Freedom Does Matter (Mercenaries Book 2) (34 page)

She nodded in agreement, then said to Haleef, “Yeah, it’s in Texas. Was it empty?”

“No. It was over half full. Before the door closed, I saw stacks of boxes on one side…” He gestured with his hands, marking a rectangular shape about two feet wide and six inches high. “… and more along the other, with an aisle between. They weren’t quite square. Those on the right were marked with an ‘X.’” He leaned back. “I opened one of the ones with the mark, but in the dark, I couldn’t figure out what it was. It felt…” He tried to sketch in the air.

Beckie said, “Do we have any paper? And a pencil or pen? Maybe you can draw it?”

Kevin cast about looking until Millie handed him a small writing pad. He rummaged in his pocket before withdrawing a pen and handed both items to Haleef.

For the next few minutes, Haleef worked, mumbling and listening to comments from the others.

The result was a sketch of a flat device with slots along the edges. The dimensions were based on the size of the cartons Haleef had described. Beckie thought it looked like a holder for furnace filters—she’d helped replace them at home every fall. He handed the sheet to Millie, who was closest to the computer.

Ian’s voice came out of the speakers. “On the lid, that is where they were working? Is that correct, Haleef?”

He nodded and turned to face the desk. “Yes, that is what I recall.”

“Surely Derek and Kevin can gain access to the stadium and investigate the trash containers in situ?” A mumbled inaudible exchange followed. “And how are you feeling, Haleef?”

“Well enough, thank you. A bit sore, but Doctor Ardan tells me I’ll recover.”

“Rebecca, shall I come to fetch you?”

Beckie started, then cast a look full of accusation at first, Millie and then Kevin. “You better not! At least, not until we can hand this off to someone who will follow-up. I’m fine… well, a little sore. But there’s nothing to be done, and since my lip’s split, I don’t want to see you till that heals.” She glared at Millie, who was holding the computer as if to face Beckie with it. “You don’t need…” Her face was now displayed on the laptop’s screen. “Great. I don’t think Ian needs to see more stitches.”

“I must say that you both look as if the bar room brawl got the better of you,” Ian said. Beckie heard his dry chuckle. Bet he’s smilin’ my favorite smile, too. Wish I was… She blinked back a tear as Millie replaced the webcam to gaze at Haleef.

“Ian, we ought to let Haleef get more rest, unless you have more questions. Or do you have something else to say, Haleef?”

“No. Right after I closed the box, the door opened and… One of them hit me. I don’t remember anything else until you woke me up.”

Millie shut the computer and shooed the others back to the cabin.

Beckie dropped into one of the seats forward. “Can we do anything else here? I don’t think Haleef’s going to add any more. Maybe we should go back to the hotel and set up shop there?”

“Okay by me,” Millie said, “as long as you trust Kevin to replace the tape and dressings every day. I don’t think there’s any reason for—”

“Halloo,” came from the clinic.

Beckie followed Millie back to the door, peering into the room.

“Umm,” Haleef said, looking up at them. “I just remembered, one of the men said something like Bobby… Bobby Moore, maybe. I don’t know what it means, but it sounded funny. Probably nothing.”

“We’ll see. Thanks, Haleef.” Beckie waved and walked back up the aisle. “Derek, your allatime connected toy. Does it know anything about a Bobby Moore?”

Derek gaped at her; she’d never seen him caught that way. After a moment, he said, quizzically she thought, “Bobby Moore? Yeah, you’re from the colonies, aren’t you?” He spread his hands. “’Ow about Pelé, then? Or, let me see, ‘Enry Aaron, maybe?” He waved off her confusion. “If you’d had a West Ham jersey instead of Chelsea, I’d be more surprised. Bobby Moore’s arguably one of the greatest footballers England ‘as ever ‘ad.” His face fell. “Why? ‘Ow’s ‘is name come into this?”

“No idea. Haleef thought he heard one of the guys say that.”

“Hmm. Wait a sec, then.” Derek took his phone and began tapping. In less than a minute, he smiled with a pleased expression. Beckie smiled as she waited. “In Wembley Stadium, that’s also where I ‘eard it,” he told them. “There’s a statue of him… And the Bobby Moore Club. It’s a private facility at mid-field. For ‘obnobbing with the big shots.”

“That could argue for Wembley and the match this weekend,” Kevin said. “Millie, did you guys find anything that could also fit?”

“Nothing with the built-in attraction of a Middle-East conflict. Nothing with the potential for such a large crowd, at least this week. Later on…” She shrugged. “I’d focus on Wembley until it doesn’t pan out.”

“Yeah.” Beckie clapped Kevin on the arm. “Let’s get back downtown, so Derek can use some of his famous contacts. Do you need both Jean-Luc and Mathilde, Millie?”

“No. If Mathilde stays here, we’ll be fine.” She glanced at the other woman, who nodded with a smile. “Jean-Luc helped investigate other events. If you want to keep that up, we left his laptop there.”

During the ride through London’s Monday morning traffic, Beckie, Kevin and Derek argued back and forth trying to find a viable course of action. Derek argued for involving the police sooner rather than later, but Beckie and Kevin both worried that, without a better definition of the threat, the police wouldn’t move soon enough.

“I don’t want to be left saying well, we told them.”

“Yeah, I know. But I’m sure what we ‘ave so far would interest them mightily.” Stopped at a light, he turned to face Beckie. “Your police ‘aven’t given you a lot of confidence, eh?”

“Don’t forget what happened when Lissa and I were in the Retro Place. Not much action from London’s finest then.” She pointed to the light, now showing red-yellow. “I know they’d be interested, but I’m afraid that if we don’t give them enough details, they’ll just keep investigating.”

Derek nodded and dropped his argument. However, he’d gotten his point across. Beckie said, “We’ll give it till tomorrow afternoon, then take what we have to Scotland Yard.”

At the hotel, a hot shower left Beckie refreshed and relaxed. Kevin smiled as he wrapped her with the two-inch wide adhesive tape. “I think the cuts will be okay,” he said as she eyed her face, bruises and stitches visible in the reflection staring back at her.

“Yeah. Nothing’s open or bleeding. I’ll live.” She turned to glare at him. “Are you the one told Ian I’d been roughed up?”

He backed away, hands in front as if to protect himself from the tiny girl in bra, jeans and white tape. “I answered his questions. Millie talked to him first, but, come on, you knew we’d talk to him.” He dropped his hands. “Actually, he didn’t need anyone to tell him. Derek had the headset on.”

“The headse— Oh.” She remembered the test she’d seen of the headset. Connected by Bluetooth to the user’s phone, it transmitted video at ten to fifteen frames per second and audio to whoever it was linked with. Ian certainly, in this case, along with Shen. “Hey! The fact that they were connected… he must trust me a little, if he wasn’t on the plane last night.”

Kevin smiled, but his effort to restrain himself was obvious. As Beckie watched in surprise, he gave up and laughed out loud at her. It took a little time before he could speak. “Yeah,” he gasped, “he trusts you a little.”

“Okay, okay. I guess I knew that. Confirmation’s always nice, though. So,” she said as Kevin recovered enough to stand and hand her the shirt she’d brought with her, “can we go soon?”

He opened the door as he said, “Let’s see if Derek’s found one of his mates who can let us in.” He waved Beckie out.

Derek was tapping on his phone, but he looked up as Beckie walked to the desk. She decided not to tempt fate by trying to prop her hip on the corner; she satisfied herself by leaning. “Just a sec, love,” Derek said. “I’m about to make a call. Or maybe two.”

The one-sided conversation added nothing; Kevin rewarded Beckie’s questioning glance with a shrug and shaken head. She walked behind the desk and sat, pleased that the stiffness wasn’t also painful.

Finally, Derek placed his phone on the desk.

“’Old on,” he said as Beckie bounded out of the chair, “we’re not doin’ anything yet. it’s only ‘arf noon, and… well… my contacts are all working till evening.”

Beckie sagged as Derek’s words sank in. Eight hours lost! Damn. “Well, can’t we just go there? Do they have tours or something? Anything?”

“Yeah, as I was about to say.” He smiled at her embarrassment, but waved her reply away. “We’ll go there and ‘ave a look around. At the least, we’ll be there when time comes.”

“Drive? Or Tube?”

“Let’s take the car. There are car parks all about, close enough to walk and the rain’s still ‘olding off.”

Coming in from the west, Beckie saw the dominant steel arch that was Wembley’s hallmark. Derek drove slowly along a street cluttered, not with cars, but trucks. There were fields of weeds, not too big, but Beckie wondered why, with all the traffic the stadium must generate, the area wasn’t more retail oriented. She put the thought away as Derek stopped in a lot a few hundred yards from the concrete walls of the stadium.

“I’ll pop ‘round and ask if they’ll allow us to park ‘ere for a bit,” he said before leaving her and Kevin.

Beckie gave Kevin a wry smile. His was no less twisted. ‘Com’on,” he said. “Can you get out?”

She pushed open the door and stood, gingerly but without his assistance. “Ooof. That’s not as easy as it used to be. Do we wait for Derek?” She held the car’s roof as she straightened, stretching slowly.

Kevin closed the doors and said, “Yeah. That’d be smart. In case we hav’ta find another spot.”

In a couple of minutes, Derek ambled around the corner. “A tenner does wonders,” he told them, “but they want it over there.”

Beckie had been to baseball games with her family, but Target Field, where her dad’s Twins played, was nothing compared to this monster. The iconic arch, curving hundreds of feet into the air over the walls of the stadium, the white concrete walls divided by the glass of top to bottom windows, the steps leading to the upper-level entry which wrapped clear around the building—at least, as far as she could see—the massive entry doors waiting for a crush of a hundred thousand fans, all of it put the surrounding area’s plebeian nature out of her head.

“Wow.”

“We’re right proud of it, y’know,” Derek replied. “But now, let’s find a way in. Keep an eye out.”

“What for?” In spite of his question, Kevin was scanning the nearby, closed parking lot and the steps as they approached.

“Cops, security, workers, just about anyone. Some we can get ‘elp from, but others…”

Beckie used the stairway railing to relieve some of her ribs’ discomfort until they got to the upper level. Derek led them first to the statue of Bobby Moore, and then to the entrance where the tour could be accessed. Beckie guessed that one of his ‘mates’ had arranged for a private tour. She hoped it would include white trash cans.

Their first stop, the guide explained, was not on the usual tour, which did not include the Bobby Moore Room. Beckie took in the sumptuous fittings in the restaurant, the gleaming white cloths on the tables, the thick carpet and the floor to ceiling windows looking out on the field. “That’s the pitch, all right,” Derek said, his pride undiminished. And, Beckie thought, his pride is well placed. The field was a lush green, even in the cloudy bright of the day. The red seats filling the borders made a brilliant contrast, and looking up, she could see the arch high overhead.

“It’s open now,” Derek said.

“Huh?”

“The roof. It’s open now.”

Beckie took a final look out over the field. Pitch! She turned back into the room and noticed three workers… I guess they’re workers, she thought, looking at the dark blue overalls they wore. She sidled over to Kevin, talking about capacities with the guide. Without a look at the workers, she whispered to him, “Don’t look, but I think we’re being watched.”

He turned to face her instead; as he did, one of the workers wheeled a trash can from its place beside a door through that door and out of sight. Kevin was watching her eyes when she looked at him again, but then turned back to the guide. He made polite conversation about the number of guests the room could host in various configurations, but all Beckie could think of was how high even the smallest number was if something exploded in here. Then she realized that while he continued talking, Kevin was also surveying both the room and the remaining blue-clad staff.

When he pointed toward the closed doors lining the sides of the room, the guide told them those gave access to the kitchens and service areas. The two workers each took a white trash container and scurried through one of those doors.

Beckie did her own quick survey to make sure no one else was watching, then thanked the guide and strolled to a trash can across the room from the ones the workers had moved. As she walked, she fumbled in her pocket for a tissue. She wrinkled her nose when she pulled it out. Well, it’ll do. She stopped by the trash can, blew her nose and opened the lid to drop the tissue in.

She lifted the lid till it stayed up, looking at the frame attached to the inside. That’s what Haleef was trying to draw! Footsteps came up behind her and she began to close the lid before noticing Kevin, looking at it. I don’t know what that is, she realized. “What is—”

“Well, it’s a frame to hold a deodorizer,” he said, pointing to the dark plastic filter-like thing in the shiny steel frame. “That’s a charcoal pad, almost certainly. But, I’ll just…” He palmed his phone and took a couple of pictures. When he’d slipped the phone back in his pocket, he clapped her on the back and said aloud, “Make sure trash goes in the containers with liners.” He reached in and removed her tissue. Again, she made a face as she took it. “Try one of the others.” Before she could move away, he whispered, “Look for the wide supports along the sides. I can’t imagine any reason they’d need to be that large.” He closed the lid and spent a moment studying it. “Uh-oh.” He shushed her question and used the camera again. “Tell you later.” He pushed her in the direction of another can.