Tay flipped the document over and read the last few lines. "He was denied refugee status."
Dawna bent over him. "He was denied?" She read the signature of the reviewer, Robert Taylor, who was now the ambassador's assistant, just below Lucy's own neat signature as witness. There was something written in the margin, but she couldn't read it properly as she peered over Tay's shoulder.
"They denied him a week after he submitted it." Tay looked straight ahead, staring into space. "They always run security checks on the applicants. Not in so short a time, though. I wonder what they found out."
She studied him as he read the file. His face showed a few more crows' feet at the outer edges of his eyes. He'd lost some weight, she thought, making him more angular, tougher. In the harsh fluorescent light, a few white hairs glimmered at his temples. She lifted her hand, prepared to brush the defiant tendrils over his ear.
Someone cleared his throat behind them. Dawna jumped and spun, forcing her hand to her side.
Ramos stood in the doorway, looking reluctant to interrupt them. "The policia will deliver their report first thing in the morning. My shift has started. Are you planning to stay a while, Sergeant? I could put on a pot of coffee for you."
"No thanks, Ramos. We won't be here much longer." She gave the older man a short smile, stepping back from Tay and refusing to look at him. "I'll let you know when we're ready to leave."
Ramos nodded. After he closed the door, Dawna listened to his footfalls die away.
She turned to Tay, to find him still staring at the door with a cool frown on his face. Thank goodness he hadn't been studying her the way she'd been studying him.
Boy, she had to get herself back on track. "You were saying something about running checks?"
Straightening, Tay flicked his gaze over to her. "I was saying that they must have discovered something almost immediately, since they rejected his application so quickly. I wonder what it was."
Dawna folded her arms and leaned away from him. Tay was quite well-versed on immigration for a civilian who taught security systems to the military. He must have done his homework before coming down here. A credit to him.
Interesting. As interesting as the fact he'd stopped over in Paris once, when he was supposed to be teaching non-stop at her unit at HQ. Hmm. "Regardless, Mr. Taylor decided against him." She leaned forward to study a comment written to the right of the general information and then flipped through the application. "There's a note in the margin to check something, but I can't make out what it is. I'll ask Lucy. Maybe she or Mr. Taylor can read it."
They should leave. Tay stood, too close to her in a room with no windows, so incredibly private.
Tay was by all accounts, temptation personified. She wanted so much to forget he really wasn't concerned about her, just the situation. And his own career.
She could never forget that.
With a frown forming, he closed the file. "From what his neighbors say, Cabanelos was a dissident in his youth. Someone who opposed the previous government. He could easily know about explosives, and how to use a sniper rifle."
"He wasn't that good, because he missed us."
"So you know what that means?" His expression turned grim. "He'll strike again."
Chapter Four
"Brilliant deduction, Sherlock. Go to college for that?"
He smiled briefly. "Absolutely. But there's not much more you can do." Tay's words bore the boldness of authority as he shrugged ever so briefly. "Your vigilantes are well-trained. We may as well call it a night." He shot a sidelong glance at her. "Drive me home?"
Dawna straightened, instantly on guard. It wasn't as much a question as a demand, but the slight lilt at the end had her thinking otherwise. It made a difference.
Almost. She didn't want to take Tay back to his hotel. The very act felt way too personal, too close to when Tay had whispered in her ear over the din of the party that he would take her back to her quarters. In his staff car, he'd added enticing hints of what he wanted to do. A shiver of anticipation had skittered down her spine as she'd listened to his sensual plans.
That night, they'd barely made it into his car before reaching for each other, determined to consummate the exploding need within them. Then the fatal interruption cut it all short.
Dawna shook away the thoughts. She refused to allow herself to linger on that moment of bad judgment. Tay hadn't said a thing about consummating what they'd started three years ago. She should call the ambassador's driver to take him home. But this late in the evening, when her own car sat outside? It would be a waste of time and resources to drag the poor, tired man all the way down here.
But she didn't want Tay spending the night here, either, having already denied him that request earlier.
"Fine. I'll drive you." She leaned forward, her movements brisk as she gathered up the remaining files and shoved them into the box.
"Give me that. I'll put it away," Tay said, heaving up the box as soon as she reached for it.
For one brief moment, his fingers cupped hers. They were warm, bold, strong.
She yanked back her hands, pushed the files into their place and muttered her thanks far too quickly. She had to get out of here. Now. Drop him off at his hotel and then go home. She didn't care for her senses getting scrambled. She didn't want anyone to touch her. She lived a stable life down here in South America, uncomplicated, without any man teasing out needs best left alone. It was bad enough the men here kissed her cheek far too often when they greeted her socially. But to have Tay touch her, however briefly, felt worse.
Boy, she needed a shower and a full night's sleep like nobody's business. Her head still throbbed and though her knee wasn't as sore as earlier today, she knew it would be stiff as a board tomorrow morning.
As they climbed the stairs to the ground floor corridor, the phone rang in the distance. After hours, all calls were rerouted to the security desk. Dawna could hear Ramos pick up the phone.
She quickened her pace, reaching the office the second Ramos hung up. "Anything important?" she asked.
The vigilante looked up at her. "That was the policia. One of their detectives has returned. Cabanelos moved out of his apartment sometime last week. He did not leave a forwarding address."
"Naturally," she answered dryly.
"Which means he could be miles away or hiding out right here in the city, waiting to strike again," Tay said behind her.
Sighing at the setback, Dawna thanked Ramos. "I'm dropping Mr. Hastings off at his hotel. If anything comes up, call me at home."
Ramos nodded. "Buenos noches, Sergeant. Buenos noches, Señor Hastings."
Outside, Dawna glanced around the floodlit compound. The sun had set long ago. With the Andes all around them, twilight never lingered. And as usual, the dry air lost its heat quickly. A chill brushed against her skin. Above them, the constellation, The Southern Cross, lingered over an adjacent building, the only stars bright enough to be seen in the city.
They drove to his hotel in silence. When she pulled up at the front entrance, Tay turned to her. "Will you have dinner with me tonight?"
His question spilled out so quickly, Dawna felt abrupt panic rip through her. "It's late."
"Everyone eats late here. Look around you. It's still busy. Even kids are out."
She shook her head. "We have work to do tomorrow."
"You were out until midnight the other night and came in at six the next morning."
She dared to look at him, but his face was shadowed. "You know it isn't a good idea."
He shifted slightly toward her. She could see his face now. He wore a calm, cool mask. "You know it is. And you've made it quite clear that our relationship now is nothing but professional. But we can't ignore the fact we need to talk. Unless of course, you don't trust yourself?"
She rolled her eyes and turned to face the windshield. To the west, a new development rose up on the hillside, its lights checkerboarding the night.
He was goading her, and she co
uldn't help but rise to it. "I trust myself just fine. But talk about what, Tay? The past can't be changed. I lost out on a valuable posting for a mistake I don't plan on repeating. I was shipped up to the Arctic faster than you can say your first name, while you managed to keep your job. Now you're even hopping around the globe to check on your students. To HQ, you didn't err, I did. It was discrimination because there were some politicians at that party and the CO didn't want to look bad. I tried to fight it, but I lost. I'm only a sergeant and it was my CO who wrote the rules. Rules that don't apply to you." She stopped, drawing a breath after her diatribe.
Light from oncoming headlights lit his features. He frowned and his mouth turned grim after letting out a frustrated sigh. She gritted her teeth, crushing her rising resentment. Why should he act like he was as much a victim as she had been?
He turned to face her, his mouth open as if to add something. But for some reason, he remained silent.
Like he had remained silent three years ago, damn him.
She glanced out the side view mirror, wondering if she should order him out of her car before she said something she'd regret later.
He broke the difficult silence. "Just a quick snack, then? I have no intentions of picking up where we left off, either. It wouldn't be fair to you, even though the rules no longer apply and you know it."
She snapped her head around. "You make it sound like I want to carry on where we left off."
His face fell into the shadows again as he leaned back. "I know better. I fully expected you to slap my face at the airport. But this middle ground is probably the safest for both of us. For you, definitely. For me...." He shrugged again in such a smooth, unhurried way, she might be convinced that needing to talk didn't matter.
Then why suggest it?
Then suddenly, he looked away. "Yeah, it's the safest."
Dawna bit her lip. Did he really sound as though it mattered to him, or was that her imagination?
She bristled. She was the one who'd suffered, not him. She'd lost respect and a chance for a promotion and a valuable posting to some 'sexy' embassy like London or Tokyo.
Other colleagues who took later courses claimed Tay was still on the active list of instructors. His reputation had never been sullied.
But being here, tonight, wasn't about anyone's reputation. Dawna wanted her own not–very–sexy embassy to remain secure, and to find whoever tried to destroy that security. "I don't need a bite to eat, Tay. And I don't want to talk."
"I know you're tired and you probably ache all over, but frankly, we need to discuss the new what our next move should be. There are some other security options available to us that you need to know about." He rubbed his face and suppressed a yawn. "You owe it to the ambassador to offer them, so you should at least hear what they are."
So he did share her concern for the safety of the embassy staff. She'd give him that much. And he had followed her orders to keep his weapon locked up.
She bit her lip. Mind you, his weapon was now neatly tucked under his left arm, something she didn't really care to think about. Guns were dangerous, period. At the request of the ambassador, hers didn't travel around with her, except on official business. Tay's weapon should have also remained locked up.
"Fine," she finally answered. "Just a light meal. You tell me what options you have and then I leave." She should at least listen to his thoughts on the embassy's security. She could trust him that much.
A thought hit her. Maybe it wasn't Tay she didn't trust. Maybe she didn't trust herself.
Inside the hotel, Tay stopped at the desk for his key. Dawna peered up at the old, cracked swirls in the ornate Spanish ceiling. Though the marble floor shone, the place had seen better days. The lobby was busy. There were no current festivals, yet the hotel was full.
Her gaze dropped to the front entrance. Beyond the etched glass doors, newer than the rest of the lobby, a blue Toyota pulled up, only to zip away. Dawna took a step toward the door, but Tay stopped her.
"Why don't you go into the restaurant and order yourself a drink? I'd like to run upstairs for a quick shower."
She glanced once more at the street before nodding.
Ten minutes later, Tay proved that when he said a quick shower, he meant it. He sat down opposite her in the crowded restaurant, his wavy chestnut hair still wet, but finger-combed. He hadn't shaved and his jaw bore a hint of shadowing.
"Have you ordered yet?" he asked, flipping the edge of his lightweight jacket over his clean, faded jeans. His sidearm remained concealed, but she knew it was there, resting against his tan shirt.
A waiter appeared and offered menus. She grabbed one and scanned it. "I'll just have a fruit salad. They have varieties of fruit here we never see."
Tay handed his menu to the hovering waiter. "Two fruit salads and a plate of cheese. And I'll have a coffee."
Dawna glanced at the red wine she'd had delivered as soon as she sat down. "You said you don't drink anymore. Why did you quit?"
Tay met her curious gaze with solemn eyes. Around him, the shabby opulence of the restaurant blurred into a smoky beige. The spirited voices of the locals dulled. She drew in a breath, tasting mostly the scent of Tay's shampoo as it blended with tobacco and roasting meats. She waited for his answer.
"You already know the answer, Dawna. I'd decided I'd had enough right after the CO shone his flashlight into my staff car."
Blood rushed to her face. She and Tay had been mauling each other like animals in heat. Despite that warm June night, they'd steamed up the windshield. The top button of Tay's shirt had come undone. And she could still recall the feel of his hands on her.
Like animals in heat. How could she have felt that way? So totally not what she was.
"I haven't had any alcohol since that night," Tay finished.
Because he'd had too much that night? Of wine, or of her? Or he was just plain ashamed of being caught with one of his students?
She had been no better than some shameless university student looking to jump the professor simply for the thrill of it. The fact that she and Tay were close in age didn't matter. They had been adults breaking regulations that had come with a clear, zero-tolerance policy.
The waiter arrived with the fruit and cheese. The thought of swallowing the sweet and tangy mix of carubas and passion fruit suddenly made her stomach churn. She couldn't even lift the scratched and worn silver spoon beside her bowl.
Tay's coffee arrived in the typical Bolivian fashion. A small white pot with no lid, another identical pot, also without a lid, held steaming milk.
Tay looked at them with a confused frown. Dawna explained, "I don't think there are any lids in this country. They like to let their coffee cool a bit first."
"Curious."
She cleared her throat. "You said you had some new security options I could offer the ambassador? What are they?"
His expression darkened, as though hurt and frustration whisked in and then out. Indignation flared in her, but she reined in the urge to snap at him. Instead, she grabbed the spoon and dug into her fruit salad. The sooner she got this evening over and done with, the better.
Dawna woke with a start. The phone? For a minute, she gripped her sheets, blinking in the dark of early morning.
Then the phone rang again.
Home. Her apartment in Cochabamba, a basic one bedroom above a store off the Avenue America. She glanced at the glowing red numbers of her clock. Four-fifteen. Her head still ached, but the five hours all the sleep she'd had worked wonders. She felt heaps better.
The phone jangled again. She leaned over to grab it, while struggling with the other hand to flick on the bedside lamp.
"Hello?"
"Escucheme!"
She cringed at the shout and pulled the phone away from her ear. She hated wrong numbers. "No hablo Español," she told the man.
"Listen! My English no good. I am Cabanelos."
Chapter Five
Dawna snapped fully awake. This was no wrong numb
er. "Who are you?"
"Juan Cabanelos. You look for me, si?"
"Yes! Where are you?"
"Listen! I speak with you." His thick accent made him difficult to understand.
She pressed the receiver closer to her ear. "I'm listening."
"No! Not with phone. In person. No policia!"
"I am policia."
"No. You Canadian. No policia from Cochobamba."
"All right. What do you want?"
"I tell you in person. You know where Cardon Plata is?" His excited voice cracked as he coughed and wheezed.
Dawna set the phone away from her ear. "No. Is it a restaurant?"
"No! A village. Um," He paused, as if struggling with his English. Dawna strained to hear the background noises, but there weren't any. Fine time for the city to fall silent. "West of Oruro, near the border of Chile. Go to the Iglesia de la Merced. No policia, understand?"
She wasn't sure she did, but surely someone in the embassy would know this village, Cardon Plata, and the embassy had maps of the country. "All right. But how do I know you don't want to kill me?"
He laughed. The harsh sound started another coughing fit. "I fight with rifle for many years. If I want you dead, I kill you yesterday. I need speak with you. Important information for you."
Bad vocabulary aside, Dawna got his point. True, he could have killed both her and Tay, but had shot around them instead. Or was it that he had bad aim? She wasn't sure and wasn't comforted by the thought.
But he was suggesting he had important information, something that could no doubt affect the security of the embassy. "When should I meet you?"
"Six tonight. At the church." He hung up.
Dawna looked at the called display, but it said only 'private number'. She replaced the receiver and scribbled the information on a paper she kept by her phone, surprising herself that she'd actually agreed to Cabanelos' demands. She'd been a military policewoman for eighteen years and not once had a suspect called her up to request an interview. But with Cabanelos having skipped out of his apartment, they could use the break, no matter where it came from.
Hard Target Page 5
