Enigma

by Dee Davis

“And they didn’t suspect him at the time?”

  “They did. Just couldn’t prove it. Anyway, adding all the factors together, I can say with almost all certainty that it wasn’t our guy.”

  “I thought you said you had good news.”

  “No, you said that.” But Harrison’s grin gave evidence that she was right.

  “Har-ri-son….” She narrowed her eyes, trying for stern.

  His laughter indicated she hadn’t achieved her aim. She punched him in the arm, then the two of them sobered as he pulled a photograph out of a file he was carrying. “I got this from the Bryan bombing.”

  “The barbeque place.” She took the picture, holding it up to the light.

  “Uh-huh,” Harrison agreed. “Can you see that?” He pointed at the upper right quadrant of the fragment they were looking at. There was a clear blemish. What appeared to be something shadowed and round. “Here’s an enlargement.” He handed her another picture.

  At this magnification, the blemish took shape, the circle of the Tai clear. It wasn’t as sophisticated as his later work, but the symbol was clearly the same. “So he’s got priors.” It was stating the obvious, but she needed to say it out loud, let her mind center on the idea and its implications.

  “At least one. I’m still waiting on the Abilene PD to send me what they’ve got. And there’s still nothing from Refugio. They’re supposedly still looking, but I’m guessing they’re not going to come up with anything. Sixteen years is a hell of a long time.”

  “I still know a few people in Abilene, let me see if I can light a fire and get things moving.”

  “Sounds good. In the meantime, now that we’ve got another bomb, what does that tell us?”

  “Nothing yet, except that the symbol probably isn’t tied to the senators and their scheme. Six years ago Dawson wasn’t even in office. Which means it’s probably a signature of some kind.”

  “Or has meaning we haven’t figured out.”

  Sam sighed. One step forward, two steps back. “Probably both. You get anything off of the frags from my room?”

  “Nothing yet. I’ve been scouring the ones from the model car. But there are a lot of them, and when the information came in on Lubbock and Bryan, I figured that had priority.”

  “You figured right. But until we hear something from Abilene, let’s go at it again. Maybe there’s something there that explains why the bomber is targeting me.”

  “Well, considering the fact that he tried to off your mother, I’d say it’s fairly apparent that he doesn’t like you.” Sam shivered at the thought of her mother, and Harrison immediately looked contrite. “I didn’t mean to sound flip.”

  “It’s understandable considering the circumstances. Besides you’re right. This guy doesn’t like me. The question is whether it’s because I’m standing in the way of whatever goal his twisted little mind has cooked up, or whether it’s something more personal, some link between the two of us that he can see and I can’t.”

  “Considering that he’s targeting people you care about, it seems to me that it’s a hell of a lot more important to stop him than to worry about understanding him.”

  “That’s just the problem, Harrison,” Sam sighed, rubbing her temples. “Unless I can get a handle on why he’s doing what he’s doing, there may not be a way to stop him.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  PAYTON DROPPED his duffel on the floor of the bedroom in the new house Cullen had arranged for the team. “Mansion” was really a more applicable word—the sprawling house perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking a sea of trees.

  There were three levels and something like eight bedrooms. He hadn’t stopped to count, just picked the most isolated one. He’d told himself that he’d wanted his privacy, but knew that he was thinking of Sam. God, she could drive a man insane. In more ways than he could count. Most of them good.

  He’d brought her suitcase here as well. Probably a bit presumptuous of him. But there was another room across the hall. So at least he’d left her an out. Or maybe he was leaving it for himself.

  He wanted her. There was no question about it. His body ached at just the thought of her. And he cared for her, as well. There was no denying that fact. But there was still a gulf between them, one of his own making—and he wasn’t sure it was something he could ever cross. Still, he wanted to be certain she was safe, and the best way to do that was to keep her close.

  As a rationale went, it was solid. He grinned to himself, willing to admit in the privacy of his room that it was about a lot more than protection. That maybe Sam was the one protecting him. Keeping the devil at bay.

  Unfortunately, he was afraid the devil in question might actually be him. And that left a hell of a conundrum, one he wasn’t about to tackle right now. There were too many other pressing issues, the first being to figure out who the hell was hounding Sam. And he wasn’t going to get anything accomplished standing here being introspective.

  Shaking his head at his own folly, he headed back up the stairs toward the living room, his thoughts turning toward the lab and Sam’s work with the fragments. Hopefully the bomber had slipped up somehow, leaving trace evidence of some kind. Something that would lead them to his identity. The guy was good, but he wasn’t perfect.

  A noise coming from the room at the top of the stairs stopped Payton cold. He reached for the gun he had holstered in the small of his back, and stood listening. The house was supposed to be clean. No one in or out without proper authorization.

  But Gabe was en route from Oklahoma. Madison had dropped their things off here and then gone to the airport to meet him. From there she was taking him straight to Cullen’s offices. Harrison and Sam were at the lab working on the fragments. He’d dropped Sam there himself.

  It was possible that he’d imagined the sound, but unlikely. Every nerve in his body was signaling that someone was up there. He analyzed the sound, running it through his mind, finally deciding that it had been a chair scraping against the wood floor.

  Which could mean the intruder was sitting. More likely that he’d simply moved the chair for another purpose. Payton silently covered the next few risers on the staircase, and waited again.

  Everything was silent.

  Counting to three, he drew a breath and rounded the railing at the top of the stairs, his Beretta ready. “Don’t move.”

  He swung into the room, centering the gun on the man sitting in the chair. He’d pulled it over by the window, the sunlight streaming through the glass washing out the intruder’s features, leaving him in profile.

  The man raised his hands, a deep-throated laugh filling the air. “I say, you always were good on your feet. I had no idea you were even down there.”

  Payton lowered the gun with a scowl, sliding it back into its holster. “What the hell are you doing here? This is supposed to be a secured location.”

  “Nothing is ever secured, mate.” Nigel Ferris stood up with a shrug, the light shifting to reveal his craggy face and pencilthin moustache, his casual stance deceptive. Nigel was MI6 to the core. He’d more than proved it the last time they’d all been together, his deception almost costing Madison her life.

  “I repeat, how did you get in here?” The two of them stood facing off, the tension palpable. Despite what had happened in New York, Payton still considered Nigel his friend. Hell, Payton owed the man his life. But his loyalty to Gabe was greater.

  “Cullen gave me clearance.”

  “Bullshit. Cullen can’t stand you.” The man had wanted to turn Nigel over to the authorities, and Payton couldn’t say he’d disagreed. It was Gabe who’d wanted to turn the other cheek. Extreme loyalty had always been his best and worst trait.

  “I didn’t say the git loved me. I said he let me in. He understood that I needed to see you.” The other man was looking uncomfortable now, and Payton allowed himself to relax. Despite the fact that they were sometimes on opposite sides of a mission, there was a hell of a lot of history there. And standing face-to-face
with his friend, it was difficult to hang on to his anger.

  “Me?” Payton sat down in an armchair, studying Nigel’s face. “What the hell about?”

  Nigel walked over to sit on the sofa across from him. “Iraq. I came across some information I thought you should know.”

  “It must be something pretty damn serious if it convinced Cullen to let you come here.”

  Nigel blew out a breath. “It’s not something you’re going to want to hear. In fact, at first Cullen tried to talk me out of telling you.”

  “But—”

  “But I convinced him it was your right to know.”

  “All right then,” Payton said, leaning forward, tension knotting through the muscles in his shoulders, “quit dragging it out. Just tell me.”

  Nigel pulled an official-looking file out of his briefcase, the red “eyes only” stamp covering the top third of the manila folder. The hair on the back of Payton’s neck prickled and rose. “I’ve been working on something involving the same group of dissidents that kidnapped Cullen’s exec in Iraq. They’ve been increasing in numbers, and Number 10 considers them as big a threat as al Qaeda.”

  Payton frowned, his frustration building.

  Nigel recognized the signs and smiled. “Hang on,” he said holding up a hand, “I’m getting there. As part of my operation, I’ve been digging into old MI6 files. The ones pertinent to this particular group. And I came across something about Mariam.”

  “That they killed her.” The words were clipped and bitter.

  “No. Actually, just the opposite.” Nigel’s gaze met his, a hint of compassion lurking in his eyes. “Mariam was on their payroll.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Payton exploded, standing up, his vision running red. “Mariam was betrayed like the rest of us. And when we succeeded, they killed her in revenge.”

  “Apparently that’s what everyone wanted us to believe. Look, Payton, this isn’t going to be easy to hear. I want you to sit down and try and avoid the urge to knock me senseless. I’ve got proof of everything or I wouldn’t be here. All right?”

  Payton nodded, unable to find words to answer, and sat back down, his fists clenched so tightly his nails were cutting into his palms.

  “I don’t know how much of this she told you, so for simplicity’s sake I’ll just start at the beginning.” He opened the folder, consulting whatever was written there. “Mariam Akhtar Benold was born in Iran. Her father was a French trader and her mother was Persian.”

  “I knew that.”

  “Right.” Nigel blew out a breath, and consulted the file again. “What you probably didn’t know was that her father’s work was really a cover. He was in fact working with the French underground against the existing Iranian regime. That’s how he met Mariam’s mother.”

  “So her family is known for supporting the old regime. That’s not unusual.”

  “No, it isn’t. Nor is it unusual for a daughter to share her family’s beliefs. In the beginning she used her cover as a journalist for worthy endeavors. Things that she honestly believed would return things in Iran to the way they had been. But then I’m afraid she developed a taste for money, and started selling her services to the highest bidder.”

  “I don’t believe any of this,” Payton said. “I would have known.”

  “Love has the power to cuckold us all, my friend. Even the best of men.” Nigel’s steady gaze was damning. He wasn’t the type of man to tell tales out of school, which meant that the file he held was not only accurate but corroborated.

  Payton sighed and sat back, waiting for the rest, already guessing at where they were going.

  “Right then,” Nigel said, dropping his gaze back to the file. “She started selling information to the highest bidder. We got interested when she did some work for the Palestinians. Her efforts provided intel that brought down a busload of Israeli children. I’m not saying she knew that in advance. But she was involved. It’s documented here. Anyway, there’s a list of other incidents. And the allegiances are all over the board.” He stopped reading and looked up at Payton, his expression grim. “All of this would have stayed buried, except for one incident.”

  “Iraq.” Payton choked out the word, feeling as if he was drowning on a wave of conflicted emotion.

  “Yes.” Nigel nodded. “The intel she gave us was planted. She was working with the dissidents. Had been for quite some time.”

  “But they killed her.”

  “Actually not. It looks like that honor goes to the Israelis. Payback for the bus. Fortunately, for them, the Iraqis were a convenient scapegoat.”

  “But your government knew the truth.”

  “Yes, but revealing it would have put other sources in jeopardy. Especially if you’d gone hunting. It was better to let things stay the way they were.” Nigel closed the file and sighed. “I had no idea about any of this. You’ve got to believe me. I wasn’t even a blip on MI6’s radar in those days. And I wouldn’t have seen it now, except for the renewed interest in the Iraqi dissident group.”

  Payton sat perfectly still, trying to inventory his thoughts, his emotions, but it was too damn confusing. Mariam was responsible for Kevin’s death. His wife had killed his brother. The idea was too repugnant to even accept.

  “Everything is verified?” Nigel had already said as much, but Payton needed to hear it again, to force his mind to accept the reality of Nigel’s words.

  “Yes. And I rechecked it all just to be certain. There’s no doubt.”

  “Why the hell didn’t I know? I slept with the woman. I married her. Hell, I loved her.” Payton closed his eyes, trying to find some sort of explanation for that kind of mistake.

  “If it happened now, you would have figured it out. But not then. Payton, we were kids. We led with our guns and our cocks. Mariam was a beautiful woman, and there’s no denying she wanted you.”

  “She loved me.” He said the words, for the first time doubting them.

  “If you want me to agree with that, I will.” Nigel shifted uncomfortably on the sofa.

  “But you don’t.”

  “No. I don’t. I think the two of you got carried away. Lust in the dust, so to speak. She was smart and she was charming as hell. And obviously really good at what she was doing. Look, everything is more intense in that kind of setting, and you know it. I’m just saying that it’s easy to mistake need and desire for something more.”

  “But it was more than that.” He wasn’t certain who he was trying to convince, himself or Nigel.

  “It became more than that when you were injured. Hell, it took on a life of its own. It was the reason you fought to stay alive. But the truth is, you invented a relationship that never existed. At least not on the level you created in your mind. If Mariam had lived, you’d have soon seen the truth of it. But she didn’t. And there was no purpose served by our telling you. Not then.”

  “And after I knew she was dead?”

  “There wasn’t any talking to you then. You pulled away from all of us, remember? And besides, it wouldn’t have changed anything. You’d still have blamed yourself. But this changes everything. That’s why I’m telling you.”

  “So you think that telling me that my wife was the traitor responsible for killing Kevin and the others is somehow going to make me whole again?” Anger was mixed with frustration

  “No. I just think it’s best to face the truth head-on. And I know for a fact that you’ve spent the time since Iraq blaming yourself for something that never was your fault. But in light of this information I don’t see how you could possibly blame yourself anymore.”

  “I married her. I brought her into our circle. Got her involved with Cullen’s mission. Hell, Nigel, I gave her access.”

  “You didn’t. She’d already infiltrated Delta Force. That’s how she met you, remember? She was on base, covering the war. She was part of the press corps. If she hadn’t found you, she’d have found someone else.”

  “Now there’s something to
hold on to.”

  “Damn it, man, you can’t spend the rest of your life kicking yourself over something you couldn’t possibly have controlled. I was there. I saw you pull your brother out of a firefight anyone else would have run screaming from. There is no blame here, Payton. Let it go. Let Mariam go. Let Kevin go. It’s way past time. And one of them at least doesn’t deserve the penance.”

  “Let me go.” Kevin’s voice echoed through his brain.

  “Don’t leave me,” Mariam cried.

  For the first time he really heard what she was saying—and the words were telling. In some twisted way she wanted to keep her hold. Or maybe he just wanted to hang on to the guilt.

  “ALL RIGHT, so now that we’re all together, let’s see what we’ve got,” Cullen said, sitting at the head of the conference table, leaning forward with his elbows on the table and his fingers steepled.

  Madison sat next to Harrison, looking over his shoulder as he thumbed through some photographs. Gabe had just returned from his trip to Oklahoma and was sitting across from Madison with his feet propped up on the table.

  Payton, as usual, was sitting apart from the rest of them, his hooded gaze resting on Cullen. He’d disappeared right after they’d returned to Cullen’s headquarters, and since then he hadn’t said much of anything to anyone.

  A stranger sat next to Cullen, his beard and moustache neatly trimmed, his black turtleneck and pale skin out of place in the Texas heat. Sam had heard him saying something to Gabe earlier, and recognized the English accent. Unless she was mistaken, the man was Nigel Ferris. She couldn’t think of anyone else who’d be allowed into the inner sanctum.

  But according to both Payton and Gabe, he’d been exiled from the group for betraying them on a case, his actions indirectly threatening Madison. Maybe they’d all decided to let bygones be bygones. She shot a glance at Payton, surprised to see him frowning at Nigel.

  Then again, maybe things weren’t as forgive-and-forget as she’d thought. Not that she was surprised, really. Payton didn’t strike her as a man who forgot anything.