Kate skidded to her feet, her legs moving too fast. Her mind screamed No! over and over.
She was almost at the treeline when the gunfire started again. She dived and started to rapid-crawl, scrambling over brackish, sodden ground before throw-ing herself behind a tree. She gulped for breath and looked towards the house.
No sign of the Arab.
Then a gunshot made her start with alarm. She spun around to see an Hispanic-looking woman, shielded behind a tree, her gun arm outstretched.
FIFTY-NINE
The woman wasn’t aiming at Kate, but towards the bushes. “Over here!” she hissed and waved.
Kate scrabbled over and shrunk behind the woman. “Who the…?”
The woman ignored the question and pointed away from the lake. “I’ve a car back there. Not far. We’re going to run for it.” Then she paused and checked Kate out. “You’re OK?”
Kate nodded.
“Right, let’s go!” The woman fired three rounds at the bushes and, gripping Kate’s arm, began to run through the trees. Within a few desperate moments they were beyond the trees and heading for a car. They both jumped in and the woman gunned the engine into life. A bullet pinged off metal.
“Head down!” the woman screamed as she pressed her foot to the floor, fishtailing the car around the muddy loop before jolting them towards the main road.
“Who the fuck was that?” The woman said, as her heavy breathing subsided.
Kate stared at the woman with eyes that were cold, beyond fear. She said, “Who are you?”
The woman held Kate’s stare briefly but didn’t respond. After a moment she picked up her phone, dialled and said, “Special Agent Ramirez reporting. I have the Blakemore woman… Yes, in my car. There was an incident at a lake house off the 234.” She read off a grid reference. “Looks like the man from the airport is dead. There’s another perp—armed—seems to be after the woman… Last seen by the lake.” She listened for a while, glancing from the road to Kate. “All right. I’ll stop in The Plains and find out what’s going on.” She ended the call and looked back at Kate with an ironic smile. “Honey, looks like it’s your lucky day.”
At a restaurant in The Plains, Ramirez tucked her car at the rear, out of sight, and nodded at the back door. “Let’s go in and have lunch. I’m starving. Order some food and we can talk.”
She led the way inside, the smell of pizza immediately making Kate’s stomach rumble. People in diner-style booths turned and stared as the ladies passed. Ramirez nodded to the restrooms. “You better clean up first, honey. You look a mess.” As Kate turned in the direction indicated, Ramirez growled through a smile. “Don’t think about making a run for it.”
Kate stood over the sink and saw the streaks of brown and green on her face and clothes. Not much she could do about the clothes, but she washed and tied her hair back, removing more forest debris from it than she would have thought possible.
When she came out, the agent waved from a booth.
“I ordered for us.” Ramirez said. “By the way, you still look awful.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. So you heard who I am. Special Agent Michelle Ramirez.” She held out her hand and shook Kate’s. “I’ve been looking for you. In fact a lot of people seem to have been looking for you, Kate.”
Kate was still cautious, uncertain how to take this lady. The woman was toned, probably hard as nails, but there was a nice smile and friendliness, maybe humour behind those brown eyes. Kate shook her head as if to clear it. “Is it normal to arrest someone and take them to lunch?”
Now Ramirez gave a broader smile. “You aren’t under arrest, honey. Looks like there have been some recent developments.”
Kate waited. A waitress put down two large glasses of water and two equally large glasses of Coke. Both were filled with large chunks of ice.
Ramirez nodded at the drinks. “Diet, of course. So let me tell you what I know. There have been a few people murdered in the UK and Europe—people you know. The evidence seemed to point to you and you went on the run… to Washington. Why Washington?”
Kate said nothing.
“All right. So you travelled under your sister’s ID and met a man at Dulles. He took you to the lake house and is now dead. The shooter is possibly the Arab who you reported to the British police. Right?”
“Yes,” Kate said. “Why did you say it was my lucky day?”
“You mean other than me saving your life?” Ramirez chuckled and then more seriously said, “Looks like you’re in the clear. The gun found in your apartment has been confirmed as the same one from the Czech Republic. You weren’t there at the time. The British police know you didn’t do it.”
All the tension dropped from Kate’s body then. Tears flowed freely. Ramirez reached out and put a hand on her arm and waved the waitress away. “Give us a minute,” she said.
Kate dabbed away the tears and sucked pizza-air into her lungs. Suddenly a weight was lifted. She met the agent’s eyes, smiled weakly and nodded. “Thanks… thanks for saving my life.”
Responding to a wave from Ramirez, the waitress came back and deposited two bowls of penne pasta with chicken breast. Ramirez immediately took a mouthful. Between chews, she said, “Sorry, I really am starving.”
Kate said, “So what now? Shouldn’t you be going after the Arab?”
The agent gave a slight waggle of her head, an odd side to side movement. “Not my problem. Uniform have taken over. Me? I’ve been assigned to you.”
“To get me back on a plane to England?”
“That’s about it.”
Kate ate thoughtfully for a while, and then she put down her fork. “Agent Ramirez… I’m in the States to find my boyfriend.”
Ramirez raised an eyebrow, half interested. “Is that it?”
“Well if it makes it more interesting, I think the Arab was looking for him as well. I think people know something and the Arab wants that information, or…” the sudden thought struck her, “he doesn’t want that information to get out.”
Ramirez pouted, thinking. “What sort of information?
“I don’t know but I’m sure my boyfriend is the key.”
“So where is he?”
“Now there’s the thing. He seems to be in hiding, maybe some sort of protection. I don’t really know, but it’s all I can guess. He’s left me some clues that only I seem able to solve.”
“Intriguing. What sort of clues?”
“Well the last one was a code. Twenty-six digits. The man who I met at the airport, Matt—the one shot at the house—was trying to solve it.”
“Is that what you were doing in Merrifield?”
“Yes. He knew a cryptologist… Myron somebody. Anyway, Matt was sure he could solve it.”
“And…?”
“I don’t think he will have.” Kate paused, enjoying teasing the agent. The sudden shift in tempo, the food, the relaxed atmosphere, everything was going to be all right. “No, I don’t think he will have cracked it… but I have.”
Ramirez laughed at the game Kate had played. She held up her hands. “Please don’t tell me where he is, you might have to shoot me!” Then, more seriously, looking at Kate’s expression. “What? You want me to help you? I’m supposed to put you on a plane and be done with you.”
They ate in silence for a while. When they had finished, Kate looked into Ramirez’s eyes. “Help me, Michelle.”
Ramirez laughed. “Whoa, it’s Michelle now is it?”
“Think about it. My boyfriend has information. There’s been an international incident involving an Arab. Maybe, just maybe, this relates to national security. It could be really important. People don’t get murdered for no reason…”
Ramirez held up a hand. “You had me there for a moment until you mentioned people not getting murdered for no reason. Welcome to America, honey!”
“Not like this though,” Kate persisted. “If you were to find my boyfriend… Surely that could help your career.”
Ramirez did the head wobble thing again and drummed her fingers. “Look, I’ll tell you what. Tell me where he is. I’ll have him picked up and then if he wants to meet you we’ll get him brought here.”
Kate shook her head.
Ramirez said, “Won’t tell me where he is?”
“Ah… well, you see I only know approximately where. He’s in Montana. Somewhere called Red Lodge. I won’t be able to solve the last bit of the code until I’m there.”
Ramirez squinted at Kate and said, “You’re not shittin’ me?”
Kate snorted a laugh and shook her head. “That’s how the code worked. He wanted me to get there and solve it, to get in touch.”
Ramirez thought and then nodded. “I can’t do it without clearance, though.” She got up and slowly paced towards the exit with her phone. She stepped outside and Kate could see her speaking animatedly. A moment later she was back inside, grinning. “You’re on,” she said. “Think I’ll pack my skis.”
SIXTY
Agent Ramirez took Kate to a WalMart after realizing she had no clean clothes to change into. Kate’s bags were still at the lake house. “Get some clothes for now,” Ramirez said. “Uncle Sam can pay, but I’m afraid he can only stretch to WalMart prices.”
Kate was amazed at how cheap the clothes were. She bought underwear, jeans, a T-shirt and warm top. She put on the new clothes and dumped her dirty stuff. At the checkout, the over-friendly assistant found it very amusing. Kate handed over the tags and paid with the US government’s cash.
While Kate was shopping, Ramirez was on the phone again. When Kate joined her she said, “I thought it a good idea to let you rest this afternoon rather than fly straight out.” When Kate nodded gratefully, the agent continued, “There’s an 8:50 Frontier flight from Reagan National. Changes at Denver and gets us into Billings, Montana at 14:57. I’ve sorted the seats and arranged for a car at the other end. Meanwhile, let’s get you to a hotel so you can have a bath. You must be exhausted.”
“That’s the understatement of the year.”
“Well, you relax for a bit. I’ll arrange for your handbag and backpack to be collected from the lake house and brought to the hotel. Hopefully by the morning, you’ll be feeling half-human.”
Kate had pictured something luxurious but realized that was unrealistic as Ramirez checked her into the Holiday Inn by Washington Reagan National airport.
Ramirez left her then, saying she had a report to write and promising to collect her from the room at 7:50. “No need to hang around. We’ll just go straight on,” she said. They also agreed a knock, three fast, three slow, so Kate knew it was all right.
The first thing Kate did as she was shown her room was double-lock the door. She ran the bath and stripped. As the bathroom filled with steam, she sat on the toilet seat and let the tears come. In the restaurant she had held back, or maybe it was too soon, but not now. The tears poured down her cheeks and continued to flow even after the sobs subsided.
Later, she lay in the bath, her head resting on the edge. She closed her eyes and breathed in the steam. She’d been aware of her heart rate—too high and under strain. The thought of how her new heart monitor would have coped made her smile. Now, for the first time that day, the stress began to release and her heart rate steadied.
After, she lay on the bed in a terrycloth dressing gown and watched TV. Six pm had just gone when a triple knock—fast and slow—on the door made her start. She looked through the peephole. “Yes?”
“Police, ma’am. I have your things.”
Kate saw that the man did indeed look like a policeman and in his hands were her rucksack and handbag. She hesitated, uncertain, and then decided the man had done the correct knock so he must be all right. Mustn’t he?
She opened the door.
He looked at her, uncertain of what to do.
Conscious of his gaze, she tightened the dressing gown. “Just leave the bags there, please,” she said.
He placed them on the floor and backed away two steps, like a hostage negotiator would leave an offering for a terrorist. Then he turned and walked away.
Kate snatched up the bags, shut the door and double-locked it. Her heart was pounding again. “So jumpy!” she admonished herself. Would she ever be the same again? Ever stop being so nervous?
She climbed back on the bed and rummaged through her bag until she found her phone. She checked her watch—early hours of the morning in the UK, so better not call. She typed a message to Darcy:
Everything coming together. On my way to where Joe is! Did you hear they’ve cleared me? The gun they found was used to kill Peter. Now that they know I’m innocent, the FBI are helping me :). Will call very soon when I have more. Hope everyone is well. Thanks ever so for your support! Love you. Kate
In the browser she googledJoeCassano. There were lots of hits and she tried a few pages before she edited the search and added US Army. That brought up only a couple of pages and it didn’t take her long to find the relevant one from two and a half years ago.
BAGHDAD, Iraq (NewsNet)—Roadside bomb kills five U.S. soldiers Sunday in Iraq
“Five United States Special Operations soldiers were killed Sunday by a bomb explosion near Mosul, Iraq’s third largest city. There were no enemy forces present, and no hostile fire was reported,” U.S. military said in a statement issued on Monday.
The soldiers were assigned to operations in Northern Iraq. The location of the base and the soldiers’ identities were withheld pending family notification.
The only survivor of the incident was Sergeant Joseph (Joe) Cassano. He is understood to be “very seriously injured,” but assisting with investigations.
Recent attacks by insurgents have increased in the area of Mosul, 260 miles northwest of Baghdad. Some of Iraq’s most feared terror groups—including the Ansar al-Sunnah Army and al-Qaeda in Iraq—operate in Mosul. On Thursday a bomber with explosives hidden under watermelons in a pickup truck slammed into a downtown police station near a market. U.S. Army Capt. Jack Saddler said 10 policemen and 2 civilians were killed. Less than two hours later, a bomber blew himself up outside an Iraqi army base on Mosul’s outskirts, killing 16 people, Saddler said.
At least 18 people were killed in attacks elsewhere in Iraq on Sunday, including 4 Iraqi soldiers who were gunned down outside their base north of the capital.
The latest deaths raise to 7 the number of fatalities among American soldiers in war-ravaged Iraq during the month of December. So far this year, 302 U.S. soldiers have been killed in the country.
The US Army has lost 4,209 soldiers in Iraq so far.
SIXTY-ONE
Nineteen months earlier
Joe sat down opposite Woodall. “Thanks for meeting with me,” he said. They were in a safe house in Smíchov, Prague 5: an imposing Baroque-style building, pale pink with white and brown finishes, shops below and four floors of apartments above.
As instructed, Joe had entered through the service yard at the rear and then a fire escape door that had been left ajar. He took the back stairs, found the apartment and spoke through an intercom. The door had clunked open and a voice said, “Room two.”
The apartment had unadorned white walls and smelled of fresh paint. Room two was also stark, white shutters blocking the outside light. There were two leather chairs, a coffee table and a drinking water dispenser.
Woodall ran a hand through his sandy hair before looking up. His eyes narrowed but he still didn’t speak.
Joe breathed out. “It’s been a year.”
“Eleven months, five days.”
“Has anything happened?”
“You’ve been moved to Prague, changed identity, given a job.”
“I mean is there any sign of progress. Has our guy made a move, followed a trail?”
“These things can take ages.”
Joe shook his head, felt his hands damp on the black leather seat. “It sounded much quicker when you persuaded me to do this.”
“I
didn’t say how long it would take. There’s someone high up in the organization. They’re careful. Catching them will take time.”
Joe said, “I don’t see why. If your guy is worried that Mirrorman has information and is still alive, then he would act. He wouldn’t wait.”
Woodall started to speak, but Joe cut him off. “I want out.”
The other man snorted and looked away. When he looked back, he said, “It’s about a girl isn’t it.”
Joe met Woodall’s hard stare and said nothing.
Woodall said, “Of course we know about Kate Blakemore. We’re watching you and you were warned about forming relationships. What does she know?”
“Nothing.”
“Look, this is much bigger than a girlfriend. Much bigger than you. National security, corruption, maybe even links to al-Qaeda.” He ran his hand through his hair again and looked down as if thinking.
Joe helped himself to a cup of water, took a sip and sat.
Woodall said, “I want you in the States. Maybe our man isn’t making a move because he doesn’t perceive the threat.”
“No.”
“You really can’t say no.” Woodall said this through clenched his teeth and then smiled. “You can’t back out—there’s too much at stake.”
Joe put down his cup and stood. “You think I can’t just walk away, then watch me.” He took a step towards the door.
Woodall said, “OK.”
“OK, what?”
“Where do you want to go?” Woodall pointed to the seat and Joe returned.
“England. Windsor.”
Woodall tapped his fist on his lips, thinking. “Here’s the deal. You get what you want, but at the first sign of a move—of a tripped tripwire—we move you to the States.” He tapped again. “We treat this as part of the protection. You change your name—get a new ID and job. Hell, get a new life with your girlfriend if that’s really what you want.”
I Dare You: A gripping thriller that will keep you guessing (A Kate Blakemore Crime Thriller Book 1) Page 23
