WAR: Intrusion (12 page)

As they walked down the hall, Leticia exited the staff room. “Thank you for all of your hard work today, Leticia,” Helen said. “Since it’s after midnight, Jacobs will walk you home.”

“You get some rest, doctor,” Leticia said. Then she glared at MacKay. “And you, Mr. MacKay.” She shook her finger at him. “You must apologize to Dr. Kirk. She is a good, honest woman who had nothing to do with today’s attack. Of that you can be certain. We give thanks every day that she is with us.”

MacKay’s eyebrows nearly climbed into his hairline and Jacobs stifled a smile with his hand.

“Now. Come, sir. I want sleep.” Leticia hooked her arm through Jacobs’s and led him out the back door.

“Ah. Sorry about that,” Helen said. Avoiding MacKay’s eyes, she put her dirty lab coat in the hamper, then grabbed her keys from her office.

When she reached for the doorknob of the back door, MacKay put his hand on her arm. “Wait.”

She stepped away from his touch and turned to face him. “What?”

“Ah… Leticia was correct. I owe you an apology. I—” He cleared his throat and she wondered how long it had been since he’d said he was sorry. “I let the circumstantial evidence and my anger blind me to the different story being told by your actions. You’ve worked tirelessly today, doctor. You’ve been gentle and patient, and your skills at soothing people’s fears are impressive. I’m sorry that I jumped to conclusions and that I frightened you with my threatening actions. Will you forgive me?”

She sighed and studied his face. “Thank you for the apology, but…no. I’m not ready to forgive you just yet.” Her pain was still too fresh. Too deep. And his anger had been too fierce. Something dark and powerful had driven him to treat her so harshly. He’d even brought up her mother, for heaven’s sake. How could she trust that he wouldn’t act the same if something else went wrong?

“I understand,” MacKay said quietly. “I hope that some day you will change your mind.”

Helen just gave a one-shouldered shrug. While he’d said the right words, his voice conveyed such discomfort that she doubted his sincerity. More likely, he’d apologized because he figured playing nice was the best way to get her assistance with locating Mr. Natchaba. Which only illustrated how little MacKay knew about her. Of course she’d help. She didn’t need to be buttered up. She wanted the authorities to capture the person who’d ordered the attack as much as anyone. But, having been falsely accused one too many times herself, she wouldn’t automatically assume Mr. Natchaba’s guilt. He might have been framed. Still, whether he was ultimately proved to be guilty or innocent, she accepted that Mr. Natchaba needed to be investigated. The villagers deserved justice.

The grief she’d been holding back suddenly broke free and she bit her trembling lip. Today should have been a joyful day. Right now, the villagers should have been singing and dancing to the primitive pulse of drums, not planning a mass funeral. So many had died today, and for what? So those responsible could show the world that they could strike anywhere and at any time? That not even the children were safe? She’d never understand such thinking.

Tears stung her eyes and she walked away, refusing to let MacKay see her vulnerability. Instead, she jiggled the door handle to the lab, pretending that she wanted to check again that it was locked. Because they had a full house tonight, she’d decided to leave all the equipment in place in case one of her patients took a turn for the worse during the night. Sill, she’d had Leticia hide the financial files, as usual.

When she had herself under control, she returned to the door. MacKay stepped aside and gestured for her to precede him outside. “Let’s get you home, doctor. You deserve a meal and bed.”

LATE
THE NEXT morning, Lachlan stared at the interior of Kwesi’s storage room. All the room contained were a few flattened cardboard boxes with the name of a shipping company printed on them. Bugger it, once again he’d hit a dead end. If Kwesi had been telling the truth about the weapons, where had they gone from here? Who had helped him?

David’s teenaged son, who’d let Lachlan into the room, shifted restlessly from foot to foot. Lachlan took pity on him and indicated that they could leave. “Thank you,” he said. “Tell your father once again that he and your family have my sympathy for your loss.”

The boy nodded. As soon as Lachlan closed and padlocked the door, the boy took off home. Lachlan wandered about the village a bit, but nothing struck him as odd. If you didn’t count the somber, oppressive mood and the wary looks people shot his way as they gathered for prayers and to prepare the bodies for burial.

The head of the investigation team had only shrugged yesterday when Lachlan questioned him about gathering evidence from the bodies. “It was some rebel faction,” the man said. “Recovering pieces of metal will not help us figure out which one. We don’t have enough information on the rebels for that. So I won’t interfere with their burial rituals.” In fact, from the shadows in the man’s eyes, he’d probably had loved ones of his own to tend to.

After twenty minutes, Lachlan realized he was making the villagers nervous without gaining any useful information, so he returned to the clinic and let himself in the back door.

“Yes, whatever,” a woman’s voice said from Helen’s office. “I wonder if I can get a reporter to do a full article on your clinic?”

Lachlan froze.

“Gloria!” Helen scolded. “Think. You do not want a reporter here. You never know what they’ll put in their article. It might not be flattering.”

What was she most concerned about? Keeping the vandalism a secret? Or keeping reporters from digging up the scandal involving her mother?

“I— Oh. Well, perhaps you’re right,” Gloria said.

Lachlan continued to eavesdrop as the two women finished their conversation. From the choppy quality of Gloria’s speech, Lachlan figured they were talking via a mobile phone on speaker.

“Your boss has no concept of personal safety, or privacy, does she?” Tony asked.

Lachlan frowned. What was Tony doing in Helen’s office?

“Doesn’t she realize that media attention right now will only make the clinic a target of the rebels?” Tony added.

“No, Gloria tends to be focused only on the bottom line.”

“How’d she reach a position of power if she doesn’t adhere to the Foundation’s security policy?”

“Probably through personal connections,” Helen answered. “I never asked.”

“Do you think she’ll listen to your warning about the reporters? And about not rescheduling the grand opening?”

“I don’t—” Helen stepped into the hallway.

“What’s this about a reporter?” Lachlan demanded.

Helen stopped and backed up, forcing Tony to quickly sidestep so he didn’t run into her. Her fingers touched one of the bruises where Lachlan’s hands had shackled her wrists yesterday. Shame washed over him.

“Bloody hell, woman, will you stop acting as if I’m going to attack you?” Lachlan snapped, guilt making his voice harsher than he’d intended. “I apologized, didn’t I?”

Tony sidled past him and started down the hall. “Coward,” Lachlan muttered.

A baby wailed in the waiting room. “Jacobs can explain about the reporters,” Helen said. “I have patients to treat.”

Holding her head high, she walked away.

Damn the woman, how did she manage to make him feel as if he were the one acting unreasonably? He didn’t expect gratitude, but at least she should have acknowledged his apology as the olive branch he’d intended. He didn’t fully trust her, but he no longer thought her the monster he’d accused her of being.

Besides, although he would have been justified in turning her over to the regional police regarding her complicity in the luxury goods smuggling, he’d remained quiet. For that, she could at least try to be nice to him. Yet not only did her disdain make him feel like a mannerless brute, but the bruises on her wrist drove home the point.

Tony coughed. “How did the meeting with David go?”

Lachlan grunted and walked forward until he could see Dr. Kirk in the waiting room. She had crouched down beside a wee, bawling lad and was trying to distract him with a toy.

“David is busy arranging for a mass funeral for the tribe, plus dealing with his own grief,” Lachlan told Tony. “His son opened Kwesi’s storage room for me, but there was nothing inside except a pile of empty, flattened boxes.”

“Figures. Rene checked in. He said the regional governor and the others will live.”

“Excellent.”

Between the efforts of his mother, Dr. Kirk, and the acceptance of the toy, the laddie finally stopped crying. Lachlan stepped out of the way as the party moved toward an exam room. When she passed him, Dr. Kirk turned slightly away from Lachlan, as if he was something unclean she didn’t want to touch. The action caused something hot and vicious to raise its head inside of him. He wanted to grab her and make her look at him. Make her acknowledge him.

Kiss her until she couldn’t breathe. Until she was soft and pliant in his arms.

Ah, Christ.

He glanced away, then looked down in surprise when he felt a tug on his trousers. The lad pointed to his gun, which today he wore in a shoulder holster over his t-shirt. “Shoot bad men who killed papa?” he asked, looking at Lachlan with complete trust.

Lachlan swallowed the lump of emotion in his throat. “Aye, laddie.”

The boy gave a fierce, satisfied nod, then patted Lachlan’s thigh. “T’ank you.”

Speechless, Lachlan watched the boy scamper back to his mother.

Dr. Kirk glanced between him and the lad, an odd expression on her face. Then she turned and led the party into the first exam room.

“You’re a hero, Commander,” Tony said dryly.

Lachlan just rolled his eyes and leaned his back against the wall. Bloody hell, he was knackered.

“What next?” Tony asked.

“Tell me about this reporter.”

Tony rolled his eyes and took up a position across the hall from Lachlan. “Dr. Kirk’s boss wanted to send reporters out here to run a big feature on how heroically Dr. Kirk and her staff are responding to the crisis. She thought it would be a great way to attract donors.”

Lachlan cursed.

“That wasn’t the worst of it. Her original plan was to arrange for another event to show off the clinic to the dignitaries. She thought something in the next few days would have the most impact.”

“Is the woman mental?”

“That’s pretty much what Dr. Kirk asked her. The doctor was completely horrified. She even asked me to chime in as a security expert to convince her boss it’s not safe to hold another event yet. I think Dr. Kirk’s boss has given up on both ideas, but she sounded desperate for some way to raise the money the Foundation had been expecting, so who knows.”

“Sod it all, that’s the last thing we need. Reporters and dignitaries swarming the area again, attracting every rebel wannabe looking to build their cred with an attack.”

“And as Dr. Kirk pointed out, not only is it unethical and lacking in any trace of sympathy, but exploiting mourning villagers for profit would turn the locals against the Foundation.”

“Right. Hopefully, Dr. Kirk’s boss will abandon her grand schemes. For now, we need to find some evidence tying Kwesi to Natchaba, and tying either one of them or both of them to the attack. Kwesi’s bombed out office should be cool enough for you to sift through the debris. Check in with the man in charge, then see if there’s any clue at all.” Lachlan glanced at his watch. It had just turned one. “If you take Dr. Kirk’s SUV, you should have time to get to Kwesi’s office and back before dark. I’ll stay with the doctor until closing.” He was tempted to leave Tony here and go to Kwesi’s office himself, but that would make him the coward he’d just jokingly accused Tony of being.

“Tonight, after you return, I’ll have Dr. Kirk take us up to Natchaba’s house,” Lachlan said. “David mentioned that Natchaba and his wife used to throw elaborate parties and invite David, Dr. Kirk, and other prominent members of the community. The doctor can act as both guide and translator, although I doubt we’ll find anyone home.”

“You think he planned this and pulled out a long time ago?”

“Aye. In fact, I suspect that Natchaba ran the weapons smuggling and Kwesi just escorted the weapons from the plane to whatever method of transport Natchaba provided.”

“I agree. So. You want to ask Dr. Kirk for the keys to her SUV or should I?”

Lachlan gave a rueful smile. “You’d best do it. She’s less likely to bite off your head.”

With an appreciative chuckle, Tony knocked on the exam room door. A few minutes later, keys in hand, he nodded good-bye to Lachlan and left.

Lachlan had expected the afternoon to drag by, but instead, the flow of patients only increased.

“Adrenaline hid some of the less severe aches and pains yesterday,” Helen explained after she’d asked him once again to serve as a temporary nurse. “Now that they feel safe and have had time to relax, they’re paying attention again to their bodies.”

Lachlan still had to fight nausea every time he caught a whiff of surgical spirits, but at least he managed not to flinch when Helen passed too close to him carrying a needle and thread. Once again, Helen impressed him with her excellent manner with people. She managed to calm the nervous, comfort those in mourning, and joke with those who were afraid, all without losing her temper. She treated everyone—from an elder so wrinkled she reminded Lachlan of a raisin, to a bairn barely able to talk—as an equal, providing explanations of her diagnosis and her treatment plan that were easy to understand. Or so he gathered from the way her patients nodded as she spoke to them in the local language.

Even those who seemed most reluctant to receive treatment appeared to respect her.

Still, Lachlan couldn’t quite accept her complete innocence yet. Not until he’d seen the contents of her hidden storage room and confirmed that she truly hadn’t known Kwesi was smuggling weapons.

Even then, given his history, he doubted he could ever bring himself to fully trust a doctor.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“
LISTEN
,” HELEN SAID later that evening from the passenger seat of her SUV. Lachlan and Jacobs had insisted on heading up to Mr. Natchaba’s house tonight, despite having to drive along winding dirt roads in the dark. But Lachlan had pointed out that the sooner they discovered if Mr. Natchaba was involved with the attacks the better, so she’d given in.