Читать книгу Born In Secret - Kylie Brant - Страница 11

The dinner party was to be formal. Although Walker was most comfortable in the basic black worn for breaking and entering, he had packed a dark suit jacket and tie. He wore it now, as he lingered in a corner of the gathering room, observing the steady trickle of guests entering the prime minister’s home. Most of the them wore traditional Maloun garb—flowing white robes for the men and brightly colored caftans for the women.

The presence of the females at the dinner gave the appearance that this was purely a social event, but Walker knew differently. Where politicians were involved, socializing was business. Some of his most lucrative tips had been picked up at parties much like this one.

But it would be Jasmine’s job to elicit whatever interesting information was to be had tonight. After dinner, he had other matters requiring his attention.

Of its own volition, his gaze sought her out now, standing in the center of a small crowd, smiling brilliantly at a swarthy man who was bending over her hand.

The kick in the stomach he experienced at the sight was most easily blamed on the bitter tea he was drinking. In her brilliant blue caftan she resembled an exquisitely crafted Madonna he’d once stolen from the Boston home of a wealthy shipping magnate. The memory filled him with something close to nostalgia. The piece was one of the few fruits of his earlier career that he still owned. He knew he’d never look at it again without thinking of Jasmine.

She’d done something to her eyes before this trip to disguise their shape. The makeup made the upper lids look heavier, as though she’d recently climbed out of a man’s bed.

The thought brought him no pleasure. He, better than anyone, knew how deceptive her looks were. They were a tool, one she wielded with skill. Right now they seemed to be working quite effectively on the man who hadn’t yet released her hand as he rattled off a spate of Arabic.

Gripping his cup more tightly, he tore his gaze away. The women had gathered on one side of the room, leaving the men and Jasmine on the other. Voices, conversations mingled, broken by an occasional burst of laughter. Walker found he was able to interpret much of what was said. Jasmine had been following the script when she told El-Dabir he spoke only English. Although not fluent in Arabic, he was able to understand quite a bit of it. He’d spent a fair amount of time in one Middle Eastern trouble spot or another.

He strolled closer to the group surrounding Jasmine. Pausing in front of a rather bad portrait of the prime minister, he pretended to admire it until they were all seated for dinner. Mentally he sifted through the snippets of conversations flowing around him.

“…until he is weaned, and then I shall…”

“…perhaps we will have to let him go. He no longer…”

“…not depart from what we discussed.” Instinct had Walker’s inner radar honing in more closely on the last sentence. With a skill born of long practice he ignored the rest of the talk and focused on the dialogue that had caught his interest.

“I will do exactly as instructed. You will not be disappointed.”

Walker recognized El-Dabir’s ingratiating tones, but the other voice belonged to a stranger. Not daring to turn around at the moment, he contented himself with listening.

“There should be no problem. She is only a woman.”

Inwardly amused, he wondered what Jaz would have to say about the man’s assessment. There was no doubt in Walker’s mind that the conversation concerned her. People drifted by, making their way into the dining room, and he shifted closer to the pair of men, as if politely making room for the guests.

“…have a hand in his own destruction.” The noise from the people passing by them had covered all but the last of the sentence. Walker found himself wondering just what he’d missed. The room was clearing out and there was no longer any reason to linger. He made his way into the next room and turned, scanning the area for an empty seat. From the corner of his eye he watched the men he’d been eavesdropping on as they entered. As he’d suspected, one was the prime minister and the other a short man in his mid-sixties with a weather-beaten face. He made a mental note to ask Jasmine about him later.

Even as Walker slipped into a seat at the end of the table, El-Dabir’s companion made his way to the table head. Jasmine sat across and down the table from Walker, flanked by the prime minister and a sleekly polished man on her left. Keeping his attention trained on the dishes placed in front of him, he listened carefully as the stranger monopolized Jasmine’s attention.

“You are too young and beautiful to be a widow, Madame Mahrain. How long ago did your husband die?”

“Two years,” Jasmine answered with just the right amount of sorrow in her tone. “He was killed in a car accident.”

“Allow me to express my regret for your loss.” The stranger reached out, stroked the back of her hand for an instant. “Had you been married long?”

Walker held his breath, but he needn’t have worried. Jasmine had perfected her lines before they’d left Tamir. “We had been married for ten years, and engaged for two years before that.” Her smile was hauntingly sad. A man would have to be made of granite not to respond. The stranger by her side, Walker noted, did not appear to be made of stone. He stared at her with an expression all too easy for another man to recognize.

The man leaned toward her, lowered his voice. “I hope I will have the opportunity to banish some of the sorrow I see in your beautiful eyes. I would like to show you some of our country before you leave.”

“That is a kind offer, Mr. Abdul.”

“Please.” Again he touched her hand briefly, then reached for his tea, his gaze never leaving her. “You must feel free to call me Tariq.”

Jasmine hesitated, her gaze dropping to her plate. “Tariq. I do not know that I will have any free time. The business that brings me to Maloun is very serious.”

“In any business, madame, there must be time for pleasure.” The man showed his teeth in a brilliant display, clearly unwilling to give up. He appeared to be a man used to getting what he wanted, Walker thought narrowly. People acquired that kind of confidence from money, position or power. He didn’t know which fit Tariq Abdul, but he’d find out.

The voices from the guests were a distant hum. Walker paused outside the only door on the lower floor that he’d found locked. It was safe to presume it was the prime minister’s study.

Keeping a careful eye out for lost guests or inquisitive servants, he withdrew the pen from his pocket and checked for security devices. He exchanged the pen for a thin, flexible length of wire, which he fed into the lock. After a couple of quick twists, a click was heard. Faintly irritated, he turned the knob and slipped into the room. When people made it so easy, it took the thrill right out of it.

Gloves, he’d found, could be hard to explain if someone happened by. The container of spray he’d brought along applied a thin layer of wax to fingers and palms, while allowing for greater dexterity.

He closed the door behind him and took out a small compact machine resembling the size of a pocket organizer. A press of a button had the two halves springing open, revealing a screen on one side and command keys on the other. One of Walker’s newest acquisitions, it functioned as a combination scanner and computer. He switched it on and went to the desk.

The locks on the drawers were less of a challenge than the one on the door. Swiftly he withdrew the papers he found there, then dragged the screen over each, moving it left to right until the full sheet had been copied into the mini computer. Then he moved to the next. In less than five minutes he was done. Replacing the materials, he resecured the locks and surveyed the room.

Surprisingly, there was no computer in sight. Maloun wasn’t a particularly advanced country, but Walker hadn’t expected a complete lack of technology in the room where the prime minister conducted his business. He set his mini computer on the desk and reached for a pocket flashlight. Playing it along the walls and floor, he studied the area. A man like El-Dabir would have secrets. And a man with secrets must have a place to store them, if not in encrypted computer files, then in something a little more traditional.

He found what he was looking for a few minutes later when he moved a painting aside. The prime minister had made up for his lack of imagination by installing a very decent wall safe, with numbered tumblers. In his youth Walker would have simply drilled it or used a small amount of plastique. But his current career often called for a bit more finesse. He didn’t want El-Dabir to know that his security had been breached. From the pouch fastened around his waist, he withdrew another small bag and shook out four pieces of curved metal. The devices were fairly new; Dirk hadn’t even had a set, and Walker knew the man prided himself on having the best.

Carefully he arranged them to surround the dial. Magnetized, they clung to the metal face of the safe. But these were no ordinary magnets. The pull of the specially constructed devices would interfere with the tumbler action, scrambling the combination until the safe simply sprang open. He swung the dial completely around clockwise, then reversed the action. With only a few more manipulations, the door swung outward.

Reaching for his pocket flashlight again, Walker surveyed the contents. There were more papers inside, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess that these would be of more interest than the ones he’d found in the prime minister’s desk. He copied each of them, then set them aside. There was a .357 Magnum, complete with holster and cartridges. His brows raised. El-Dabir believed in heavy firepower.

A small black notebook was in the back, so Walker withdrew it and copied each of its pages, then replaced it. A bundle of photos revealed that the prime minister had a penchant for porn. Those were the only objects in the safe, and all of them were perched atop some stacked bundles. Examining one of them, he gave a silent whistle. Each package was full of one hundred dollar bills, U.S. currency. And there were at least fifty packages.

It was late when Jasmine entered her room. Stripping off the caftan, she hung it on a hanger. Then with a sigh of relief, she unfastened the Velcro straps of the specially designed undergarment she wore.

It covered her from breasts to hips, and completely changed the shape of her body, flattening her chest and adding pounds to her middle. It was exceedingly hot and not very comfortable, but would effectively throw off any description of her. She slipped into a short silky nightgown and went to the adjoining bathroom to brush her teeth.

And nearly had a heart attack when a hand clapped over her mouth, pulling her hard against a solid masculine chest.

“Quiet.”

The word, breathed in her ear, was accompanied by a push to the door, shutting it. Only then was the hand removed from her mouth. Her elbow came out then, slamming into Walker’s ribs. She was annoyed enough with him to be pleased by his hiss of pain.

“What are you doing in my bathroom?” Her words were whispered, but didn’t lack vehemence.

“Getting the hell beat out of me, apparently. Turn on the shower. Cold water.”

She did so, waited until the water was beating a solid spray, then turned around. He must have found, as she had, that there was no listening device planted in the bathroom, which wasn’t surprising. The moisture in the air would have interfered with its functioning. The sound of the shower running was just a precaution. Walker was nothing if not careful.

He was still dressed as he’d been at dinner, and an unwelcome shiver chased down her spine. He had seemed to arouse no undue curiosity from the men at the dinner tonight, but he’d been the object of many surreptitious glances from the ladies. Being female herself, she could appreciate their interest. On a purely objective level, of course.

The solid black he’d chosen only accentuated the aura of sexuality he exuded. Other men wouldn’t pick up on such a thing, but it was certain that women did. It was something that couldn’t be disguised. She wondered if he was even aware of it, and then decided in the next instant that he was. He was entirely too confident around women for it to be otherwise.

“Here.” He unfolded a small handheld machine and pressed a button. Instantly a screen display on one side lit up. “I want you to skim through these, see if any of it’s important. It would take me all night to decipher the Arabic.”

She took the machine from him, turning it one way and then another to examine it. “What is this?” she asked, marveling at the technology. She’d never seen anything like it.

He explained how it could copy documents, storing them for later retrieval. She was impressed, and said so. Her method of taking pictures of records to be blown up for later reading was a more time-consuming process.

“If I promise to get you one of your own, would you stop playing with it and get to work?”

She looked up at him in quick delight. “You will do that?”

He stared at her silently for a minute, then cleared his throat. “Yeah, but only if you quit talking and start interpreting.”

Happily, Jasmine did as he requested. She had a deep and abiding appreciation for new gadgets, secondary only to her love for clothes. He showed her how to scroll down the screen and flip to the next document.

“Correspondence only,” she said after a few minutes. “The first few appear to be from city officials of Redyshah regarding a public building being constructed.” A moment later she said, “Here is a letter from a man named Ali bin-Sadin.” Although he didn’t make a sound, she felt Walker’s reaction in the sudden tenseness of his body. She glanced up. “You know of this man?”

“He’s a suspected terrorist from Yanda.” The rogue nation was a known haven for terrorists acting against western nations. “What’s it say?”

Jasmine scrolled down on the screen. “He thanks Hosni El-Dabir for his hospitality.” She was silent a moment as she read on. “He says the sympathies of his group lie with Maloun and he is certain they can do business together again in the future.” She considered for a moment. “Perhaps El-Dabir introduced the man to the Brothers of Darkness.”

“Maybe. The prime minister might be lining up support for the action the Brothers are planning to take against Tamir.” She continued to flip through copies of the pages as he spoke. “It’s believed that bin-Sadin has a training camp somewhere in Yanda. He uses it to teach terrorist techniques to new recruits.”

But she was absorbed in the information on the screen. “After the correspondence there are bank records.”

Interest sharpening his voice, Walker said, “Probably from the safe I found. Where are the banks?”

“The Cayman Islands,” she said after a moment. Her brows raised. “Our host is a wealthy man. He has more than a half a million dollars in these accounts.”

“And another hundred grand of U.S. currency in his safe.”

“Either being a public servant in Maloun is very lucrative, or he is not above bribery.”

“Since he’s only a puppet of the Brothers, I’d say his personal integrity is hardly in question,” Walker said dryly. “What else is on there?”

“The last few pages are names, followed by dates and U.S. dollar amounts. The period of time appears to be…” She checked back a few pages, then flipped forward. “Over the last five years.”

“Any names you recognize?”

“The largest amounts have one of two names beside them. The first is Bonlei Marakeh. He was here tonight.”

“Which one was he?”

“He was the last to arrive.”

“The guy who wouldn’t let go of your hand when you were introduced?”

There was a note she couldn’t identify in his voice. “I believe the one you are thinking of was Ari Toudan. He was…attentive.”

“Yeah, I noticed he was especially attentive to your chest. Describe this Marakeh for me.”

“Five five or six, one hundred forty pounds, sixty to sixty-five years old.”

“Leathery complexion—sat at the head of the table?” At her assent, Walker gave a satisfied nod. “I’m guessing he’s affiliated with the Brothers. I overheard him and El-Dabir talking, and from the little I could make out, it sounded like the prime minister was taking orders from him.”

Jasmine consulted the screen again. “The other name that appears here many times is that of Tariq Abdul.”

“I figured that guy for a player.”

The word had her furrowing her brow. “He plays?” Although she’d begun learning English at age ten, there were still too many terms and phrases she was not familiar with. Americans especially used the same words to mean many different things.

“I figure he’s someone important in Maloun,” he explained.

She thought about that. All of the guests this evening must be of some importance in the country, or El-Dabir would not have invited them. But none of the other names on the screen matched those of the guests. Only Marakeh and Abdul. “Abdul is, indeed, a player. Perhaps even a member of the Brothers of Darkness.”

Interest sharpening his tone, Walker asked, “Did he say something tonight?”

“He didn’t mention the organization directly, but he spent this evening trying to convince me of his importance.” At his look, she gave a shrug. “It is what a man does when he tries to gain the attention of a woman.” Another female would understand without explanation. “Several times he mentioned a group he belongs to, without ever naming it. Once he called it the voice of Maloun.”

“From the intelligence we gathered, that claim would fit the Brothers.” Walker fell silent for a moment. “Did he give you any indication whether he would be coming back here?”

She managed, barely, to avoid rolling her eyes. Men could be extremely obtuse, especially when it came to the behavior of their gender. “He will be back.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Raising a brow, she merely looked at him. Something like amusement flickered across his face. “Of course. I didn’t mean to disparage your feminine charms, Jaz. Especially since I know from personal experience just how compelling they can be.”

If he was attempting to get a reaction from her, she was determined not to give it. “I will make it clear to El-Dabir that I have reservations about the rebel faction in the country. If he is as eager to forge a bond with Tamir as I believe he is, he will try to convince me of the organization’s harmlessness. I am certain that I can lead him to suggest a visit.”

“The sooner the better.”

His distracted tone should have warned her. In the next moment he reached out, touched her hair. “Your pins are coming loose.”

Self-consciously she reached up, meaning to resecure them. Instead she was dismayed to feel him withdraw the pin, allowing a strand of hair to escape. The instant jolt of awareness that rocketed through her veins dismayed her. “I’ll do it.”

Ignoring her, he dropped the pin in her hand and reached for the next one.

“Stop.” She tried to push his hand away, but he was immovable. Three more pins were loosened. More hair tumbled down. She tried to move away, but he shifted with her. The pins were pressed into her palm, and he reached for more.

She made the mistake of looking at his face. His expression was intense, absorbed. The expression of a man intent on mussing the woman he planned to take to bed. She’d seen the look on his face before. Knew what it meant.

She didn’t want this, didn’t want the memories of Venice slipping into her mind like stealthy little thieves. He’d seemed fascinated with her hair then, too, combing his fingers through it, smoothing it back from her face when she’d lain beneath him, shattered and limp.

Her pulse tripped once, and her heart did a slow, lazy spin in her chest. He was adept at this, she reminded herself wildly. He could switch from the cool, professional agent to the all too sensual male in the flash of an instant. He was equally adept at changing back, leaving her reeling with memories and unwelcome feelings that seemed to not touch him in the slightest.

“You need to leave.” With a recklessness fueled by desperation, she reached up, withdrew the last few pins, then shook her head to toss her hair back into place. His gaze never left her, his eyes following every movement.

Little tongues of flame danced through her veins. The man had to do no more than look at her, touch her, and she was a mass of quivering nerve endings. The thought filled her with despair. Her reaction was fueled by guilty snippets of memories she couldn’t control. Her body recognized the source of its pleasure, even as her mind rejected him.

“It’s late.” Anxious to escape, she shoved past him. “And the water has been running for too long already. You need to leave before someone comes to investigate.”

“Who? The prime minister? His quarters are on the other side of the building. And there are no servants who live here that I’ve discovered.”

“I don’t care. I want you out of here!”

“Why, Jaz?” With his hands on her hips he pulled her back against him, and his mouth went to her shoulder. “Are you afraid of what might happen if we’re alone together too long?”

She shivered under his lips. His fingers burned through the thin silk of her nightgown, branding her flesh. “This is a stupid risk. We know there are bugs in the other room….”

“So you’d have to be quiet this time.” The combination of his words and his warm breath caressing her skin had a shudder working through her. She could hear the hint of humor in his voice. “We both would.”

“No!” She pulled away and whirled to face him. His expression abruptly shuttered. “I think we can both agree that last time was a mistake. It is one I will not make again.”

“It doesn’t have to be a mistake this time. We’d both know what to expect.”

Her lips twisted at his response. “And what would that be, Walker? Should I expect to rise in the morning from the bed of my lover and return to an angry stranger making vicious accusations?”

“No accusations. No anger,” he said carefully. “We’d both go into this with our eyes wide open.”

And therein lay the heart-rending pain of it. He couldn’t have said more plainly that there was nothing between them but sex, a basic physical need that he could appease with anyone. At any time.

“I do not think so.” Her indifferent tone would have done an actress proud. “I have grown a bit more discriminating since we parted. And it is far less complicated to choose lovers who are not involved in our jobs, is it not?” Without waiting for an answer, she went to her bag on the counter, took out a hairbrush. As she pulled it through her hair, her gaze met his in the mirror. Her hand faltered. Banked emotion was apparent in his eyes. The new colored contacts couldn’t disguise the familiar piercing intensity.

Then, so quickly that she wondered if she’d imagined it, the moment passed and his expression went guarded once again. “If you plan to stick to your new formula for selecting lovers, you’ll want to tone down your come-on to Abdul. He doesn’t strike me as a guy who needs a whole lot of encouragement. And from what I saw tonight, you were giving him plenty of that.”

He could elicit flash points of emotion from her, dragging her from one to the other with almost dizzying speed. Her fingers clenched around the handle of the brush. She longed to throw it at his arrogant head. “You can go to the hellfire.” The amused lift to the corner of his mouth at her mangled English was like throwing gasoline on a flame. Her cursing was much more fluent in Arabic, so she reverted to her native language. From the way his brows skimmed upward, she knew he’d correctly interpreted at least part of her words.

“Calm down. I’m going. Don’t lock the window on the south side while we’re here.”

She pressed her lips together in an effort to regain control. “Why?”

“Because that’s how I get in.” Before she could react, he crooked a finger and ran a careless knuckle over the curve of her cheek. “Dream of me, Jaz.”

His exit stemmed any rejoinder she might have made. Dropping the brush, she gripped the edge of the sink with both hands, battling the welter of emotions crashing and colliding inside her. With short, jerky movements, she yanked off her nightgown and stepped under the shower’s frigid spray.

The icy needles of water raised shivers and chills but did nothing to douse the heat that Walker had torched deep inside her. She was very much afraid that there wasn’t enough cold water in the hemisphere to do that.