Against the Wall

by Lyn Stone

  Jack stuck the entire thing inside his vest and got to his feet. It was time for his shift to end. He only hoped the message did not require an immediate answer.

  At least one of the guys had come to check and would now know he had not been able to retrieve the phone. He raised one hand above his head as if stretching out the kinks in his muscles and lowered it slowly. There was a rapid blink from the woods near the tree that stood sentinel over his cell phone. Might have been a firefly. He smiled into the darkness knowing the firefly could see him. Night vision equipment would have been necessary to identify him on the roof.

  The moment he returned to the room Solange and René occupied, he realized she was not in there. Her cot was neatly made and empty.

  The boy was awake and waiting for him. He grabbed Jack by the arm and urged him into the bathroom.

  With the water running, he leaned close, his whisper desperate. "Where is she?"

  Jack glanced into his own bedroom. His bed was still made, just as they had left it this morning.

  René was already shaking his head. "She never came back here. All day she has been away! What has he done with her?"

  "I'll find her," Jack promised. "Go back to your room and wait."

  Dread turned him ice-cold. Somehow he had to figure a way to avoid the cameras placed so strategically around the chateau, get through Chad's study and into that tower.

  Read the message. The thought bombarded him like a blow to the head.

  Jack didn't even take time to question that. He immediately fished out the arrow with the small cylinder, removed the tape and unrolled the paper. The arrow bolt he replaced inside his vest. It could serve as a weapon.

  The message was written in Cyrillic so Jack knew it was from Eric. All is well. She is not afraid. Try this again. Got your drift, but concentrate more.

  Eric must have realized Jack would rationalize any telepathic reassurance he might receive as a product of wishful thinking. Absolutely right, he would.

  This written message, however, was proof that Eric had received the earlier "transmission" Jack had attempted and was answering with what vibes he had picked up from Solange.

  Jack ran the paper under the tap and washed off the ink, then flushed the paper down the toilet.

  "She's all right," he told René. "I have word that she is all right and not afraid."

  "Who sends you this word? Can we believe it?"

  "Yes. I can't tell you who yet, but he is reliable."

  Hell, he didn't even sound convincing to himself.

  Could he trust that Eric's concern for Solange's welfare matched his dedication to the overall mission? Would he sacrifice her for the success of it?

  Going out that door and getting caught on camera approaching Chad's private study could very well blow his cover to smithereens and Jack knew it. Chari would never buy the idea that Jack had so much concern for a mere woman that he would violate security.

  He took a deep breath and tried to think rationally.

  It was hard, damned hard to do. Hundreds, maybe thousands of lives depended on the success of this mission, he reminded himself. The possibility of endangering one person for the good of so many should not be such a difficult decision to make. Solange had volunteered for this, insisted on it repeatedly. She had known the risks going in.

  Just as Maribeth had known, Jack thought with a shudder.

  But if he ignored his own training, went rushing to Solange's rescue, what would the consequences be? If he found her safe and unharmed, he would have blown the mission for nothing. They would both be killed anyway, simply for not following Chari's rules. And if he found her...otherwise...that would also end things here and now.

  There was nothing for it but to stay put and pray that Eric was playing it straight with him, that Solange was all right. And not afraid.

  It was going to be a very long night.

  "Chari wants to see you," Piers told Jack when he arrived for breakfast.

  Not half as much as Jack wanted to see Chari. With monumental effort Jack concealed his fury and went to answer the summons. He strolled down the corridor as if he had all the time in the world, trying his best to look uninterested for the cameras. Chari would be watching.

  The welcome Jack received surprised him. Chari appeared almost apologetic. "Merrier, I did not send you the woman last evening. You must have been concerned that I had gotten rid of her." He paused, now wearing a look of anticipation. He wanted Jack to question him. When that didn't happen, Chari finally added, "Fortunately, that was not necessary."

  Jack shrugged, assured now that Solange was at least alive. "I was too tired after my shift to think much about it."

  Chari laughed and relaxed. "The fact is, I was too engrossed in my next project and forgot everything else. By the time I remembered she even existed, she had already let herself into one of the tower bedchambers and gone to bed." He turned his palms up in a helpless gesture and smiled. "She is back at work this morning."

  Jack nodded. The best course of action right now was to avoid discussing Solange. His temper was hanging by a very slender thread. Was she really all right? Had she run into any problems? He knew if he asked and betrayed how important she was to him, Chari would use that to the max.

  "I'll join her there tonight," Jack said.

  "Ah...no," Chari said with a hesitant smile. "I think perhaps she might be...distracted by your company. Why not give her a few days to adjust?" He paused. "Then we shall see."

  Jack glowered, unable to conceal his anger. He was almost as infuriated with himself for the lack of control. He was always in control. Hopefully Chari would think this lapse had to do with the deprival of sex.

  In addition to the powerful urge to make sure she was unharmed, Jack needed to find out what she had learned. Who was he kidding here? He wanted to hold her and then to get her the hell out of that tower.

  "That was not our deal," Jack grumbled. "I thought you were a man of your word."

  Chari's dark eyes widened at the insult. He pressed a hand to his chest. "I am wounded, Mercier. Have I not allowed you to have her every night since you arrived? Surely you are not such a slave to your desires."

  This was definitely a power play, Jack realized. "I missed having a woman when I was in prison. You said she was mine."

  "She is still yours but I have a use for her now. Be patient, my friend. What I want her for has nothing in common with your needs."

  The light of malice in Chart's eyes had dimmed and now looked more like worry. He was a man without any friends. Even Piers, the most loyal and informed of Chari's men, seemed to have nothing to do with him other than carrying out his orders. "If it will settle your mind, I will bring her to show you she's not been misused. How would that be?"

  "A generous gesture on your part," Jack said, pretending to be mollified a little by the offer.

  "A building of trust between us," Chari added with a smile that looked genuine.

  Jack understood what Chari wanted. Interest. Admiration. It was time to concede a little. Not too much of the first, however. And only a glimmer of the last, just enough to prod Chari into revealing more of his plans.

  "You would like to tell me about your project," Jack said, sounding only mildly interested. "May I sit?"

  "Of course." Chari inclined his head to the wing-chair facing his desk, then sat down in the heavily carved, thronelike chair behind it.

  His eyes lit up like neon over Vegas. "I am contacting everyone I know in the film-making industry and have begun collecting possible scripts. As soon as I settle on that one special property, something with truly universal appeal—"

  "Not that project," Jack said, idly waving away the smoke that was making him nauseous. "The other. I know you do not have Solange doing correspondence and reading scripts in that tower of yours."

  Chari sighed, his disappointment at being interrupted evident. "Oh, that. To put it succinctly, I am developing a biological weapon for sale. Rather, I'm having it done. Yo
u understand, this is no different from the invention of the Gatlin gun," Chari said with righteous conviction. "Merely another weapon."

  Jack suppressed his scoff and schooled his features to remain slightly bored. "It could be considerably different as an airborne agent. Impossible to control, for one thing and dangerous to use. No one but Jehad fanatics would be interested and they are not reliable as paying customers."

  Chari was already shaking his head. "No, no, it is not some flyaway cloud of major destruction. It is a topical substance, something like what is already available, only much safer to use. It might also serve to contaminate a limited water supply. That is what we are working on now."

  He seemed very sincere as he continued to justify the venture. "These groups are going to use something, after all, and it might as well be this. The kill rate will be less than what they have, but it is the safety factor in dealing with it that appeals, especially to those who object to becoming martyrs." His smile was beatific, as if he were doing the world a favor.

  Jack fiddled with his cigar for a moment, then looked up at Chari, who must be waiting expectantly for a word of congratulations. Clearly he believed he was only taking advantage of a money-making opportunity. "So you have buyers already?"

  "Oh, yes, absolutely."

  "It's risky. You would have done better to stick with regular arms sales."

  It was Chari's turn to scoff. "You didn't fare all that well with those, now, did you?"

  "Point taken," Jack admitted. "Are your clients reliable?" Tell me who they are, you son of a bitch, so we can wind this up.

  "They have funded the project."

  "Middle-Eastern?"

  Chari laughed, leaning back in his big leather chair and puffing on his cigar. "At last I have you curious, no?"

  "Concerned," Jack admitted. "If it doesn't work the way you say it will, guess who your clients will come after. This is a very small operation and you have damned little backup. I, for one, would not care to be around you if the stuff fails to provide the results they are after. Have you shipped any of it yet?"

  Chari's sly smile grew hard. "Why? Planning to try to leave before the results are in?"

  Jack nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe. Depends on who we're dealing with. If it's Bin Laden's friends or the PLO, I'm out of here. The IRA or the like, I could handle. I could reason with them if they're not satisfied."

  "How positively racial of you, Mercier. Reasoning is my area of expertise anyway," Chari informed him. "You need not deal with anyone at all. Except me, of course. And you are staying here, regardless."

  Chari still had told him nothing of any value in determining the amount of substance that might have been shipped, who had it or what they planned to do with it. He wasn't going to say, either. Jack had to find out before he rang the death knell on this operation.

  As an answer to Chari's statement, Jack smiled and stood. "Well, if I'm hanging around, at least give me my woman back when you aren't using her." He managed a grin. "And do make sure she washes her hands, will you?"

  Chari laughed, slapping his palm on the desk as he stood. "Ah, Mercier, your wit is dry. I do enjoy our conversations. Go now. I have work to do."

  Jack stopped at the door and turned, thinking he might as well try to create an opportunity to retrieve the cell phone.

  "By the way, when I was on guard last night, I thought I saw movement in that copse of trees to the north," Jack said. He needed that phone out there and he intended to get it. Telepathy, while useful in some instances like last night, was certainly too unpredictable to employ when trying to coordinate a full-scale assault.

  As soon as Solange emerged from the laboratory and furnished him with the information they needed, he intended to end this lark of Chari's once and for all. For that he needed the phone to make a definite plan for a concerted attack that wouldn't get them all killed, either by gunfire or biological accident.

  "But you did not report this incident?" Chari asked, his voice deadly calm.

  "I mentioned it to Todi when he relieved me at midnight. I expect it was only an animal stirring the brush."

  Chari went to the window, pushed back the drapery and peered out for a few minutes. The window faced north. "Take Edouard and Piers with you. See if there are signs it was anything other than what you suspect."

  "Now?" Jack asked. "Piers is busy."

  "Do it!" Chari demanded, his uneasiness betrayed by the clenching and unclenching of his fists.

  "Right away," Jack said. He ambled out and headed for the kitchen.

  He would be taking a chance, going out there with the other two, but he had known Chari wouldn't trust anyone, especially the newcomer, out there alone. Jack had discovered that the only person allowed to leave the chateau alone was Piers, who went into Tournade occasionally for supplies. Or to make deliveries. That thought was chilling.

  Eric would have erased all traces of his presence last night, so there would be no tracks to find. The problem was how to retrieve the phone without Piers and Edouard seeing him do it.

  "The sun on my face feels good," Edouard announced to no one in particular as they strode across the clearing to the copse of trees.

  Jack knew he had better take charge and give directions. "You begin over there and work back this way. Piers, if you would, start at that end. I will go in between you. Careful not to disturb any tracks you might find. If there are any, we might have to follow and see where they lead."

  As soon as they separated, Jack went directly to the tree, toed the leaves away and found the small box immediately. Instead of crouching to retrieve it, he bent and pretended to look in several other areas around it. Piers seemed more intent on watching him than in checking for footprints. Edouard stood at the edge of the trees lighting a cigarette.

  "You there, get busy!" Piers called out.

  Jack realized it was the other man Piers had been observing, not him. He wandered back to the box, slowly crouched, scooped the items out of it and tucked them in his pocket. As he stood, he saw Piers headed his way.

  Jack tamped down the ground over the box with his foot, then headed deeper into the trees, bent over and was examining the ground when Piers approached,

  "Did you find anything?"

  "This could be tracks. A large dog or something. I guess it was an animal, after all." He got up and started back to the clearing. Piers was just ahead of him.

  Jack's heart nearly stopped when Piers halted by the tree where the phone had been. He watched the man stoop, rake aside dead vegetation with one hand and begin to lift out the box.

  With a move that rivaled sleight of hand, Jack took out the phone and small set of lock picks and tossed them behind him into the brush. A split second later, Piers stood and turned on him. "The dirt has been disturbed. What is this?"

  Jack shrugged. "Just an old bon-bon box. Looks like it's been there for years. Not important."

  "It is empty," Piers agreed, but he wore a strong look of suspicion. Edouard had joined them by this time, darting expectant glances from one to the other.

  Jack knew he was about to be searched. He moved forward, getting as far away from the ditched phone and set of lock picks as possible. Piers was now holding the box in one hand, his pistol in the other.

  "What's the problem?" Jack asked.

  "Search him," Piers ordered Edouard.

  With a disgruntled sigh and roll of his eyes, Jack raised his hands. Edouard began patting him down expertly, making Jack wonder if the man had ever been employed by the police. Too late, just as Edouard reached his ankles, Jack remembered the crossbow bolt. He had tucked it in the top of his boot after he had dressed this morning.

  Piers tossed the box down, stalked over and grabbed the bolt out of Edouard's hand the second it appeared. "This was inside that box?"

  "No. I've had it all along."

  "Not when you first came. Where did you get it?"

  "Off the roof," Jack said honestly. It was always best to keep to the truth whenever possi
ble. "It was stuck up there between the tiles. Probably for years. Makes a fair weapon, I thought, so I kept it." He smiled. "In prison one learns to appreciate windfalls such as that."

  He was close enough now to disarm Piers. Edouard had not drawn his weapon yet. It was now or never. He had to decide. If he killed both these men, he would play hell explaining it to Chari. And Solange was still locked in that tower with who knew what.

  "We will see what Chari has to say about this," Piers said. As he spoke, he was glancing around them at the ground as if still searching for tracks.

  Jack pushed past him, bumping his shoulder to divert him. "Let's go, then."

  He headed back to the chateau, knowing they would have to follow. At least the bolt had drawn attention away from the box and what it might have contained. He had to hope Piers wouldn't return later and resume the search.

  "Stay, Edouard," Piers commanded. "Have a closer look in this area. If you find anything, wait here. I'll be back as soon as I've taken care of this."

  Jack almost groaned. He and Piers were in the open. It was too late now to do anything. He could probably escape, but he wasn't about to leave Solange in there. If he took anyone out at this juncture, it needed to be Chari.

  Solange made and fetched the coffee. Suppressing her need to throttle the oversize egomaniacal chemist, she even did the housekeeping chores around the lab. But he would not allow her to help with what he was formulating. Even when she tried to cajole him with flattery, he merely brushed her aside and ordered her to do something else.

  With time on her hands, she snooped without any guile at all since he was ignoring her. She found no written records of any shipments or lists of components stored. All she knew was what she actually saw, those containers in a temperature controlled room and petri dishes with cultures labeled with some sort of code.

  After repeated attempts that first night to get someone to open the door that led back through the study, she had gone up the old stone steps and found an unoccupied bedroom. It had been used recently, probably by the fellow she had replaced—the one who had the attack of conscience.