Deadly Contact

by Lara Lacombe

  “You bastard,” she hissed at him. He’d probably set this whole thing up, promising her in exchange for his safety. “You won’t get away with this.” She could have bitten her tongue the minute the words left her mouth. The last thing she needed was for him to suspect the FBI was nearby.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered before turning and walking away. He merged quickly with the crowd, disappearing from her sight and leaving her alone with a psychopath.

  She took a deep breath, preparing to scream. Yes, it would scare the families in the museum, but it would also alert the FBI agents, who could help her. Before she could even emit so much as a squeak, she was spun around and found herself face-to-face with Caleb.

  His mouth quirked up in a smile. “Not a good idea, Doctor. You don’t want to draw attention to us. Believe me.” He opened the flap of his jacket, and she saw a remote tucked into the breast pocket of his shirt. She snapped her mouth shut with an audible click, her gut turning to water as she realized why he would be carrying such a device. Was he wired, or had he set up a bomb nearby?

  “Be a good girl and smile for me,” he urged, tucking his free hand into his jacket pocket. She stared up at him in disbelief, certain she had misunderstood. He gave her arm a warning squeeze. “Smile.” She forced the corners of her mouth up, and he regarded her with a bemused expression. “You could at least try to make it look natural,” he said with a sigh. “But that will do for now.”

  His hand still wrapped around her arm, he steered her into the depths of the museum. She glanced wildly around as he forced her past the dinosaur skeletons, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the FBI agents. If they were around, they were certainly staying in the shadows. Despair washed over her as she realized they had probably all moved to close in on George, thinking she’d be fine once they picked him up. There was no way anyone could have foreseen Caleb would come out of hiding, especially not when the risk of getting caught was so high.

  “Where are you taking me?” she gritted out from between clenched teeth. Her only hope now was that the FBI was listening. If she could get him to tell her where they were going, there was a good chance the good guys could get there first.

  Caleb chuckled close to her ear. “Now, Dr. Jarvis, surely you don’t think I’m that stupid? In fact—” He reached down and pulled the back of her shirt up, then yanked out the pack attached to the waistband of her pants. With another sharp tug, he pulled the wires free from her shirt. “Much better,” he said, dumping the wire over the rail of an exhibit as they passed.

  “Now it’s just you and me.”

  * * *

  James scanned the museum, his heart pounding so loudly he had trouble hearing the voices of his team. They had picked up Collins without incident, but since Caleb was on the scene, all bets were off.

  It had taken all his willpower not to rush over when Caleb had grabbed Kelly. Only repeated orders from Carmichael, liberally laced with threats, had kept him standing by the information desk with his thumb up his ass. If he went charging in, he’d likely botch the whole operation and possibly get Kelly hurt in the process. Her safety wasn’t worth the risk, but he hated sitting around when he could be doing something to put this whole thing to rest.

  “We’ve lost her.” The voice was tinny in his ear, snapping the last of his control.

  “I’m on the move,” he said as he began to walk through the rotunda. He hadn’t seen them come by him, which meant they had likely gone in the opposite direction.

  “Negative,” Carmichael commanded. “Stay in place, Reynolds. We need to let this play out.”

  “She is not a bargaining chip,” James snapped, reaching up to lower the volume on his earpiece. Carmichael’s squawking faded from his attention as he scanned the exhibits. It was darker in the halls; the lighting was strategically placed to highlight the bones and other artifacts on display while leaving shadows in the corners.

  He glanced at the faces of the tourists as he passed. No one looked upset or distressed, which meant if Kelly and Caleb had come this way, she wasn’t putting up a fight. Caleb must have threatened her to ensure her cooperation. Maybe even hurt her, he thought grimly, picking up speed as the crowd thinned.

  He caught a glimpse of blond curls up ahead, just rounding a corner. He drew his gun from the side holster, holding his hand down by his side in an effort to keep the civilians from noticing. He heard a few startled gasps as he moved by, but he couldn’t take the time to reassure them now.

  He rounded the corner, narrowly avoiding a collision with a stroller. Stepping to the side, he glanced up and saw Caleb and Kelly a few paces ahead, moving quickly. They were heading for a service corridor, and he hung back to let them enter the hall. Better to confront Caleb in a nonpublic area of the museum, where there was a lower chance of innocent casualties.

  He grabbed the heavy door before it slammed shut and drew the gun up to aim at Caleb’s back. “FBI!” he boomed, his voice loud and echoing in the cement corridor.

  Caleb reacted immediately, whirling to the side and pulling Kelly in front of him to act as a shield. James scanned her quickly, checking for injuries. She seemed unharmed, and relief at seeing him shone on her face as she held his gaze. He gave her a brief nod before turning his attention back to Caleb.

  “Let her go, Caleb,” he began, slowly stepping forward to close the distance between them. Caleb stepped back, dragging Kelly with him while his hand reached up to press a knife against her throat. She stiffened and whimpered when he pressed the blade on her skin, and James halted.

  “Very good.” Caleb smiled as if he were a teacher praising a particularly clever student. “You shouldn’t have followed us,” he continued, dragging Kelly back step by step.

  “I couldn’t just let you walk away,” James responded, risking a small step. He stopped at Caleb’s raised brow, hating that he had to yield to this man.

  “Such a good little fed,” Caleb taunted, pausing for a beat to sneer at him. “So dedicated. You even walked her home.” He jerked on Kelly’s arm as he spoke, and her face went white. “I was supposed to hit you, you know.” His tone was conversational, a man telling a story.

  James’s stomach lurched at Kelly’s pained expression. The bastard was hurting her again, and he was powerless to stop it. With Caleb’s knife at her throat, he couldn’t get a shot off in time, and if he missed...

  “I’m here now.” Maybe he could keep him talking, distract him until he made a mistake. Just one tiny mistake, that was all he needed to end this. “Why not try again?”

  Caleb shook his head. “Oh, no, we’re past that now.” His expression turned considering as he watched James. “Although I must say, if we had time I would like to finish this. Can’t have you turning up over and over again.”

  “What’s wrong with now? I’ve got time.” Keep him talking; keep him engaged.

  James inched forward, his eyes never leaving Caleb’s. If he kept his focus on Caleb, he could almost ignore the fact that Kelly was trapped with a knife at her throat, something he had to push aside in order to function. Emotions were the enemy right now.

  He chanced another half step forward, saw Caleb’s eyes flicker down and then back up. “That’s far enough,” he warned, tightening his grip on Kelly.

  “Just let her go, and you and I can settle this,” James suggested, trying hard to keep the anger and fear for Kelly out of his voice.

  Caleb scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m stupid? The minute I let her go, you’ll shoot me.”

  James shook his head. “No. I just want to talk to you. I find you very intriguing.” It was a long shot, but he was rewarded by a spark of interest in the other man’s eyes.

  “Really? Why is that?”

  James scrambled to come up with something suitably flattering, digging deep for those psych classes he’d taken at the Academy. “I’ve been studying your movements for so long, trying to figure out where you’d strike next. I feel like I practically know you.”

  Ca
leb’s mouth twisted in a smug smile. “Kept you on your toes, did I?”

  James nodded. “Oh, yes,” he said, trying not to choke on the words. “You’ve been a true challenge. I imagine we’ll teach a course about you someday.”

  “The one that got away?”

  “That depends,” James said slowly. “You know the FBI doesn’t want civilian casualties. If you let her go—” he nodded at Kelly “—I might be willing to look the other way while you escape. Keep the game going and all.”

  Caleb appeared to consider his offer, but his gaze snagged on the gun and his eyes narrowed. “You’d put the gun down?”

  “Naturally.”

  The other man nodded. “Do it.”

  James opened his hand to turn the gun to the side, then slowly bent down to place it on the floor. He stayed in a crouch, his right hand loose by his ankle and the pistol concealed by his pant leg.

  Caleb smiled. “Thank you,” he said courteously.

  “Now you let Kelly go.”

  “You know what, Special Agent? I’ve changed my mind.” Keeping the knife at Kelly’s throat, he reached into a pocket and drew out a remote. Before James could draw his gun and stand, Caleb pressed a button and the ground shook as a concussion rocked the building. Plaster rained down from the ceiling, and the glass doors of the large display cases lining the wall shattered, sending sharp splinters everywhere. James threw his arms over his head and hunched his shoulders, drawing into himself for protection as debris rained down.

  Muted screams sounded in the museum while the lights flickered in the hallway. He fleetingly wondered what had exploded, but before he could gather his thoughts, a second blast rocked the building. This one brought him to the ground and he landed hard in the piles of glass; pain shot from his knees as the shards dug into his skin.

  After a beat, he raised his head. A lone fluorescent light shone midway down the hall, casting a weak glow over the aftermath. Cracks ran along the walls, and fine particles hung suspended in the air, shaken free from the walls and ceiling. He coughed violently to clear the dust from his throat, but his mouth and nose still felt coated with the chalky, foul substance.

  He gingerly got to his feet, bracing himself for another explosion. As he squinted down the hallway, his heart skipped a beat with fear that had nothing to do with the destruction surrounding him.

  Kelly was gone.

  Chapter 11

  “Get in.”

  Caleb roughly shoved Kelly into the car, pushing her across the passenger seat to the driver’s side. He kept the knife pressed against her ribs, and she briefly considered throwing herself out the driver’s side door. How badly could he hurt her if she was moving away from him? She might get cut, but his reach wouldn’t extend out of the car. He would have to get out to chase her, and that would give her time to make a break for it. Only a few seconds, but it might be long enough to draw attention to them....

  As if he’d read her mind, Caleb lifted a brow. “Don’t even think about it.” He reached into the glove compartment as he spoke, drawing out a small, lethal-looking black gun. So much for plan A.

  Sirens screamed down the street, wailing past them as police cars and fire trucks converged on the museum. The scene was utter chaos as pedestrians ran in multiple directions, some darting out into traffic in an effort to get away from the museum. There were a few car wrecks on Constitution Avenue, effectively stopping traffic and keeping the emergency-responder vehicles from getting too close. Kelly watched in a kind of detached fascination as one of the ambulances hopped the curb and drove right up to the museum steps.

  “Drive.”

  A poke in the ribs brought her back to reality. Caleb leaned over and started the car. “Just pull out and drive slowly. Don’t try to draw attention to us, or I’ll blow the car up.”

  She stared at him in horror. He patted his jacket pocket with a small smile that had goose bumps popping up on her arms. He was serious—the car was rigged, and he’d have no problem pressing the button, even if it meant his own death. He was truly crazy.

  “Why are you doing this?” she whispered as she put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb, heading away from the museum.

  “I have no other choice.”

  She shook her head, not understanding. There was always a choice.

  “You think I’m worried about dying?” He laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “Trust me, dying in a car bomb would be preferable to what they’ll do to me if I don’t fix this.” He scanned the road ahead, his voice dropping until she had to strain to hear him. “But I did fix it. I fixed it, and I deserve a reward.”

  “Who are you talking about?” She drove carefully, keeping an eye on the throngs of people running along the sidewalks. More emergency vehicles flashed by, giving her hope that the police would try to pull them over. She couldn’t stop for fear that Caleb would blow up the car, but if the police gave chase, Caleb would be forced to change his plans and she might make it out alive. With that in mind, she slowed a bit, knowing that the faster they got away from the scene, the slimmer the chance of getting help.

  “I know what you’re doing,” Caleb said. “It won’t work. Drive faster.” He poked her in the ribs with the muzzle of the gun.

  “If you shoot me, we won’t get anywhere,” she gritted out from between clenched teeth. “And since you seem to need me for something, it’s in your best interests to keep me alive.”

  “Alive? Yes,” he agreed, his tone conversational. “Whole? Not so much.”

  He was so calm, so utterly composed and resolute. She knew without a doubt he wouldn’t hesitate to injure her to ensure her cooperation, and she shuddered to think what he’d do. She stepped on the gas, and the car punched forward. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Caleb lean back into the passenger seat, a small smile playing at his lips. Bastard.

  Her hands were slick on the steering wheel. She wiped her palms on her pants, one at a time, her mind whirring as she struggled to process the situation. How had Caleb planted bombs without being caught? Security was so tight around the Mall, it was a wonder he hadn’t been seen. How had this happened?

  And how many people had he just killed or injured? Was James one of them? She sucked in a breath as a wave of nausea hit her at the thought of James lying in that concrete corridor, alone. He’d been on the floor when she’d last seen him, curled into a ball with debris raining down. She’d heard glass breaking as Caleb pulled her down the hall, and God knew what else had fallen or crumbled onto James. He could be hurt, passed out from a blow to the head or even dead. Would anyone know to look for him? In all the chaos, it would be easy to overlook one FBI agent who wasn’t even supposed to be there.

  She had to find a way to save him. He had come to her rescue before, when Caleb had shot her outside her apartment. Now it was time for her to return the favor. No matter what happened between them, she loved him. Besides, she realized with cold clarity, she was probably going to die today anyway. Caleb was all too willing to hurt her, and he seemed to be on his own suicide mission. If he was going to take her with him, she might as well go out with a bang.

  She fought to contain a hysterical giggle at the unintentional pun, then glanced over to find Caleb staring straight ahead, the gun in his hand pointing more at her legs than at her ribs. Good. If he stayed relaxed, maybe she could pull this off without getting shot again.

  The Lincoln Memorial was coming up fast on the right. As quickly as she dared, she pressed on the gas, wanting to build up speed before they came to the wall of concrete barriers erected around the famous landmark. Caleb didn’t comment, so she pressed harder on the pedal, the engine vrooming as the car shifted gears to accommodate her demands.

  “Watch your speed,” he snapped. “I don’t want you drawing attention to us.”

  She nodded but ignored him, keeping her foot down as they approached the towering marble structure. She gripped the steering wheel hard, then took a deep breath. I have to get to James.

 
She heard the click of the gun being cocked. “I said—”

  She wrenched the steering wheel to the right, slamming the passenger side into the solid white barricades that lined the road. The force of the impact jerked her hands from the wheel and sent them flying. Her head slammed against the window, setting off fireworks behind her eyes. The car scraped along the concrete for an agonizing eternity before bouncing off. A split second later, she was slammed forward as they hit the curve of the barricade, and then the car rocked back as it stopped, pinned in on the passenger side and the front by white concrete.

  Dizzy, her head pounding and her heart racing, Kelly shook her head and glanced over. Caleb had a hand to his forehead as blood streamed down his face. The gun was nowhere to be seen. She fumbled for the seat-belt buckle, letting out a small cry of triumph when her fingers connected with the button. Wriggling gracelessly out of the restraint, she yanked on the door handle. It wouldn’t budge. She pulled again, desperation mounting as she heard Caleb’s awareness returning. If he pressed that button...

  The lock! It took her several attempts to get her fingers to cooperate, but she finally flipped the door lock over and yanked on the handle again. This time the door opened, and she half fell, half crawled out of the car. As she struggled to her feet, she risked a look back. Caleb’s door was blocked by the concrete fence, so he’d have to crawl over the seats to get out.

  She limped forward, her entire body lit with pain. James. She had to help James.

  Two police officers ran toward her, their guns drawn. She angled for them, holding her arm close to her body to keep from jarring her shoulder. “Please,” she sobbed. “He’s got a gun!”

  “Stop right there!” The officer pointed his gun at her and she stopped, confused. Why was he pointing a gun at her? She wasn’t the danger—Caleb was!