Читать книгу Against the Wall - Lyn Stone - Страница 10

Jack stirred the bacon, careful to do it precisely as Holly had once shown him. He was not much of a cook but had been trying to learn. Since Holly was the only woman who worked with him and the only person he knew who didn’t exist on junk food and the occasional outing at a restaurant, she had volunteered.

Holly was slipping in under his guard, and he would have to watch that. Nothing sexual going on, but he was damn close to regarding her as a friend, not just one of the team.

Come to think of it, he had been spending a little too much of his free time with the others, too. Camaraderie was one thing; getting to be buddies was quite another. Maybe this mission would put things back in perspective.

He liked field work, but missed the daily routine in the office. Sometimes he could pretend for days he was just an average nine-to-fiver, fighting the traffic to work where he’d spend all day arranging investments and contacting clients. Visit his parents when it proved convenient. Maybe meet some interesting female for drinks after hours once in a while, get it on later if she seemed interested.

That was his life for about two weeks out of twelve. The rest of the time he was checking out rumors of terrorist rumblings and trying to stamp out trouble before it got underway. So far they had been successful beyond their best expectations going into this.

He thought about the woman in the next room, the pretty little doctor who had inadvertently become involved in this mission. Solange Micheaux was the least likely person he could imagine for getting wound up in any intrigue. What an open book. No guile whatsoever. She was so totally unlike the women engaged in this business, she could blow the whole op and ruin everything.

He pretty much lived for his job now, that of SAIC, or Special Agent in Charge, of a fairly new team called SEXTANT, consisting of six specialists recruited from different U.S. Government agencies. Organizations that had previously spent a great deal of their time bickering over jurisdiction and jealously guarding from each other the info they dug up. With the team’s respective contacts within their old jobs, and full allegiance to the new one, intelligence had a fighting chance of getting combined and doing some good.

Jack was formerly with the National Security Agency, the NSA, fondly dubbed No Such Agency because of its covert nature. The others were from the FBI, DIA, CIA, DEA and ATF.

They all had their own specialties, though they usually teamed up to make use of unique talents. As a rule, only one actually went in undercover. That depended on who was most suited for the job. In this instance, Jack’s French was best, learned at his mother’s knee instead of books or tapes. So was his ability to resolve matters without the use of weapons.

Jack had handpicked the agents on his team. He admittedly chose several of them for their psychic abilities. Paranormal gifts had always fascinated him. While these talents weren’t officially listed on their résumés, their extrasensory perceptions had been extremely helpful so far.

Jack wished he possessed a little mind-reading capability right now so he could decide whether Dr. Micheaux would become a help or a hindrance.

He stirred the bacon some more, then flopped it onto the waiting plates. The eggs were going to be a problem. He always had trouble with eggs.

“What are you doing?”

He eyed the eggs again, reluctant to turn around and face her. She would look soft and deliciously rumpled, he knew. She even sounded that way. Damn, she was attractive. And very distracting.

What was she doing to him? He had to get a grip. Must be her French, that faint Parisian-born drawl like none other, he guessed. Could be she reminded him of his mother a little. She sounded a bit like her. She even had that little one-shoulder shrug he remembered his mother using. Only on Solange, it looked a damn sight more interesting.

“I’m making breakfast,” he answered, his words a little more gruff than he intended. No, it was not Mama he was thinking about at the moment. Not even close.

She brushed past him and reached for the coffeepot sitting on the stove and poured herself a cup. When her arm touched his, he nearly jumped, catching himself just in time. He wasn’t exactly Mr. Cool this morning, he thought with a grimace.

Jack kept doing what he was doing, shoring up his internal defenses, cracking eggs and trying to concentrate on how Holly had taught him to do that one-handed. He nearly crushed the first one and stifled a curse.

“Move out of the way,” Solange ordered and took the bowl of eggs and fork out of his hand.

He watched the impatient little shake of her head as she took over. In no time she had turned out a perfect, fluffy omelette, which she neatly halved and slid onto the two plates he’d put out on the table.

Then she sat across from him and they ate, wordlessly eyeing each other in the way two strangers might do who had shared a night together and could find nothing to say when morning came.

Essentially that’s what they were, he supposed. There was even a faint sexual undertone present, though he had scarcely touched her at all and never with that intent. He wanted to, however, and that was the problem. She couldn’t know that, of course. And definitely wouldn’t share the feeling or appreciate his telling her about his. When they had finished eating, she gathered up the dishes and began to wash up.

He knew he had to gain her trust, and so far he hadn’t done much in the way of accomplishing that. He also decided he would trust her. Maybe it was the tender way she treated the boy and how she had leaped to his defense. There was a goodness about Solange Micheaux that seemed to emanate from her pores like a sweet fresh scent.

“Would you leave that and sit down again?” he asked politely. “We need to talk.”

Immediately she dried her hands on a towel and complied. Why wouldn’t she? He was her captor, or at least she thought of him that way.

She leveled a questioning look at him but didn’t speak.

“There is something I need to explain to you.” Still, Jack hesitated and looked through the doorway at René Chari. “Are you certain he’s still unconscious?”

“He is asleep.”

“Would you check on him and see if he’s conscious?”

“I did before I came in and he is not. His vitals are acceptable under the circumstances. I expect he will recover completely, but not anytime soon.”

“My point is, are you certain he can’t overhear what I’m about to tell you?”

“Why?” She frowned, and the expression tugged at him, made him want to erase it and put a smile there. He had not seen her smile and imagined it would be like sunlight on water.

Jack shook off the thought that was a little too poetic for comfort. “Just tell me if there’s any chance he’s awake right now.”

“None. I doubt he will awaken for hours.”

Jack relaxed a bit. He needed to bring her in on the plan. She would be able to sink him with a word when they encountered Chari, but he was literally betting his life that she wouldn’t. “I have to trust you,” he told her. “May I call you Solange?”

“No, you may not. Are you going to explain now why are you doing this?”

“Yes, Doctor, I’m getting to that if you’ll give me a chance.” He took a deep breath and made the plunge. “I work for the government.”

Her blue eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Which government?”

“Yours and mine in this instance. I am an American.”

“Well, that explains much. Are you annexing France or what?”

Jack smiled at the jab. “Not right now. We received intelligence about a month ago that a man called Ahmed Chari has set up a laboratory where he’s concocting a deadly virus that he intends to sell for use as a biological weapon.”

She gasped, covering her mouth with the fingertips of one hand. “No!”

“Yes. There’s a possibility that he plans to test it here. If he sells it to the groups that will want it most, Americans everywhere will be at risk. It’s possible he’s only a puppet for some larger power that could be using him and others like him to establish a supply of bioweapons. We have to find out.”

“But…but this is terrible!”

“And unfortunately, true.”

“Who told you this?”

She had trouble believing it. It did sound far-fetched unless you dealt with these monsters on a regular basis and knew what they were capable of. “Someone with inside information. Unfortunately not enough information. What he related about the supplies Chari had purchased for that purpose proved to be true. Your intelligence people have been performing surveillance, and two agents have attempted to infiltrate. They haven’t been seen since. I need to work my way into his operation and see how far he’s been able to take it. And what else or who else might be involved.”

“Why not simply go in by force and arrest this man?” she asked.

“I told you. We need to know whether he is working independently or if his setup is but one of a number of labs doing this. Also, we have to find out who is to receive his product, where they are located and, of course, their affiliation.”

“If you have him in custody, surely you could force him to reveal all of this.”

“Torture?” he asked. “We have to suppose he would never talk, even on pain of death. If he is a fanatic, he would fight to the death. Or kill himself as we go in. If he is just a supplier with no ideological motive, he and those working for him would be more afraid of his clients than of us. These people use families as leverage. As you must know, truth serum’s vastly overrated. So, we have to extract the information, all of it, by other means. In this case, by gaining his trust if we can.”

“And after you do?” she asked breathlessly.

“Perform what damage control we can, destroy the product and put him out of business permanently.”

“Kill him?” she asked in a broken whisper.

“Yes, if necessary,” Jack replied. “At least lock him away where he’ll present no further threat.”

“I do not believe you. This is not real.” But he could hear the horror in her voice. She didn’t dare not believe him and they both knew it.

“We had planned for your father to go in with me when we reach Chari’s chateau,” he told her. “Someone would need to explain how I managed to get René out of Baumettes. The boy cannot do that, since he was drugged and unaware. I want Chari to hire me to work for him out of gratitude.”

“How can you trust he will do that? Do you know anything about this man?” she asked, hitting squarely on his main problem.

“Not as much as I would like. If you go in with me to verify details of the escape, you will probably be confined once we arrive, kept only to minister to Chari’s son, until we have this resolved. It shouldn’t take long. All you would need to do is keep the boy sedated and comfortable and stay where they put you. It’s highly unlikely you would be hurt.”

“Unless what he is working on is mishandled and we all die from it!” she snapped.

“The substance should be relatively safe unless you sniff it, swallow some or get it on your skin. As I’m certain you know, we have serum that works against ricin, smallpox and several other dangerous agents. You would be given that beforehand, of course. Because of what he has purchased, we believe what he has is ricin or something similar.”

“You believe? Pardon me if I entertain some doubt. Even if the intelligence you received is credible, suppose he is attempting to alter the substance so that the immunizations will not be effective?”

Jack looked at her, sympathizing with her fears. The awful part of this was that she could easily be right.

He watched her as she sipped the remainder of her coffee, now probably tepid. But she wasn’t tasting it, only going through the motions to conceal her nervous tension.

With a sigh he took the cup from her and got up to refill it. He couldn’t do this after all. Too risky. She was totally unsuited for this kind of thing. And God only knew what she might suffer if Chari or his men turned out to be hostile toward women. The man was half Iranian. Too much depended solely on Chari’s gratitude, his love for his son. What if he hated the kid and didn’t care whether his son had a doctor’s care?

Jack plunked down the cup, sloshing a few drops onto the bare table top. “I can see you aren’t going to work out.”

“No!” she said, shaking her head vehemently. “I will. It is simply that I had to digest all that you have told me.” She managed a crooked little smile. “It does not go down well, but I see how important—no, vital—it is that you succeed. That we succeed. I must help you, of course.”

He was already shaking his head. “Admirable of you to agree, but I’ve changed my mind, Solange.”

“It is too late for that, Mercier…Jacques,” she said, offering him a smile that was a bit more confident than the last. Not a full sun-on-the-water smile yet, but he saw a glimmer that could draw him in deeply enough to drown. What was it about this woman?

“You’re too…honest or something. Too innocent, maybe. The boy and I will go in alone.”

“I am going with you,” she said decisively. Now there was fire in her eyes and a determined lift to her chin. “My father had agreed to do this and now that he cannot, I must. You need me. It is too late to alter your plan.”

For the remainder of the day Solange continued to argue with Mercier when she found the chance. He shushed her whenever they were anywhere near her patient, which was most of the time.

René had roused for a while. Though he was mostly incoherent, he did manage some of the tinned soup she had heated for their midday meal. He moved more easily now and seemed improved over the day before, despite the ordeal of being shuffled from his bed at the prison.

After he had eaten she administered more morphine. When he drifted off again, she renewed her assault on Mercier’s decision to leave her somewhere and go on alone with René.

The more she considered her father’s decision to assist Mercier and his people in this mission, the more determined Solange became to do so herself in his stead. Her resentment at being kept in the dark about it had faded completely. Father would have been ordered not to confide in anyone. And, of course, he would have known she would be frantic for his safety if he had told her.

She couldn’t afford fear now, not for herself. There was too much at stake.

This was the first time she had really had a chance to study Mercier and take his true measure. He wore this rough exterior, his disguise, she supposed. Even that scruffy two-day beard, slightly unkempt hair and prison clothing could not conceal his real persona, not now that she knew him better.

He took total control of his surroundings. His self-confidence seemed inborn or thoroughly ingrained early in his life. There was a charisma about him that would draw people to him, make them trust him. It had worked on her to some degree even before she had known why he had abducted her and René.

There was something about this man that was unique and compelling. She suspected that it would affect almost anyone who came in contact with him. She would need to be very careful that she did not let these burgeoning feelings of hers generate anything further that could be hurtful to her. Such as an infatuation with him. She was well aware that his qualities appealed, not just to her but all women. And he would know this, of course, and use it.

Her one attempt at a relationship had failed miserably even when she’d had her emotions under strict control. The mere thought of flinging caution to the wind with Mercier unnerved her. If ever there would be a time for that, it certainly was not now.

So she argued with him. Not only to set a precedent that she would remain independent and self-sufficient, despite his penchant for control, but because she had a legitimate reason to disagree.

Mercier kept changing the topic of conversation, insisting on hearing all about her school days, her trials of internship and residency and her father’s work and how she had assisted him. She shared all of the details, hoping to convince him that she had the necessary fortitude and experience with adversity to do what must be done.

Later, when darkness fell, they left the cottage and took to the road again. She would have continued trying to change his mind, but he silenced her immediately with a whispered warning. If René became privy to his plans, he told her, all could be lost with regard to this scheme.

Perhaps he believed she had given up. But Solange had made her decision, and that was all there was to that. They rode for what seemed hours, each lost in thought. He was probably working out an alternate solution in his mind, one that did not require her help.

They entered a village called Tournade, according to the road sign illuminated by the headlamps of the Saab. It was then Mercier declared his intention. “I’m leaving you here with my people. That way you’ll be nearby if the boy takes a turn for the worse.”

That said, he drove up a narrow winding street, parked on the cobblestones in front of a huge, Italianate three-story stone structure and got out. He motioned for her to do the same.

Solange did so, reluctant to leave the sleeping René. She wondered whether she would see him again if she were forced to stay in this house. It would have to be at the point of his gun. She meant to go with him.

The dark old house looked forbidding. Mercier lifted the ring on the lion’s head doorknocker and rapped once, paused, then tapped four more times in rapid succession.

A tall figure opened the door and emerged immediately, a mere shadow in the weak light of the moon. The doorway and the windows of the house remained dark. Solange noted the silhouette of a weapon in the man’s hand. “You’re late. We’d begun to worry,” he said to Mercier in English. “Everything go okay?”

“Not exactly. Will, this is Dr. Solange Micheaux, the old doctor’s daughter who was filling in for him. You stay here with our passenger while I get her settled upstairs. There’s no point moving young Chari any more than we need to.”

“Ma’am,” the voice acknowledged. “How is the boy?”

Mercier answered for her. “Not as bad as I thought.”

“Great. Then he’ll be able to vouch for you with his father.”

“I’m afraid he slept through everything,” Mercier said, taking Solange’s arm and ushering her inside the dark building.

He led her up a winding stairway to another door and knocked again in the same sequence. A woman answered. She was armed, but when she saw Mercier, she smiled and tucked the pistol into the holster at her waist and stood aside for them to enter. The room was warmly lit, the one window completely covered with heavy black fabric that had been taped securely to the frame.

“It’s about time, boss. We were getting ready to come looking for you.” Her dark brown gaze landed on Solange, who had elected to remain slightly behind Mercier and as unobtrusive as possible.

“Holly Amberson, this is Dr. Solange Micheaux,” he said, stepping away so the woman could see her better.

Solange admired her looks, even as she experienced a twinge of envy. Amberson was an unusual beauty with skin the color of pale caramel. Sleek black hair clipped in a short cap clung to a perfectly shaped head. Her dark brown eyes were long-lashed and slanted upward, giving her a faintly exotic expression. Her figure looked toned for strength beneath her black leggings and cropped chenille sweater. Though she stood only an inch or so taller than Solange’s five-three, she exuded self-confidence.

Jacques Mercier must find this Holly person terribly attractive. Were they involved?

He spoke up then and dispelled her musings about Amberson. “The Chari boy’s still in the car. Solange has him heavily sedated.”

The woman nodded. “So he missed the whole rescue op he was supposed to tell his daddy about. And our option, the elder Dr. Micheaux, is in the hospital. We verified the accident last night. The driver who struck him was a plumber on his way to a job and in a hurry. He checks out clean, no ties to anyone connected with Chari. It was just an unfortunate turn of events. Tough luck, but not insurmountable. She’ll do just as well.”

“No, she’s staying here.”

“What is my father’s condition? Have you heard?” Solange demanded.

“He’s doing very well. Better than expected. You need not worry about him.”

“Thank you for finding out.” Solange knew he would recover. She had checked his condition herself before she had gone to the prison. But it was her prerogative to worry, anyway. Their housekeeper, Marie, would be there for him if he needed anything.

Mercier interrupted her thoughts as he spoke to the woman. “I saw Will as we came in. What are the rest of the troops up to tonight?”

“Heard from Clay a couple of hours ago. He’s on top of things at the office. Joe and Martine are upstairs,” she added with a sly grin. “Eric’s out prowling around somewhere. You want me to raise him?”

“No, that’s all right. Just counting noses.”

He left Solange standing there, subject to the woman’s continued scrutiny and went straight to the coffee maker where he poured two cups. “I can’t take Solange in with me. She’s willing to help, but—”

“She knows the score?” the woman asked, eyeing Solange critically.

“Yes, everything,” he admitted as he turned and handed Solange a steaming cup. He was still addressing the woman, and they were both speaking rapid English, perhaps thinking that might prevent her understanding. “She can be trusted. That’s not the problem. Still, I’ve elected to leave her with you.”

“Why? He’ll need a doctor. You were the one who said—”

“Yes, but she’s not what I…we expected,” Mercier stated flatly, as if Solange had somehow disappointed him.

Amberson gave a little mirthless laugh and shook her head. “If I thought you’d had any time to get acquainted, I’d think you’d gone sweet on her. Maybe that you didn’t want to risk her cute little neck or something.”

Mercier looked away while he drank his coffee, obviously not wanting to dignify that ridiculous supposition. Sweet on her? An idea as facetious as the expression was archaic. But it gave Solange a small lift in spirit that this gorgeous woman might think such a thing was possible. Solange, an ordinary physician, hardly felt she was exotic enough to interest a man such as Mercier. Could she have made this woman a bit jealous?

It was hard to contain her smile. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and raised her eyebrows at the Amberson woman just because provoking her seemed the thing to do at the time.

“Good grief, man.” Amberson groaned and rolled her eyes. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re definitely wrong,” Mercier muttered. But he sounded more impatient than outraged. “We don’t know much about Chari, the man. And Solange is so…well, look at her, Holly.” He gestured in her direction rather rudely.

Solange had enough of being talked around as if she were not there at all. She interrupted in English to establish that fact. “Pardon me, but I really must insist that I accompany you, Mercier. René might—”

“She’s right, Jacques,” the woman said. “Who’s going to tell Chari what happened? How you rescued his son?”

“I’ll tell him myself.”

“Yeah, right. You think he’ll believe you if you just waltz in there bragging about the chances you took to get him out? That’s the whole point of your going into the prison in the first place, wasn’t it? To get the kid out and make the dad grateful!”

“I’ll make him believe me.”

Holly threw up her hands. “Jeez, then Will might as well have dragged the boy out when he was there to leave the truck! René Chari can’t toot your horn for you if he’s been out like a light the whole time. He won’t even know who you are when he comes around.”

“He saw me earlier. I interceded for him during the last beating.”

Solange butted in, forming the English clearly and concisely. “But he was hurt then, probably dazed. Perhaps he won’t even recognize that it was you who helped him.”

Mercier growled, “I’ll think of something.”

Amberson threw up her hands in frustration. “Jack, be reasonable! You need her.”

“You do,” Solange agreed. She got right in his face to drive her point home. “If what you have told me about René’s father is true, then I must do everything within my power to help prevent what he is planning. And we must find out if he is the only one doing this. This is what you told me yourself.”

Amberson nodded emphatically. “She might even be able to help assess what Chari has and how much damage it might do. I’ve checked you out, Doc,” she told Solange. “When I did the background search on your father, I did his family, too, so I’m aware of the training you’ve had. I wish you’d been into research in this particular area, but then, I guess you wouldn’t have been where you were at the time, huh?”

Solange smiled politely. “I suppose not. However, with the sort of threats the world has been living under these past few years, I have read extensively of anthrax, smallpox, ricin and other likely weapons of terror. Most of us within the medical community realize what we might be called upon to do if such disasters occur and we have to be prepared.”

“Excellent!” Amberson gave her a smile of approval that looked quite sincere. Solange returned it. She could like this woman who spoke her mind so freely and had no qualms about contradicting a man when she knew she was right.

“I can do this,” Solange stated with conviction. “And I will.”

“You see, Jack? She’s actually better qualified than we’d hoped. Get her inside that lab if you can. See what he’s got.”

Mercier glared at his friend for a moment, then lowered his head. Obviously he was the one in charge of this assignment or whatever they were calling it, but he had to recognize that she and Amberson were right in this instance. In any event the argument seemed to be over for the moment.

Solange sat drinking her coffee while Mercier ignored them both and began typing something on one of the computers.

Holly Amberson smiled her encouragement and offered Solange a pastry from a box near the coffeemaker. “Here, you might need some energy, however this works out.”

“I am going,” Solange said to her, then bit into the orange-glazed confection she had chosen.

“I know,” Holly replied. She winked at Solange and toasted her with a croissant. “Come with me. I’ll show you where to freshen up and we’ll see about getting you immunized.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Mercier said.

“Yes,” Solange argued. “It will.”