Broken Honor (32 page)

She hesitated. She didn't want to think what she was thinking. But now was no time to hold back. Flaherty's life was in danger, too. “Two weeks ago I would have said no way. But the more I think about it, I wonder. He was having marital problems. He might have needed money. If he found something he thought he could use.…”

She left the sentence hanging.

He nodded. “If he did take something, where would it be?”

She shrugged. “His office. Home. I don't know.”

He played with his coffee cup. “If I don't get Eachan today, maybe we should pay a visit to the widow.”

“If he had taken some papers and the bad guys want them, why haven't they searched his home?” She found herself using his words for the assailant. They fitted as well as anything.

“Maybe they have,” he said.

“Could his wife be in danger?”

“He died in an auto accident. I doubt if anyone would want another accident this soon.”

A chill crept through her.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “Your friend may not have done anything.”

“I hope not,” she said softly. She couldn't even imagine going to Jon's house and asking his widow if she could go through his things.

There was a question in his eyes.

“No,” she said. “There was never anything between us, but from what I understand, his wife thought there might be. That was one of the problems. She thought he was cheating with everyone because he couldn't stand being home. We had lunch sometimes. Coffee. He was my mentor. He supported my tenure, but that was all there ever was.”

He nodded, and she wished she knew what he was thinking at that moment. He didn't say anything, but helped himself to another cup of coffee and poured one for her.

She was amazed, however, at how at ease they were together most of the time. She had never felt this way before, not even with Alan, the man with whom she had a two-year relationship. There was no juggling for control, for position. No sense of competition. He listened to her, gave her opinions credit. She hadn't known that two people could have this kind of ease. A lump lodged in her throat. For the first time she wasn't sure she wanted to catch the bad guys. Once that was done, he would leave. She remembered what she'd thought about earlier and meant to ask him.

“Can you ever go back?” she said.

He gave her a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

“I never understood the appeal of danger,” she said. “I never understood why some people choose dangerous jobs, like policemen or fireman or Special Forces, or driving race cars or jumping out of planes.” She didn't know if she was making herself clear or not, but he had put down the coffee cup and was studying her intently.

“Now,” she continued, “I know what is meant by adrenaline. I … understand its appeal. It must be a little like a drug.”

“It can be,” he said. “It is for some.”

“Are you one of those some?”

He hesitated. “I personally think it's overrated. I don't like getting shot.”

She didn't either. She remembered only too clearly the pain that followed her first brush with danger. And yet … life had never been so vivid. “Once … you experience it, can you ever go back?” That was the big question. But then she wondered whether it was the danger, or Irish Flaherty.

He looked at her thoughtfully. “I suppose it depends on who you are. I always thought it made peace more precious.”

“Then why do you continue doing what you do?”

“I usually don't get shot at. And I like solving puzzles. Most of the investigations I conduct involve paper trails. Dishonest contractors and procurement fraud. Unsafe equipment. That kind of thing.”

“But not in Bosnia?”

He shrugged. “That mostly involved preventing weapon theft.”

“And in South America. Wasn't that dangerous?”

“That's why I transferred to CID,” he said with a self-deprecating shrug.

She didn't quite believe that. He'd not shown the slightest fear or hesitation since she'd met him. Instead, he'd plunged in at every opportunity.
To protect her
.

Why
?

But she had no opportunity to ask more questions. He stood up and took the dishes to the sink. “Time for me to leave.”

“Should I go with you?” She wanted to.

He shook his head. “You have Bo, and I know you want to do some work. Why don't you do that, and if you have time, check on Navy deployments about ten years back?”

She had almost forgotten about the tenure hearing after the last couple of days. It was less than a week away now. She would have to return by then. It would not hurt to review everything. But her life in Memphis seemed a hundred years and thousands of miles away.

He was right. She did have work to do. She did have her own life.

“Keep the pistol handy. Don't open the door to anyone but the chief. I should be back by midafternoon.”

If you're not
.…

He wrote something down. “If I'm not back, call this number. It's my commander. He's also a friend. He'll help you.” He leaned down and kissed her slowly and thoroughly. “But I
will
be back.”

W
ASHINGTON
, D.C.

Dustin left his Georgetown home and drove to a gas station that had a pay phone. He dialed Sally's number. The phone rang and rang and rang.

No answer.

Damn. She didn't have a cell phone. She hated the things. He should have insisted. He looked at his watch. Seven in the morning. She should be there.

He had been awake all night, reviewing the meeting he'd had earlier in the day with his superior. He had, more or less, been ordered to change his recommendation. He hadn't agreed. He hadn't disagreed. But he knew it was damned wrong, and could well come back to bite them all in the ass. The sale of those vehicles would mean one more dictator could more easily slaughter his people. He just wasn't sure how far he would go to deny it.

Jordan, damn it. He suspected he would have another call from the man today.

That was one call he planned to avoid.

He did hope Flaherty would call.

And where in the devil was Sally?

He felt like a juggler who had lost control. Balls were bouncing all over the damned place.

Fifteen minutes later he strode into his office. His secretary wasn't there. Sally was.

She looked terrible. She wore no makeup, and her clothes were wrinkled. She was in his arms before he could say anything. He held her for a moment, then pulled back. “Why are you here?”

“I didn't think I should go to your house. I was afraid to go to mine.”

“Why?”

She rubbed her eyes. “I went out last night. To a bar. It was a respectable one,” she added after looking at his face. “I met a guy. He looked okay, and we talked a little while. He asked me out, and I said no. There was something … in his eyes that warned me. When I went to the powder room, the bartender came after me and said the man sitting next to me slipped something into my drink. I couldn't think of anything but getting away.”

“You drove here last night in the rain?”

She nodded.

“Why didn't you call me?”

“You told me not to. I assume you had a reason,” she said indignantly. “I was also afraid to come to your house. But I didn't think they would check every door in the State Department. I had my credentials with me, and I waited until seven. I knew you came in early.”

He studied her face. He saw the fear in her eyes. Yet she'd kept her head. Everyone had always underestimated Sally, had always expected little from her. He'd been guilty of the same thing. “It could just have been someone who wanted to score.…”

“I don't think so. He seemed friendly enough, but there was something about his eyes … and the bartender said he'd never seen the man there before, although the guy told me he was local.”

“You did exactly right in coming here,” Dustin said.

“I'm not exactly dressed properly.”

He took her hand and went to his door, unlocked it, and drew her inside.

“I'll send my secretary to get you some clothes,” he said.

“Won't she resent that?”

“I don't think so. I don't ask things like that often. She'll know it's important.”

She digested that for a moment, then changed the subject. “Why would they come after me?”

“I wish to hell I knew. Can you draw a picture of this guy?”

She nodded.

He took several pieces of paper from the computer printer and handed it to her, along with several pens from his desk. “Sorry I can't do better.”

“I'm sorry, Dusty. I didn't know what else to do, where else to go.”

“Not to worry, Squirt. I'm glad you did. We just have to figure out what to do with you now.”

“If I hadn't gone to the bar …?”

“If they found you at the bar, they knew where you were staying. They would have gotten to you in another way. Perhaps a more violent one.”

“But how could they have found me?”

“I don't know.” And he didn't. There were several possibilities. Cecil Ford knew where she was. Some kind of device could have been placed in his car. He didn't think anyone could trace calls going into or out of his office. Since some very publicized security leaks in State Department offices, security was very good. No one would have been able to tap phones.

He didn't know whom to call now. He'd exhausted most of his resources, people he thought he could trust. Unfortunately, he could count them on one hand. Half a hand. But Sally's drawing first. He wanted that while the man's face was still fresh in her mind. Maybe the FBI would have something on him.

Dustin went over the schedule Judy had left for him. A staff meeting at ten. That would be held in the conference room. A luncheon with a congressman at noon. He had to make that. Two more meetings this afternoon. A dinner tonight at the French Embassy.

A knock on his door. Sally stiffened.

“Judy. My secretary,” he said. “I recognize her knock.”

She visibly relaxed. She had talked to Judy several times.

He opened the door and went outside, closing the door behind him.

“Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning.”

“I'll make the coffee.”

“Sounds good.”

She hesitated as he continued to stand there. “Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Eachan?”

“My cousin is here,” he said.

“Here?” She looked confused.

“In my office. She had a scare last night. Someone attacked her.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Yes, there is. She's going to stay here today. There's really nowhere else to go. Whoever attacked her has her address and house keys. I don't want anyone other than myself—or you—going into my office. I know it's not your job, but I would appreciate it if you could watch out for her.”

“Of course I will.”

“Thank you,” he said formally.

He waited for other questions but, as he expected, none came.

He went back inside his office. Two hours before his staff meeting. Judy had already prepared the agenda, but he had to review the items.

He knew, though, that it was time to make some decisions. Until now, he'd hoped that the whole treasure train matter would fade away. It was quite obvious now that it would not.

If he went to the FBI, it could blow wide open. Sally's life was worth far more than his career. But first he wanted to hear what Flaherty had to say. Then he would have to make some hard decisions.

Sally looked up from her drawing. He gave her what he hoped was a comforting smile, and she went back to work.

What in the hell was he going to do with her
?

N
EWPORT
N
EWS

Irish found a phone booth near Newport News. He looked at his watch. Eleven. He dialed the State Department number and asked for Dustin Eachan.

A woman's voice answered.

He had heard it before. He was sure he would get another “he's unavailable.”

“Mr. Eachan,” he said.

“May I tell him who's calling?”

“Colonel Flaherty.”

There was a brief pause. “He wants to speak to you, but he's in a meeting now. He asked if there was a number where he can reach you.”

Progress, of a sort. Except he was not about to tell anyone where he was or was going to be.

“I'm moving around,” he said. “Tell me when he will be there, and I'll call.”

She hesitated, then said, “Noon. But he has a luncheon at one, so call right on the hour.”

“I'll do that,” he said, and hung up. He stood at the telephone for a moment. He hadn't been on the line long enough for a trace. He'd made sure of that. Now he had an hour to waste.

After a moment's hesitation, he called the ranch. He knew Joe wouldn't be in his house at this time of day, but he left a message that he was all right and would call him later. Then he made a third call to Doug Fuller, his commanding officer. He had to know what was going on.

He was put through immediately. “Get back here,” Doug said without any preliminary greeting.

“If it's about that promotion.…”

“Hell, there won't be any promotion. You're wanted for questioning in North Carolina. Something about arson. Both you and the woman. And there are some questions left in Georgia. Dammit, where in the hell are you? I can't protect you any longer. Hell, we're the ones who are supposed to be solving crimes, not committing them.”

“We weren't involved in arson,” Irish said. “That was meant to kill both of us.”

“Why?”

“Damned if I know,” Irish said.

“You're not any closer than before?”

“No. Except whoever is behind it has resources we could only dream about.” He hesitated. “Can you find out where my new assignment came from?”