Текст книги "Silencing Eve"

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

CHAPTER

14

Seattle

“THE KING STREET STATION TOWER,” Catherine told Gallo. “Margaret said Kendra’s bet was on that clock tower to be the one where Kevin placed one of his nukes.”

“We’ll check it out and see how we can get inside. Though there’s a good chance it’s being watched. We won’t be able to move on it. The last thing we want is to goad Doane and Harriet into a panic.”

“I’m just hoping that we’ll be able to pull all these strings together at the last minute,” she said wearily. “And praying that we won’t be the one in a panic.”

“Not you, Catherine.”

“Don’t count on it. I checked with Langley about any real estate purchased by Kevin here in Seattle, and they haven’t come up with anything. Of course, he probably buried the paperwork under a dozen names or companies. It will take time.” She paused. “But maybe Venable could get it faster. He has more clout. I may have to go that route.”

“You’ll do what you have to do.” He changed the subject. “Joe and I have been to the Marine Museum, and we’ve been talking to the curator about driftwood. We tapped a lot of technical and historical background, but I doubt if it’s going to prove valuable.”

“I went at it from another angle. Tell me about the museum info.”

“Driftwood is any wood that’s been washed onto a shore or beach of a sea or river by the action of winds, tides, waves, or man. It’s a form of marine debris.”

“Anything about a connection between driftwood and graveyards … tombstone … death?”

“No, actually, it’s usually considered beneficial to life. Driftwood provides shelter and food for birds. Fish and other aquatic species as it floats in the ocean. Gribbles, shipworms, and bacteria decompose the wood and gradually turn it into nutrients that are reintroduced into the food chain. The wood can also become the foundation for sand dunes when it comes ashore. On the surface, nothing sinister, Catherine.”

“Eve saw something sinister. Where does the majority of the driftwood come from?”

“Hard to determine exactly because of wave erosion. Most of the driftwood comes from remains of trees washed into the water by storms, flooding, or other disasters. Other causes are logging, cargoes from ships, buildings, ships themselves. There was one hell of a flood of driftwood that came ashore from the Japanese tsunami.”

Catherine recalled seeing the news stories about the tons of horrible ghostly debris that had washed ashore. She had never thought of those huge boats, tools, and fragments ripped from the farms and seaports of Japan as driftwood. Yet evidently they were. “I don’t think that Kevin’s driftwood was from that disaster. The time frame isn’t right. Is there anything else that you found unusual?”

“I told you, interesting but probably not of value. Let me think … Okay, you’re not supposed to burn driftwood. It produces dioxins which are carcinogenic. Very unhealthy because of the chlorine of the seawater.”

“I didn’t even know there was chlorine in seawater. But burning driftwood isn’t an immediate killer?”

“No.”

“And that’s all?”

“You’ve pumped me dry, Catherine.” He added solemnly, “No, how could I have forgotten. One more thing. According to Norse mythology, the first humans, Ask and Embla, were formed out of two pieces of driftwood, an ash and an elm by the god Odin and his brothers. Do you think it’s of any importance?”

“Very funny.”

“No, but I had to strike a light note. For the most part, the visit was very boring. And I only gave you the highlights. I would have invited you to come along if you hadn’t been tied up. Though I hope not literally.” He paused. “How is Zander?”

“Stubborn.” Her gaze shifted to Zander, across the sitting room. “But I’m working on him. He’s not stupid, he must see I’m right about letting you and Joe help us.”

Zander smiled and silently shook his head.

“Stubborn,” she said again. “As I said, I’ve been doing some research about driftwood, too. I’ve been looking in the local newspapers to find any stories about unusual driftwood or collectors. There were a few articles about artists who use driftwood as a medium of expression.”

“None who created graveyards with it?”

“Not any who gave interviews about doing it. I’ve also been gently nudging Kendra.”

“Gently?”

“I’ve been as gentle as I could,” she said curtly. “I know she’s doing the best she can. I just need it faster.” She swallowed. “I have a feeling that we’re running out of time, Gallo. We’re all working so hard for Eve. But it’s like treading water in a whirlpool. Any minute, she could be pulled down and never come up.”

“Then we’ll tread faster and stronger,” Gallo said. “And you’d better get Zander to do something positive. He’s still the best hope Eve has to survive.” He added. “If the bastard even cares.”

“Oh, he cares.” Catherine met Zander’s gaze. “I know that he does.”

“I’m not that certain,” Gallo said. “If I learn anything more about the driftwood, I’ll call you. Take care of yourself.” He hung up.

“I’m touched by your faith in me,” Zander said with a faint smile. “Though not by your ability to read either my emotional capability or my character. Gallo was much closer in his assessment.”

“Gallo doesn’t know anything about you.”

“Neither do you, lovely Catherine.”

“Enough,” she said. She hoped she was telling the truth. He was an enigma, but perhaps he had given her the tiniest glimpse. “Gallo wants some positive action from you.”

“I heard. I really don’t care what Gallo wants. Though I’m sure that you do.”

“It would be positive if you’d let Gallo and Joe join us here.”

He shook his head.

She gazed at him in frustration. “What are we doing at this damn hotel anyway? We’ve been here for hours. Did you finish your calls?”

“Yes.”

“And you told me that the one person that you contacted hasn’t been able to tell you anything about where Doane might be. Shouldn’t we be out asking more questions, trying more of your contacts?”

“No, one is enough.”

“Then let’s do something.”

“You are doing something. You’re acting as my bodyguard. Isn’t that what you said was going to be your mission?”

“It’s no challenge when we’re holed up in this hotel.” She paused. “You know that Gallo could probably find us if he made the attempt. He was one of the best undercover Special Forces guys either one of us has ever run across.”

“But he won’t make the attempt because it would upset you, and he wants you to trust him. I considered the possibility of his intrusion but discarded it.”

“He may change his mind if Joe gets desperate.”

“You’re the one who is getting desperate. I was detecting a hint of tension while you were speaking to Gallo.”

“More than a hint.”

“Yes.” His smile faded. “And it was justified. Because you’re right. Time is running out, Catherine.” He got to his feet and headed for the door that led to the bedroom. “So I’d advise that you gather all your friends and cohorts who are so earnestly trying to find Eve and make magic happen.” His voice was grim. “Because she’s going to need it.”

*   *   *

“YOU’RE RESTLESS,” Stang said quietly. “That’s unusual for you, Zander. Well, actually not an unusual state, just unusual for you to show it.”

“You regard it as a form of weakness?” Zander asked. “A break in the armor?”

Stang was immediately wary. There was something seething beneath that surface that he didn’t wish to explore. “I didn’t say that. It was just an observation. You know as well as I do that you’re careful not to let anyone see too deeply.” He smiled. “I’ve worked for you for years, and you’re still a mystery to me.”

“But you always said that you liked it like that. You prefer it,” Zander said mockingly. “It’s safer for you not to get involved. Isn’t that right?”

“That’s right.” Stang’s gaze narrowed on Zander’s face. “But you’ve wanted me to be involved since Eve Duncan was taken. I still don’t know why, but here I am. I thought for a while it was that you wanted me to be Eve’s advocate. You’re a hard man, Zander, and you won’t let yourself bend. You might have wanted me to strike a balance and give Eve her chance.”

“Oh, another sign of weakness?”

“No,” he said quietly. “Humanity.”

“An even worse insult. I’m not fond of the human race, Stang.”

“I know.”

“You know too much about me. Perhaps it’s time I rid myself of you.”

“Go ahead. There was always that risk when I came to work for you. But it’s been interesting when I wasn’t terrified of you.” He grimaced. “Which wasn’t very often. Most people are frightened of you, Zander.” He nodded toward the door of the sitting room. “Even Catherine. I think she fights it every moment, but the fear is there. She just doesn’t let it stop her from trying to manipulate you. It’s quite fascinating.” He paused, then asked the question that he’d wanted to ask for days. “Was she frightened of you, Zander?”

Zander didn’t pretend not to understand. “Eve? No, she wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t afraid of me or Doane or anyone in the whole damn world. We sat together in front of that campfire for hours, and there was wariness but no fear. And she’s not afraid now. No matter what he’s done to her, she wouldn’t let fear enter into it.” He stopped, thinking about it. “I’ve always used fear as just another weapon, but lately I’ve not—it’s a weapon that isolates and she wouldn’t let me be isolated.”

“A very special person?”

“You’re acting as her advocate again, Stang.”

“Yes. As you wish me to do.” He tilted his head. “But I’m not sure it’s necessary any longer. Is it?”

“You’ll have to decide that for yourself.” He turned away from the window. “You seem to be doing a lot of that lately.”

“May I ask a question?”

“Why not?”

“What are we doing in this hotel room when you’re restless, foul-tempered, and obviously wanting to strike out?”

“That’s what Catherine asked. However, without the personal insults.”

“Did she get an answer?”

“Not really. But since you ran the risk, I’ll give one to you.” He shrugged. “We’re doing something I totally detest.” He turned back to the window. “Waiting. We’re waiting, Stang.”

Wrigley Field

“THERE’S A BALL GAME GOING ON. The Cubs are playing,” Trevor said as he saw the people streaming into the stadium. “That may mean problems, Margaret.”

“No, it’s better. Crowds are always better. Buy tickets. Enjoy the game.” She turned to Jane. “Look, you and Trevor meet me at the car in the parking lot in two hours.” She grinned. “Or if you hear a ruckus, you come running and keep them from throwing me into jail. Okay?”

“What?” Jane was frowning. “No, it’s not okay. I’m going with you.” She looked at the huge clock on the scoreboard. “Though how the hell are we supposed to get inside?”

“I’m going to look for the maintenance man and have him take me. Did you think I was going to climb it and break in?”

“Maybe,” Trevor said. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Forget it,” Margaret said. “It’s easier to rely on persuasion than force.” She turned to Jane. “And it will also be easier for me if you aren’t with me. You’re beautiful. You attract attention. I need to lull, not stir.”

“How will you get maintenance to let you up there?” Trevor asked.

“Most people can be handled. I’ll make up a story. I’m good at that.”

“I’m sure you are,” he murmured.

“So take her away.” Margaret waved a hand at the ticket booths. “And buy her a hot dog. She didn’t eat much breakfast.” She started to turn away. “I’ll see you in two hours.”

“Margaret, dammit,” Jane said in frustration. “Let me go.”

“No, this is my job,” Margaret said quietly. “It’s what I do. You’d be in the way.” She moved quickly away and slipped into the crowd. She didn’t look back. She knew what she would see. Jane worried and frustrated and Trevor, a rock, guarding her from every danger. What would it be like to have someone care that much about you, she wondered. She would probably never know. It was the Janes of the world who attracted love and romance and all that other stuff. They were like lightning rods.

Margaret chuckled. But she attracted a few lightning bolts of her own every now and then. But her strikes were confined to dogs and wolves and sundry other creatures. And now she had to explore the minds of the wild rats running around this stadium.

She sighed as she moved toward the tall security guard standing near the refreshment stand to ask where she could find the maintenance chief. She was not looking forward to dealing with rats. She would have preferred a dog or a cat, but you had to take what was available in the animal world. There might be a feral cat, but a rat was far more likely.

Worry about that later. Now her main concern was getting into that scoreboard clock. Take the first step and go from there. And the first step was this security guard, who was smiling politely at her. Change that politeness to sympathy or empathy.

“Hi.” She beamed at the security guard, carefully noting his name on his badge. “I wonder if you could help me, Officer Warren? I’m Margaret Simpson, and my daddy is head of maintenance at Busch Stadium in St. Louis. Well, actually, he was head of it, but he was laid off a few weeks ago. I thought I’d talk to the maintenance head here and get an application for him to fill out. Daddy’s always been so impressed with what a great team you all have up here in Chicago.” She gazed up at him pleadingly. “Do you suppose that would be possible, sir?”

*   *   *

“YOU CAN’T STAY HERE very long,” Tom Foster, the maintenance engineer, said testily as he frowned at Margaret. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into bringing you up here. I’m a busy man, and I don’t have time for this.”

“You brought me here because you’re a kind man, and you know that we all have to help each other,” she said quietly. “I can’t tell you how grateful my daddy will be that you took your valuable time and gave me that application. Even if you all can’t find it in your heart to give him a job, I’ll tell him how nice you were to me. He’s always wanted to see the workings behind this scoreboard. Wrigley is a part of history.” She held up her iPhone. “I’ll just take a few pictures and make a few notes to take home to him. Will that be okay, Mr. Foster?”

“I guess it will have to be,” he said sourly. “We’re up here now.”

“Don’t let me get in your way. I’m sure you have things you have to check,” Margaret said as she curled up on the floor beside a huge metal support beam. The area was cramped in this old, iconic scoreboard. “I’ll just stay here and make my notes.”

He gazed at her uncertainly, then muttered something beneath his breath as he turned and walked away.

She’d probably have fifteen or twenty minutes tops, she thought. Foster impressed her as being hardworking and conscientious, and he wouldn’t waste the opportunity to accomplish his work now that he was here. He’d been hard to convince to bring her up to the scoreboard clock, but he’d finally relented.

She closed her eyes, shutting out the sounds of the crowd and the announcer, the clicks of the scoreboard …

Open your mind.

Life. There was always so much life surrounding you if you let it into your consciousness.

Pigeons. Lots of pigeons.

Nothing there.

A feral cat. Maybe …

No, he was young and more accustomed to haunting the downtown restaurants than the stadium. A visitor, not a regular.

A raccoon? Unusual.

She spent five minutes on him before she gave up. Intense but not a decent memory.

Okay, the rats.

And she didn’t have much time. She’d have to throw open her mind and do a general scan. Not pleasant. With rats, it was like having your brain devoured.

She drew a deep breath and tried to armor herself.

Then she opened her mind.

And was swept away by impressions.

Darkness.

Hunger.

Yellow teeth gnawing, biting. Some short, some long. Try to isolate the rats with the long teeth. They would be the oldest. Rat’s teeth continued to grow until the day they died.

Savage, hunting, scavenging.

Where?

Dark hallways, a hole near the scoreboard. Across the field and behind the kitchens of the refreshment stands.

Where else?

By the river, plastic, death. But not any longer.

Why?

Doesn’t matter. Only the cold. Only the cold …

Running.

Clock.

Wires. Eat the wires.

Run.

Eat.

Eat …

*   *   *

“YOU’RE PALE,” TREVOR SAID as Margaret strolled across the parking lot toward their rental car. “Something go wrong?”

“Nah, I guess I’m a little tired.” Margaret jumped into the backseat. “Was it a good game? Did the Cubs win?”

“We wouldn’t know,” Jane said. “Do you really think that we’d be able to concentrate on a ball game? Not likely, Margaret.”

“Did Caleb call? Anything on Harriet?”

“She went back to the hotel after she left the bank. No other calls or visitors,” Trevor said as he started the car. “And why are you asking questions instead of answering them?”

“I’m trying to get my head together.” She shrugged. “I’m a little … scattered. I feel…” She tried to find the right word. “Chewed.”

“Pleasant,” Trevor said.

“No, it wasn’t. Believe me, it wasn’t.” She was silent a moment. “But it was productive. At least, I think it was.” She added. “The nuke is not in that field scoreboard and clock or anywhere around it. I didn’t think it could be when I saw the interior, but there’s always a possibility. But the rats know that scoreboard and surrounding areas inside and out, and they’re not familiar with anyplace that could house a device.”

Trevor’s brows lifted. “They told you so?”

“Trevor,” Jane said. “She’s having enough trouble with this.”

Margaret smiled. “Thanks. I don’t like rats much. I have a hard time dealing with them. They … drain me.”

“And it was all for nothing?”

“I didn’t say that. I said the nuke wasn’t at Wrigley Field.” She paused. “But there’s a good chance it might be at the other clock tower.”

Jane stiffened. “What?”

“There are a couple of the older rats that evidently commute back and forth between the baseball field and the other clock tower. The pickings are richer here during the summer and fall. But when the stadium closes up, and it gets cold, the office complex is the place of choice for the winter.”

“So?”

“There’s a death memory in the lower level, near the river. Several rats were killed when they tried to gnaw through the wires surrounding a box that had been slid into a cavity in the walls.”

“How long ago?”

She shook her head. “I only get impressions. It’s lucky there’s a memory at all. But rats don’t necessarily always learn from their mistakes. Those old rats keep going back when they’re hungry. There’s plastic that they gnaw at … and some kind of circular-tube-type gadget.”

“If they ate the wires, maybe they actually disconnected the bomb,” Jane said.

“Or if they were outside the box, maybe the wires were meant to be an alarm system,” Trevor said. “That seems more likely. Kevin would have wanted to protect his treasure. Could you tell what else was in the room, Margaret?”

“No.” She thought about it. “But the circular tube had a WR—and the rest has been eaten. The only reason that made any impression on them was that it was on the wall.”

“They’re into wall art?” Trevor asked.

Margaret gave him a disgusted glance. “No, haven’t you noticed that you seldom see a rat in the middle of the room? That’s because they have terrible vision, and they feel uneasy unless they can hug the wall.”

“It never occurred to me,” Jane said. “But the nuke device is tucked away in the wall, and, therefore, it’s rat fodder?”

“It’s possible. I guess it could be some other box that’s been hidden there,” Margaret said. “But no one goes to that room. It’s deserted whenever the rats decide to raid.”

“Then it’s worth a shot,” Trevor murmured. “Let’s get back to the hotel and get a schematic of the Wrigley building and see if we can figure out where that room is located.” He smiled at Margaret. “Of course, we could send you back and have the rat third degree continue.”

“No, you couldn’t,” Margaret said flatly. “I’m done. It’s up to you now.” She leaned back on the seat. “Take me back to the hotel. I need a hot shower and a long nap.” She closed her eyes. “Then I’ll be fine. Too many rats … I just have to get away from them…”

*   *   *

“HERE’S THE WRIGLEY floor plan.” Caleb turned his iPad around on the room-service table. “It’s a damn big building.”

“We only want the lower floors.” Margaret was scanning the floor plan. “And probably an area that’s not usually frequented. Kevin wouldn’t have wanted to risk stashing the device somewhere that it would have been easily discovered.”

“And how do we find a room where no one would generally go?” Jane grimaced. “Particularly in a high-rental place like that building. It’s not reasonable that any space would be wasted.”

“And we could spend all evening going over this map and still not be sure.” Trevor was gazing down at the computer. “But there’s one way we’d know for sure.” He jabbed his finger at a cubicle on the plan. “Security.”

“What?” Jane frowned. “Security’s not even on the lower level.”

“No, but their motion cameras are focused down there. They’d be all over the building.” Caleb nodded. “And if we could get our hands on a set of the security tapes, we’d be able to run them and find the type of area that we’re looking for. If there’s no motion activity, then there’s a good chance that we’re close.”

“And how are we to do that?” Jane asked.

Caleb exchanged glances with Trevor. “Distraction, then a discreet snatch. I can provide the distraction. In fact, such a good distraction that they won’t even suspect that you were the one who made off with the tapes.”

“So I’m the one who runs the risk of the snatch,” Trevor said dryly. “And I have to rely on you to make sure that I don’t get arrested.”

“No,” Jane said. “We’ll think of something else, Trevor.”

“No, it’s a good plan.” He smiled at Caleb. “He knew that’s where I was headed when I mentioned security. And I even trust him to make an excellent distraction. It would be too obvious for him to do anything else.”

“What kind of distraction?” Jane asked warily.

“One of the security guards will start worrying about the possibility that he’s having a heart attack.” Caleb held up his hand. “Not pain, I promise. Just a rapid beat. It will end when he’s on his way up to the medical center. The other guard will probably stay with him until he’s at the facility. If he’s not, I’ll have to think of something else.” Caleb turned to Trevor. “I lure the guard away, and you get the tapes. And there would be no immediate discovery of anything wrong. You don’t have to access anything recent. You can go back to past-date files and get a day that’s already been filed away. That would be fine for our purpose.”

“I don’t like it,” Jane said flatly.

“You’d like it less if Harriet flew the coop, and we didn’t know where that nuke was located,” Trevor said. “We may have to move fast, and knowledge is power.”

He was right, Jane thought reluctantly. Harriet was on the move now, and all she was waiting for was Doane to tell her that he had Zander. Time was the enemy.

And time was running out.

Running out for Eve and for all those other innocent people whose lives would be taken if they took a wrong step.

The enormity of that responsibility was suddenly there before Jane.

Dear God, what right did they have to make that choice?

She felt the muscles of her stomach clench. They had been sitting here making plans, ignoring the fact that the situation had changed. Ignoring the fact that they had no idea what Harriet had given to Cartland when she went into the bank. They were working blind, and if there was any possibility that she’d shared information with him about the location of the detonator, it could change everything. She looked at Margaret. “We can’t even be sure that nuke is in that building, can we? It’s all guesswork.”

Margaret nodded. “I never said anything else. I could be wrong.”

And the consequences of guessing wrong were catastrophic. Jane had been struggling desperately to try to fight the battle alone for Eve’s sake. Now she knew she couldn’t take a chance even though it was tearing her apart. God, she felt sick. “We have to bring Venable into it. We don’t have the right to do anything else.”

Trevor reached over and covered her hand on the table. “I was wondering when you’d make that decision,” he said quietly. “I could see it coming.”

“I couldn’t,” she said. “Even Catherine doesn’t trust Venable to put Eve first.” She moistened her lips. “But Eve wouldn’t want us to run that kind of massive risk for her sake. We have to tell Venable what we’ve found out about Harriet.” Her hand clenched around Trevor’s. “Damn, I don’t want to do it.”

“So we don’t go after the security tapes?” Caleb asked.

Jane tried to think. “If we call Venable now, and he sends in a team to locate that nuke, then it could ruin any chance of our being able to track Harriet. If she hears about it, she might panic, and that’s the last thing we want.”

“We could verify it’s there,” Caleb suggested. “It will only take a couple hours to get those tapes. Then we could use the location as a bargaining chip with Venable to try to control his actions.”

“He’s not easily controlled,” Jane said. But any way to force Venable to listen to their suggestions to use caution would be valuable. “Okay, we’ll get the tapes, go through them, then call Venable.” She looked at Trevor. “And I’ll go with you to get them.”

Both men instantly shook their heads.

“I’m tired of this. Don’t tell me no,” Jane said. “I won’t stay here and send you out to do my job. That’s happened too often.” She gazed at Trevor. “I’m not going to get in the way. I won’t step in unless I see that you’re in trouble.” She made a face. “You keep saying that it’s your job to act as some kind of guardian for me. I don’t agree with you. But if that’s what you believe, then it should go two ways.”

He shook his head.

“Yes,” she said firmly. “I’ll be your getaway driver or something. I’m going to be with you, Trevor.”

He sighed, then slowly nodded. He glanced at the two machines on the table across the room. “Someone has to monitor those machines.”

“Margaret can do that,” Jane said. “And the only thing we’ve heard from Harriet this evening was her ordering room service.” She looked at Margaret. “Will you do it?”

“Of course,” Margaret said. “Though being a getaway driver would probably be much more interesting. On the other hand, I’ve no desire to chance running into any rats. I’ve had enough of them for today. Besides, I need to call Kendra. She needs to work on figuring out where Kevin and Harriet would have hidden the detonator and what kind of code would set it off. Not that she doesn’t have enough to do. When do you leave?”

“It’s seven now,” Trevor said. “Another hour.” He got to his feet and held out his hand to Jane. “Let’s go to our room. I want to be with you.”

He was not smiling. His expression was curiously grave.

“Trevor?”

Then he smiled. “Stop worrying. I just realized that I’m not going to be able to have my way with you all the time. I don’t like that bit about taking care sometimes going two ways. I want it all.”

“Tough.” She slipped her hand into his grasp as she rose to her feet. She wanted to be alone with him, too. She wanted to hold him. She felt heavy and sad and desperately worried that she was making a terrible mistake that could be fatal for Eve.

And that moment of gravity of Trevor’s had shaken her a little. She’d had the strange feeling that there was something … frightening beneath that flip answer. “But we have an hour for me to show you the error of your thinking.” She didn’t look at either Margaret or Caleb as she and Trevor headed for the door. “Call us if there’s anything we should know, Margaret.”

“Oh, we will,” Caleb said. “Count on it.”

10:05 P.M.

“IT’S ABOUT TIME YOU CALLED ME, Cartland,” Harriet said curtly. “You said it would only take five or six hours to find MacGuire. I’ve been waiting and I—”

“Be quiet, Harriet,” Cartland said. “I’m not talking to you until you come down to the lobby, and we’re face-to-face.”

She stiffened. “What do you mean? Are you giving me orders?”

“I’m trying to keep you from making a fool of yourself,” he said roughly. “But it’s probably too late. Meet me downstairs in the lobby in ten minutes, and we’ll take a walk.”

“The hell we will. I really would be a fool to go anywhere with you.”

“Meet me in the lobby,” he repeated.

“Why are you—”

But Cartland had hung up.

Harriet felt a mixture of impatience, anger, and panic as she hung up the phone.

How dare he call her a fool? Kevin was right to have broken with Cartland.

She drew a deep breath.

Think, don’t feel. That’s what she’d always told Kevin.

Calm down.

In spite of her precautions, Cartland could be trying to lure her out of the hotel to be taken by his men. They wouldn’t like the idea of a woman’s being in control of the operation.

Or it could be something else.

I won’t talk to you until we’re face-to-face.

She looked down at her phone.

Had she been the fool Cartland had called her?

It could be either one.

She had to know.

She got to her feet and grabbed her handbag. Leave the detonator in the suite or take it with her? If she left it, Cartland’s men might break in and steal it. She would rather trust herself to protect it. She checked her gun, then put it in her handbag beside the detonator.

Now she was prepared to face the bastard and any tricks he might be planning.

She almost hoped Cartland was trying to pull a fast one.

The alternative was humiliating and unacceptable.