Redemption (35 page)

A moment later, she was gone.

Chapter 48

ANYA WAS FEELING
good about herself as she strode down the corridor to their suite. Her plan had unfolded perfectly, leaving her with a valid passport that just might get Drake through Immigration.

Perhaps they would make use of that champagne after all. She’d never had much fondness for alcohol, but it would be a shame to waste it.

She would certainly make use of room service, she decided. She was often hungry now, which she took as a good sign. Her body was recovering from the deprivations of Khatyrgan, a hint of her former strength and vigour returning.

But her first order of business would be to change out of her skirt and high heels. How could women wear things like this all day long? She’d never enjoyed such impractical clothing, and resented having to wear it when men were able to walk around in relative comfort.

Still, like many things, it had its uses.

She smiled as she swiped her card through the reader and pushed the door open.

‘Drake, I have good news for once.’

He was standing by the window, staring out across the city. Rain was still pattering against the glass.

‘You got it, then?’ He took a drink of something. Whisky. She could smell it.

‘Mr Henderson was most cooperative.’ Crossing the room, she handed him the man’s passport. ‘It may take a little work, but you should pass for him.’

Drake surveyed the picture for a few moments, then glanced back up at her. ‘You didn’t …?’

‘What? Sleep with him?’ She kicked off her high heels, sat down on the bed and rubbed her aching feet. Assassinations she could handle. Women’s fashion was another matter.

‘I was going to say, kill him.’

‘I know what you were going to say. But don’t worry, I didn’t shoot him or sleep with him.’ Anya flashed a playful grin. ‘Tell me, Drake, which would you have preferred?’

It wasn’t in her nature to be flirtatious, but the vodkas she had shared with Henderson had gone to her head a little. She was flushed with success, with optimism, and with something else she hadn’t felt for a very long time – attraction. Attraction towards the man who had been her only companion for the past couple of days.

She hadn’t thought much about it, hadn’t allowed such feelings out, but looking at him now with his jacket off, his shirt open at the collar, and the faint outlines of hard muscle visible beneath, she realised how much her perception of him had changed since that moment he kicked in the door of her cell in Khatyrgan.

‘I’m not sure which would be more dangerous,’ Drake smiled, seeming to see her comment for what it was. She saw something in his eyes then, a glimpse of something he’d kept hidden all this time, a part of himself he’d been careful to keep under control.

Her body responded in kind, and she felt a sudden blush rise to her face as a tingling warmth spread to other parts.

She rose from the bed, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and self-conscious. Crossing the room, she reached into her bag and removed the Glock automatic he’d hidden in the cistern on arrival.

‘Very useful,’ she said, handing it back to him. ‘We will need to dispose of it before we leave tomorrow, though.’

She saw a moment of confusion in his eyes as he took the weapon. She had started down a path, only to turn away without explanation.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked as she reached for the phone by the bed.

‘Ordering dinner. Even I need to eat sometimes,’ she replied, careful to avoid eye contact. She didn’t want to encourage him any further. ‘Then I’m going to bed. You should try to rest too. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.’

Chapter 49

THE CUSTOMS OFFICIAL
stared at the passport for a few seconds before looking up at Drake. She was a black woman in her fifties, short and rounded, with a severe look in her eyes that suggested she was just waiting for an excuse to haul him off for a full body search.

‘And what’s the purpose of your trip to Saudi Arabia, sir?’

‘Business. I work for a consultancy firm. We’re there to advise on a construction project,’ Drake replied, reeling off the cover story they’d both memorised over breakfast earlier. If pressed on the matter, he even had business cards courtesy of Anya’s contingency fund.

He had done what he could to transform himself into Lewis Henderson, donning a business suit, styling his hair in a severe side parting just like in the man’s passport photo, and ‘borrowing’ his glasses. The man must have suffered from severe myopia, because anything more than 20 feet away was visible only as a painful blur.

He swallowed hard, trying to fight back the tide of nausea that seemed to be rising from the pit of his stomach. Just before leaving their room, Anya had thrust a glass of water into his hands and urged him to drink. When he tasted the tang of salt water, he knew what she’d planned.

Their facial features might have been a broad match, but their physiques were not. Drake was leaner and fitter
than
Henderson, his skin tanned by years of operations in equatorial countries. Both issues had to be addressed, and for Anya, it was the perfect solution.

After being violently sick, Drake had glimpsed himself in the bathroom mirror, shocked by how pale and ill he now looked. It was as if all the blood had drained from his face.

He’d been sick again in the restrooms after arriving at the departures terminal, and had thought that was the last of it. Maybe he’d been wrong.

‘Are you okay, sir?’ She looked suspicious.

‘Yes, thanks. Well, more or less. Been a bit ill lately,’ he added with an apologetic smile. ‘Ever since I ate at that Mexican place last week. Spicy food doesn’t seem to agree with me, I’m afraid. Or tequila.’

Her expression softened a little. No doubt she thought he was a stupid asshole, but a harmless one, and that was just fine with him. He’d learned a long time ago that if in doubt, always play the hapless, bumbling Brit abroad.

‘Maybe that’ll teach you to go easy in future,’ she remarked.

A moment later, she had swiped his passport through the magnetic scanner and handed it back to him, along with his boarding pass.

He couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

Anya was waiting for him beyond the security checkpoint, holding the laptop bag she’d purchased from one of the countless electrical retailers in the main terminal to further her cover as a businesswoman.

‘Glad you made it,’ she said, offering a tentative smile.

He said nothing as he brushed past her, heading for the nearest restroom.

Part Three
Confrontation

Know thy self, know thy enemy. A thousand battles, a thousand victories
.

Sun Tzu’s
The Art of War

Chapter 50

Miami-Dade County Police Department

‘HIS NAME’S LEWIS
Henderson,’ the police sergeant explained as he, Frost and Dietrich hurried down the corridor, their shoes squeaking on the cheap linoleum flooring. ‘Works for a British investment bank. Last night he was approached at the hotel bar by a blonde woman speaking with a Russian accent. They went back up to his room, then she pulled a gun on him and left him tied up in the bathroom.’

‘How did he get the word out?’ Frost asked as she struggled to keep up with Dietrich. Despite his limp, he moved at a formidable pace.

He didn’t. He was due to check out today but he didn’t show at the desk. Security found him when they opened his room, duct taped from head to toe. We brought him in to take his statement.

‘How long ago?’ Dietrich asked without breaking stride.

The sergeant checked his watch. ‘About four hours.’

‘Goddamn it,’ Dietrich raged. ‘Four hours. Four fucking hours.’

If the attack happened last night, Drake and Anya might have an eighteen-hour head start on them. Perhaps more. Why had it taken so long?

He jerked a finger at the door leading to the interview room. ‘Buzz us in now.’

Henderson was a bedraggled, pale-faced mess of a man, hunched over in his chair with a blanket draped over his shoulders and an untouched cup of coffee in front of him.

His head jerked around when the door opened and the two agents entered the room. He eyed Dietrich with a look of blank fear, as if he expected the man to pistol whip him at any moment.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Henderson. My name’s Jonas, this is Kiera,’ he began, indicating his female companion. No way was he about to start telling civilians that they were CIA operatives. ‘We’d like to ask you a few questions about what happened last night.’

‘I’ve already told them everything I know,’ Henderson said, his voice almost a pleading wail. ‘I haven’t committed a crime – I’m the victim here. I just want to go home.’

Beside him, Frost tutted under her breath. She despised weakness and displays of vulnerability in others, especially men.

‘And you will, Mr Henderson,’ Dietrich promised him. ‘But first we need you to answer our questions. Can you do that?’

Henderson bit his lip, but finally nodded.

‘Good. Now, according to your testimony you were approached by the suspect at your hotel bar. Can you describe her?’

‘She was … tall, slim. She had blonde hair, blue eyes. Pale skin, but she was beautiful.’

‘How old was she?’ Frost asked.

‘I … I don’t know. It was hard to say. She wasn’t young, but she wasn’t old either. Maybe late thirties or early forties.’

‘Did she speak with an accent?’ Dietrich went on.

He nodded. ‘Russian, or Eastern European. I’m not exactly an expert, but it was definitely foreign.’

‘So once you met up, what happened?’

‘We had a few drinks, and after a while we went upstairs to my room.’ He shuddered at the memory. ‘Then she pulled a gun on me. She made me lie down, then tied me up in the bathroom.’

It all sounded very neat and academic.

‘Did she take anything?’ Frost asked.

‘My wallet – and my glasses,’ he added as an afterthought.

Dietrich frowned. She wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble just to snatch a few dollars. There had to be more to it.

‘Was there nothing else?’

The man thought about it for a few moments. ‘I couldn’t see what she was doing, but I heard her searching the room. She was looking for something.’ Then his eyes lit up as a memory resurfaced. ‘The safe!’

‘What about it?’

‘I heard her entering the pass code. I heard the beeping. I don’t know how she knew it, but it must have worked because I heard her open the door.’

Dietrich leaned forward. ‘What was in the safe?’

‘My passport.’

That was all he needed to hear. He was up and out of the room within moments. Frost followed in his wake.

‘Son of a bitch,’ Dietrich hissed, angry with himself for not making the connection sooner. Bedraggled and pathetic as he was, Henderson bore enough of a physical resemblance to Drake to stir a sense of familiarity in him. Enough of a resemblance to get the man through Immigration.

‘She’s planning to leave the country with Drake,’ Frost remarked.

‘If she hasn’t done it already,’ the man growled. ‘Stupid asshole! I should have seen this.’

He snatched his phone out of his pocket and dialled Franklin’s number. It rang only once before it was answered.

‘Talk to me, Jonas.’

‘She was here. Miami International. She stole a passport from a British businessman – Lewis Henderson. His details are on the police report. I want his name and passport details red-flagged immediately. And contact Homeland Security, find out if his passport’s been used in the last twenty-four hours.’

Franklin knew better than to argue, and wasn’t about to chew the man out for his brisk tone. ‘We’re on it. I’ll have someone call you as soon as we know something.’

‘Hurry, Dan. This might be our last chance.’

Shutting the phone down, he closed his eyes, leaned against the wall and ran a hand through his hair. He felt as though his mind was still working at half speed. Physically he was starting to feel better as the withdrawal effects receded, but his brain was letting him down. He was missing things that should have been obvious.

What else was he missing?

‘What’s on your mind?’ Frost asked.

‘A lot.’

She made a face. ‘Specifically?’

He sighed and opened his eyes. ‘Anya knew Henderson would be found sooner or later. She could have killed him to stop him talking, but she didn’t. She let him live.’

She shrugged. ‘It was a busy hotel.’

‘Have you forgotten what happened on the flight back from Russia?’ he asked. ‘She’s perfectly capable of killing with her bare hands.’

The younger woman’s expression darkened. Yes, she
knew
all too well what Anya was capable of. She didn’t care to be reminded of that moment when she’d found herself with a broken shard of glass at her throat.

‘Where the fuck are you going with this, Dietrich?’

That was the question, and one for which he had no answer. But something about this whole situation just didn’t add up. What were she and Drake trying to achieve? Where were they trying to go? And what were they going to do when they got there?

His confused and rambling thoughts were interrupted when his cellphone started buzzing. Damn, that was fast.

‘Dietrich.’

‘Sir, we’ve done the passport trace you requested.’ It was the young analyst he remembered as Sinclair.

‘Let’s hear it, Sinclair.’

‘The passport was last used this morning at 09.00 hours for an international flight.’

His heart sank. ‘What was the destination?’

‘Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.’

Chapter 51

THE HEAT IN
downtown Riyadh was unbelievable. Every breath of scorching, dusty, smoke-filled air seared Drake’s throat as their jeep ground its way forward in heavy traffic, jostling for position with overloaded trucks and vans, sleek saloons and dilapidated old hatchbacks. Scooters and mopeds zipped in and out of the heavy traffic, taking ridiculous chances and leaving angry horn blasts in their wake. It was chaos.

Anya, for once acting as driver at her own insistence, navigated the chaos with a coolness that amazed him. By now he would have been leaning on the horn as hard as their fellow travellers.