No Remorse Part 22

59.

"The FBI's clammed up!" Bob's voice was showing the strain he was under. Mac had called to update him. "They refused point-blank to discuss Khalid Yubani. I asked if they would be interviewing him. The f.u.c.king a.s.sholes wouldn't even say yes or no. Anyone'd think he owned the f.u.c.king FBI or something!"

"Bob-"

"Christ, I feel like going to f.u.c.king Fox News. They'd get some answers."

"No Bob, there's a lot more to this, and I can't say too much. But if there's any publicity, I believe it will endanger the girls' lives. Look, buddy, things are happening. You have to trust me on this. What did you used to say to me, coach? 'Chin out, eyes ahead'?"

"It's just so G.o.dd.a.m.n frustrating. I feel helpless. Impotent. Knowing this guy Khalid has her."

"We don't know that for sure, Bob. We believe he may have bought her. But when I searched his compound there were no kids, only signs that some had been held there. My feeling is that if they've gone to that much trouble to transport them there, they'd want to at least make sure they are okay. We're following up a new lead. That's all I can say at this stage."

He couldn't tell Bob about his plans to kidnap Khalid, especially not over the phone. The NSA could pick up something like that and have it over to the CIA or ASTA within minutes. But he had to give Bob something.

"You sound almost like the Feebs." Bob uttered a big sigh. "Okay. I get the hint. I'll back off. But please, Mac, let me know as soon as you hear anything."

"I promise, Bob." As soon as he hung up, he dialled Jog Khoury.

In the background, Mac could hear the barking of Jog's two German Shepherds. "Scotty has just arrived. Would you like to join us for dinner? I'm sure Claudette can make sufficient..."

"Thanks, Jog, but I have some things to do before we meet. Did Scotty manage to get the GPS on Khalid's car?"

He could hear some m.u.f.fled conversation. Scotty came on the line.

"Ay, lad, I've got a tracker on the limo. Jog has Schmidt watching the Riston, and he'll call if they leave. We're not antic.i.p.ating it. Khalid's entire party is booked into the Riston restaurant for dinner. These guys like long dinners."

"That they do," Mac replied. "Give me a call if he leaves. And give me Schmidt's number, just in case."

60.

The Hyatt's Chinoiserie bar was elegantly modem, furnished with black leather sofas, gold-painted ornaments of Chinese origin, and a grand piano with a shiny-suited Sudanese pianist calling himself Samir, who seemed to have modelled his act on Sam from the movie, Casablanca. Mac was on his second bourbon on an empty stomach, which had relaxed him nicely. He needed to pace himself. It wouldn't do to be affected by alcohol later on, if Khalid decided to go for a drive. He was dressed casual-boots, jeans and a black shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows-and had positioned himself at the rear of the bar, where he could see who was coming and going.

The stylist had changed his hair to a sandy brown, and it was sticky with wax. He was wearing disposable blue contact lenses. He almost didn't recognise Tally when she appeared in a black c.o.c.ktail number with spaghetti straps that revealed a delicate hint of cleavage and acres of leg. She was now a brunette, with her hair straight and short, with a fringe. French coquettish. She was a knockout, blonde or brunette. He gulped down his feelings, put down the gla.s.s, and signalled.

"Mon Dieu, mon cheri! You're so different," she said, sitting next to him on the wrinkled leather sofa. "I didn't think Rambo would recognise me."

"Rambo knows legs. Nice dress. Your haircut changes the shape of your face. You look...good." He handed her the c.o.c.ktail menu.

She made a tiny smile. "My round, I think. Garcon! Moet, s'il vous plait"

"I'd better stick with bourbon."

She downed the champagne and ordered another. "Ah...that's better. What a day!" She picked up a bowl of mixed nuts. "Yours?"

He tried to think of some clever repartee, but all he could think of was: "Help yourself."

Tally pulled a pained expression and took a handful of pistachios, cracking the sh.e.l.ls and tossing kernels into her mouth. "Mmm. A little salty, perhaps."

He leaned back and chuckled. "Where's Rosco?"

"Eating in. He's a control freak. Where's Khalid?"

"Dining with the rest of them at the Riston. I guess we have the night off." That is, unless Jog calls, he thought.

Tally grinned and held up her gla.s.s. "And where better than Paris?" She clinked the gla.s.s against his and shook her hair. "It feels so different, this short." She tilted her head slightly, closer. "You know, you aren't nearly as grouchy when you're off duty."

"Who says I'm grouchy?"

"Derek. He figures it's pent-up aggression." She patted the head of a golden carved figure of a crouching tiger on the bar table, its teeth bared and amber eyes glaring.

"Mmm. Friend of yours?"

"An acquaintance. He's unpredictable, violent and dangerous when roused. Know anyone like that?" Tally's eyes sparkled mischievously as she stroked the animal's back. She took the strawberry from her gla.s.s and parted her lips around it, then bit it in half He wondered if she'd had a couple before she arrived at the bar. "Dangerous can be exciting."

She leaned towards him, causing a strap to fall off her shoulder. "Dangerous can be dangerous. Are we eating? Or are you just trying to get me drunk?"

"There's a little place around the comer I managed to get a table."

She held up her left hand, flashing the wedding band she'd been wearing since Andaran. "And just so we're clear, Rambo, this isn't a pa.s.sport to privileges, even in Paris."

He laughed. "Come on. Our table should be ready."

61.

The sidewalk was a jostling ma.s.s scurrying to dinner through the drizzling rain. Strands of lights twisted around the trees along the sidewalk made the street pulsate with life.

"Did you know there are one hundred thousand trees lining the streets of Paris?" Tally said, a little unsteady as she walked. Maybe she didn't wear high heels very often. "Every tree has a computer chip linked to a database so the maintenance people can monitor their condition. Such a beautiful city."

"If you stay under the trees you won't get so wet."

Tally grabbed his arm as an anchor against the jostling crowd. They turned into Rue Royale. Up ahead was the Place de la Concorde. He stopped at an ornate timber and gla.s.s door under a maroon awning.

"Maxim's! My G.o.d, how did you manage that?" Tally squeezed his arm as they walked inside the iconic restaurant.

He tapped his nose twice. He hadn't planned it, but he'd struck it lucky when a booking cancelled just as he dropped in on the way to the hairdresser. A very generous tip helped. Their small round table was tucked away in a back comer where the lighting was dim, which pleased him. He checked the exits and toilets anyway, much to Tally's amus.e.m.e.nt.

"You think Khalid's men will find us here? With our new look?"

"There was a politician in Kandahar who had a laid-back att.i.tude to his personal safety. Allah's will, he would say. Twice I saved him from getting killed. Third time, I wasn't around."

She stopped laughing. "Oh, come on, Mac. We're off duty. Just for once, let your guard down."

Something in the way she said that made the hairs p.r.i.c.kle on his arms. He studied her face for hidden meaning, but she was browsing the menu. He knew be took himself too seriously and he enjoyed her provocative gibes, but he was also wary. The last person he'd trusted to toy with his feelings was Susan. Were they moving into dangerous territory? Then again, he'd trusted her enough to talk about Cyn. He took a deep breath and began reading the menu. He could do a lot worse than dining at Maxim's with this stunning, complex woman.

Despite the white tablecloths and efficient formality, the ambiance was laid-back and the meals tasty and exquisitely plated. After a bottle of Chateau Pouget, which Tally drank most of, and two hours of swapping anecdotes, Mac was feeling more relaxed than he had in years. Maybe Tally was right about Paris being good for the soul. More unexpected, though, was the fact that he was enjoying her company. More than he'd enjoyed anyone's company for years. They seemed to share an understanding that the conversation not intrude on areas that would upset the mood.

She told him about her childhood on a dairy farm in chilly Vermont, about wanting to be an astronaut, about the complex formula she'd devised at age twelve for projecting milk production. "My high school math teacher, Mr. Eddie, got me into programming. By the time I was fifteen, 1 was maintaining the school's website and doing some jobs for local businesses-databases, online stores, websites, security... that sort of stuff. I guess I had a bit of a crush..." She frowned. An exaggerated frown, as though she was slightly inebriated.

"When did you discover you had a photographic memory?"

Tally took a gulp of wine. "My dad gave me a book by Isaac Asimov, The Realm of Numbers. I used to read it every day. I realised one day I could recite it, word for word. I could visualise every number, equation, problem solution and pattern. Rubik's Cube takes me less than a minute."

"I can't do it in two hours. How do you-"

"Hey, Mac, I've been doing all the talking here. You must be busting for your turn, mister."

He chuckled. "I don't feel the need to talk much. People trained as snipers tend to be task-focused types."

"Stop trying to get out of it. It's your turn. Your special subject is.. .fondest childhood memories."

He took a deep breath and exhaled. "Okay, you win." He told her how his parents had met in Vietnam, his father servicing Iroquois helicopters and his mother a theatre nurse. How he grew up in a middle-cla.s.s district in Boston, before moving to Seattle.

"My father really wanted to be a pilot. But he had a slight hearing loss, so he worked two jobs and put himself through engineering school so he could work around aircraft. He taught me a lot about determination and persistence."

He told her how he'd considered a career as an aircraft engineer before his mother had taken him and Nick back to Boston.

"You feel bad about leaving the Army?" Tally asked, the wine gla.s.s in her hand again. "Sorry, that a no-go area?"

She's deliberately getting drunk. What's she up to?

"That's okay. The Army's like a security blanket. Routine, rules, predictable. Until you're in combat. But the unit's not like that. You never know what's going to happen next. Still, we had discipline of a different sort. I loved it. I miss it, miss the guys. And Derek's an a.r.s.ehole. But, you know, I'm actually enjoying this more than I expected... I guess at the start I wasn't..."

"I know. Me too." Tally reached over and put a hand on his. It was unexpectedly intimate, and he felt a sharp tingle along his forearm.

There was a long silence, as they locked eyes. It occurred to him that things between them had fundamentally changed. Then again, being attracted to someone was one thing. Allowing those feelings to develop momentum was another. He shook his head slightly. He hadn't drunk much. How was this happening? He couldn't let those feelings take control. No way would he again allow himself to care, only to lose the woman he loved. In the Army, his relations with female soldiers had been mostly for s.e.xual release.

"What are you thinking about?" Tally said, stroking the back of his hand.

"How much has changed between us in a couple of weeks."

"Let's just keep things uncomplicated," she murmured. She leaned across and kissed him on the cheek. "I like you, Mac. But I'm just not ready for anything more..."

"What? I didn't mean..." He could feel the tension rising inside.

Tally laughed softly. Maybe a little nervously, he thought. She smiled at him, her hazel eyes mesmerizing.

"G.o.d, you're like a witch. I just want to... Sorry, I mean, you have amazing eyes."

"That's okay. You can say that." She put her hand against his cheek and kissed him again, this time lightly on the lips. "I think it was lovely. It came straight from the heart."

They didn't speak for a few moments. Without realizing it, his eyes drifted to enjoy the view of her sculptured neck and prominent collarbones, the soft swelling of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s...

"Hey... you're undressing me!" she said in mock outrage.

He opened his mouth to deny it, but saw the grin on her face and realised there was no point. "Well, you wanted us to be uncomplicated."

They laughed together. As they finished their coffees, he raised his hand for the bill.

Outside, the rain was streaming down and the streetlights dazzled with millions of tiny refractions. As they stumbled back towards the Hyatt, Tally caught a high heel in the uneven pavement and her left shoe tumbled out onto the road.

"G.o.d, I hate high heels," she grumbled, sitting on the sidewalk, taking off her other shoe. She put her head in her hands and rested her elbows on her knees. "You go ahead. I'll just sit here a bit. I'll be fine."

She was soaked. In more ways than one. He dodged the traffic to grab her shoe, which was a write-off. "Come on, let's get you into a dry bed." He scooped her up. She was light in his arms and smelled fresh and wet.

"Oooh...!" she whooped, tucking her head into his chest.

He carried her along Boulevard Malesherbes and into the Hyatt, where they had adjoining rooms. He helped her into her room and was turning to leave when her hands clamped around his neck. She pulled his head down to hers. Her lips were moist and tasted of coffee as she parted them, uttering a warm sigh when his tongue touched hers. It wasn't an uncomplicated, end-of-night kiss, but he responded, allowing it to continue until Tally broke away to take a breath.

"Mmm, that was good," she whispered. "Undo me." She turned her back.

He hesitated, swallowed. "Uh..."

She laughed. "Come on, zips are a husband's duty."

He could hear her breath quicken as he slid the metal clasp down the back of her dress. Where was this heading? Did she want him? Was it the alcohol? Despite what she'd said at the restaurant, this could become very complicated.

Walk away.

Tally flipped the security bar on the door and turned off the lights. The streetlight outside streamed through the sheer curtains, silhouetting her as she slipped the straps off her shoulders and let her dress fall to the floor.

Oh, man. Mac could scarcely breathe. She was naked. He moved across to her, and for a moment they stood close, not touching, as though some invisible force was keeping them apart. He placed his hands on her waist, feeling the smooth skin over her ribs, and pressed his lips against hers. His hand moved up, so slowly, over her breast.

Tally uttered a soft moan and backed up, squeezing his hand, leading him to the bed. "I want you to promise me something, Mac. That you'll finish the job. Whatever happens. You know."

It took him a moment to realise what she was saying. "What?"

She lay down on the bed, drawing him closer. "Look, I want to be honest. Derek's worried about how you might react if-"