Читать книгу Unknown Enemy - Michelle Karl - Страница 12
ОглавлениеColin’s stomach lurched, first out of concern for how fast the driver was going in a parking lot, and then a second time when he grew sure the van wasn’t headed toward an exit. It sped toward Ginny, who had her back to the parking lot as she secured her bags in the car.
Colin didn’t waste time asking why or how or whether his suspicion even made sense. He sprang toward her with a burst of speed, grateful he’d kept up his physical training despite being out of the Service these past few years. If only he had his sidearm on hand, he’d have the van incapacitated in seconds without breaking a sweat. Short sprints and lightning-fast reaction times made all the difference when on protective detail.
It took a fraction of a second for Colin to recognize that he was too far away to reach her in time. He kept sprinting as the cube van pulled alongside her. The side door slid open and a man with a black hood pulled low over his face jumped out of the van and grabbed Ginny’s waist from behind.
Colin shouted a split second before Ginny’s scream rent the air. The man pulled her out of the car and covered her mouth, but her hands remained latched to the ceiling grab handle above the door. Smart woman, Colin thought. Her quick reaction would buy him enough time to reach her.
Except that when he drew within several yards of the van, a second hooded assailant jumped out. He pointed a gun in Colin’s direction, but Colin was too close and the man’s reaction time too slow. Colin ducked as he approached, hoping that the hoodlum didn’t have the foresight to fire. He grabbed the gunman’s wrist, then yanked it in toward his chest and twisted, forcing the gun down and out of the man’s hand. The gun clattered to the ground as Colin used the force of an upper-elbow blow to send the man reeling backward, clutching his jaw.
He risked a glance at Ginny, who—on seeing Colin’s approach—had released her grip on the car and twisted around in her attacker’s grasp to claw at the man’s face. The man now had her wrists locked in his meaty hands as Ginny attempted to kick at him anywhere she could reach.
Colin heard shouts from inside the van—there were more of these guys inside?—but he couldn’t afford for it to split his focus further. He kicked the gun on the ground toward a row of parked cars and in two strides had gripped the man attacking Ginny by the neck. He wrenched the attacker away from her, throwing him to the ground with practiced efficiency.
The man rolled as he dropped, leaped to his feet and shouted at his companion to retreat. Both assailants scrambled back inside the van, sliding the door closed as it peeled out of the parking lot, tires squealing.
Colin whirled around to make sure Ginny was all right, but she already leaned against the car with her phone in her hand. “Calling 911?”
She nodded as the operator picked up. With exceptional calm, she told them exactly what had happened and hung up. “Police will be here soon.”
He noticed that she too breathed heavily from the exertion moments ago. He was in shape, sure, but an encounter like that took the wind out of anyone, and they were both having trouble catching their breath.
“Are you hurt? Let’s get you sitting down inside the car, all right? Get a few minutes of rest before the emergency teams arrive.”
“I’m okay,” she said, the calm facade slipping as the adrenaline of the moment faded. “Oh, wow. I can’t believe that just happened.”
Colin reached into the passenger side of the car, unhooked the bag she’d been carrying and placed it on the driver’s seat. She didn’t protest as he guided her to sit inside the car, her tremble growing to a full-body shake as the seconds passed. She regarded him with wide, frightened eyes. “Take deep breaths, Ginny. This will pass, but what I need you to do right now is visualize everything that happened. Grab on to details, any small details that you can. Anything at all will help the police find and catch them, got it? I know you want to forget, but the more you can capture in your memory right after this incident, the more accurately you’ll be able to tell them what happened.”
She nodded, swallowing hard before leaning back against the beige car seat. “Guess I should have taken the day off after all.”
“Better to have this happen here than at your home, though.”
She sat up in surprise. “At home? You don’t think this was random? I guess not, considering.”
Colin glanced around the area, staying watchful in case the van had circled around and come back. He didn’t see anything aside from a few startled museum visitors who’d likely witnessed the incident. The familiar wail of emergency sirens rose in the distance. “I think we can rule out random at this point.” His gaze was drawn to the bag she’d been carrying. “I’d say now is a better time than ever to finish the conversation we started earlier. What’s in the bag?”
Ginny laughed without humor. “Nothing worth kidnapping over, that’s for sure. They’re a bunch of old clay tablets from one of the Kingdom of Amar’s archaeological sites. They’ve been sitting in the basement of a museum in England for decades, waiting to be translated. It’s part of a project I’ve been working on for a while. I’m planning to decipher them in hopes that they reveal some more information about the location of the summer palace of King Ramesh.”
Kidnapping and ancient tablets? It sounded more like a movie than real life. “Is there, I don’t know, treasure there?”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that at all. Anyone with a modicum of interest in this stuff knows that all the ancient historical sites were looted centuries ago, and many of them were actually looted in ancient times. The more important thing is the location of the summer palace and proving that it actually exists. It’s been a point of contention because it would prove the royal lineage of the Amaran desert people. It’s a discovery that could change Amar’s accepted history and view of their society for the better. It would be a massive find for history, archaeology and the Kingdom of Amar—but nothing worth kidnapping over. There’s no financial gain in these tablets themselves, even translated. And selling them untranslated is worth nothing.”
“Would they know that?”
“That’s kind of an important detail if you’re kidnapping someone, isn’t it? You think some bad guys would kidnap me for a bag full of old, dried clay? If they were gold statues or even Egyptian faience figurines, it’d be another story. Plus, it doesn’t explain the grenade last night. I didn’t even know I would have these in my possession until about an hour ago.”
Colin had to agree with her, but they’d need to talk about it later. An ambulance arrived along with several police cars. Even if Ginny didn’t know why she’d been targeted, Colin felt sure of one thing—the woman was in danger, and he might be the only one with the necessary ability to protect her.
* * *
Ginny’s hands shook as she sprinkled fish food into Tigris’s tank. Her little orange-and-blue betta fish swam upward and eagerly picked out pieces of dried shrimp as Ginny put the container away. She clasped her hands, trying to still their tremor.
“You need anything?” Colin leaned against the door frame, standing half in her office and half in the department’s main thoroughfare. She appreciated his thoughtfulness in driving her car back to the college and seeing her safely back to the Daviau Center, but for whatever reason, he hadn’t left her alone yet. It had started to feel a bit stifling. They were still strangers, after all.
“You don’t need to hang around,” she said, hoping he’d take the hint. “I know you probably have other things to do.”
“We’re both off from teaching classes for the week, Professor. We should both be at our respective homes, getting some rest.”
“I’m not stopping you.”
He grunted and folded his arms. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you vulnerable. Two attacks in less than twenty-four hours. That’s no prank.”
“There’s also no proof they’re related,” Ginny muttered, slumping into her desk chair. She took a deep, slow breath to shove away the wave of anxiety hovering around the edge of her consciousness. “And last I checked, you’re not Secret Service anymore, so I’m not obligated to accept any kind of protection from you. I don’t appreciate the insinuation that I can’t handle myself.” She paused, the words catching in her throat because she had needed him there. If Colin hadn’t been present last night or this morning, she’d be having a very different conversation. Possibly with an abductor. Or a nurse.
Colin grunted again and stared out into the departmental office. “Never said you’re not capable. Everyone needs help sometimes, and while you’re right—you’re not obligated—I’d consider myself responsible if anything happened to you that was in my power to prevent.”
Ginny breathed deeply as she watched Tigris swim laps in his wide, plastic fishbowl. She did appreciate Colin’s help. He’d come to her rescue without hesitation, the kind of attractive and strong hero whom plenty of girls would love to be saved by, but he’d already told her it came down to instinctive response born through training. Not because he had any kind of personal investment in her well-being. Of course, she should have expected that from someone who’d seen her scar.
“I’ll think about it, Colin.” With her heart finally beating at a more normal pace, Ginny picked up the satchel of tablets and set them on her desk. Even the events of today couldn’t dislodge the excitement of physically having in her hands a set of ancient tablets she’d only dreamed of seeing. Anxiety followed close behind, too—at best, she’d thought that Mr. Wehbe might find someone to dig the tablets out of crates in the Ashmore Museum’s basement where they’d spent the past sixty or so years, then take updated photos and send those over. But to have entrusted her with the physical objects?
They were valuable from a historical point of view. Potential evidence to support her theory. But while the knowledge that might be gained from them was priceless, the tablets themselves were not. No one would try to abduct her over a bunch of old tablets.
She picked up a sand-colored oblong tablet about the width and length of two candy bars, then ran her fingers lightly over the inscription. The surface felt rough and grainy, though environmental factors had smoothed some of its edges.
“Not much to look at, is it?” Colin regarded the object she held with cool detachment. “Wonder if the original tablets with the Ten Commandments looked anything like that?”
Ginny smiled to herself, used to these kinds of questions. “Actually, those tablets—”
“Professor Anderson?” A voice from the hallway was followed by a face peering around the corner of her office door. Colin stepped aside to allow Sam, a teaching assistant for her Introduction to Near Eastern Studies class, inside. The student was covering the front reception desk for Mrs. McCall, the departmental secretary, who’d stayed home this morning to nurse her sick toddler.
He waved a large, flat yellow mailing envelope in his hand. “I meant to catch you when you came back, but this arrived for you a half hour or so ago. Right before you got back from the museum.”
“Thanks, Sam.” She took it and frowned at the front. The envelope was nondescript, completely unremarkable, with no stamp or return address. Only her name had been affixed to the envelope with a printed label, neglecting to mention her box number or even the name of her department. It had obviously not been through the mail system but simply left here for her. “Who dropped this off?”
Sam shrugged. “A phone call came in from an alumnus and I had to check the filing cabinet for some old records. When I turned around it was there on the desk, no one around. I’m sure it wasn’t there before. Weird, huh?”
“Probably another interdepartmental memo or something.” She glanced at Colin, who also shrugged. She slipped a finger underneath the envelope flap and ripped it open. Inside rested several sheets of paper, which she slipped out with care. A letter? Who wrote a letter these days when they could write an email? It looked as though it had been composed on an old-fashioned typewriter, the inked letters leaving a slight indentation on the paper’s surface.
She began reading. Her stomach dropped.
Dear Professor Anderson,
Greetings. I do hope this letter finds you well, and I must ask you to please excuse the nature by which I have delivered this correspondence. Circumstances beget such a necessity and besides, I abhor technology in all its forms, avoiding it at all costs—insofar as it is reasonable to do so. First, however, I must apologize for the rude actions of my compatriots earlier this morning. Please be assured that they acted out of turn in assaulting your personage, and it will not happen again so long as our interactions warrant it thusly.
Ginny waved a hand at Colin, her eyes glued to the page. In an instant, he was by her side, reading the letter over her shoulder.
I am truly grateful that a gentleman was present to thwart those characters who I assure you misunderstood the nature of my instructions. They were in no way directed to approach you in such an invasive manner. It is not...diplomatic, shall we say.
But now we come to the real issue, yes? The tablets you have in your possession. I am aware of their presence and I am aware of their importance. However, it may behoove you to know that the work you do is not so innocent as the academic world would have you believe. Allow me to make you an offer, Professor. Fifty thousand dollars in exchange for your assurance that you will abandon this research project.
You will place all of your existing notes and theorems inside this envelope. Drop it in the waste bin outside the public area commonly referred to as the “quad” at four o’clock this afternoon. Destroy any remaining files that contain your work and return the tablets to the museum. Explain that you have discovered your theories are no longer feasible with the available evidence and that you will be publishing a retraction of your preliminary reports. Yes, Professor Anderson, I have read your preliminary reports on the summer palace location. A little far-fetched, hmm?
Once you have completed these tasks, you will discover yourself fifty thousand dollars richer. I imagine this will go a long way on a part-time professor’s salary.
Remember, four o’clock today. I advise against tardiness in this matter.
The letter ended there. No signature and nothing on the other side of the page.
Ginny’s hand shook, blurring the words. She had so many questions, she couldn’t keep track of them all. Was this some kind of a joke? A student thinking it would be funny to mess with her head after what had happened this morning?
Surely no one would be so dense as to believe that she’d give up her research—her potentially career-changing research—for a bribe.
Colin reached across and plucked the paper from her trembling hands, and a sense of relief that he was there rushed through her. He’d know what to do, wouldn’t he?
“Well, that’s odd. Looks like this was typed up manually.”
Or maybe not. She plunked her elbows on the desk, covering her face with her hands. “What’s going on? I teach ancient history. I don’t have secrets or hidden knowledge. It’s like I’m stuck in a bad made-for-TV movie.”
Colin glanced out into the department common area, then took two steps to cross her tiny office and look out its small window. He pulled across the gauzy curtain so that it hid them from view. “I wish I knew. It’s strange that whoever sent this would target you without an explanation. Sounds like someone wants you to stop your research, but based on what you’ve told me, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. There’s no financial gain, unless someone’s reputation is at stake. Is that a possibility?”
Ginny laughed bitterly. “Only my own professional reputation. If I publish a retraction of my earlier work, I’ll have set my career back by several years. I won’t be eligible for the tenure-track position and my next assertions will be met with severe scrutiny.”
“Sounds like you care a lot about what other people think.”
“When it comes to my professional reputation and the future of my career? Absolutely.”
“Careers aren’t the be-all and end-all of life.”
“Of course they are—oh.” Her face fell when she realized what she’d said. “Sorry. You said you didn’t leave the Secret Service by choice?”
“No, and it’s fine. I don’t talk about it a lot and I’d prefer not to.” Ginny started to apologize, to explain that she’d only been curious, but he held up a hand to stop her and tapped on the envelope instead. “I’m going to take this down to the police station. I can’t guarantee they’ll be able to do a lot since there’s no specific threat here, but I’m hoping the admission of responsibility for the events of the past twenty-four hours will be enough to tie it all together.”
“What about fingerprints? Tracing the paper or office supplies or ink? I’ve seen that on television.”
“Yours, mine and Sam’s. Maybe the sender touched it, but who sends a threatening letter and leaves a fingerprint? For that matter, who sends a physical letter instead of, say, calling?”
Ginny clutched a tablet in one hand and brushed the outside edge before tracing the shapes on the inside. “Someone who doesn’t like new things. New technology. If someone is trying to terrorize me into stopping my research, they must have an interest in old things.”
“That’s one possibility. But the label with your name looks printed off a computer, not a typewriter.”
“The sender mentioned associates. Maybe someone did it for him or her?”
As Colin’s mouth set into a firm, hard line, Ginny’s confidence faltered. If he couldn’t figure it out, what chance did she have against this mysterious adversary?
* * *
Colin stole a glance at Ginny, not at all surprised by the weariness on her face. He’d seen that look plenty of times on the faces of those he’d protected. Presidents, diplomats, persons of national importance, didn’t matter whom. No one had an easy time when it came to threats on his or her life. This wasn’t the first threatening letter he’d seen, but it was one of the most carefully put together. Generic envelope, generic paper and an assumption that Ginny would follow through. And the writer had the gall to drop it off in person.
“Are there security cameras around here?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Only at the entrances on either end of the building. The ones you see inside are dummies to deter students from destructive behavior. You could ask for security footage from outside, but it won’t be easy to go through. There’ll be a few hundred students coming and going, since some of the school’s administration offices are upstairs.”
It’d be a start, at least. The police would want to have a look at the footage as soon as he told them about the letter, but he wanted to get a look at it first. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to dial the security office. “I’m going to make a quick call and stand right outside your door, all right?” He watched as Ginny nervously rubbed her fingers over a tablet, her shoulders high and tense. “Should you be touching those things like that? I thought ancient stuff needed gloves and a secure environment.”
Some of the tension in her shoulders dropped. Good. The woman needed a few moments to relax, to rebuild her strength. Just in case.
Just in case. He hated the necessity of thinking that way, but better to be prepared than caught unawares. Those kinds of mistakes could be fatal—and one had been for the woman he was assigned to protect two years ago. Lynn Gustav, daughter of a diplomat, had stolen his heart and his focus. He’d been distracted in a critical moment and an assassin’s bullet found its mark. He hadn’t been able to save her.
He would not let his guard down like that again.
“Some ancient things, yes,” she was saying. “But not everything, otherwise only a few people would be able to study them. Clay tablets are durable, as long as you don’t throw them on the ground or run them over with a tractor. They’ve lasted this long, after all.”
Colin reached across to touch one, wondering at the texture of a thousands-of-years-old piece of clay, but Ginny yanked the one she held out of reach.
“Sorry.” Her face flushed. “I’m the only one allowed to touch them, remember? Aside from Mr. Wehbe and the Amaran representative overseeing my project. The tablets are durable and not financially worth much, but they’re still valuable pieces of history in other ways. And they don’t belong to the United States. Our agreement is that their handling is to be strictly controlled.”
“Ah, yes. Protocol. Who knew pieces of clay had protocol?” Much to Colin’s surprise, he couldn’t take his eyes off her reddened cheeks. She combed more strands of blond hair over her scarred cheek, fingers moving absently—as if it had become a habit she wasn’t even aware of.
His phone began to buzz, reminding him that he’d been about to make a phone call to campus security. He frowned at the caller ID. Private number?
“Tapping,” he answered.
“Good afternoon, Professor. Is that what they’re calling you these days? Must be quite the change.”
Colin swallowed a burst of disbelief. “Sir?”
A chuckle on the other end confirmed the identity of the caller. “And hello to you as well, Tapping. Surprised to hear from me?”
Of course he was. He hadn’t directly spoken to anyone from the Secret Service since the day they’d completed his discharge papers, the director having bowed to political pressure to dismiss him the day after the incident. The diplomat whose daughter had been killed had called for blood, and what easier resolution than to fire the agent who’d failed to protect her? It had only been his career ended as a result, taking the heat off the Secret Service. Not that he didn’t blame himself for what had happened. He’d known from the beginning that it was unwise to become romantically involved with a protectee and had fallen for her anyway.
“Deputy Director Bennett. I’m not sure if I should say it’s good to hear from you or not.”
“Fair enough. How’re things? Got a good gig up there?”
Colin grimaced and stole another glance at Ginny. She looked up at him quizzically, but he’d have to answer her questions later. As nice as it should be to receive a personal phone call from the Secret Service’s deputy director, he had a feeling it wasn’t a social call. After all, Deputy Director Bennett had been the one to sign his discharge papers. “Pays the bills.”
“Not thrilled to hear my voice, are you? I get it, Tapping. I really do.”
“Deputy Director, I’m in the middle of something at the moment. Is there something pressing?”
“Down to business. You haven’t changed a bit.” Bennett’s voice softened. “You were a good agent, Colin. I’m still sorry things ended the way they did.”
“Part of the job, Deputy Director. Consequences for every action.”
“Yes, but...ah, well. Speaking of people needing protection.”
“Very subtle.”
“I do my best. Listen, Tapping, we’ve been hearing rumblings about some shakeups happening overseas that may tie into a little drama unfolding in your corner. I realize this is unconventional, but we’ve been requested to keep our eyes open for an Amaran representative en route to Pennsylvania. Heading to your corner of the state. Know anything about this?”
Colin thought back to Ginny’s meeting at the museum this morning. Hadn’t she mentioned that she’d met a gentleman who’d arrived from the Kingdom of Amar to assist with her work? “I think he may already be here, sir. Name of Hilden? He’s working with a colleague.”
“Already there?” The sound of shuffling papers reached Colin’s ears before Bennett’s voice came through the receiver again. “That’s what we get for receiving information secondhand. Look, we weren’t asked to specifically provide a detail for him, but the incident with the military-issue grenade on your campus and this Dr. Hilden’s proximity has the White House a little nervous. We’re on good terms with the kingdom, but you know how quickly things change in the world these days.”
Colin ground his teeth as Deputy Director Bennett talked. Two years ago, he’d have jumped all over this kind of information, but right now it did nothing but frustrate him, reminding him of what he no longer had. “I’m not sure what I have to do with this.”
Bennett sighed. “I know you owe us nothing, Colin. And I know helping us out is the last thing you probably want to do, after what happened. But our hands are full over here dealing with a number of sensitive political situations, and we can’t spare a man for a detail that’s not a sure thing or specifically requested by the president. The local police chief I talked to mentioned that you were up at the college there.”
“Let me guess, you want me to keep an eye on this Dr. Hilden character. Make sure no one lobs a live one in his direction, is that it?”
“More or less. Off the record. Informal. Just keep an eye out. As a favor.”
“What makes you think I’d have any interest in doing you a favor?” Colin tried to swallow down his anger, but it rose fast and furious. “Not that it makes any difference to you, but I’ve got someone else I’m watching out for at the moment. Another professor here is working on some ancient tablets on loan from the Kingdom of Amar and she’s been the target of...look, you know what? Never mind. Have a good day, Deputy Director.”
Colin hung up and thumped his head against the door frame. Two years had changed him, whether Bennett saw it or not. He’d never have talked out of turn and hung up like that two years ago. Bennett didn’t deserve it, as it wasn’t entirely the man’s fault that Colin had been dismissed from the Secret Service.
Bennett hadn’t been the one who failed to protect his assignment. Lynn Gustav had died on Colin’s watch, no one else’s. If only he hadn’t let his heart get so involved. If only he hadn’t taken her safety for granted, allowing himself to be distracted by his feelings.
“Who was that?” Wide-eyed, Ginny flicked her chin at the phone. “Didn’t sound good.” She bent to replace the tablet she’d been holding inside the leather satchel.
A sense of determination rose up from within, combining with his finely honed instinct from years of training. Active agent or not, it was his duty to protect critical individuals from potential danger by any means necessary. With a growl of frustration, he ignored Ginny’s inquiry and hit Redial. Bennett picked up on the first ring.
“I’ve got a better idea,” Colin said before the man could speak. “The colleague here working on ancient tablets from Amar is the one who’s being targeted, not Hilden. I truly believe she’s the one in danger, and it’s her and those tablets you need to be worried about. Since she’s the one being targeted, she’s my priority. Her and these foreign artifacts. That said, I’ll keep an eye out for any danger facing Hilden and an ear to the ground, just in case. If I hear anything unusual, I’ll report in if and when I have any information. But I’m going to need something in return.”
Colin heard Deputy Director Bennett drum his fingers on his desk. “You do us a favor, I’ll do you a favor. You need resources or backup and we’re there. You know the Service takes care of its own, Tapping, active or not. So long as you want to cooperate with us, we’ll have your back.”
“I still believe in the tenets and values of the Service, Deputy Director. That will never change, and that’s why I’m doing this. It’s the right thing to do.” He refused to allow another woman to come to harm if he had the power to stop it.
“Of course. You’re an honorable man and I respect that. And, Tapping?”
The deputy director’s tone of voice changed, became more sympathetic. Colin tensed, unsure whether he wanted to continue this conversation. “What is it?”
“I know your dismissal case is still in limbo, tied up in red tape. You’ve been waiting to hear back for two years on whether it’s a permanent cut.”
“I’m well aware.” Why was Bennett opening this old wound? “I’m not sure how that’s relevant.”
The deputy director cleared his throat before continuing. “All I’m saying is it would be prudent for your image among the leadership here if this goes well. Maybe even to the point of pushing your case through faster. And with a positive result.”
“Are you saying that if I cooperate with you on this, I might get my job back?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “I’m saying there’s a very good chance we’ll see you in uniform again. You were an asset to the Service, Tapping. The kind of man this country needs protecting its president. A good agent.”
Colin hung up for a second time and stared at the phone in his hands. “But not good enough.”
