Agents Under Fire

by Dana Marton

  “So who is this Kenneth guy you’re looking for?” he asked as they were being seated.

  “My fiancé. We got engaged just before he came here six months ago.”

  He glanced at her bare ring finger while he ordered two spiced coffees, the traditional vehicle of a caffeine fix in the Middle East.

  She caught the look and rubbed the spot where the ring should have been, a touch of defensiveness seeping into her voice as she said, “I haven’t had a chance to go in for a resizing.”

  A ring from the man she loved and she couldn’t find time to have it resized in the past six months so she could have it on her finger. Interesting. However, other people’s castles of denial were none of his business, so he held back a comment. He simply smiled at her.

  And, after a moment, she smiled back.

  Wowza.

  Okay, so the Kenneth guy was dead. Jake could think of nothing else that would keep a man from coming back to her. She looked stunning enough without the smile, but with the smile… Lethal.

  While Kenneth’s possible demise didn’t particularly bother him, the thought of harm coming to Allison Myers did. He kind of felt responsible for her. He’d saved her life. Would have been a shame to let all that good effort go to waste.

  He had no time to help her, but he could take a few minutes to convince her to go back home. As a public service or something.

  “So did you hear about the hit on that village yesterday?” He paused while the waiter served them. “All over the news. Not ten miles from here.”

  She drew her perfectly arched brows together into the most graceful frown he’d ever seen. “I haven’t been watching the news.” She gave an apologetic smile. “I don’t speak the local language.”

  “The warlord the army ran off a couple of years ago is back in the hills. He moved on one of the villages last night with his soldiers to collect tribute. Several men were killed and half-dozen women were raped before law enforcement got there and pushed him back.”

  She turned a shade paler. “That can’t happen here, right? Lahadeh isn’t a tiny village. It’s a town with a police station.”

  “Depends on whether the police chief sympathizes with the warlord or not. Frankly, I don’t think he could be in his post without the warlord’s tacit approval. But even if he isn’t loyal to the old boss, I doubt someone like him would stick his neck out for a couple of peasants.”

  Her eyes widened as she got his message--the police would care even less about foreigners.

  “I’m leaving tomorrow, for a week or so, to see if I can find any semi-nomadic tribes for a feature article,” he said to make sure she knew he wouldn’t be around on a daily basis to rescue her. “I could probably take you halfway to Kabul.”

  Her chin came up. “Thank you, but I’m not leaving without Kenneth.”

  Then dismay filled her eyes, as if she’d just thought of something. “Anyway, I’m supposed to see the police commissioner tomorrow. The police chief thinks I’m a spy, and/or here to steal their water.” She was too much of a lady to roll her eyes, but he caught a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

  She didn’t seem to realize how much trouble she was in. He’d seen too many innocent people walk into police stations like the one in Lahedeh and never come back.

  “Go home. Your fiancé will find you when he’s done with whatever he’s doing.” He would have liked to entertain her with a few more scary and cautionary tales of the various dangers that surrounded her here, but he happened to glance at the clock on the wall.

  Time flew when you were saving damsels in distress.

  He finished his cup. “Thank you for the coffee. Sorry I have to rush, but I’m expecting an important call from my… editor. I better get back to my room.”

  He left enough local currency on the table to cover their bill despite her protest.

  He turned back from the doorway. Every man in the room seemed to be looking at her. Not just the Western businessmen, but local travelers, too, who eyed her as if they were considering adding her to their harem.

  “I’ll see you later,” Jake called back to her, asserting his claim on her and implying protection.

  He let the door of the restaurant swing closed behind him, as she gave an uncertain nod. Better catch her at breakfast and do whatever it took to scare her straight. She was a danger to herself here and a distraction to him. He needed to get her on a plane and out of the country.

  His secured cell phone rang on the elevator ride up. Not the call he was expecting. Even better. “Hey, sis.”

  “B.J. is breaking up with me,” his younger sister, Mandy sobbed on the other end. “He sent a text message. He said the long-distance thing isn’t working for him.”

  Her first real boyfriend. They should have gone to the prom together and would have, if Mandy and Jasmine hadn’t had to go on the run with Jake a few months back. And even now, his sisters still had to be in hiding, at an FBI safe house, until Congressman Wharton could be taken out of the picture.

  “Want me to come back home and beat the crap out of him?”

  Mandy sniffed. “Just come back. We miss you.”

  “I miss you guys, too. I’m doing the best I can to make everything safe again.” He felt responsible for messing up his sisters’ lives. Of course, even when everything was normal, people still left you. One of the earliest lessons he’d learned.

  Coach Wilson had left for a better job. Madison, Jake’s first serious girlfriend, the one he could have fallen in love with, left him for an older man with money. His mother was planning to leave the family when that car accident had killed both her and his father, although his sisters didn’t know about the planned divorce to this day. He’d never shared what he’d overheard that morning.

  He’d learned that the best way to survive was simply not to get attached. But at her age, Mandy was too young to adopt a life philosophy as jaded as that, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

  He consoled her the best he could, not entirely ruling out a visit to B.J. once he finished his mission here.

  His cell phone rang a second time—his scheduled op report—just as he reached his room. He closed the door behind him before picking up.

  “I’m patching Troy in.” Gabe Cannon hooked up the three-man team. “Anything new?”

  “No big breakthrough here.” Frustration flashed through Jake.

  They knew Congressman Wharton had done something he’d been blackmailed over. His blackmailer had come after Jake and his sisters over an unrelated incident a few months back. That man was dead now, but Wharton thought he might have squealed before he’d died, so the Congressman viewed Gabe, Troy, Jake and his sisters as threats to be eliminated.

  They needed to figure out what he’d been blackmailed with and use the information to bring him down, put him behind bars.

  Since the blackmailer had been a mercenary with XO-ST, a private security firm that had their Afghan headquarters at Lahedeh, Jake was investigating here. Gabe snooped around Kabul where most political and business deals were made in the country. Troy took on Washington, D.C. where the Congressman worked and lived.

  “I have a suspicious disappearance in town.” Jake reported without much conviction. “Kenneth Hatch. Can’t see any connection to our business so far, but he’s an American who’s gone missing sometime in the past five months.”

  “Might be something. Nobody I talked to here so far has even heard of Congressman Wharton.” Gabe sounded glum. “Can’t find any U.S. businesses in the city that I could tie to him. Is he still in Washington?”

  Troy took that question, his damaged voice rasping through the line. “I’m keeping an eye on him around the clock. Nothing suspicious so far.” He then ran through the details of the congressman’s breakneck schedule.

  “Jake, did you say Kenneth Hatch?” Gabe interrupted.

  “That’s the name. He came here to sell an irrigation system or something like that.”

  “I’m looking at the XO-ST files we have. A
ccording to the roster, Hatch was one of their contract soldiers. Signed up, got shipped to Lahedeh immediately, and was killed a month later.”

  That didn’t sound right. Jake scratched his head. “I got the impression he was more of a trust fund yuppie. A businessman, according to his fiancée.”

  He didn’t think Allison had lied about that. He was pretty good at reading people. “Any record of whether his body was shipped back to the States?”

  “No. But it’s a confirmed kill. Looks like he was buried locally.”

  Odd. The bodies of soldiers—even private commando—were usually shipped back home to their families. “Something doesn’t add up here.”

  “Which doesn’t mean that he is connected to our mess,” Troy rasped out the words.

  Jake thought for a second. “I want to check him out anyway.”

  “All right,” Gabe agreed. “Let’s see what we can find out about the man. See if we can connect him to the congressman. Maybe this is Wharton’s dark secret. Maybe he had Hatch killed over there or whatever.”

  Jake told them about the house the resistance used, gave an approximate location to be passed on to their Army connection in Kabul. He’d been an Army man himself, not that long ago. He wanted to help, if he could.

  They strategized for a couple of more minutes. After the call ended, he took a shower, gave himself time to think, then headed to Allison’s room. Not without some degree of anticipation.

  Cut it out. No anticipation. Regardless of her fiancé’s death, nothing could happen between them. He didn’t fool around with heiresses. The good-time gals he usually hung out with when he was on leave kept him contented. No need to add any complications to his life at this stage.

  She opened the door on the second knock, and looked up at him with a puzzled, cautious expression. “Can I help you?”

  Complication never looked so good. He leaned against the doorjamb. Not because he wanted to appear cool. He needed the support. An antique ivory clip held up her mass of golden hair, leaving the slim curve of her neck exposed. She’d ditched the shapeless dress and wore silk pants with a sleeveless silk blouse, the fine material hugging her slim figure.

  Along with the sudden wave of lust, he felt a pang of guilt over what he was about to do. He stifled the first, and brushed aside the second. He was a seasoned soldier, working for the FBI on this mission as a temporary agent. He’d cheated, lied and killed in the past. When on a mission, you did whatever it took to reach the mission objective.

  He pasted on his most winning smile and slapped on his travel writer persona like a mask. “You know, I was thinking. If it’s that important to you to stay in Lahedeh, you could tell the police you hired me as your guide and protector. It’d make the locals more comfortable. I could help you figure out where your fiancé got off to.”

  ~~~***~~~

  Chapter Three

  The police station turned her stomach into a lead ball just as fast as it had the last time, but being there did seem somewhat less threatening with Jake Tekla by her side. They waited in the chief’s office, the guard keeping an eye on them from the open doorway.

  “I appreciate that you postponed your trip for me,” Allison told Jake in a low whisper.

  “The travel magazines can wait.” He flashed her an easy smile.

  Which made her feel uneasy. Something about the man set her on edge. She kept having this weird feeling when they were together, the same she’d had the one and only time she’d ridden a roller coaster, a sense that something terrifyingly exciting was about to happen.

  The ride had turned out to be mostly terrifying.

  She glanced toward the door, wishing the commissioner would come in. She wanted the interview to be over with. After this, she would owe Jake even more than she already did. She had no idea how she was going to repay him, since he’d refused money. Being beholden to him made her feel decidedly uncomfortable, but she didn’t have any choice but to accept his help.

  An older man strode in, his tanned skin stretched tight over his cheekbones, his cold eyes immediately settling on her. The police chief followed him, remaining standing as the commissioner took the chair behind the desk.

  She reached up to make sure she still had her head covered.

  The commissioner flashed her a contemptuous look then shifted his attention to Jake. “Who are you?”

  “Jake Tekla. Travel writer. I’m hoping to put together a book on the natural beauty of your great country,” he said smoothly. “Miss Myers hired me as her guide and guardian for the very brief time she’ll be spending here.”

  The commissioner said something to the police chief in rapid Arabic. The chief responded. Then Jake put in his own two cents in the same language.

  She had to admit, whatever he did, he did it with effortless competence.

  Even the men looked at him with newfound respect. The conversation went on, switching back and forth between Arabic and English. She only understood about half, so she paid close attention to body language. When the commissioner laughed, Jake laughed with him.

  The men seemed relieved that they no longer had to deal with her, but could talk to Jake instead. The interview ended in twenty minutes, concluding with stern warnings on what she should and shouldn’t do while she remained in the country.

  Jake had driven them in his car, so this time she didn’t have to worry about the cab driver leaving, either.

  “Thank you for all that,” she said as they got into his white Land Rover. “Please tell me they no longer think I’m a spy.”

  “I’m not sure if they ever did. They just don’t like women around here who are all confident and question men on the street. I think they wanted to intimidate you into leaving. I let them know that I’d be keeping you under tight control from here on out.” He winked.

  Her core temperature jumped up another few degrees, and she’d been plenty hot already. She couldn’t wait to be back in her room at the hotel and change out of the tent she was wearing in deference to local customs. Then she would start working the phone again.

  The embassy topped her list. Somebody had to know something. She just hadn’t reached the right person yet.

  But when Jake started up the car, he didn’t turn toward the hotel.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You said the hotel had no record of Kenneth staying with them.”

  Frustration tightened her jaw when she thought of her repeated failed attempts to get useful information from anyone behind the front desk. This wasn’t like her company where she could expect some deference. From the employees anyway. She’d had her battles with the board of directors.

  “He told me he was staying there. Where else would he go? There’s no other hotel for foreigners in town.”

  “There is one other place Americans stay at, if they’re not at the hotel,” Jake said carefully. “Khanbaba’s compound.”

  “Who is he?” Maybe some local hotshot businessman. Maybe he’d invited Kenneth to stay at his place because they were negotiating some deal. That didn’t explain why Kenneth had stopped calling, but still, hope filled her suddenly.

  “Khanbaba is the local warlord I told you about last night.”

  She nearly choked on her saliva. “Kenneth wouldn’t have anything to do with people like that!”

  “Khanbaba is no longer at the compound. He was run off years ago. The place is utilized by XO-ST, a private security firm here on a contract from the U.S. government.”

  “You mean like those mercenary mini armies they talk about on TV?” The embassy had mentioned a group like that, but not by name.

  The corner of his masculine lips twitched. “Exactly.”

  “I haven’t seen them around here.” Or any U.S. Army presence, which she’d counted on when she’d decided to come to this place. The region had been a lot safer in her imagination than it had turned out in reality.

  Her new ‘protector’ drove around a small herd of goats that blocked the road. “They’re not in t
own at the moment.”

  “Then why are we going over there?”

  “Just want to give their quarters a quick look. If they’re not there, I won’t have to ask permission.”

  She couldn’t argue with that logic. And she wasn’t going to discover anything by sitting around at the hotel. Maybe Jake Tekla was more impulsive than she liked but, for Kenneth’s sake, she needed to learn to roll with the punches.

  Then she thought of something. “This could explain why the embassy is confused. They told me Kenneth was here as part of some commando group. They probably think every American man who comes to Lahedeh has something to do with this XO-ST outfit.”

  “The embassy said that?” To his credit, even though her troubles had nothing to do with him, Jake paid attention. “How did Kenneth ever come up with the idea of coming here?”

  “Mitch Wharton, a friend of his, did some business around here that turned out pretty well, supposedly. He talked Kenneth into checking out the place. Harvard men stick together. They pass on business opportunities if they can.” Kenneth had always been very proud of that.

  “Any relation to Congressman Richard Wharton?” Jake showed genuine interest, instead of being bored with all the back story. He might have looked a little rough around the edges, and had an unhealthy zest for adventure, but he was a good man to have around in a pinch.

  “Mitch is Richard’s kid brother.” Kenneth tended to listen to him, tried to impress him when he could. He planned on going into politics once he was more established in business. He counted on Mitch’s help, and connections, for that.

  She hated the idea, but he’d told her he expected her full support so she’d been trying to work up the necessary enthusiasm. And not succeeding. She’d been trying to work on so many things regarding their relationship. And pretty much failing on every front. Guilt pricked her.

  As they reached the end of town, Jake slowed in deference to the potholes in the road. She rolled up her window against the unbearable dust and watched the stark landscape through the glass. Mostly rocks as far as the eyes could see, interrupted by patches of scraggly bushes. But the mountains looked majestic in the distance.