Текст книги "26 - Storm Cycle "

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

SEVEN

"Good Lord, this place is busy." Rachel's gaze wandered over the huge station, teeming with people. They had just gotten off the high-speed train at Gare du Nord, and Tavak had his hand beneath her elbow, urging her forward and keeping her with him as they tried to negotiate their way through the crowds.

"It should be busy. It's the third largest station in the world."

"Now, where the hell is your bank? Should I be—What are you looking at?"

Tavak was staring over his shoulder at the passengers getting off the train. "Nothing. At least, I hope it's nothing." He quickened his pace. "Let's get moving."

"We're practically running now."

"So we are." He slowed a little. "As much as we can in this mob. You're right, it's damn crowded here. I don't like people this close."

"Claustrophobic?"

"No." He was glancing over his shoulder again. "Wary." He was suddenly guiding her toward a row of shops and food stands. "It's right ahead. Keep moving."

"What's right ahead? I don't see anything resembling a bank."

"We're right on top of it." He'd stopped at a colorful booth selling magazines and newspapers and spoke to the tall, thin man behind the counter. "Bonjour, Raoul. How's business?"

"Well enough." The man Tavak had addressed as Raoul gave him a toothy smile. "It's a slow time. Weekdays are better."

"It doesn't seem slow to me." Tavak gestured to Rachel. "Raoul Joubert. Rachel Kirby."

Raoul nodded. "Delighted." His gaze shifted back to Tavak. "Have you come to make a withdrawal?"

"Yes."

"Good." He made a face. "You pay well, but holding your merchandise always makes me uneasy."

"It shouldn't. It's nothing illegal. Not even weapons this time."

"Maybe it's you who make me uneasy." He lifted the wooden gate. "Come and take it off my hands."

Tavak glanced at Rachel. "Wait here."

"I'm not going anywhere." She watched him go behind the gate, squat down, and move a pile of magazines. "This is your bank?"

"Why not?" He had opened a trapdoor to reveal a lockbox with a combination. "I trust Raoul. He's been my banker for the past twelve years." He quickly punched the buttons that opened the box. "And my deposits always stay where I leave them." He drew out a gray plastic bag and shut the lockbox. "Come on. It's past time to get out of here." He stood up and turned to Raoul. "Thanks. I'll be in touch."

"Yes," Raoul said absently, his gaze on the crowd. "You do know there is someone following you?"

"Medium height. Brown hair. Black jacket, gray pants." Tavak lifted the gate. "He came on the same train from the airport. I also saw him at Customs. He was probably on the same plane we took from Cairo."

"Be careful," Raoul murmured. "And stay away from me for at least six months. I wish to be careful, too."

Rachel's gaze had flown to the spot where Raoul was looking, but she was too late to catch anything but a fleeting glimpse as the man faded into the crowd. "You didn't tell me we were being followed."

"I wasn't sure for a little while." He grabbed her arm. "I'm sure now. We need to get you out of here."

"The train back to the airport?"

"No." He was heading in the opposite direction and moving in and out of the crowds with snakelike speed. "The street."

"Why?" She was running to keep up with him. "You said the train—"

"I want out of these crowds. Anyone could slip a knife between my ribs, and no one around me would know it."

"You think he wants to kill us?"

"Not us. I'm the target. But I don't want you getting in his way. I think we've lost him for the moment, but he'll see us as soon as we climb the stairs to the street." He was pulling her up those stairs now. "He could either have orders to steal the hard drive or to take me out." He opened the door and glanced outside before pushing her out on the walk. "Don't wait in that queue to get a taxi." He put the bag containing the hard drive in her hands. "Hurry. Go at least two blocks. Catch a taxi from there to the airport hotel. I'll meet you later."

"You'll meet me? Come with me now."

He shook his head. "I'll play the decoy and go back and draw him away. Get going."

"You're overreacting. Maybe he's not following us."

"I'm not overreacting. Move."

"The hell I will."

"Don't argue." He turned and headed back toward the door to the station. "Get out of here now."

She still hesitated.

He glanced back over his shoulder, and she stiffened with shock at his expression of cold ferocity. "Listen. Dawson's man doesn't want the hard drive," he said softly. "I doubt if anyone even knows there's a copy. That would only be a bonus. He wants me." He opened the door. "So he's going to get me. I'm tired of running from Dawson and his slimeballs. Let them see what happens when I decide to stop."

Rachel stood frozen for a moment staring after him. She had never seen that deadly side of John Tavak. There had been a savage recklessness that had sent a chill through her.

Get out of here.

Yes, move. Get away from here. Let Tavak go on the hunt if that was what he wanted. He could have come with her and been safe, but he had chosen to walk the tightrope of violence that he had chosen when he had walked out of the think tanks and into the real world. It mustn't matter to her. She had the hard drive in her hands, and she had to keep it secure.

Secure for Allie.

She turned and strode quickly down the street and away from the station.

* * *

Tavak paused before going down the steps, his gaze searching the crowds below.

There he was, plowing his way toward the door through the mob of people. But when he caught sight of Tavak, he stopped by a booth and pretended to look at umbrellas.

The game was starting.

Tavak felt a familiar rush of adrenaline.

Come on, let's move it, bastard. Come and get me.

Who are you? He didn't recognize him as any of the men in Kontar's tomb. It would be better if he knew who he was dealing with.

He reached for his phone and shot a quick photo before he started slowly down the stairs. He punched in a number and Ben answered before Tavak even knew it was ringing.

"It's Tavak. Is your laptop on?"

"No 'Hi, how are you feeling?' "

"No time. I just e-mailed you a picture. Compare it with the file of Dawson's known associates that I gave you to research. You still have it, don't you?"

"Sure, what have you gotten yourself into?"

He started striding quickly through the crowds. "Just look, will you?"

"I already am. I see your photo. Oh, kind of a scary-looking son of a bitch, isn't he?"

"He's about twenty feet behind me now."

"I guess that's why you're in a hurry."

"Are you opening the Dawson file?"

"As we speak. I'm scrolling through it now. Not all of these names have photos attached, though. I'm still looking… You didn't send me the best photo, you know."

"Maybe I can ask him to strike a pose. He's about ten feet closer now."

"Okay. Okay. I think I've found him. David Medelin. Dawson picked him up in Croatia. He's good with firearms, but his specialty is knives. He was detained in London Heathrow for trying to board a plane with a ceramic blade in his boot. Need anything else?"

Knives. Okay, Medelin. The rules of the game are set. "No, thanks."

"What are you going to do?"

"Take care of it." Tavak cut the connection. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Medelin had dropped back a few yards.

Tavak glanced at the electronic schedule board that hung over the terminal's large atrium. A Thalya train from Amsterdam had arrived a few minutes before and was probably still on platform eight. That would fit the bill.

He made his way down the stairs that would take him to the open-air platform. A silver-and-red TGV high-speed train was waiting. Perfect.

Tavak walked the length of the train, glancing through the long windows and noting that a cleaning crew was aboard. The first and last cars were power cars, with sleek, angled heads that reminded him of a snake. The door of the last car was propped open.

Come on, Medelin. Your coach is waiting.

Tavak stepped inside the train and surveyed the interior, which was similar to an airline cockpit with its two bucket seats situated before an instrument panel and a large window.

You like knives, Medelin? Too boring. I kind of like the idea of using the train itself.

He picked up a metal clipboard and used it to pry open a door behind the seats. He shimmied through the narrow engineering section and stopped.

He heard something.

Medelin had entered the car.

Tavak slid into a recessed area between engineering panels.

Medelin's footsteps echoed in the forward compartment, then moved into the engineering section. Silence. The man had stopped, probably gauging his next step.

Then there was a deep breath, a rustle of fabric, and a tentative step forward.

Tavak couldn't see him yet. Okay, picture him. If Medelin was holding a blade, it was probably level with his waist. Men typically held handguns closer to their chests.

He was betting on the blade. Thanks, Ben.

Now!

Tavak lunged out of the recess, grabbed Medelin's wrist, and struck the back of his hand hard against the metal panel. A brown ceramic knife flew from his hand and stuck upright in the tiled floor.

Tavak threw open a door labeled TRANSFORMATEUR and jammed Medelin's head against the mechanism. With one hand around the man's throat, Tavak reached up and placed his thumb on a red button. "Twenty-five thousand volts, friend. Don't move."

Medelin froze. "You're crazy. You'll fry us both."

"No, I won't. I'll shove you deep into that transformer the same time I push the button. The electricity will come off those lines outside, down the pantograph, and into your body. Trust me, I know a thing or two about trains. I've been in and out of this station for years, and my friend, Raoul, is very proud of all these supertrains. Now let's talk. Why are you following me, Medelin?"

"I wasn't following you."

Tavak's hand moved closer to the red button.

"Okay," Medelin said. "I was paid to do it."

Why was he even bothering to ask these questions? Tavak thought impatiently. He knew the answers. It wasn't going to change anything.

It was because he had this stupid horror of making mistakes. He always had to be sure. "Dawson?"

"Since you know my name, I'm sure you already know that. I'm not here to hurt you."

"No?"

"He just wants to know where you're going."

"I'm sure he does. But what happens when I—Shit!"

Medelin had snapped a blade from his wrist and stabbed Tavak in his right side. When Tavak's grip loosened, Medelin pulled away from the transformer.

Tavak shoved him back and grabbed the arm with the blade.

Medelin's lips were curled back in an ugly sneer. "Why, you're bleeding, Mr. Tavak."

Tavak twisted Medelin's wrist and buried the blade in the man's stomach.

"Why, so are you, Mr. Medelin."

He pressed the red button.

* * *

It has been over three hours, Rachel thought. Where the hell is Tavak?

Maybe he wasn't coming. Maybe that bizarre episode at the train station was just a trick to cover Tavak's attempt to disappear. After all, Rachel hadn't checked out that hard drive. She'd probably been stupid to trust what Tavak had said was really on it. Here she'd been sitting worrying about the son of a bitch, and he could be playing her for a fool.

But the expression on Tavak's face when he'd gone back into that station had not been an act for her benefit. It had shocked her and brought home what kind of man she was dealing with. She should take the hard drive and run.

And she should certainly not be worrying that Tavak might be hurt or–

A knock on her door. "Tavak."

She was across the room in seconds and throwing it open. "You could have called me. Where have you—"

"Do you mind if I come in?" Tavak didn't wait for an answer. He entered the room and shut the door. "I need a little help." He shrugged out of the leather jacket. "I stopped at a pharmacy and picked up a first-aid kit, but it will be quicker if someone else does the bandage."

"First-aid kit. What—" She stopped as she saw that the right side of his chambray shirt was soaked with blood. "My God."

"It looks worse than it is. Flesh wound in the side." He handed her the plastic bag. "Please."

She gazed at him, stunned. "What kind of wound?"

"Knife."

"You should go to a doctor. Report it to the police."

"No. And no. Too many complications." He sat down in the chair at the desk. "Will you do it or shall I?"

Rachel didn't move for a moment, but then she opened the bag and took out the first-aid kit. "I'll do it." She turned and went into the bathroom and got a clean cloth and water. "What kind of complications?"

"Delays. Explanations." He took off his shirt. "See? Not too bad."

A jagged, bloody, three-inch laceration. "Not too good." She washed the blood away. "This didn't have to happen. You should have come with me."

He didn't answer.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"I took care of business."

"That's all? This is business?"

"It was Medelin's business." He gazed into her eyes. "His name was David Medelin, and he was a vicious son of a bitch. And that knife wasn't meant to just wound, Rachel."

She put tape to hold the wound together. "His name was David Medelin?"

"I don't make mistakes. There won't be repercussions. It's over. Past history."

"What did you do to him?"

"What I said I'd do. I stopped running and let him catch up with me."

"That's no answer."

"It's all you'll get from me." He smiled faintly. "Admit it, that's all you really want. I'm making you a little uncomfortable. I told you that we all had our inner secrets, and you just uncovered one of mine."

She placed the large bandage over the wound. "You liked it. You wanted to go after him."

"Yes."

"And you're probably as violent as he was."

"It appears I'm more."

"And you're a damn adrenaline junkie."

"Yes, among other things." He put on his shirt. "We're all many things, aren't we, Rachel?" He stood up. "For instance, you're deeply emotional and yet tough as nails. I'd bet you were probably torn between worrying about me and wondering if I'd set you up to run out on you. Did you try to check the hard drive?"

God, he was sharp. She wouldn't deny it. In this situation, suspicion was intelligent. "Not yet. It would have been my next move if you hadn't gotten here when you did."

He smiled. "You would have found I hadn't lied to you. Not about the hard drive and not about that bastard who stuck his dagger in me. You can keep the hard drive and take a look at it, if you like."

And in some cases suspicion was not intelligent. "No, that would waste time. I want you to start working on it right away."

He nodded. "Tonight. I should be able to make some progress by the time we get on that plane in the morning."

"Are you sure that I'm not going to be arrested for fleeing the scene of a crime?"

"Crime? What crime? I told you that I don't make mistakes."

"You made one at that hotel in Cairo and nearly got us blown up."

He chuckled. "Well, I don't make them often." He took the hard drive from the desk and headed for the door. "I'm two doors down if you need me. I promise I won't run out on you."

"No? I'm not going to sleep well tonight."

"That's your problem. I'm going to have problems enough of my own with your alter ego, Jonesy, tonight. I'm going to try to siphon off some cycles to help me out."

She shook her head. "And now I know I won't sleep at all."

* * *

The next morning Rachel and Tavak boarded the Delta flight for Los Angeles, with connections to Las Vegas.

"We're not sitting together?" Tavak asked as they walked down the first-class aisle. "I was looking forward to togetherness."

"And I'm looking forward to your finishing the work on that program on the external drive that you started last night. Besides, I have work to finish myself, and I don't want to be distracted."

"I got a lot accomplished last night. Jonesy was very cooperative… and generous."

She flinched. "Then it's a good thing that I'm going to Las Vegas and replenish those cycles you took. You'll probably get even more done on this long flight." She frowned. "Why are you arguing about a seat?"

"I want to watch you work."

"What?"

"Your work is your passion. I'm curious about the intensity you bring to it. I always find that aspect of a person interesting."

"Well then, you'll have to contain your curiosity." She sat down in her seat and unzipped her computer case. "Or observe me from a distance. Your seat is on the other side and two rows back."

Tavak nodded and moved toward his seat. "I'll see you in Los Angeles." He settled, opened his computer, and set up the external hard drive also on the tray. Then he leaned back, his gaze on Rachel across the aisle.

She had already forgotten him and was absorbed in the screen in front of her. Occasionally, he'd see a flicker of expression, a flare of excitement or annoyance. He supposed he should start his own work, but it was well on the way to completion. He had a little time to watch Rachel and enjoy the play of expressions, even try to predict them, as he learned this crucial part of her.

It was an opportunity he hadn't been able to explore before. When they were together, he was too aware of other aspects that made Rachel who she was. When he'd done his research on her, he hadn't thought sheer physical attraction would get in the way. Wrong. Almost from the first he'd had a megasexual response whenever he looked at her. Now for a little while he could distance himself from her and just appreciate the qualities that had led him to her in the beginning.

Work, Rachel, let that fine brain shine. I'll study you, and by the time we reach L.A., you'll have given up one of your most important secrets to me.

FEDERAL BUILDING

HOUSTON, TEXAS

"Mr. Norton!" Detective Finley yelled across the plaza as lunchtime office workers poured from the twenty-two-story building on Smith Street.

Wayne Norton didn't break stride at the sight of Detectives Finley and Gonzalez moving toward him. "Sorry, I'm in a hurry. Call my office."

Finley reached into his breast pocket and flashed his police badge as he and Gonzalez stepped in front of Norton, blocking his path.

"We have called your office," Gonzalez said. "Several times. You're a difficult man to reach."

"I told you I was in a hurry," Norton said coldly.

Finley nodded. "Good. So are we. Let's get this over with fast. We're investigating the Rachel Kirby shooting."

"And?"

"If we can just have a moment of your time."

Norton stared at them for a moment and shrugged. "I'm always willing to cooperate, but I'm really not sure what help I can be."

"We're looking at all of the projects that Rachel Kirby's computer network was involved with. Yours is probably the most interesting."

"I'd say it's the least interesting."

"Why do you say that?"

Norton smiled. "Ninety-nine percent of what the NSA does is sift information. Receipts, tax returns, various forms of boring communication… "

"E-mail? Private telephone conversations?" Gonzalez asked.

"I can't discuss that, but we do nothing illegal. One way to keep this country safe is to analyze the information flying around. We caught a terrorist last year only because he was picked up on a DUI in Phoenix. Our computers logged the arrest and matched it to a raft of suspicious activities. If we had been a few minutes slower, he would have posted bail and been on his way. And the Golden Gate Bridge might not be standing today."

"I heard about that," Finley said. "But what specifically are you using Rachel Kirby's network for?"

"It's not one thing. Or even five or a hundred things. It's bits and pieces of everything. It's no secret that the NSA already has a massive computer system. But the amount of information available to us is increasing exponentially—I'm talking traffic cams, newsgroup postings, you name it. We're struggling to keep up. We invest in systems like Ms. Kirby's to help shoulder some of the load while we get our internal systems up to speed."

Finley nodded. "Is there anything in your projects that might make Ms. Kirby a target?"

"Absolutely not."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." He paused. "Why are you being so per sis tent, Detective?"

"It's suddenly become apparent that we're dealing with a very sophisticated attacker. Our shooter managed to squeeze off a shot in the middle of a busy college campus and get away without anyone seeing him. Plus, he managed to cover his tracks by erasing data only from the cameras that might have caught him."

"What?"

"That's not the kind of thing that just any nutjob campus shooter could pull off. Seems like a pretty sophisticated trick. Are you sure you can't help us?"

"No. Sorry. Are we finished?"

"For now. Have a nice day, Mr. Norton. We'll be in touch."

Norton walked out of the plaza.

Gonzalez turned to Finley. "Why did you tell him about the camera feeds?"

"I had a hunch. I wanted to see his reaction."

"There wasn't much of a reaction. He's a stoneface."

"There was enough," Finley murmured, his gaze on Norton's retreating figure. "Yes, there was enough."

* * *

Tavak and Rachel Kirby boarded a flight for Las Vegas this morning," Sorens told Dawson when he answered the phone.

"They picked up a package at a train station last night, but Medelin didn't know what was in it."

"Tell him to find out."

"I can't do that." Sorens paused. "I haven't heard from Medelin since he called me from Gare du Nord station last night. I haven't been able to reach him. I flew to Paris myself to keep an eye on Tavak."

Dawson muttered a curse. "I thought you said Medelin was good."

"He is good. You said you wanted Tavak dead. Medelin probably tried to obey orders. Tavak is no pushover."

No, Dawson had seen Tavak in action, and he was a lethal son of a bitch.

"Do you want me to stay here?" Sorens asked.

"Why would you stay there? Get a flight to Las Vegas. Someone has to keep an eye on Tavak."

"Right. I just thought—"

"Don't think. Obey orders. I have to go to Kentucky myself."

"Mills?"

"He wants to see me." And Mills had issued a royal command to come to Mills Pharmaceutical, and the bastard expected him to jump. "Keep me informed." He hung up.

LAS VEGAS MCCARRAN AIRPORT

LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

"So what's your plan?" Tavak asked, as he and Rachel sidestepped a group of tourists at the airline terminal. "Or am I permitted to ask? You've noticed I've contained my curiosity with admirable restraint."

She shrugged. "Same as it's always been. To get Demanski to give up a major chunk of his company's computing power willingly. The NSA is going to start pressuring me soon to be back up to full capacity, and I'm not taking cycles away from any of my research projects."

"And you're working all out to be able to do a little pressuring yourself. Fascinating."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

"Oh, I am. What I want to know is how are you going to get Demanski to give you access to his system? I've heard he's not exactly a charitable man."

"You're right. But he can be, if he knows his generosity will benefit him directly."

"But unless you've become an elected official since we left Paris, you're not in a position to grant him gaming licenses or tax breaks."

"I'll give him something better."

"Like what?"

Rachel didn't answer as they walked past a row of jangling slot machines.

"No answer?"

"This has nothing to do with that tablet. You're on a need-to-know basis right now."

"What if I suddenly decided to put you on a need-to-know basis? Now that we're back in the United States, what if I just walked away?"

His tone was mocking, but there was also curiosity in his expression. She had become aware that both that mockery and curiosity were dominant characteristics. He was always going one step further to see how she would react. "That wouldn't be smart. The only reason you're a free man right now is that I provided the NSA data analysts with info they needed to know you weren't cracking into their classified files. If I hadn't, you'd either still be in an interrogation room in Egypt or in a federal penitentiary."

"Go on. I like it when you show your teeth. It's one of the most interesting sides to you, Rachel."

"You want teeth? Just know that it would take me about ten minutes to write a few lines of code that would convince the NSA that you were fishing for classified information relating to their counterterrorism activities."

He studied her expression. "You'd do it."

"I have to keep you close. You'd find it difficult to get anywhere with that kind of heat on you."

Tavak shook his head. "My, my. You're one tough customer. Okay, I'll let you keep me as close as you want. I guess I need to stay on your good side."

"Join the club." Simon smiled as he approached them and extended his hand. "I'm Simon Monteith. You're the famous John Tavak?"

Tavak shook his hand. "I try very hard not to be famous."

"So I've learned from reading your dossier. You've failed miserably."

Rachel motioned for them to keep walking. "Did you round up our team, Simon?"

"Yes. I have six of the university's best and brightest students holed up in a suite at Bally's."

"How much did you have to tell them?"

"Surprisingly little. When I told them it was a special project of yours, they were all pretty much on board. I guess your name looks good on a resume."

Rachel shrugged. "It also didn't hurt they were getting a free, all-expenses-paid weekend in Vegas."

"Well, there's that, too."

"Would either of you care to tell me what's going on?" Tavak asked.

"Later." Rachel turned back to Simon. "Have you been running the drills I e-mailed for them?"

"Almost nonstop. They can do everything you're looking for. Val really wanted to be part of this, but you said you wanted them to be inconspicuous. I had to explain to her that she's way too hot."

"I'm sure she loved that."

"She didn't. Not coming from me anyway."

"I worked out my system on the plane," Rachel said. "I'll need about four hours with our team this afternoon. Did you get the money?"

"Sixty thousand dollars in cash. Your sister really didn't want to hand it over. I'm pretty sure she thought we had you tied up someplace, making you ask her for the money at gunpoint."

"I need to interject something here," Tavak said. "Are we really staying at Bally's?"

Rachel nodded. "Yes. Is that a problem?"

"Not the Bellagio? Not the Venetian?"

"Mr. Tavak, we're just a poor, underfunded university research project," Rachel said sarcastically. "Bally's will be fine."

"Okay, it's probably best that you keep a low profile anyway." He paused. "Since you're going to try and break the bank at Demanski's casino."

Rachel stiffened. "Who says I'm trying to do that?"

"You didn't have to say it. I saw you on the plane with your charts and graphs, juggling Hans Felder's papers on rules theory." He tilted his head. "Do you really think you've cracked Demanski's software packages?"

"Only one way to find out."

Tavak shook his head. "There's another way, a better way. And if it blows up in your face, I'm the only one who gets hurt."

Rachel interchanged a look with Simon. "Oh, I do like the sound of that."

Tavak smiled. "I knew you would."

"So what do you have in mind, Tavak?"

"I'll lay it out for you. But I need you to trust me." He saw her expression and chuckled. "I didn't say this was going to be painless. Live with it, Rachel."