Ah, so that was her game. She was going to try and get me out of the way by trying to make out she was only concerned about my mental health. That was low.
“Christine,” I began, “I have never been readier in my life for an assignment. I know this is personal, but that is why I am the right man for the job. I will do anything—anything—to bring this guy in.” I paused, adding a muttered: “Just don’t get in my way.”
Was that a smile? This girl was the very definition of an enigma—I simply couldn’t figure her out. Sometimes she would seem to be softening toward me, then suddenly she would switch moods and once again be as cold as ice. It didn’t cross my mind that she might be wrestling with her own dilemmas about trust.
The time was starting to drag. Every now and then, we would hear Henri and the others checking in on the radio, or reporting something of interest for colleagues to check out. Christine translated everything for me; I don’t know if she was genuinely trying to be helpful or if she was just looking for something to do to keep her mind off what was coming up in the next few minutes.
Fifteen minutes to go. Henri made one last round of calls over the radio and then announced that there would be no more messages until contact had been made. Couldn’t risk Warick tuning in and hearing the local cops discussing the location of his next attack! Christine was nervously pacing the floor. I just wanted to get on with it. I always found operations exhilarating, but this one had taken on a special meaning way beyond the usual importance of bringing bad guys to justice.
A few minutes before 3pm, I whispered Christine’s name and beckoned her toward me. I had calculated that we were best placed to wait in an alcove in the middle of the shop which gave us a line of sight to the front door but still gave us at least some shelter from any gunfire or even explosions that might accompany Warick’s grand entrance. She nodded and joined me in position. At least she trusts my judgement so far, I thought to myself grimly.
The seconds were ticking down, but all I could hear was Christine’s breathing. It took me right back to that night in the safe house when she had crept into my bed and fallen asleep in my arms; her soft breath, those gentle snores. It had melted my heart that night and it was doing the same again now. I wanted more than anything to catch Warick; not just because he deserved it, and because he deserved to pay for what he had done, but because that was the best way I could think of to prove to this girl that I had been telling the truth all along.
Christine and I were both clock-watching, waiting for the assault to begin; waiting for anything that looked or sounded out of the ordinary. As the minute hand on my watch moved past the hour, I waved it at Christine, who held out her hands in a “who knows” gesture. The problem was, I realized, she thought she actually did know why Warick wasn't here. She thought I'd tipped him off somehow, helped him clear out of town. And the fact that Warick was late for his own heist didn't look good for me.
“Maybe he recognized the undercover officers?” I whispered. “I spotted them a mile off.” Christine was just raising a finger to her lips when we both heard the unmistakable sound of the door opening.
From my vantage point, I had a clear view of the four masked men who now entered. I watched them carefully, desperately trying to figure out which of them was Warick. They all had his height and his military bearing; I couldn't yet risk making a grab for the wrong one.
“Told you it was empty,” said the first guy through the door. Not Warick. I was terrible with UK accents, but he maybe sounded Scottish. “Everyone left for lunch a couple of hours ago.”
“That's not their normal routine,” the second man said with concern. Also, not Warick. Christine watched me from across the alcove waiting for my signal. I shook my head. Not yet. Not until I knew Warick was in the room, and that I was going to have the pleasure of snapping his cuffs on myself.
“You know these foreigners,” said the first man again. “Lazy bastards. Any excuse for a long lunch, I'll bet you.”
“I don't like it,” the second replied. “This isn't what we planned. How do we make it look like terrorism without any victims?”
“I think, in the circumstances, we can probably drop the terrorist ruse, old boy.” I froze. That was him. I caught Christine’s eye and signaled three fingers—third man through the door. She nodded.
“Let's just make this one a good old-fashioned heist, eh?”
The first two men were making their way toward our alcove, which led into the back room where most of the diamonds were to be found.
“We’ll take this one,” the first man said. “You guys take next door now. If time is of the essence.”
“You're the boss,” Warick replied with an ironic chuckle. No! I couldn't let him go into the shop next door—I’d lose sight of him for sure. I lifted my weapon, determined to make my move while all four men were in the same place. I just hoped Christine would give me the back-up I needed.
“Police!” I yelled, poking my weapon around the corner and waiting for the inevitable volley of bullets. The plaster of the alcove splintered as someone turned an automatic weapon in our direction. I heard Christine screaming, and thought for one awful moment that she was injured, before I realized she was shouting instructions over the radio.
Finally, the shooting stopped and I risked a peek around the corner. Empty.
“Come on,” I told Christine. “Henri and the others will have picked them up outside by now. We don't want to miss the fun.”
“You were supposed to wait until they separated!” she scolded. “That was the plan.”
“Plans change,” I told her, the blood pumping in my brain, my fury still as strong as the moment I had first heard Warick’s voice when he entered the store.
We stepped out of the alcove more or less at the same time, and felt a sudden wall of heat rise up to meet us. I think I had a split second to think “bomb” before the blast came, throwing me against the nearest wall, and Christine back through the alcove.
I was only out for a few seconds, but the transformation in the room was so complete, I might as well have been asleep for a thousand years. The stylish, minimalist interior had been torn to pieces, ceiling tiles and light fixtures swayed in the air above me, and there was a terrible, stomach-churning smell of burning flesh.
Christine!
I struggled to my feet, my left knee crying out in pain when I put any weight on it.
“Christine!” I called out. Nothing. “Christine!!”
I heard a someone coughing in the back room and fought my way past the debris. She was sitting on the floor, looking dazed and confused, but essentially in one piece. I ran to her, despite the pain in my knee.
“Are you OK?” I asked. She blinked at me uncomprehendingly. “Christine, can you hear me?”
“Yes, I..” she paused. “I think I'm OK.” Slowly, she seemed to be returning to me.
“Jason,” she said quizzically. “Was that a bomb?” I almost laughed, despite the situation.
“Yes, Christine. That was a bomb.”
She struggled to her feet. “In that case, shouldn't we get out of here? Don't they set fire to it next?”
Jesus, she was right. I helped her to feet, holding my breath, waiting for the second, deadlier explosion. We headed toward the windows overlooking the street, which had all been blown out. As we approached, I could hear a chaotic mix of screams, car alarms, and, finally, Henri’s calming voice, directing his officers to their roles.
“Henri!” I called out, and his head snapped in our direction. He waved over his colleagues who helped first Christine and then me out of the window.
“Did you get them?” I asked breathlessly. Henri nodded, but I noticed a slight hesitation. I rephrased my question. “Henri, did you get them all?”
“We have three of them in custody, one seriously injured by their own bomb. Looks like they set off the explosive before their whole team had made it to safety. No honor among thieves, yes? That is your saying?”
Three
of them in custody. I knew even without asking that it was Warick who had gotten away. Hell, I was 99% sure it was Warick who had set off the bomb early, sacrificing his own guys in an effort to save his own skin.
“Which way did he go, Henri?” I asked, checking that my weapon still worked. I was damned if I was going to let Warick get away.
“Back alley,” Henri replied. “One of my men chased him west until he was shot.”
I looked up briefly. “He OK?”
“He’ll make it,” Henri confirmed. “I’ll hold down the fort here. You go and get your guy.”
“You’re not going alone,” Christine told me. She had recovered her composure almost completely since the explosion and was busy checking her own weapon.
“Dammit, Christine, you still don’t trust me to go after Warick alone?” I was angry and we were wasting time. “What, you think I’m going to run off to South America with him?”
Christine was staring at me. “Of course, I don’t think that, you idiot. I mean I’m coming to help you.”
Chapter 19
Christine
The whole hour leading up to 3pm, I had been fighting an internal battle. I wanted so much to trust Jason, to believe he was the man he said he was. To believe that someone like him could really fall for someone like me. But there was this little voice in my head telling me it was all too good to be true. That it was all part of some scam he and Warick were running. I was probably going to end up dead; either that or they would find some way to pin the whole thing on me the same way Warick had with poor Aquil.
At the exact time I should have been completely focused on the operation and bringing in Warick and his men, all I could think about was whether or not I was being taken for a ride by Agent Jason Kern.
The explosion, when it came, blew me at least four feet through the air. I think I hit the back of my head on a desk where I landed and my ears were ringing when I eventually came to. I saw Jason limp toward me, and I realized he was trying to speak to me, but I couldn’t hear a thing. Over his shoulder, I could see a body on the floor—one of Warick’s men—but he wasn’t moving.
The ringing started to subside, and I heard Jason asking me if I was OK.
“I think I'm OK,” I replied. Even in my confusion, an idea was trying to force itself to the surface. Was there something I needed to remember? Something I needed to tell Jason about?
“Was that a bomb?” I asked, somehow feeling like this was important.
Jason laughed at me. “Yes, Christine. That was a bomb.”
Suddenly, like a real lightbulb, the idea, or more, the warning, popped into my head. “In that case, shouldn't we get out of here? Don't they set fire to it next?”
Jason pulled me to my feet and toward the windows, which seemed to be the quickest and safest route out of the building. As I stood recovering my composure, Jason and Henri were talking about the operation, and how many of Warick’s men they had picked up.
I watched Jason as he spoke, blood trickling down the side of his face from a wound apparently hidden under his hair; he had obviously hurt his knee, too, as he stood rather tentatively on his left leg. If he was in on this whole thing, then I think it was safe to say that Warick had well and truly burned him—literally and metaphorically. Wasn’t it far more likely that he’d been telling me the truth all along? That Warick had fooled him the way he had fooled half the world?
I had misjudged him, and I felt awful for it.
Worst of all, Henri was now giving him the bad news that Warick had slipped through their net, shooting a local police officer while he made his getaway. I knew that Jason was going to insist on going after him, and I knew that I was going to help him. I owed him that much for not trusting him.
We headed down the side of the building, toward the alley at the rear. We had lost vital minutes already while pulling ourselves out of the building, but I knew Jason would scour the whole city, twice over, if need be. Warick was alone now. His men were in custody, one in the hospital. He had no one he could turn to for help.
“Do you think he’d go back to the house where he held you and Aquil?” I asked as we trotted along the alley, guns raised. Jason didn’t answer for a moment.
“I don’t know where he’d go, Christine,” he said sadly. “Let’s be honest, I’m the wrong person to try and figure out Warick’s motives. I’ve known the man for three years; we went out for dinner—he gave me a birthday present last year! If I couldn’t spot that he was a criminal who was playing me all the time, then I don’t have much chance of figuring out where he’s hiding.”
Throughout this whole investigation, I had never seen Jason so negative, so defeated.
“He won’t go back to the hotel,” I answered, trying to rouse him into action, trying to give him some hope. “I think our only chance is to try the old house. Maybe he left stuff there he wants to take with him.”
Jason nodded. “You’re right. Let’s go.”
We took the back streets to the quiet alley where Warick’s base was located, assuming that he, too, would have avoided the main roads. Henri and his officers were also scouring the city, and the chances were, his face would be plastered on every TV screen and at every airport and train station by now. His options were limited, but that could also be bad news. He had nothing to lose now, and men who had nothing to lose took crazy chances.
The building that we both now knew so well came into view. Jason waved a hand to hold me back, checking the street left and right. “Clear,” he called, and we both moved forward cautiously.
You could have heard a pin drop in this silent street; it seemed a world away from the explosions and sirens and gunfire. Had it really only been a few minutes ago that Jason and I had been caught up in that hell?
I gestured with my gun for Jason to take the far side of the door. He hesitated for a moment at the entry, peering around the doorframe to check he was safe to go, before making the short sprint to the other side. We both stood for a moment, getting our breath. I was just beginning to think we were on a wild goose chase when I heard a thump from one of the upper floors. Jason’s eyes widened—he had obviously heard it, too—and before I could say or do anything, he had darted inside.
I was barely inside the door, and Jason had already made it to the foot of the stairs. If I didn’t find some way to calm him down, Warick wasn’t the only one who was going to take crazy chances—and that could end up getting us both killed.
“Jason,” I whispered almost soundlessly, but it was another way to get his attention. I used my gun to gesture toward the two of us, as if to say, “we go up together.” Jason took a moment to think, then nodded, waving me forward.
I looked up at the stairs above us. This was going to be a nightmare. The building was almost falling down; I could guarantee every one of those steps was going to creak and groan the second we put a foot on them.
Jason leaned in close, and my heart started beating just a little faster. “We aren’t going to be able to surprise him,” he murmured, his lips brushing my ear. “Are there any other ways down?” I shook my head. “Then we have him trapped,” Jason continued, as if what we were trying to do was suddenly the easiest thing in the world.
I pulled away for a moment, and moved my own lips close to his ear. “Just run for it?” I asked. Jason nodded. Well, I guess he had a point. If we didn’t have the element of surprise, then we had to make it quick.
Jason held up three fingers on the hand not holding his gun and started to count them down. I felt sick with fear and excitement. This was like nothing I’d ever trained for; certainly nothing I’d ever done in live operations. Running into what could be a trap; what could be, at best, an armed, cornered, and dangerous criminal. I wished I had taken the chance to tell Jason I was sorry, to tell him I was falling in love with him—but the countdown was over, and the two of us were running like bats out of hell up the stairs.
I was running so hard, all I could hear were our feet thundering on the stairs. W
e paused at the first floor, and heard the noise of a door opening further up. “Higher,” Jason shouted, no longer needing to hide from Warick that we were coming to get him.
We continued up to the top floor, which had only three small rooms, but there was no sign of Warick. How could he have disappeared? If he had found another way down, he would be long gone, and I feared we would never find him.
Jason suddenly nudged me and pointed up at the ceiling. There was an attic! He pulled at the cord on the trapdoor, which slid open, revealing a ramshackle ladder. Jason took a few tentative steps, bracing himself to poke his head through the gaping hole. The phrase ‘shooting fish in a barrel’ came to mind, and I almost pulled Jason back down to the floor.
Finally, he took his chance to scan the room above. I held my breath. No gunfire. Jason looked down at me and I nodded; I would follow him up.
The attic was roomier than I had expected; a huge cavernous space, dotted with pieces of furniture. To my left, the roof had caved in, allowing sunlight to flood the attic. The hole was so big, you could see clear out onto the flatter roof that edged the building. I grabbed Jason by the arm; that must be where Warick had gone! He must be trying to hide out there, or maybe jump to the next building. I pulled Jason with me toward the hole; as soon as he saw where I was headed, I could see the penny drop with him, too.
We edged out onto the roof. Warick was perched on the edge, his back to us, almost as if he was about to jump. Surely, he wouldn’t make it that easy for us?
“Warick!” Jason yelled out. “Show me your hands!”
I was surprised to see Warick oblige, lifting his arms out to either side like Christ on the cross. He turned, smiling.
“Jason, my good friend,” he said mockingly. “How wonderful to see you again.”
I watched the two men carefully. I had to give Warick all my attention, but I was worried about what Jason was going to do.
Toxic Seduction (Romantic Secret Agents Series Book 3) Page 11
