowing when I’ll return.”
Smith felt his disbelief rising. “Do you ever consider anything else except money in your analysis? Because I’ve got to tell you, all the money in the world isn’t going to matter once you’re dead.”
She leaned forward. “Mr. Smith, think about what you’re asking. You’re asking me to simply grab my things and leave.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that. Not tell my clients, my secretary, or my colleagues where I’m going or how long I’ll be gone. You haven’t given me an opportunity to arrange for my household bills to be paid, my boss to be told, or my client files to be handed over. You’re asking me to walk away from my life now, for months, while the CIA attempts to locate some sort of shadowy assassin who may never get caught. Who could do such a thing? Could you?”
He opened his mouth to tell her he could, but paused. As a member of Covert-One he would continue to draw a salary, and his job at USAMRIID would be waiting for him when he returned. He had no close family, no spouse, no lover, and no one to account to before he would disappear. For that moment the difference between his own life and the life of an average person was thrown into stark contrast. He felt a pang and shoved it back. She had to leave. Her life depended on it.
“You have to do this. Money is worthless compared to your life and shouldn’t even figure into your plans. Your clients shouldn’t expect you to allow their money to play a role in your decision.”
She frowned. “My clients care very deeply about the funds that they place in my control. Some care about their money with more devotion than they give to either their health or their families.”
“Well then, they certainly aren’t going to give a damn about you when you’re gone, are they? Especially after you’re found with a bullet between the eyes.” He’d chosen his words deliberately to shock her. Instead, they seemed to have the opposite effect; they angered her. She stood.
“Thank you for coming to warn me. I appreciate your concern and your candor. Please rest assured that I’ll do what it takes to protect myself, and I wish you and Ms. Russell quick success in getting to the bottom of this problem. Let me walk you to the lobby.”
Smith stared at her, dumbfounded. She was dismissing him. He’d gone to all this trouble to find her, to warn her, and she was dismissing him. And yet he had a strong suspicion that she was the key to the entire mess, because she was the only civilian in the equation. She was the wild card. Both he and Howell had long histories of dealing with sordid criminals in the international arena and the fact that someone wanted them dead, in and of itself, meant nothing. Unless she too was an operative, but as soon as Smith had that thought, he rejected it. Klein had found no evidence of her in his intelligence agent database. He felt his fury rising at her cavalier attitude. He rose, and though she was tall, he was taller and for a moment he was glad of it.
“You can’t be serious. There was a terrorist in the hotel that tried to kill me. He had in his possession a photograph of you, me, and a man I know. The photograph was taken while you were on the street.” Smith pointed out the window. “Probably that street. And you had no idea that it was being taken. Bodyguards are not going to help. You need to get to that safe house now. And before you do you can explain why he carried your photo. As one of the other two at risk, I have a right to know your connection in order to protect myself.” He stepped toward her, using his superior height to drive his point home. Her eyes narrowed.
“I don’t see what you or I could ever have in common that this man wanted us both dead.”
“Dattar.” Smith said the name without thought. He was too angry to think. A startled look passed over her face, telling him that he’d hit a nerve. “What is it? Is Dattar one of your clients?”
Her expression closed. “Landon Investments maintains the confidentiality of their clients.”
“I don’t give a damn about Landon Investments!” Smith was practically shouting. Her face became suffused with red, and for a brief moment he thought she’d punch him. Her body practically vibrated with her rage. He watched her struggle to bring herself under control.
“If you’re finished delivering your news, then let me walk you to the door.” Her voice rang with finality. He stayed next to her, keeping the pressure on.
“Let me tell you one more thing, and then I’ll go and leave you to whatever fate these killers have in store for you. Your life has already changed and it won’t change back. You’re going to be looking over your shoulder from now until either we catch the killers or they catch you. Welcome to the world of the hunted.”
She kept her eyes on him, and he could almost see her thoughts as her expression shifted from angry to scared and then back to stern. It was clear to him that she still thought she would control the situation. After a few seconds Smith managed to give a small nod and took a step back. She stalked past him. He followed her down the hall to the frosted glass door and waited as she pressed a button on the wall. The lock clicked open, and she stepped into the reception area. He heard her breath hitch.
“Oh no.” Her voice was full of anguish. Before Smith could stop her, she ran toward the mahogany console.
The petite receptionist lay on the carpet behind the desk. Her eyes were open and blood leaked from a bullet hole in her chest.
15
Nolan grabbed at the phone and Smith saw her pound out a number. He bent down next to the body and checked for a pulse. The woman was gone. Nolan still stood behind the desk while she spoke to building security.
“Is she dead?” Nolan said to Smith.
He nodded. “Does this desk have a button that will lock the front doors?”
Nolan pressed a button on the edge of the desk opposite to the one that Smith had used earlier to open the doors behind them, and he heard the entrance deadbolt click home. The desk was ten feet from the doors. Beyond them and extending left was a short hall that opened right into a rectangular area that had elevators on both sides. The killer could be waiting just steps from the door to pick off anyone leaving the offices.