Hard Target (7 page)

He let out a soft, mirthless chuckle. He'd been alone in Paris, doing a job for the CIA. Sitting at a café, sipping coffee, watching the suspect. And stuck in a seedy hotel room on Boulevard de Strasbourg, wearing earphones, listening to the moron suspect in the bugged room next door have bumbling sex with a cheap, French hooker twice his age. He'd been alone the whole time.

He forced out a broader smile as he shook his head. "Maybe it is the altitude. I just didn't expect it to bother me." Then he looked away, to pretend the conversation, the slip of his tongue, had no consequence.

When he dared to look back, Dawna was staring out her window. Before they'd headed to the police station, she'd changed out of the torn pantsuit and into clothes she kept at her office. Though not as beguiling, the lightweight pants and soft, satiny shirt had an effect of its own. It would feel soft to the touch, he wagered.

Yeah, he had to be tired. Tay focused on the busy city streaming by, all the twists and turns within the narrow city streets. Dawna's fresh perfume had faded, but now in the close confines of the car, it twisted itself around him like a silk cord.

There was nothing in Dawna's personality that drew silk cords to mind. She refused to allow him even the smallest amount of control over her investigation. Her damn pride would never let her, either.

He knew what needed to be said, here, now. "Dawna, I've-"

Abruptly, Dawna twisted and peered out the back windshield. Her smooth, even features wrinkled into a sharp frown.

"What's wrong?" he snapped, shoving away any immediate plans of forcing her to stand down from her position.

She faced him, the frown melting into a bland expression, her hair parting naturally around the small bandage. "Nothing."

Tay glanced over his shoulder. The usual mêlée of traffic surrounded them, their sounds muted by the armored plating. A blue Toyota truck followed the staff car before spinning off to the right. Tay didn't catch the license plate number or get a good look at the driver. Behind them now was a Fiat, its hood a flat mix of primer paints.

The sun glinted off the Fiat's windshield, forcing Tay to squint. An old man with a wide brimmed hat was driving. A woman, probably his wife, sat beside him. They too, changed lanes and disappeared. And at the end of the long boulevard, stood that hill, and that blinding white Cristos statue. They'd done a 180 degree turn and he hadn't even noticed it.

Tay faced the front. So what had caught Dawna's interest? What was she holding back from him?

He pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting back a fatigue-induced headache as they reached the city square close to the embassy. Just paranoia, he told himself. An occupational hazard from years of undercover work.

"You were about to say something?" Dawna asked.

The driver entered the courtyard and pulled around behind the embassy, finally stopping beside the rear entrance.

Tay hesitated, refusing to demand that he take over the investigation in the close confines of this car, and within earshot of the driver, or others in the embassy. "Nothing."

Shrugging, Dawna shoved open her door, climbing out before Tay or the driver could assist. Tay followed her more slowly. Oh yeah, he was tired. But he wouldn't allow Dawna to put too much distance between them.

She stopped him inside. "Lock up your weapon."

He'd been hoping she'd forgotten, but in retrospect, the hope was foolish. Dawna wouldn't forget.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the heavy car pull away from the door and he wondered again who she'd seen behind them.

"All right," he said, pulling his weapon out of its snug, comfortable holster. He didn't want to secure it in the weapon's vault, but he didn't want Dawna to distrust him any more than she did already.

"Good. Let's go."

He followed her into the security office and waited as she punched her personal code into the keypad beside the vault door. The vault sat between her office and the security office. He knew the state-of-the-art system well. He also knew a small, concealed camera to his right was recording them. A light above the number panel flashed green and Dawna pulled opened the thick steel door.

Stepping inside, she grabbed a clipboard from the top of an industrial cabinet to her right. "Sign your weapon in. The mag goes in the top drawer."

Sighing, he unclipped the magazine and placed it in the drawer. Then he cocked the weapon and caught the bullet when it popped out of the chamber.

"Thank you," Dawna said when he set his pistol on the rack of the tiny vault. "It's for everyone's safety."

She was right, of course. Just because he'd written the Standard Operating Procedures didn't give him the right to disobey them. He had to be reasonable.

Besides, she'd seen something on their way here. Something, he wagered, which may be important to the investigation. And refusing to obey SOPs wasn't the way to earn her trust.

"Dawna?" he asked. "Did you notice something unusual about the trip back here?"

"No." Her expression appeared so bland, he was half-convinced she couldn't possibly lie.

Only half-convinced.

Dawna squeezed past him to exit the vault. Quickly, he stepped out before she shut the door. "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" she asked.

Tay's mouth curled into a dry smile. Easier than it was for her to trust him, apparently. He turned and walked past the
vigilante
monitoring the security cameras. 

"I'm looking for the earliest refugee applications," Dawna said, reaching Lucy's desk a few minutes after they'd stored Tay's gun. She put Tay behind her as if she wasn't bothered by him at all.

Not bothered by him? What a total lie. Being in the vault with Tay sent all her senses scrambling into action at the same time.

Lucy blinked at them. "The earliest refugee applications?" she echoed. "They're down in the bunker. When the Immigration Section arrived, I stored them with the provisional docs in the room beside the kitchenette." She smiled broadly. "But I also put them on a flash drive..." She turned toward her computer, but Dawna stopped her.

"Don't worry. I would rather read the original applications, anyway." She returned Lucy's polite smile. "It's past six. The rest of the staff have already gone home. You should, too."

Lucy glanced up at the clock. "Why, I had no idea it was so late. The ambassador left an hour ago." She tidied some papers on her desk. "I'd better call it a day."

"You should." Dawna gave the older woman an indulgent smile. "The driver's still here. Would you like him to take you home?"

Glancing around, Lucy grabbed her purse and her attaché case. She shot Tay a furtive look before switching off the computer and locking her filing cabinet. "No, thank you. I don't mind walking. It's faster, anyway."

Dawna's smile widened. "Go home to your kitties."

Lucy softened. "I wonder what part of the couch they've torn apart today. Now I know why the Sisters at the convent made all those cats stay outside."

Watching the woman leave, Dawna wondered if she'd be like her in about twenty years. Alone, with only fussy, spoiled cats she'd adopted from a small convent in the mountains to keep her company. Lucy had been widowed for years, with no children, nor any family to tie her down. No wonder she'd taken a secretarial post in this distant country.

Pangs of empathy hit Dawna. She only had Mom and Tanya, a dependent younger sister determined to bleed their mother dry, while Mom tried every method possible to force Tanya to do something with her life. Everything except tough love.

Straightening, she tightened her jaw. A dysfunctional family hadn't pushed Dawna here. She was here to keep the embassy safe. And she would.

She barely glanced at Tay as she walked out of the office. "Come on. I know where the files are. If we both look, we should find the application in no time."

She had no idea what a lie 'no time' was until she heaved the first box off the shelf and handed it to Tay. She'd never seen a box so full of files. And there were still two more beside it.

"We'll read them in the kitchenette, starting with this box." She followed Tay out and into the next room. He dropped the box on the table and glanced around.

She threw open the refrigerator and peered inside. "I don't know about you, but I'm starved." Deep in the back of the freezer compartment, behind some ice packs and a tin of ground coffee, she found a loaf of light rye bread. "I know just the thing to go with this, too."

Tay gaped at the jar she pulled out of the refrigerator. "Cheez Whiz? I didn't know you could get that stuff here."

"My mom sends it to me. I eat here more often than I eat at my apartment, so I brought it in." She scrunched up her nose. "The locals hate it. The only ones who are a threat to it are the ambassador's kids when they come here.  That's why it's down here." With a butter knife, she pried two frozen slices of the bread apart and began to smear on the cheese spread. "Want one?"

"Sure." Tay had already pulled out a thick section of files and split the pile in two. She handed him his snack.

After setting down his still frozen slice of bread, he hooked his finger into his tie and yanked it loose. When he undid the top button of his shirt, a wayward curl of dark chest hair spring free.

Those hairs had felt like spun silk between her fingers three years ago.

Dawna snatched her share of the applications and dropped them as far as she could from Tay, which wasn't far enough in the tight confines of the kitchenette. Grabbing her bread, she flipped open the top file.

Most of the bread was gone before Dawna let out a short cry. "I've found it!" She spread the application out between them. "Juan Reynaldo Cabanelos," she read. "Born June eighth, nineteen sixty-seven."

Tay flipped the document over and read the last few lines. "He was denied refugee status."

Dawna bent over him. "He was denied?" She read the signature of the reviewer, Robert Taylor, who was now the ambassador's assistant, just below Lucy's own neat signature as witness. There was something written in the margin, but she couldn't read it properly as she peered over Tay's shoulder.

"They denied him a week after he submitted it." Tay looked straight ahead, staring into space. "They always run security checks on the applicants. Not in so short a time, though. I wonder what they found out."

She studied him as he read the file. His face showed a few more crows' feet at the outer edges of his eyes. He'd lost some weight, she thought, making him more angular, tougher. In the harsh fluorescent light, a few white hairs glimmered at his temples. She lifted her hand, prepared to brush the defiant tendrils over his ear.

Someone cleared his throat behind them. Dawna jumped and spun, forcing her hand to her side.

Ramos stood in the doorway, looking reluctant to interrupt them. "The
policia
will deliver their report first thing in the morning. My shift has started. Are you planning to stay a while, Sergeant? I could put on a pot of coffee for you."

"No thanks, Ramos. We won't be here much longer." She gave the older man a short smile, stepping back from Tay and refusing to look at him. "I'll let you know when we're ready to leave."