Hard Target (35 page)

He clenched his jaw. It lit up, briefly, but the number pad lights winked out. He had no idea what the settings were on this thing, and no time to play around with them.

With another deep breath, he fingered the key pads again. Andy Bonner's number came to mind first, so Tay carefully pressed the keys, praying he'd hit the right ones.

Then he hit the send button.

Static. Not much but enough for him to doubt if his signal was getting through the steel of the vault.

"Bonner here."

It was barely audible over the static, and Tay cringed as he yelled into the phone. "Andy! It's me, Tay!"

Static followed. "Tay? I can hardly hear you."

"I'm locked in a vault in the embassy!"

More static. "-did you say?"

"I'm in a vault! Someone locked the door!" He moved around the room, leaning as close as he could to the door, hoping it would improve the signal.

"-Lucy Porter?"

Tay frowned, not understanding his friend's words. "What did you say?"

"Did you get my fax?"

The fax. After Dawna had crumpled it all up and fired it at him, all he'd done was scoop it up. "What did you send?"

"-newspaper article. She's linked to Chayo. And her son's-" Static cut off his words.

Tay screamed into the phone. "Call the embassy here! Tell the
vigilante
where I am. The code is two-three-six-four-nine-nine."

Total static. Tay strained to listen, but there was nothing but grating static. He sagged. "Hope you heard me, Andy," he muttered as he shut off the phone.

There was nothing to do but wait. Listening past his own erratic breathing to the sounds outside the office, he stayed stock still.

As he stood there, the truth seeped into him. Lucy Porter. Manuel Chayo. A son.

The accident that took her husband's life.

That was it.

Chapter Twenty-two

Dawna's empty stomach growled in complaint. She ignored it for the moment, not only because she was still struggling to haul down the boxes of files, but also because she planned her own private supper while she read through the file of every single person who worked here at the embassy. Without Tay.

She grunted, absorbing the weight of the first box as it slid off the top shelf. She would pull Ramos' file first. And read it again.

The other employee records would be next. She'd pour over each one a thousand times if she had to. She wasn't going to leave this embassy until she knew who was responsible for the attempted murders.

Her stomach ached. She dropped the box on the table in the bomb shelter's kitchenette, deciding to satisfy her hunger first. Although, part of the gnawing in her belly could very easily be attributed to Tay's betrayal.

Forget it. Forget him. He'd proved again he couldn't be trusted.

She grabbed a slice of hard bread from the freezer and smeared Cheez Whiz on it. It was icy cold on her front teeth as she bit into it, but if it stopped the growl in her stomach, she didn't care.

Swallowing, she dropped the half-eaten slice onto the cutting board and went to retrieve the other file boxes.

Lucy met her in the narrow hallway.

Dawna jumped. "What are you doing down here?"

The older woman smiled. "I heard you tell Mr. Hastings you were coming down here. Need some help?"

Dawna flicked up her eyebrows. "You're so polite, Lucy. Admit it. You heard us arguing and you're curious about it."

"A little, but I would never interfere. It's a private matter between you two."

Today, Lucy wore a pair of blue pants and a neat blue jacket shirt, in a similar color to the pant suit Dawna wore. Over her shoulder was an oversized purse.

Dawna frowned. Lucy was from the old school of secretaries. Plain skirts, modest blouses, nothing brighter than a dark green or blue. And never with a purse bigger than the attaché case she took her work home in.

So why such a casual outfit? Was she going somewhere?

Dismissing the question, Dawna glanced at her watch. "It's late. You don't need to help me. Mr. Taylor's worked you hard enough today. Go home and rest." She dragged a small step ladder over to the back shelf.

"I'm fine. A bit restless, what with the ambassador lying in bed, unable to work."

Dawna stopped reaching for the boxes and peered down at Lucy. She wasn't embarrassed talking about the ambassador this time, or at least in the dim light of the storeroom, it didn't show. She was, however, anxious.

"He'll be back to work soon, don't worry."

Lucy watched her. "He told me he'd come in tomorrow morning."

Dawna found the box she wanted and pulled it halfway out. It was higher up than the refugee claimants. Balancing the brass cornered box above her head, she looked down at Lucy. "Were you talking to the ambassador today?"

"He called."

"When?" It had been several hours since Dawna had been over to his home.

Lucy didn't answer right away. For a tense moment, Dawna looked down at her, wondering what Lucy was waiting for.

The air around them changed, and not for the better.

She shifted the box to take more of its weight. "When did he call you? Since Tay and I spoke to you?"

Lucy peered up at her. "Yes." Despite the obvious tension in the storeroom, Lucy seemed eerily calm.

A shiver ran up Dawna's back. She frowned. "He called to tell you when he was coming in?"

"Among other things."

"Like what?"

"Personal business, Dawna." A small, controlled smile spread over Lucy's lined face. A face that looked so ordinary and yet, bore a familiar air about it, if that made any sense at all.

Another shiver danced along Dawna's spine. The ambassador had called Lucy directly after they'd asked him if he knew Chayo?

Chayo. Dawna recalled the fax. Although the highlighted areas were gray in the monotone fax, she could remember seeing Chayo's name, and just below that, also highlighted, Lucy Porter.

The caption on the newspaper article -- what was it? Snowmobile accident? Dawna couldn't remember the rest.

Without warning, Lucy lunged for the step ladder.

Startled, Dawna released her grip on the box to steady herself. The box, already unbalanced, tipped over on her.

Lucy gave the step ladder another hard shove, this time twisting it away from the high metal shelf.

Dawna cried out. "Lucy!" But even in the frenzy of the moment, she caught a clear glimpse of Lucy's enraged face. The sharp corner of the box caught her shoulder.

Her arms flayed out, desperate to catch something.

Lucy gave the ladder one final twist.

It was too late.

The ladder gave, and unbalanced, Dawna toppled over the side of it. Another brass corner of the file box struck her temple hard.

She and the ladder crashed into the opposite shelf. More boxes rained down on her. Dawna tried to lift her arms to protect herself, but it was useless.

Tay pressed his ear against the door, tired of pounding, tired of screaming, and tired of praying.

Only silence. Andy hadn't heard Tay tell him to call the embassy. And with the security office unmonitored, it was possible no one heard him.

He fumbled to call Andy again. Nothing but static greeted his ear.

Frustrated, he slapped the phone closed.

He stopped. What was that?

Faint, rhythmic ringing, barely heard through the reinforced steel vault.

Another ring. And another.
Answer it! Answer it! Come back to your post.

The ringing stopped. Tay pressed his ear tighter still to the door. A deep sound vibrated through the cold steel. More rumblings. A voice?

He held his breath.

And waited.

His heart pounded in his ears. Maybe that was all he heard. The ringing in his own ears.

Tapping. And then the electronic click of the lock being released.

The door swung open and Tay tumbled out.

Pain knifed up Dawna's side. She winced, letting out one of those breathy groans that should have been a decent curse. Immediately, she coughed. The pain shot through her.

She tried to move. One leg, her upper one, lay tangled around the step ladder. The lower one was pinned under everything. She could barely feel it, and worse, the pain she did register sliced up her side again.

Someone moved beside her. Frowning, she tried to tilt back to call out to whoever was there, but a large heavy box pinned her head.

At an awkward angle, her right arm refused to move at her commands. She tried to wiggle her fingers, but only the faintest sensation tingled up her arm.

Someone shifted a box behind her head. Someone was there, helping her. She blinked, shifted to speak to her savior.

Lucy.

No! She'd caused this accident. Why was she helping her?

"Lucy?" She coughed again at the dust raining down on them.

The woman didn't answer. Instead, she returned to the oversized purse she'd dropped at the end of the aisle. From deep within it, she pulled out a thin pair of latex gloves and put them on. Then she dug in again and removed a small package, the size of a paperback novel.

Returning to stoop behind Dawna, she pulled something out of the package. Dawna couldn't see what it was. But she could hear Lucy shift some boxes. A moment later, she felt Lucy press the device into her left hand.

It felt cold, metallic.

"Lucy, what-" Dawna tried to twist around, to stare at the woman, but the pain overwhelmed her. Immediately, she stilled.