Authors: Irene Hannon
Tags: #Mystery, #Romance, #Suspense, #Thriller, #Contemporary
Against All Odds (11 page)
David was to be the courier for the payment. Tomorrow afternoon at two, he was to go into the city accompanied only by his driver. The money was to be in U.S. currency and stuffed into a Mickey Mouse backpack. After the driver dropped him at Chahr Chatta Bazaar, Kabul’s most crowded marketplace, David was to walk slowly down the narrow, pedestrian street.
During his stroll, a young boy would approach him with a pigeon in a cage and say, “I would someday like to go to Disney World.” That would be David’s cue to hand over the money, return to his car, and leave. No tricks, no tracking devices, no tails. If the informant was satisfied all had been done according to his instructions, David would not be harmed and the promised information would be delivered in Massood Square by the usual method.
The fear among those attending the meeting was that the arrangements had all the markings of a trap. David would be completely vulnerable.
He couldn’t argue with that. But the risk didn’t faze him.
Still, convincing the White House and the intelligence community that the risk was worth taking had required every nuance of skill he’d developed in his forty years of diplomacy and negotiating.
But in the end, he’d succeeded. Tomorrow he would drive into Kabul and follow the informant’s instructions to the letter.
And if all went well, if he wasn’t walking into a trap, if the informant followed through on his promise to provide the information, if they could find the hostages before the terrorists grew impatient and killed them . . . the end of the crisis might be in sight.
That was a lot of ifs, he acknowledged. But it was the only hope they had of locating the hostages. And David was willing to put his life on the line to rescue them.
And to keep his daughter safe.
7
The organ swelled for the final song, and Monica reached for the hymnal in the rack on the pew in front of her. The service had been the one normal thing in her life since the FBI invasion yesterday morning, and she hated for it to end.
For the past sixty minutes, she’d done her best to pretend the two tall men who sat behind her in the last pew, on the aisle, were there to praise God, not protect her. And to forget that some of the unfamiliar faces in the congregation weren’t pious visitors seeking Sunday worship but on-duty federal agents.
Carrying guns.
In church.
It was surreal.
A touch on her shoulder reminded her of Coop’s instruction as they’d entered the church.
Leave ahead of the crowd.
Reluctantly she replaced the hymnal and angled toward him. He tipped his head toward the aisle as his partner exited the pew ahead of him. Picking up her coat, she edged out and fell into step behind Mark, aware that Coop was close on her heels. As Mark pushed open the door to the vestibule, Coop’s lean fingers closed around her upper arm in a firm but gentle grip.
Leave ahead of the crowd.
Reluctantly she replaced the hymnal and angled toward him. He tipped his head toward the aisle as his partner exited the pew ahead of him. Picking up her coat, she edged out and fell into step behind Mark, aware that Coop was close on her heels. As Mark pushed open the door to the vestibule, Coop’s lean fingers closed around her upper arm in a firm but gentle grip.
“Give him a chance to verify everything is secure.”
His warm breath caressed her cheek as he leaned close to speak, and she came to an abrupt halt. He was a mere whisper away, his body shielding hers from behind as his partner conferred with a couple of dark-suited men and a woman in a black skirt and royal blue blazer. Taking her coat, he held it as she slipped her arms into the sleeves.
A few seconds later, Mark rejoined them.
“We’re clear. The car’s in the portico. Let’s make it quick.”
Flanked by the two men, Monica crossed the marble floor, her heels clicking in rhythm to the soaring notes of “Amazing Grace.” The three people Mark had been talking with spread out in the vestibule as a few members of the congregation wandered out. One of the agents pretended to read the bulletin board. Another checked his watch. The woman riffled through her handbag, as if searching for her keys. Yet Monica knew all were keenly attuned to their surroundings, watching for any indication of trouble.
Protecting her.
As they approached the exterior door, Mark stepped ahead. Lifting his left arm, he spoke softly. Monica hadn’t even noticed the unobtrusive earpieces the two men wore, nor the inconspicuous mikes at their wrists, until they arrived at the church. There, she’d learned that all of the security people were linked by these discreet communication devices.
Without slowing his pace, Mark pushed through the door. As he exchanged a few succinct comments with the agent standing on the other side, Coop kept a firm grip on Monica’s arm. When the agent leaned over to open the door of the SUV parked a few feet away, she found herself being hustled forward and eased into the backseat. Coop slid in beside her and Mark claimed the front passenger seat while the agent took the wheel. Their exit was accomplished with such speed and smoothness that they were pulling out of the parking lot as the organ finished the first verse.
“Wow. That was pretty impressive.” Monica drew a deep breath. “I take it you two have been through this drill a few times.”
“A few.” Coop glanced over his shoulder as he responded.
“Checking for a tail?” Her question was only half in jest. The level of security for this little outing had demonstrated how seriously the threat against her was being taken. And convinced her the danger was more real than she’d been willing to concede.
Switching his attention to the road ahead, Coop watched as a car pulled out from the curb and took up a position in front of them.
“Did he just cut in front of us?” Monica’s own antennas were up now, and her pulse tripped into a staccato beat. She leaned forward, gripping the edge of her seat.
“Yes.” Coop settled back, his posture relaxed. “But he’s on our side.”
The pieces began to fall into place, and Monica tipped her head toward the car behind them. “That one too?”
“Yes. Buckle up.” He adjusted his seat belt.
“Did we have an . . . escort . . . on the way to church too?”
“Yes.”
They were also taking a circuitous route back to her house, as they had on the way to church, she noticed. When she’d teased them about their navigational skill earlier, Coop had explained it was safer to operate “out of pattern,” as he’d put it.
She hadn’t missed the disturbing implication. They were concerned that someone had been watching her long enough to know her habits.
Trying to stifle a sudden wave of panic, Monica groped for her seat belt and pulled it out. But as she tried to buckle it, it slipped from her shaky grasp, retracting with a thump that startled Mark and had him reaching toward his belt.
“Sorry.” Hot color flamed in her cheeks.
“Let me.” Coop released his own belt and leaned across her. His broad shoulder pressed against her as he grasped the buckle and pulled it out, and his fingers brushed her hip when he engaged it.
For some reason, her respiration went haywire. In other circumstances, she might attribute her reaction to the tall, dark man beside her, who reeked of masculinity and whose very presence evoked strength and competence.
But as appealing as he was, she suspected her response was due more to the sudden realization that this situation was a whole lot more perilous than she’d wanted to admit. She knew little about law enforcement, but she doubted elaborate security measures like the ones being taken on her behalf were employed without very good reason.
“I had no idea a simple visit to church was going to take this much coordination. The security was quite involved, wasn’t it?”
At the slight quiver in her voice, Coop turned to her. Though she was doing her best to control it, he saw a flicker of fear in her eyes. And concluded that the full reality of the situation was sinking in.
On a professional level, he considered that a good sign. Fear often induced caution—and cooperation.
But on a personal level, it tightened his gut. Monica had been put in danger through no fault of her own, and while they would do their best to protect her, there were no guarantees. Especially in a situation involving terrorists who held nothing sacred. Least of all life.
As an HRT operator, he wanted to scare her into following their advice and working with them.
As a man, he wanted to alleviate her fears despite his own growing concern.
In the end, he chose to temper his response, reassuring her without downplaying the danger.
“It took some coordination, but I’d rather err on the side of caution than be caught unprepared.” He kept his tone conversational. “Besides, we’ve handled situations far more complicated.”
She stared out the tinted window in silence for a few seconds, giving Coop a chance to admire her classic profile.
“What about my speech tomorrow? And the book signing later in the week?”
“What about them?”
“Are they going to be a huge hassle for you?”
“We’ll worry about the book signing as it gets closer. After the other security team arrives later today, Mark and I will go over and check out the setup at the hotel. Our preference is that you cancel the speech, but I expect we’ll be able to contain the venue without major problems if we bring in enough manpower.”
“All this time and effort expended on my behalf . . .” Her words trailed off. “If I cancel the speech at this late date, though, it will be a major problem for the organization.”
“Then we’ll deal with it.”
“I’m sorry for causing all this trouble.”
She was hunched into the corner of her seat, looking so alone and vulnerable that Coop had an unsettling urge to entwine his fingers with hers in a gesture of comfort and support.
He restrained the unprofessional impulse by engaging his hands in another task. Pulling out his BlackBerry, he punched in some numbers.
“You’re not the one causing the trouble.” He directed his next comment to Mark. “I’ll check with the agents on duty at Monica’s.”
“Good idea.”
After a clipped conversation, Coop slipped the device back into the holder on his belt.
“Everything okay?” Mark shot him a glance in the rearview mirror.
“Yes. We’re good.” Coop checked on Monica. She was still pressed into the corner of her seat, her head angled toward the window.
“Hey.” He said the word softly, and dismissing protocol considerations he rested his fingers on the back of her hand. It was like ice.
She twisted toward him, her gaze dropping to their connected hands. For an instant he thought she was going to pull away. When she didn’t, he continued.
“None of this is your fault, Monica. We’ll deal with the speech. After that, we’d like you to reconsider the safe house. That will allow us to give you the best possible protection until this is all over. Will you think about it?”
She regarded him for a few moments. He saw a chill ripple through her before she gave a slow nod. “Okay.”
“Good.” Resisting the urge to give her hand an encouraging squeeze, he smiled and retracted his fingers. “Crank up the heat a little, would you, Mark?”
“Sure.”
His partner complied, and the chill in the car dissipated. But Monica still felt cold.
All except for the back of her hand where Coop’s fingers had rested.
“Will it bother you guys if I do some cooking?”
At the question, Coop and Mark stopped discussing the hotel floor plan spread out on the kitchen table and turned to Monica, who stood in the doorway. She’d exchanged the burgundy wool suit she’d worn to church for snug jeans and a soft green sweater that matched her eyes, Coop noted in a swift, appreciative scan.
“Not at all. Are we in your way?” He gestured toward the large sheets of paper.
“No.” She spared the material no more than a quick look. Turning, she busied herself at the counter. “I thought I’d make chicken divan for dinner, unless you prefer pizza again.”
“You don’t have to feed us, Monica.”
She stopped what she was doing but didn’t respond at once to Coop’s comment. He raised a brow at Mark, who shrugged.
“When I’m on edge, it helps to cook. Unless you’d rather order out.” She said it without turning around, her tone subdued.
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