Another shiver danced along Dawna's spine. The ambassador had called Lucy directly after they'd asked him if he knew Chayo?
Chayo. Dawna recalled the fax. Although the highlighted areas were gray in the monotone fax, she could remember seeing Chayo's name, and just below that, also highlighted, Lucy Porter.
The caption on the newspaper article -- what was it? Snowmobile accident? Dawna couldn't remember the rest.
Without warning, Lucy lunged for the step ladder.
Startled, Dawna released her grip on the box to steady herself. The box, already unbalanced, tipped over on her.
Lucy gave the step ladder another hard shove, this time twisting it away from the high metal shelf.
Dawna cried out. "Lucy!" But even in the frenzy of the moment, she caught a clear glimpse of Lucy's enraged face. The sharp corner of the box caught her shoulder.
Her arms flayed out, desperate to catch something.
Lucy gave the ladder one final twist.
It was too late.
The ladder gave, and unbalanced, Dawna toppled over the side of it. Another brass corner of the file box struck her temple hard.
She and the ladder crashed into the opposite shelf. More boxes rained down on her. Dawna tried to lift her arms to protect herself, but it was useless.
Tay pressed his ear against the door, tired of pounding, tired of screaming, and tired of praying.
Only silence. Andy hadn't heard Tay tell him to call the embassy. And with the security office unmonitored, it was possible no one heard him.
He fumbled to call Andy again. Nothing but static greeted his ear.
Frustrated, he slapped the phone closed.
He stopped. What was that?
Faint, rhythmic ringing, barely heard through the reinforced steel vault.
Another ring. And another. Answer it! Answer it! Come back to your post.
The ringing stopped. Tay pressed his ear tighter still to the door. A deep sound vibrated through the cold steel. More rumblings. A voice?
He held his breath.
And waited.
His heart pounded in his ears. Maybe that was all he heard. The ringing in his own ears.
Tapping. And then the electronic click of the lock being released.
The door swung open and Tay tumbled out.
Pain knifed up Dawna's side. She winced, letting out one of those breathy groans that should have been a decent curse. Immediately, she coughed. The pain shot through her.
She tried to move. One leg, her upper one, lay tangled around the step ladder. The lower one was pinned under everything. She could barely feel it, and worse, the pain she did register sliced up her side again.
Someone moved beside her. Frowning, she tried to tilt back to call out to whoever was there, but a large heavy box pinned her head.
At an awkward angle, her right arm refused to move at her commands. She tried to wiggle her fingers, but only the faintest sensation tingled up her arm.
Someone shifted a box behind her head. Someone was there, helping her. She blinked, shifted to speak to her savior.
Lucy.
No! She'd caused this accident. Why was she helping her?
"Lucy?" She coughed again at the dust raining down on them.
The woman didn't answer. Instead, she returned to the oversized purse she'd dropped at the end of the aisle. From deep within it, she pulled out a thin pair of latex gloves and put them on. Then she dug in again and removed a small package, the size of a paperback novel.
Returning to stoop behind Dawna, she pulled something out of the package. Dawna couldn't see what it was. But she could hear Lucy shift some boxes. A moment later, she felt Lucy press the device into her left hand.
It felt cold, metallic.
"Lucy, what-" Dawna tried to twist around, to stare at the woman, but the pain overwhelmed her. Immediately, she stilled.
Lucy moved more boxes and pressed the device into Dawna's other hand. Then she slipped the device back in its plain brown wrapper and set it down beside Dawna.
Still not speaking, Lucy proceeded to wipe the braces of the step ladder.
Removing her fingerprints, Dawna thought through the pain. She turned her head toward the device, dread washing over her as she did.
No, it couldn't be. Panic spiked. A bomb! Oh, no, a bomb! "Lucy! What are you doing?" She strained to raise her voice. "Why?"
Still wordless, Lucy returned to her purse and drew out a gun. Dawna couldn't make out the configuration in the dim light, but when Lucy pressed it, too, into her hands, she recognized it by feel alone.
Nine mil Glock. Here at the embassy, only the escoltas and Tay had Glocks. There were no escoltas in the building today.
The weapon must be Tay's.
Lucy removed the gun and tossed it -- really tossed it -- aside. Dawna wanted to scream at her. No way to treat a loaded weapon, especially one that had no safety.
No way to treat Tay, wherever he was.
Dawna clamped shut her eyes, realizing what she was thinking. Tay would never hand over his weapon to Lucy. Dawna had to battle him just to get him to put it in the vault.
A vision of Tay lying hurt, or worse, wavered in front of Dawna's inner eye. A tight knot formed in her throat and she let out a short gasp. Tay. Oh God, please save Tay.
She opened her eyes. Lucy scooped up her purse and walked to the storeroom door.
Dawna mustered up the strength to twist around. Through gritted teeth, she managed to ask, "Why?"
"Your unit always wanted to blame you, Dawna. I'm just taking advantage of that." She pulled out a small black remote control. Her thumb lingered on the only button.
"Wait! Why me?"
"Because you're getting too close and I'm still not finished. Chayo is going to pay for his crimes and no one, not even you, Dawna, my friend, is going to stop me." She paused. Dawna blinked up at her, trying to snag her gaze.
"Dawna, this isn't personal. I've always admired you. It tears me apart, but I have to do this. I'm sorry." Looking away, Lucy quickly shut the store room door.
Eyes wide, Dawna stared at the small brown packet, but nothing happened.
What was she supposed to do now? She swallowed. Her dry throat ached. There was only one thing she could do. But she thought as she tried to flex her fingers, would she be strong enough to do it?
Tay scrambled to his feet in front of the vigilante. "Where's Lucy? Where's Dawna?"
The man stared at him. "Señor?"
Panting, he tried his French. "Ou est Madame Porter?"
The vigilante gaped at him, his mouth open. No doubt Andy had merely told him to open the vault, probably in halting Spanish, without an explanation. Of course, the vigilante was still shocked by Tay's appearance.
Tay shook the man. "Señora Porter? Sergeant Atkinson?"
"¿Quien?" Understanding dawned on his face as he shrugged. "I do not know, señor. Sergeant Atkinson want me, but I not find her. Señora Porter? No se."
Tay gripped the vault door, his breathing still hard. He was free. Free to find Dawna.
No way would she purposely lure the vigilante away from his desk to take revenge on him. Considering what had just fallen into place in his head, it had to be Lucy.
"Find Señora Porter." He indicated the floor with fingers pointing down. "Señora Porter, here. Now!"
Then a muffled rumble shook the floor beneath them.
Chapter Twenty-three
Tay froze, grabbing the back of the vigilante's chair. What was that? An earthquake?
No, it was too quick. He'd felt several earthquakes in Ottawa, and this didn't feel like one.
A bomb?
Dread chilled him. A bomb beneath them, in the shelter in the basement?
The security panel lit up like a Christmas tree. Tay's heart tripped up. One of the closed circuit TV screens snowed over. Alarms, albeit masked, were going off all over the place.
One computer screen flashed a warning. The automatic dialer had been initiated. I
n another minute, the ambassador would call, or worse, drive down here.
Tay had to find Dawna. What had she said? She'd planned to eat a Cheez Whiz sandwich and read personnel files?
The basement. She kept her Cheez Whiz in the basement shelter like it was something valuable. The rumbling had come from the basement.
Oh, Lord, no.
"Evacuate the building!" Tay yelled out at the vigilante. He tore out of the security room and down the hall.
When he reached the bomb shelter, he skidded to a stop and threw open the door. "Dawna?"
No answer. He stepped through the first door into the shelter. One fluorescent light at the far end was flickering, shooting erratic beams into the dust-filled air. The rest of the lights were out. Dark and enclosed, the shelter was silent.
Think of Dawna. Think of Dawna.
On the wall beside the door was an emergency kit and Tay grabbed the flashlight from it. Its light cut through the dust.
"Dawna?" his voice cracked.
A section of interior wall had caved in, but the exterior ones were still intact. Wires swayed in the aftermath of the explosion.
Only a small bomb, he noted, daring to feel hopeful.
"Answer me, Dawna. Now!"
He took a step through the doorway at the end of the short corridor and listened. To his right were the storage room and the kitchenette. On the table was a box of files, eerily undisturbed, despite the small explosion not more than ten feet away.
A faint scratching sound reached him. Damn it, where was it coming from?
For all he knew it was nothing more than a burning wire crackling, melting its insulation so it could reach another combustible material.
Dawna could be dead. The first bomb blast had been small enough to be delivered by letter. Ramos had been standing nearby and he hadn't even been hurt.
But this one?
"Dawna? Answer me!"
Waiting, listening for her, Tay understood who the first bomb had been for. Not Dawna. Not even the ambassador. Ramos. He'd only escaped by the skin of his teeth. The MOs of both these events were becoming all too clear.
Ramos was lucky. And twelve years ago he was also lucky. Hadn't he escaped by using diplomatic immunity to avoid prosecution?
The scraping sound hit him again. Tay snapped his head to the left. And a second storage room.
Find her before she dies.
"Dawna, do it again!"
Another scratching sound. Tay shut his eyes, allowing his ear and his intuition to direct him.
Ten o'clock. The noise was at ten o'clock.
He tore through the second doorway to skid to a stop. Every single shelf had toppled over. Boxes and papers and equipment were scattered about.
In horror, Tay watched a thin line of smoke snake upward. Any minute now, the papers around him would ignite.
Abruptly, the sprinkler above him clicked and sprayed out. The tendril of smoke hissed and died.
Thank God for small mercies.
Getting more and more drenched, Tay threw off the piles of debris.
And found Dawna. She lay underneath one of the toppled shelves, behind a box, her arm skewed at a sickening angle.
Blood pooled under her.
He threw off the box. Dropping to his knees, he reached out a shaky hand and touched the soft flesh covering her carotid artery.
Then he saw it. A deadly shard of twisted metal hovered over her throat. He forced his shaking hand to still and pressed his fingers into her throat.
A pulse!
She was alive! Her heartbeat was steady, but faint.
Her eyes flickered open. "Tay?"
"Yes. Don't speak. You're losing blood."
"It's Lucy."
"I know. Don't talk."
"I tried to crawl away from the bomb, but my arm is numb and my side-"
"It's okay. Don't speak."
Her breath was as shaky as his hands, but she kept talking. "Lucy bombed the embassy. And Martin-" She panted painfully.
"Shush. Yes, Martin is her son. I remember now. Manuel Chayo was involved in a snowmobile accident with Lucy Porter's husband. The police wanted to charge Chayo with reckless driving, but because of his diplomatic immunity, he was allowed to leave Canada." He stroked Dawna's hair, scanning for the best way to remove her from the debris.
"Ramos..." She was slipping into unconsciousness. "Ramos is...Chayo. Lucy knows it, too."
Tay wondered if Dawna had guessed this herself, or had Lucy admitted it to her?
But none of his questions mattered right now. He had to get her out, yet the metal shelf had twisted itself around her. Another, half-destroyed shelving unit leaned precariously over her head.
He tried to wrench the shelf away, but it wouldn't budge. One of the shards of razor-thin metal sliced through his palm, but he ignored it. He thought of pulling her out, but she was lodged tightly under the shelf.
Then he fully realized the situation. If he tried to move her, that jagged edge from the upper shelf would slice her throat like a guillotine.
He needed help.
The firefighters. They were on the dialer. They would automatically be dispatched.
"Dawna?" He leaned closer to her. "Dawna, open your eyes."
She blinked them open. "What?" she breathed out, the single sound slurring.
"I have to leave you. But I'll be back."
"No! Please don't leave me."
Her painful words cut a wrenching hole in his heart. He wanted to stay with her until the police and firefighters arrived and found them. But no one except Lucy knew where they were and he doubted Lucy would volunteer that information. He couldn't wait for the firefighters to organize a thorough search of the entire building. Down here would be the last place they'd come. And that shelf was too precarious. Dawna's body too tightly wedged.
He whispered, "I have to get help for you. I want you to lie perfectly still. Don't move. Not a single muscle, do you understand? If you do, you'll get hurt even more."
Dawna sobbed. He barely heard her words. "Please, Tay. Don't leave me. Not this time."
Aw, hell.
He didn't bother to stop the sob that jammed in his own throat. "Trust me, Dawna. I'll be back."
"I can't."
He touched his lips to her hair, tasting the dust that had settled on her. He tried to slip his hand under her head, but all he could feel was warm, wet blood. Her head was bleeding. "Please, Dawna, trust me. Just once more. I love you. I've loved you for three years."
He pulled in a deep breath. "I tried to fight your punishment, but they wanted an example. I quit my job there and the CIA asked me to do some surveillance work for them. They arranged for your unit to keep the appearance of me still working as instructor, in order to protect my identity."
He stroked her hair. "I've been working undercover ever since, on an assignment that only a handful of people know about. Right when my part in it ended, I heard about the bomb blast and volunteered to come down here. I wanted to see you again. I wanted to set things right again."
Dawna seemed more alert. "But you're still running away."
"I'll be back."
She turned her head an inch, trying to swallow a cough. "The firefighters won't let you back in."
"Too bad. I'm coming back."
"If you get injured, it won't do your career any good."
"To hell with my career!" he snapped. "I love you, Dawna. And I will come back for you."
He was gone. Dawna crushed another sob, but no comforting stroke on her hair followed. Tay had left her.
She shut her eyes. Warm, welcoming light greeted her. She thought of Tay, of the pain he'd caused her. He was there, in front of her, clear as a bell, telling her to trust him.
But he left.
Another voice mocked her. Smythe's, telling her she was to blame. Her hard work wasn't good enough.
Dawna cringed. Fight it. Fight the numbness and the warmth and Smythe's taunting words.
Blinking open her
eyes, she focused on the shelter around her. She wanted so badly to move, but nothing worked. Her head ached, and she was sure she would lose consciousness if she tried to even move a little tiny bit.
So she focused. On the box in top of her. It had toppled down from the upper shelf, whole, and now sat on the floor as if someone had dropped it only six inches instead of six feet. The flickering light danced through the dust motes to play designs on the cardboard surface.
When her eyes ached from the dust, she blinked and focused again.
Please, Tay, come back.
It would be easy to close her eyes and just let the warmth overtake her.
Something above her creaked. Grimacing against the pain, she twisted as much as her arm and side would allow, and peered up. All the while feeling the scrape of metal at her throat.
A tangled mess of metal loomed over her. The entire wreckage suddenly shifted and jerked down. Dawna stifled a scream. There, scraping her neck, hung what was left of the lower shelf, ripped apart in the blast to form a threatening twisted dagger.
She summoned the strength to move down, away from the shard, but it jerked closer, the tip pressing into her throat.
The shard was smeared with blood. Whose? Tay's? Hers?
She froze, fighting nausea and wondering if she was hallucinating.
Tay, come back.
He had to come back. He wouldn't leave her here. He'd told her about the CIA. He told her he'd come back.
He'd told her he loved her.
The tip of the dagger-like shard glinted at her in the flickering light. She had to shut her eyes and the tears rolled down to her temples. Even the necessary cough would force her throat to rip by the blade's tip.
No. She would stay still, not do a thing, let everyone else do their jobs.
Even Tay.
She would trust him. One more time.
Tay found the firefighters on the main floor near Dawna's office. They had begun a thorough search.
One of them grabbed him to steer him out, but he swung around. "No, Dawna's down there! Sergeant Atkinson. Señora Atkinson." He kept pointing down. One nodded, but Tay knew he didn't understand. He was merely placating him in order to get him out of the building.
Hard Target Page 21
