In His Sights, page 23
The woman’s gaze turned toward him in that moment. She touched one of the soldier’s arms and inched closer. There was an intimacy between them that made raw fury rise in his chest.
Was she spreading her legs for this one too?
José opened his mouth. “My men will come for me. They will kill you.” His voice came out as a croak, and he was irritated at the slight quaver he sensed beneath the sound. Raising his chin, he tried to outstare the man who had his arm around the whore.
There was a cold hatred in the eyes that stared back at him. A hatred that rivaled his own. He wondered why they were holding him prisoner. Why hadn’t they just killed him or, as Americans were so prone to do, turn him over to the police? He had contacts in most of the bigger departments. He’d be out by nightfall.
The woman separated herself from the soldier and moved toward him, stopping about two feet away. She spoke to him in cultured Portuguese. “Your men aren’t coming. They ran as soon as they were given the chance.”
“Liar. I do not speak to whores.” He looked at the third person occupying the room, another soldier, and switched to English. “You! Come release me.”
The woman didn’t cringe like he’d expected her to do. Instead, she stepped in his line of sight, cutting off his view of the soldier he was speaking to. She continued in Portuguese, murmuring in low calm tones that made his own speech sound like that of a petulant child. “You will have to deal with me. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.”
Uncomfortable? He laughed. He’d soon see who felt more uncomfortable: her when he wrapped his hands around her neck and choked the life out of her…or him as he rammed his cock into her lifeless corpse.
His lips curved. “I choose who I will deal with.”
She continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “I have a proposal for you. If you do as we ask, you’ll live to see another day. Refuse and…” She snapped her fingers.
His smile widened. “You think the yammering of a foolish woman frightens me?”
“No. I don’t imagine it does.”
Why were the men behind her saying nothing? Were they so weak that they were willing to let a woman—a whore—take the lead? These Americans knew nothing about reality. Give a woman your ear and she would soon cut it off and feed it to you in your evening meal.
“So, will you do as I ask?”
“A whore’s words mean nothing.”
The woman crooked her finger, and the soldier he assessed to be her lover came forward. José kept his gaze focused and steady, but the man was larger than he remembered. Angrier.
It is because you are sitting down, you fool.
Was it true that his men had fled? If they had, they would soon pay with their lives. Just as these Americans would.
Something about their calm manner made his insides quiver. He’d expected some kind of physical violence from the start, had braced himself for it. Yet their attitudes were subdued. Friendly, even.
The man draped his arm around the woman’s shoulders and José’s back teeth ground together. Could he not see the woman was playing him for a fool? Making him weak?
“Is he not cooperating, Callie?” the man asked.
She raised her brows. “I don’t know. He hasn’t actually given me an answer, yet.” She turned her gaze back to José. “Will you do as we ask?”
He glared. He would not give her the pleasure of a response.
She smiled. “My friend will snap your neck like a twig, if you don’t do exactly what we say.”
Her companion turned to look down at her, his eyes widening. “This from the person who believes it’s possible to reason with anyone’s humanity?”
She shrugged. “Like you once said, ‘he has no humanity.’” They both turned to look at him. The soldier’s face carried the slightest trace of a smirk.
José got that liquid feeling in his bowels. The one that came only when his life hung in the balance. Normally he had his men to walk in front of him and protect him from danger, to take a bullet in his stead. But he had no one to go before him this time. He struggled against his bonds, and then gasped, slumping in his seat when fire burned through his shoulder and spiraled to the far reaches of his body.
He panted, holding very still as he waited for the pain to subside. With it, his will to resist seeped away little by little. Better to do what they wanted. Or appear to. He could always get his revenge later. These Americans were still in his country, after all.
But he would not bargain with a whore. Just with the men. He focused on the soldier beside her. “What do you want me to do?”
The man shook his head and tilted it toward the woman. “Ask her, not me. She’s the smart one. I just snap necks on her command.”
José licked his lips. What choice did he have? He had no doubt the man could easily kill him where he sat. What good would that do his cause?
He could still salvage his reputation. It was even better that his men were gone. They would know nothing of the humiliation he’d suffered in this room.
He focused on the woman’s face. “What is it you want me to do?”
* * *
Callie, with thoughts of her sister and justice winging through her head, held up the same notebook the rebel had used on her. “I want you to read this exactly as written. If you veer so much as one syllable from the script you will be sorry. Do you understand?”
The man gave her a black stare that told her what would happen if he got loose. She forced herself not to flinch, although images of those horrific photos he’d showed her flashed through her mind.
Despite the murderous look, he said, “I understand.”
“I’m going to call Senator Parker, the man you received the money from and you will read this to him.”
The rebel sneered. “I don’t know his number. He never gave it to me.”
“That’s okay. I have it memorized.”
His face twisted with rage. “Yes, so you could arrange a place to do your whoring.”
Cole moved fast, icy intent in his eyes, but Callie grabbed his arm. “Don’t,” she murmured, “that’s what he wants.”
She turned back to the rebel. “I’ll dial, and when it’s time for you to speak, I’ll signal you. Remember. Only read what’s written, nothing more.” Her fingers slid down Cole’s arm. “Can you figure out how to use his equipment to record?”
“We’ve got it covered.”
Fifteen minutes later, they had what they were looking for. The terrorist had stuck to the script and Gary seemed to buy the ruse, his voice swelling with arrogance toward the end of the conversation. Little did her brother-in-law realize that his own words would soon be used to hang him. At least she hoped they would.
“What are we going to do with him?” she asked, motioning to the rebel. Callie hadn’t really thought past this point. She wasn’t even sure the rebel would go along with her plan. But he’d caved faster than she ever dreamed.
Bullies. Push a pin in them and all the hot air rushed out, leaving nothing but a shriveled substance-less shell.
Cole glanced at Moss. “What do you think?”
“A lot of these rogue fighters were once members of UNITA. They formed splinter groups when the ceasefire accord was signed. They’re just another political party now.” He shrugged. “They might be interested in retrieving a former member.”
“No! UNITA has betrayed the cause,” the rebel shouted.
“UNITA didn’t betray their cause,” Moss said. “They just found a greater one—peace.”
“There can be no peace until I am Angola’s leader.” The man’s chest puffed out. “The Americans were helping me, trying to make sure that happened.”
A megalomaniac who believed he was the savior of his country. He had no idea that “the Americans” weren’t helping him at all. Just one greedy man, who had his own hungry quest for power.
“You said there can be no peace. You’re wrong,” Callie said. “There already is. Peace came when the fighting stopped.”
“The war is not over.”
It would do no good to argue with him. He would hold onto his irrational beliefs until the day he died.
“Will UNITA kill him?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Moss said. “But we can’t let him loose to murder again. I’ve seen his work, firsthand.”
Callie nodded. “You’re right. But how do we find a UNITA representative here in Malanje?”
“They have an office building across the street from the Palácio Regina Hotel, the big hotel in the center of town.”
Moss came forward. “We’ll drop him off. But once we do, I have a favor to ask, Dr. Nascimento.”
* * *
I love you.
Those words circled through Cole’s mind as he watched Callie murmur to the woman in the hospital bed. Pride swelled in him when the brutalized woman touched Callie’s hand, reaching out to her.
He’d dismissed her psychobabble as nonsense, but Moss evidently believed in it, or he wouldn’t have asked her to come. And Cole had to admit, she was quickly making a believer out of him as well. Look at how she’d handled that terrorist in the hotel room. She hadn’t caved or shown weakness. She’d been as strong and tough as any soldier he knew. Her words were sure and confident, and they’d gotten results.
And now this woman. Cole wouldn’t have known the first thing to say to her. He’d have dumped her on someone else as soon as he had the opportunity.
And what about the words she’d mouthed the split second before Cole shot the rebel? Had she meant them? Had he even read them correctly?
I love you.
Hard to mistake those three words. But had she meant them? Or had she merely said them thinking those minutes were her last on earth?
Cole warmed inside. He’d finally acknowledged his own feelings. What if she really did love him back? Could he give himself to a woman like her? And would she accept him, warts and all?
Who the hell knew? She was strong, and yet she still wanted him. Seemed able to look beyond his past and the fact that he was a soldier like her stepfather. He was no longer a child being forced to do something he feared. He was an adult who could choose freely what to do with his life. And he chose Callie.
He shook himself. There was nothing he could do about it right now. He’d hold off mentioning anything until they were back in the States, then he’d ask her out. If she didn’t balk, he’d work up the nerve to tell her how he felt.
For once, he wasn’t going to jump in with both feet and screw things up. He was going to plan his course of action and not stray from it.
A huge weight lifted from his shoulders. That was a plan.
Callie turned to him. “I need a piece of paper and pencil.”
He nodded and pushed through the door to find the nearest nurse, his heart lighter than it had been in years. His plan could very well work.
If it did, he’d be the luckiest guy alive.
* * *
Senator Parker waited behind the scenes as the podium for the press conference went up. He’d read over the notes for his speech, but his mind was on José, the weasel terrorist in Angola who’d tried to blackmail more money from him yesterday.
The bastard chickened out in the end—said he’d been forced to shoot Callie just minutes after he’d put her on the phone. Neither she nor the baby had survived. He’d even emailed close-ups of her face. Battered and bruised, her features had been so distorted, she was unrecognizable as the woman he’d known. He straightened his tie to hide a shudder. But those pictures would cement his position in the run for presidency.
Gary couldn’t have asked for a better scenario, though, or a more incriminating one. His sister-in-law’s soldier chaperone had burst into the room where she was being held, guns blazing and José’s men had shot and killed them both. Their bodies would be flown home within days.
This president would take the blame for the fiasco. Would be impeached more than likely. But either way, his career was over, his reelection prospects practically nil.
And Gary’s success was all but assured.
He had every confidence in his country’s judicial system. The tape-recorded conversation between him and the president would be added to the testimony of a witness who was beyond reproach. General Richard Markesan. The general had admitted he’d argued with the president about the order to abort the rescue mission. Gary’s planted hint that President Bryson was behind Sara’s crash and working with the Angolan rebels behind the scenes would only add to the appearance of guilt.
He smiled and sighed. The trap was set. If he was lucky, the vice-president would be installed once President Bryson was impeached, and, against the weaker cog, Gary had a very good chance of winning.
And the sympathy votes he would get… He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, relishing the sweet scent of victory.
Within minutes the podium and the microphones were ready and soon-to-be president Gary Parker stepped onto the platform, his shoulders slumped, eyes wet and red-rimmed. He gazed out at the bevy of reporters and camera crews and dragged a visibly shaking hand through his hair as he approached the microphones.
Placing his notes on the podium, he gripped the wooden surface and began.
“My fellow Americans, I have today learned of a tragedy that has hit at the heart of who I am as a citizen, as a husband…” He paused and sucked in a painful breath. “…and as a future father.
“As you know, my wife was killed three months ago during a medical relief trip to Angola. Her plane crashed and all the staff onboard, including my wife, perished.” Blinking rapidly a few times, he let the crowd filter through their memories of the event, including the public memorial they’d all been invited to.
No one moved. All eyes remained fastened on him, not even a pen scratching across notepads broke the silence.
“But there are some things you didn’t know at the time of my wife’s death. Things I couldn’t bear to reveal until I knew for sure it was safe to do so.”
The sun filtered across the group, the bright heat of the day a strange contrast to the mood he was trying to set. Why couldn’t the weather have played along with him just this once? He gave an internal shrug and continued.
“My wife and I were expecting a child at the time of her death.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, and Gary waited for the reporters to settle back down. This was news to all of them.
“Sara couldn’t carry a pregnancy to term because of a physical ailment, so her sister, Dr. Calista Nascimento, offered to carry a child, our child for her. In other words, she offered to be a surrogate for us.”
He paused to let the additional information sink in. “When Sara died, Callie was one month along. Too soon to let anyone know our good news. Then, after my wife’s death…I just couldn’t see past my grief to share the news with anyone.”
Taking a handkerchief from the inside pocket of his jacket, he dabbed the corners of his eyes, staring at his notes for a long, dramatic moment.
“I got word today that my sister-in-law, along with Sara’s and my unborn child were…were…” Again he stopped and shut his eyes, turning his face heavenward. “They were murdered yesterday by terrorist extremists in Angola.”
The crowd reacted just as he’d hoped. A mishmash of whispers and indrawn breaths filtered through the group, growing and changing as the mood turned from shock to outrage.
“You’ll understand why I’m not up to answering any questions today, but I wanted you to know the truth, along with the rest of the world.” He raised a hand and held it out in supplication to the crowd. “As devastating as the news is, it pales beside what I’ve recently learned.”
He allowed the reporters to settle back down in their seats. “I discovered there was a military operation that had evacuated the American personnel from our embassy in Angola. That operation was a complete success, but my sister-in-law was unfortunately captured by the terrorists during the raid. The same military personnel began planning a rescue mission to get Callie out. I stayed in close contact with General Richard Markesan, commander of one of our military’s Special Forces units, who was to head up the mission. But before they could succeed, the order was given to abort.
“I couldn’t believe the news when I heard it. So I went to the source of the order…President Bryson. I’d like to play you a recording of our conversation and see if you come to the same conclusion I did.”
Cameramen pushed and juggled vying for a better spot. Reporters began writing furiously on notepads as Gary set a small tape recorder on the podium and pressed the play button.
By the time the recording reached its end, he stood tall and dignified at the podium, knowing he’d succeeded in his task.
The president was finished.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Callie gasped. “He’s testifying for Gary?”
Cole’s tongue-lashing from General Markesan hadn’t been as severe as he’d expected. Knowing they were safely on their way to the American embassy in Zambia, where they would catch another flight back to the States had tempered his superior’s ire. But then Markesan had shared the news that he’d been subpoenaed to appear in front of congress.
“Not specifically for him, no. He’s testifying as to the conversation he had with the president. About the order to abort the rescue mission.”
“But Gary will twist the comments to fit his scheme. You’ve already heard what he’s capable of.”
“But we have the truth.” Cole pulled out the DVD containing that final conversation between José and Senator Parker. They’d also questioned José at length and recorded his answers. The evidence was damning. The rebel had even provided the data for the wire transfers. Maybe the right person could trace them back to Parker. Who knew. Even if they couldn’t, there was still plenty of evidence pointing at the senator.
