Anger and dismay fought on Leah’s expressive face. “Claire Hastings! You are such a goddamn babe in the woods. This guy waltzes into your cabin and feeds you this bullshit story, and you buy into it? Give me one good reason I shouldn’t pick up the phone and call the FBI right now.”
Leah was magnificent when she was angry, Claire reflected. It was a good thing she was on their side—or would be, as soon as Claire could explain. She hoped.
“Leah, look, I know the whole thing sounds unlikely. But all he—or we—wanted was to talk to Annabeth Rankin. It was her house that Jonathan was staying at, while she was out of town. And we looked her up online and found out she was traveling, with a sort of vague itinerary, but she was headed to New York for a conference this week, so we figured we could find a way to talk to her here. And maybe she could tell us why her student would go ballistic without warning, or at least vouch for Jonathan’s character.”
Leah’s buzzer rang. “That’ll be the food. Hold that thought.” Leah pulled her wallet out of a bag and disappeared out the door.
Claire and Jonathan exchanged glances. “It really does sound lame, doesn’t it?” Claire offered.
Jonathan nodded. “I don’t think I’d believe us either. You think you can convince her?”
“Jonathan, Leah is my friend first and foremost. We trust each other.”
Jonathan looked unhappy. “Yeah, but does she know what she’s risking, harboring us? I mean, Rick is used to playing games in the cyber world, battling electronic evildoers, but Leah? You realize this makes her an accessory too?”
No, she hadn’t. She had been so focused on getting here, she hadn’t thought what her presence might mean for Leah. Claire had to admit that the idea of implicating her friend disturbed her. She had turned to Leah because she trusted her, because their friendship ran long and deep. But she hadn’t given much thought to what she was asking Leah to do. And Leah hadn’t counted on Jonathan in the mix. Did she have any right to ask Leah to help Jonathan? Did she want to put that kind of burden on their friendship?
But what could she do? Hiding her qualms, she said with all the confidence she could manage, “Then that’s all the more reason we should get this sorted out—fast. Uh,” Claire hesitated, “do we tell her about the terrorist angle? You know a lot more about that than I do. Or would it just make her life more complicated?”
Jonathan stared at the ceiling, with its ornate plaster moldings and flaking paint. “I think we have to—if she’s going to get involved, she deserves to know what the stakes are. And it might help her to understand why you’re in the middle of this. Since you trust her, I’m going to have to trust your judgment. Can she handle it?”
Claire laughed briefly. “I’ve never seen anything that Leah can’t handle, usually with one hand tied behind her back.” She could hear Leah jogging up the stairs, and the rustle of plastic carrier bags. The aroma of dinner preceded her into the room, and Claire started drooling. Breakfast had been a long time ago, and lunch had been nonexistent.
Leah dumped the bags on the coffee table. “You’re talking about me, right? There’s enough food here for an army, so dig in. You need to keep your strength up if you think you can explain all this crap to me. Hey, kidnapper, you can handle chopsticks, can’t you?”
21
The food disappeared with alarming speed. Everything tasted wonderful, but maybe cardboard would have tasted good under the circumstances. When the last carton had been scraped bare, Claire sat back in the fuzzy chair and sighed with contentment. With a full stomach and a couple of glasses of wine in her belly, and with Leah at her side, she felt like she could handle anything.
Jonathan, on the other hand, looked like he wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. Not that she blamed him—he hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, since he’d sat up with Rick through half the night, surfing the Web. And all this dodging and hiding took its toll, as she could testify.
They had suspended serious conversation while they ate, but with the food gone, Claire knew she had to lay out the cards to Leah.
“Jonathan? You still awake?”
He hauled his eyelids up. “More or less.” He looked at his watch. “Damn, I’ve got to give Rick a call, see if he’s got anything new. Leah, is there a pay phone—or I should say, a working pay phone—anywhere nearby?”
Leah gave him a searching look before answering. “I get it—you don’t want to leave a trail here, right? Thanks for thinking about me. Yeah, there’s a mini-mart on the corner, and they’ve got a phone at the back. Who’s this Rick guy?”
Jonathan unfolded himself from the love seat and stretched. “I’ll let Claire explain while I make my call. Left or right when I leave the building?”
Leah gracefully uncurled from her position on the floor and stood up. “Right. You can’t miss it.” She followed him to the door and shut it carefully when he left, then turned and leaned against it, her arms crossed. “Okay, girl, you gonna give me the truth now?”
The purple chair felt like a soft, cozy nest, and Claire roused herself with an effort. “Yes.”
“Then maybe you’d like to start by explaining why you’ve gotten yourself into such a goddamn mess? Look, I know you. You aren’t stupid. Did the guy brainwash you?”
Claire almost giggled. “No.”
“Oh, God, tell me you’re not sleeping with him!”
“Leah, no! Well, we have shared a bed, but it didn’t have anything to do with sex. Mostly exhaustion. But you know as well as I do who he is. Or, wait . . .”
Leah refilled her wineglass and sat down in the seat Jonathan had vacated. “Come on, spit it out.”
Claire’s amusement evaporated. “All right. You know about that stupid book, but that was five years ago. He says he’s a journalist now. Maybe he always was—heck, I didn’t exactly have time to do a background check. But he claims he’s legitimate. So, he’s been in the Middle East—he hasn’t said where—at least once, maybe more, in the past year, looking for some kind of scoop or something. I think he wants to redeem himself, prove he’s serious.”
“Yeah, right. He’s got a long way to go. But, funny thing—he sure is collecting some great publicity, with this bogus kidnapping and all. That should make people sit up and take notice.”
“Leah, I don’t think this is a publicity stunt. Just hear me out, will you? He says while he was over there, wherever it was, he started hearing rumors of something big in the works, and since he got back he’s been trying to figure out what. That’s why he didn’t want to end up in a cell trying to explain all this to some granite-headed FBI team.”
Leah looked skeptical. “What do you mean, big?”
“Some major act of terrorism. Yeah, I know, there’ve been lots of rumors, most of which turned out to be bogus. I even hear them in Noho, and you keep reminding me how otherworldly we are there. But he’s taking it seriously. That’s why we stopped in Providence. His buddy Rick there put us up for a night, but the main reason for going there was to get access to Rick’s know-how. He’s got about every electronic toy known, and he swears he’s undetectable by any outside agency. And he believes Jonathan.”
“And what do you believe, honey?”
Claire felt the prick of tears again. “I don’t know! All this is happening so fast, and I’m missing so many of the pieces. Look at me—I’m a college professor. I stand up and tell fresh-faced young women how to dissect a sentence, or a thought, or a book. I don’t run around hiding from government agencies! This is ridiculous!”
“Yeah, but right now it’s real, or so you tell me. If it is, you’re going to have to talk to someone sometime, and soon.”
“I know.” Claire didn’t like the sound of her own explanation, and Leah’s comments didn’t help.
Leah’s look contained equal parts concern and affection. “Tell me again why you believe this guy?”
“I wish I knew.” Claire sighed. “You know me—I’m rational. I don’t go in for women’s intuition, or touch
y-feely stuff. Still, something’s not right here. But one step at a time—all we want to do right now is talk to Annabeth. It was her house where all this started, and her cute blonde house sitter who had the gun. Jonathan needs some time face-to-face with her, without the feds breathing down his neck, so he can find out what the FBI might have been looking for at her house.”
“Huh. And what is Ms. Rankin supposed to say that will make all this go away? Aren’t you expecting a whole lot from her?”
“Maybe. I know, I know, none of this makes sense.” She studied her friend with a rush of gratitude. “And I’m putting you at risk. If anybody finds out you’re harboring two fugitives, wanted by the authorities in more than one state by now, you could be in trouble too.”
Leah’s full-throated laugh warmed her. “Hey, girl, I can take care of myself. And I’ll do whatever I can to help—you, not that dimwit who dragged you into this. Starting with getting you two and Annabeth together.”
“You can do that?” Claire goggled at her. She must be tired. Very tired.
“You know why she’s in New York?”
“Something about a women’s conference at the U.N. But, what’s that got to do with you?”
“Girlfriend, I work at the U.N., remember? Who do you think organizes these events? Elves?”
Claire stared at her, incredulity and something like joy doing battle. “You work for the U.N.? Since when?”
“Jeez, girl, if you got in touch a little more often, you’d know. Over a year now.”
It was as if the heavens had opened before her. Had she known? Had she forgotten? It didn’t matter now, since the path before them had suddenly become a whole lot easier. “What is it you do there?”
“I do a whole lot of shit there, I just don’t bore you with it, like you bore me with all that feminist jargon. Why you have to fill those poor students’ heads with that stuff I’ve never understood.”
“Hey!” Claire summoned up a vague feeling of offense. “Women’s studies is a respected academic discipline.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. And you’re good at it, I know. And you like it, fine. But I don’t want to trade. Anyway, Rankin’s going to be giving one of the keynote speeches at this shindig this weekend, and I’m coordinating the conference.”
Hallelujah! Finally, finally, finally they’d caught a break. Claire sat up in her chair. “That’s wonderful! That’s perfect! And you’re going to be able to find her before it starts, so we can talk to her?”
“Yeah, probably. But I don’t know if it’s a good idea to have you waltzing around the U.N. You’ve gotta know security’s really tight for this thing.”
“But there’s got to be lots of people coming and going all the time! School groups, tourists, that kind of thing?”
“Sure, but that’s the public stuff. The conference isn’t open to the public, only by invitation, and those invitations have been screened very carefully.”
“Why the big fuss? Doesn’t the U.N. hold conferences all the time?”
“Sure. But this one’s kind of politically sensitive—women’s rights in emerging countries, that kind of stuff. There are some fundamentalist groups that think it’s a lousy idea, you know. Then there’s the extra security for the First Lady.”
Claire stared at Leah, uncomprehending.
Leah returned the look. “How long you been up in the woods? Yes, the First Lady is giving a speech in support of women’s rights, so the Secret Service has been having kittens. It’s a mess—a real security nightmare.”
“Oh, wow.” Claire tried to put the pieces together. “I can see how that would complicate things. And security is going to be crawling all over the place, which isn’t going to make it easy to talk to Annabeth. Unless you’ve got her schedule? Do you know where she’s staying?”
“Of course—I booked her room. But given what you’ve told me, won’t the FBI be keeping an eye on her too?”
“Leah, I don’t know. Probably. I don’t know how all this works. All I know is that Jonathan needs to talk to her alone, and it’s the only way to get this mess cleared up. Or start to, at least.”
The door buzzer sounded, and Leah went to buzz Jonathan in. A few moments later he rapped quietly at her door. When she opened it, he didn’t look happy.
“Did you talk to Rick?” Claire asked.
“Yeah, and it’s not good. The chatter has really picked up, but it’s still hard to make sense out of it. Rick’s convinced that there’s something big going down this weekend. And there are a couple of weird references that make him think it might involve the U.N.”
Claire could feel the color draining from her face. She glanced quickly at Leah before answering. “Jonathan, Leah works at the U.N. And the First Lady will be there this weekend, at the same women’s conference that Annabeth is speaking at.”
“Holy shit!” Jonathan dropped heavily onto the love seat. He was silent for a moment, and Claire could almost see the gears grinding in his brain. “I’ve got to tell Rick, see if he picks up anything that fits. Damn. But that means it’s going to be that much harder to get to Annabeth—there’ll be security all over the place. Right?” He looked at Leah.
“You got that right. But, look, if I can hook you up with Annabeth, you’ll get Claire out of this mess in Maine, right? Annabeth’ll talk to you?”
“Yeah, sure, if we can get to her, with some private time. But how . . .”
“Leave it to me—I’ll get her itinerary tomorrow, and we can take it from there. Right now, you look like you’re ready to pass out. You try to do anything else now, you’re gonna get sloppy, and that’s no good. You can have the love seat, or I’ve got a futon. Get some sleep, and we’ll figure out something tomorrow. Claire, you come with me.”
Claire had to admit she was wiped out, and she followed Leah mutely into the tiny bedroom. When she had shut the door, she said, “What are you thinking?”
Leah gave her a long look. “I don’t know if I trust the guy, but bottom line is, if he tells me something might be about to happen—and I stress the might—and I don’t do anything about it, I would never forgive myself if something did happen. So for now, I’m willing to act like I believe it. And I’ll fix it up so you all can talk to Annabeth. But if this turns out to be bullshit, I reserve the right to chop Mr. Jonathan Daulton into lots of tiny pieces with a dull knife, right before I turn him in to the FBI. Got it?”
“You’ll have to wait in line. Leah, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You want the bathroom first? We get to bunk together, seeing as Mr. Wonderful’s got the love seat. Unless you two want to share?”
“I told you, it’s not like that. Believe me, I don’t want him. You weren’t planning to make a pass at me, were you?”
Leah snorted. “Girl, you are so not my type—we settled that a long time ago. Besides, I’m seeing someone these days, and she’d skin me alive if I strayed.”
“Good for you! So fill me in . . .”
Despite her exhaustion, Claire managed to stay awake long enough for a full update on the last year of Leah’s life. Finally the flow of talk wound down, and Claire felt her eyelids sinking. Her drift toward oblivion was interrupted by Leah’s voice.
“You sure you don’t have something going with this guy? He is kinda cute.”
Claire couldn’t let that comment pass unanswered. “What do you mean, cute?”
“Oh, in a sort of teddy bear way, or maybe I mean Boy Scout. Hard to believe he wrote that piece of sexist twaddle.”
“Leah . . .” Claire really didn’t want to bring it up, but she felt she had to come clean with Leah. “You remember I told you about that conference I went to . . . and got very drunk?”
“Yeah, and screwed one of the panelists. Wait a minute! Are you telling me . . . ?”
Thank God it was dark, and Leah couldn’t see her blush. “I’m afraid so.”
“Jeez! So that’s why it was so easy for him to sweet-talk you! Where are you keeping your br
ains, girl?”
“No, Leah, that’s not it. He doesn’t even remember what happened. He has no idea we’ve even met before—he was pretty drunk too, remember. And as for him showing up in Maine, that was a pure coincidence.”
“Uh-huh.” Leah did not sound convinced. “So there’s nothing going on now? Except that he’s kidnapped you and turned you into a fugitive?”
“For the record, no, no way, no how. Really. And the only reason he’s here is because we’re stuck with each other until he can clear himself, which will clear me. Or, at least that was the idea before this whole terrorist thing came up. Which seems to keep getting worse. Oh, hell—I’m too tired to think straight. Talk to me tomorrow.”
As she fell asleep, she thanked the watching gods—or goddesses—that she had a friend like Leah—even if she didn’t know much about men. Jonathan was cute—ha!
22
Claire raised her head groggily in the early morning half-light. Leah was tiptoeing around the bedroom, dressing for work. “You can go ahead and make noise,” Claire said. “I’m awake—I think.”
Leah perched on the edge of the bed. “Sorry—I was trying to be quiet, but there’s not a lot of room. You okay?”
“I will be, if I get some coffee. And don’t apologize. This is your place, and you can clank around all you want. Is what’s-his-name awake?”
“Dead to the world, looks like. And I’ve already started the coffee.”
Claire stretched and scrubbed her hands through her hair. “You are a goddess. Have you had any brilliant insights yet this morning? I’ve dumped this in your lap—now you’re supposed to fix it.”
Leah threw a pillow at her. “Yeah, right. You always were lousy on follow-through.” Then her face lost its smile. “Seriously, you are in some deep doo-doo, you know?”
“Tell me about it.”
“Well, here’s my piece. I’ll check out the elusive Ms. Rankin’s schedule, and the conference schedule, and I’ll see if there’s some way I can get the two of you together privately. Sooner rather than later.”
Once She Knew Page 15
