Dance with the Enemy (The Enemy Series)

by Rob Sinclair

  ‘It still doesn’t help us actually find Selim,’ Mackie said. ‘I’m not denying that I’m dying to find out who hired Blakemore and why, but that’s got to go on the back burner. At least, for you it has. We’ve got a team already going over Blakemore’s life: his bank accounts, credit cards, business dealings, phone records. As well as helping you, Evans will lead that side of the investigation. Sooner or later, we’ll find out who hired Blakemore and why. But right now, you concentrate on getting Modena back. Find Selim.’

  Logan mulled over Mackie’s words. It should have been what he wanted to hear: an order to go after Selim. That’s what he had wanted from the start. Much more than he had wanted to rescue Modena. But now, he felt like there was still a big piece of the jigsaw missing. Like there was much more to Modena’s kidnapping than met the eye. It was an uncomfortable feeling.

  ‘Is there anything at all that the police have found so far that could help us locate Selim?’ Logan said.

  ‘It’s going to take them a long time to process,’ Mackie admitted. ‘Evans can give you the low-down when we’re finished on this call.’

  Another thought suddenly came to Logan. ‘When we arrived, they were already loading up the van to go. That was before we heard any gunfire. And given Blakemore’s state when we found him, I think Selim’s ambush had only just started.’

  ‘Blakemore’s state? You’re making it sound like he was drunk and disorderly. He was a complete mess!’

  ‘I know he was. But it was nothing that couldn’t have been done in five minutes. And the van was being loaded up by one of Blakemore’s guys. It wasn’t just Selim’s man. That to me suggests that Blakemore thought they were getting out of there. They had a plan to go somewhere else. Maybe it was because of the heat on them, or maybe they had planned to move out all along. Either way, the key to where they were going will be in that house somewhere.’

  ‘And you think Selim will go there still? The same place Blakemore had planned for them?’

  ‘It’s got to be worth a shot. We know Selim’s only been in France for a few days. It would have made more sense for him to let Blakemore arrange all those details. Then all Selim had to do was kill him and he already had everything he needed planned and in place for him.’

  ‘I agree,’ Evans said, catching Logan’s eye, who nodded in response. ‘It’s definitely worth checking it out.’

  ‘Okay, we’ll keep that in mind. How are you doing for supplies?’ Mackie asked.

  ‘I need some more clips,’ Logan said.

  ‘Okay, there’s fresh equipment in the cupboard in the bedroom next to you. Anything else?’

  ‘Did you get my IDs?’

  ‘Yeah. Why, you planning on going somewhere?’

  ‘Not yet, but it’s about time I swapped over. Burrows has been all over the place for the past couple of days. And he very nearly got me into trouble.’

  ‘Well, just keep your eye out. Don’t assume they’re not still after you.’

  ‘Who’s not still after me?’ Logan said, agitated that Mackie hadn’t yet said anything more about the two attackers back at the hotel.

  ‘I can’t explain just now. Like I said before, you’re making a lot of enemies out there.’

  Logan sensed he wasn’t going to get any more information than that. He didn’t know why Mackie was being so cagey, but what could he do? If Mackie had thought it would help, he would have answered Logan’s question. All he could do was remain vigilant, as Mackie had suggested.

  ‘Is there anything else?’ Logan asked.

  ‘Just keep me in the loop, please,’ Mackie said. ‘Both of you.’

  ‘Of course,’ Evans responded.

  They ended the call. Logan and Evans stayed sitting, an uncomfortable air still between them, though Logan was pleased that Evans seemed to be well on his side.

  ‘So what now?’ Evans said.

  ‘Well, it seems that you’re already up to speed.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I’m off then.’ Logan got up to leave.

  ‘What? Where are you going?’

  ‘I don’t know yet.’

  ‘We’re supposed to be working together now,’ Evans said, getting to his feet, frustration in his voice. ‘I’m helping you out here, don’t forget.’

  ‘I’m very grateful,’ Logan said without any real sincerity. He picked up a pen off the desk and a piece of paper and scribbled out his phone number. ‘When you find out something that can help me, give me a call.’

  Logan put the pen down and handed the paper to Evans, who snatched it off him.

  ‘Oh, well, yeah, thanks a lot,’ Evans grumbled.

  Logan ignored the sarcastic comment, turned on his heel and walked toward the door.

  Chapter 47

  Logan headed back to the car. He was very conscious that there may well still be people after him, and he would much rather keep on the move, keep them guessing, than stick around the safe house with Evans, a man he had never worked with before and knew nothing about.

  He was more than a little perturbed by the way Evans’s involvement had been revealed. He trusted that Mackie was fighting for him, but Evans being sprung on him like that seemed to just be rubbing salt into his wounds, almost as if Mackie were making it clear that even he thought Logan needed assistance. Evans may well be a great guy and a good agent to boot, but that didn’t mean Logan wanted or needed to work with him.

  As he drove aimlessly through the busy central Paris traffic, Logan couldn’t rid himself of the feeling of frustration. All of a sudden it felt like his role in the investigation had ground to a screeching halt.

  He had to figure a way to get things moving again.

  With only limited next steps at his disposable, he went for some food, not only to pass the time, but because he hadn’t had a meal of any substance for some while. Add on the lack of sleep and the fighting that he’d been involved in and the result was that his energy levels were seriously depleted.

  Logan was no health freak. Although he worked out during downtime, even more so during his period of rehabilitation, he didn’t really pay attention to his diet at all. He guessed he was still relatively healthy, though. He didn’t overindulge in any particular thing, but that wasn’t a conscious decision, more down to the fact that he liked most types of food so he ended up eating a large variety: high fat, low fat, high carb, low carb. A balanced diet. But today was different. Today he needed something specific. He was eating for energy.

  He was in central Paris, famed for its haute cuisine, its endless pavement cafes and the like, but it didn’t take long to find what he was after: an Italian restaurant. It was like it had been cut and pasted straight out of an Italy guidebook, together with fake vines on the ceiling, wood panelling, empty wine bottle displays everywhere and red-and-white-checked tablecloths. The food was simple but it did the job. Pasta, meatballs, fresh bread. It had just about everything he needed: protein for strength, fat for slow-burning energy, carbs for the immediate burst. He also had a glass of red wine, just for the hell of it.

  He’d finished refuelling when Grainger called him. A welcome surprise.

  ‘Carl, are you busy?’

  ‘Not particularly,’ he said, downing the last of his wine.

  ‘Right, we need to meet up then. I need to talk to you. Where are you?’

  ‘In the city.’

  ‘I’ve just left Blakemore’s. Meet me halfway. Where we stopped for coffee yesterday?’

  ‘That place? You mean where you dumped me?’

  She laughed. ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘I’m heading there now,’ she said.

  ‘Me too.’

  She hung up.

  He decided against another wine and left cash on the table before he walked out and headed towards the car. After fighting through the traffic towards the motorway, he had an untroubled journey back to the town where he and Grainger had eaten the day before. As it had been the previous day, the sky w
as clear and blue and there was a warmth that belied the time of year. That, and the prospect of meeting up with Grainger again, lifted his spirits considerably.

  Grainger was already waiting for him when he arrived, standing on the pavement, leaning against a Ford – the same model but a different colour to the last one she’d had. She’d changed clothes since he last saw her too: another tight-fitting suit, dark grey; standard Feds uniform, obviously. As he pulled in at the kerb, she gave him a broad smile. He parked two cars down from where she was. She didn’t wait for him to get out, but walked over to his passenger door.

  ‘Everything okay?’ he said, giving her a beaming smile as she got in.

  Should he try to kiss her? No. Just play it cool, he told himself. This really wasn’t something he was used to having to deal with. He’d felt lust before. Who hadn’t? But this? What was this?

  ‘Yeah, fine. It’s good to see you,’ she said. Her expression didn’t agree with her words. It seemed to Logan that some of her troubles were back. ‘I kinda missed you,’ she added.

  Despite the hesitation in her face, he felt a wave of relief at her words. It had only been a few hours since they’d seen each other, but he’d missed her as well.

  Was this really him? Where had these feelings come from?

  He smiled and put his hand on her leg, giving it a gentle squeeze, but resisted going in for a kiss.

  ‘So you didn’t take my advice on the cars then?’ he said.

  ‘What?’ she said. ‘Oh, that. No. Is your boss okay with you then?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah. Wasn’t happy at first, but I think he sees that you and I working together has helped out so far. You can’t really argue with that. We very nearly closed this thing off earlier.’

  Logan deliberately didn’t bring Evans’s involvement into the conversation. There was no need to complicate matters unless absolutely necessary.

  ‘That’s good. That your boss is okay with you, I mean. The police are pretty suspicious down at Blakemore’s, though. There are quite a few slugs from your gun. When they put them together with your prints, they’ll soon realise they belong to someone who’s missing. Perhaps they’ll pin you as one of Selim’s men who got away.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. We’ll have this cracked by then. Once it’s all over, there’s no need to hide my involvement anymore.’

  ‘Wouldn’t that blow your … you know … cover?’

  ‘Well, they won’t actually name and shame me or post a picture in the paper, but exactly what happened will be explained to the police, high up the chain at least. Who their missing link was. Me, that is.’

  ‘Oh, right.’

  ‘What about you? Any other signs of trouble for you?’ he asked.

  ‘For me? No. Why? Should there be?’

  Logan frowned; she really wasn’t with it. Something was troubling her.

  ‘Are you going to tell me what’s up here?’ he said. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she said bluntly. ‘Nothing’s happened.’

  ‘Then what the hell is the matter?’

  She started fidgeting, reluctant at first to answer the question. Then she smiled meekly and said, ‘You don’t realise how similar we are, Carl. Remember what I told you about my dad?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Logan said, utterly confused. ‘You joined the FBI because of him.’

  ‘What I didn’t tell you was that it was my fault he got killed.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The man who killed him, I knew him. Not in a personal sense, but I knew who he was. And I had the chance to stop him. But I didn’t take it. I could have saved my own father’s life, but because of my inaction, he was murdered.’

  She’d only spoken for a few seconds but already there were tears streaming down her cheeks. Her voice, though, remained calm and unwavering.

  Logan suddenly had a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had sensed her pain, had sensed it from the moment he met her, but this was the first time she’d shared it with him.

  ‘Why are you telling me this now?’ Logan said, sounding sympathetic, but also aware of the growing anxiousness that he was feeling at her unusual behaviour.

  ‘Because the man who killed my father is still running free. Just like Selim.’

  It was then that Logan started to understand.

  ‘I saw the way you were at Blakemore’s when you knew you’d missed the chance to get Selim. Not just then, actually – the signs are there for all to see. I don’t know what Selim did to you, but I can see the look in your eyes. The need for revenge. For redemption.’

  She could read him like a book. He gripped hold of the steering wheel tightly and looked down, feeling almost ashamed. Ashamed because he’d had the chance to let her in, to tell her about Selim, and had blown it due to his own insecurities. And now here she was, doing what he couldn’t.

  ‘And I know how you feel,’ she said. ‘It hurts. Every time I think about it. Every time something reminds me of my dad’s death. About the man who did it. Every day I think about what it would be like to find him, to come face to face with him, to make him pay for what he did to my dad.’

  ‘Then I guess we really are the same,’ he said.

  And finally Logan saw why their attraction to each other was so strong: theirs was a bond built on shared grievances, on pain and suffering, but also on an unrelenting need for revenge. It was the strongest bond that Logan had ever felt with another person. His instincts about Grainger had been right. There was a connection, something solid.

  But there was one thing that she still hadn’t explained. Why was she telling him this now?

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said, as though reading his mind. ‘I want to help you, Carl. That’s why I’m telling you this. I just want you to know what I’m doing … what I’m doing here. I’m taking a big risk being here.’

  She was sounding very unsure. Her hand played with her hair, pushing it back behind her ear, then pulling it forward again. She was doing her best to avoid making any eye contact with him.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Look. This could land me in big trouble,’ she said. ‘Hell, I’m already in big trouble. I’ve just been lying to an FBI director and a lead investigator of the French police for the past few hours. But what I’m about to do, you understand, this …’

  ‘What?’ he said, more agitated than intrigued now.

  ‘This is something else. And I’m telling you because I really trust you, Carl. And I know you’ll do the right thing here.’

  ‘Angie, just tell me!’

  She opened her jacket, took out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Logan, who sat there, bemused.

  ‘Look at it,’ she said.

  He unfolded it and stared at the handwritten scribbles.

  ‘What is it?’ he said. But he hoped he already knew the answer.

  ‘It’s an address. Carl, I think I know where Selim is.’

  Chapter 48

  The piece of paper that Grainger had given Logan looked like it had been torn from a notepad, the corners on the left-hand side frayed and torn. There were numerous unintelligible scribbles on both sides of the page, tit-bits that wouldn’t mean much to anyone other than the original scribe. But quite clearly, in the bottom right of the paper, squared out and doodled over, there was an address.

  ‘Where’d you get this?’ Logan said, with a hint of suspicion in his voice. He looked over at Grainger and saw that her nervousness was still there.

  ‘Where do you think?’ she said. ‘Blakemore’s office.’

  ‘You think Selim is there?’

  ‘Yes. That has to be the address Blakemore had as a back-up. There was some other stuff as well: a lease document in Reggie Graham’s name – he was the big guy slumped in the corner of the office – and an invoice for ground rent. I destroyed those. Just kept the address.’

  She bowed her head as she finished, as though ashamed by what she had done.

  ‘You destroyed them? W
hy?’

  Her face creased. She looked upset by his question.

  ‘If I’d just given you the address, the police would have found the other stuff and come to the same conclusion that I’ve come to: that Selim is there. I thought you’d want the chance to do this without the police getting in the way. I thought you would want to get Selim. I did it for you!’

  He was completely gobsmacked. He wasn’t disappointed or angered by what she had done, more concerned at what the ramifications for her would be. She had taken a massive risk for him, may have just gambled her entire career for him. Nonetheless, he was delighted that she had. Selim was his, no-one else’s.

  Every day I think about what it would be like to find him, to come face to face with him.

  They were her words. But they meant so much to him.

  ‘Angie, thank you. I really mean that.’

  And with his words, she seemed to grow a little, some colour returning, her eyes lighting up, shoulders relaxing. Finally she looked more like her normal, glowing self again.

  ‘I just hope you’re worth it, Carl Logan.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘And anyway, where’d this Angie thing come from? That’s twice you’ve called me that.’

  ‘Sorry. Don’t you like it?’

  ‘That’s what my husband called me. My ex-husband I mean.’ She rubbed her wedding ring finger again, as she often did.

  ‘Wow, way to go, putting my foot in it,’ Logan said.

  ‘It’s okay. I didn’t mean I didn’t want you to, just that no-one else does.’

  ‘That’s the first time you’ve ever mentioned your ex to me. Was it recent?’

  ‘It’d been on the cards for years. Don’t worry, he’s out of my life one hundred percent. It just took me a while to convince myself of that.’ There was a certain sadness to her words, but she didn’t have the same look of pain as when she’d recounted the story of her father. The breakup had obviously caused her some hurt, but nothing on the same level as her father’s loss.