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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by IJ Development

  Cover design by Flag. Cover photograph by Getty / CoffeeeAndMilk

  Cover copyright © 2019 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

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  First Edition: July 2019

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Johansen, Iris, author.

  Title: Smokescreen / Iris Johansen.

  Description: First Edition. | New York : Grand Central Publishing, 2019.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2018048366| ISBN 9781538713082 (hardcover) | ISBN

  9781538715543 (large print) | ISBN 9781549141409 (audio book) | ISBN

  9781549141416 (audio download) | ISBN 9781538762974 (ebook)

  Subjects: | GSAFD: Mystery fiction.

  Classification: LCC PS3560.O275 S66 2019 | DDC 813/.54--dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018048366

  ISBNs: 978-1-5387-1308-2 (hardcover), 978-1-5387-1554-3 (large print), 978-1-5387-5101-5 (Canadian trade), 978-1-5387-6297-4 (ebook)

  E3-20190531-DA-NF-ORI

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter ​3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter ​5

  Chapter ​6

  Chapter ​7

  Chapter ​8

  Chapter ​9

  Chapter ​10

  Chapter ​11

  Chapter ​12

  Chapter ​13

  Chapter ​14

  Chapter ​15

  Chapter ​16

  Chapter ​17

  Chapter ​18

  Chapter ​19

  Chapter ​20

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Discover More

  Also by Iris Johansen (in order of publication)

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  Prologue

  Headlights!

  Jill Cassidy’s fingers stabbed into the mud as she saw the light spearing the darkness on the road ahead. The vehicle was going slowly, but they’d never see her on this side path. She had to get to the main road. But she had no shoes, and every muscle was aching, throbbing. She’d tried to get to her feet and walk as soon as she’d heard those bastards leave, but she was too weak. She had only managed to crawl slowly, painfully, through the jungle.

  She could do this, she told herself desperately as she forced herself to propel her body through the mud on the path. The pain wasn’t as bad as it had been when they’d first left her. Ignore it, think about the story. Always think about the story. It wasn’t the pain, it was the shock that was causing her to shake and feel so weak.

  The shock and this gentle, warm tropical rain that had started to fall just as she’d finally managed to pull herself together and force herself to move. Strange that warm rain could make her feel this cold. So gentle, she thought dazedly. Why on earth had that word occurred to her when there seemed to be no gentleness left in her world?

  The headlights drew closer.

  She had to get to the road before the car passed her.

  She tried to move faster.

  It was a jeep, she realized. The motor was so loud…Would they hear her if she called out? She had to catch their attention. She made a last effort and rolled out onto the road.

  “Jill!” The jeep screeched to a halt. “Dammit to hell!”

  Novak, Jill realized. It was Jed Novak, and he was angry…That was okay, let him be angry. All that mattered was that he had come, and nothing else could happen to her as long as he was here.

  He jumped out of the jeep. “Jill.” He was striding toward her. “I almost ran over you.”

  “You…wouldn’t do…that. Spoil your…image. CIA to the…rescue.”

  “Shut up.” Then he was kneeling beside her, the rain beading off the brim of his hat as he looked down at her. “Just look at you, Jill,” he said hoarsely as he wrapped his jacket around her. “I told you to be careful. What happened? Why wasn’t someone with you?” In spite of the roughness of his tone, his hands were gentle as he picked her up and set her inside the jeep. “How badly are you hurt?”

  “I don’t know. It…feels bad. But I made it through that jungle…so I guess it’s not—” Jill struggled to keep her voice steady. It was over. Those bastards were gone. Don’t let them do this to her. “I thought they—were going to—kill me. But it turned out they—only wanted to teach me a lesson and get me sent home.”

  “You have some nasty bruises.” He stiffened as the dashboard lights fell on her torn blouse and upper body. “Blood. Shit. I shouldn’t have moved you.”

  “Not—my blood. Hadfeld. They—wanted to show me—his head. They threw it at me…He’s dead, Novak.”

  “You’re not in good shape yourself. Those bruises are really bad, and they’re all over you.” He was carefully feeling her arms and body. “Here, too. Your head? Concussion?”

  “I don’t think so. I never totally blacked out.” She’d wanted to black out, but she’d been afraid that if she stopped fighting, she’d never wake up. She started to shake again. Don’t think about it. She’d made it this far, and she’d be fine. Just don’t think about it.

  But she couldn’t stop shaking.

  “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe.” Novak had pulled her into his arms and was holding her tight. “Breathe deep. Just take it easy. We’ll talk about it later.”

  Safe. She lay there against him, letting his heat warm her, shut out the chill. He was so strong, and she felt as if his strength were pouring into her and shutting out that horrible weakness. Yet more than five minutes passed before she could stop shaking.

  She finally sat up and pushed him away. “I’m sorry,” she said unsteadily. “I fell apart. You asked me why—there wasn’t someone—with me. I got the phone call from Hadfeld. But it was a trap. They were waiting for me.”

  “How many were there?”

  “Four.”

  “Can you describe them?”

  Describe the pain? Describe the smell of them? Describe the helplessness she’d felt? But she had to focus and try. She shook her head. “Scarves over the lower…half of their faces. One black man, three white. Two of the white men had dark hair, one was fair-haired. It felt like…straw. Most of the conversation was
in a Maldara dialect.”

  She had to stop a minute before she could go on. “They…wanted to hurt me and…they did. The one who was fair-haired kept driving the others to hurt me more and more. He beat me himself, then he told the others what they had to do and how to do it. He said they’d been sent here to do a job, so do it.” Say it. She had to tell him. She swallowed. “I have a little blood—down there, and I’ll need a rape kit.”

  Silence. “They raped you?”

  “Three of them did. The one with fair hair only seemed to want to beat me. He seemed…angry.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Then Novak began to swear softly and viciously. “We’ll get you to the local hospital in Jokan,” he said. “Another fifteen minutes.”

  “No hospital. Not here,” Jill said jerkily. “You’re CIA, and I’ve seen you pull strings. You can get me anything—I need—without throwing me into the system. Do it, Novak.”

  “The system isn’t all that bad when you’ve been savaged the way you’ve been, Jill. You’re one of the best journalists I’ve ever come across, but not even a Pulitzer is worth this.” He added harshly, “You should have done what I told you and stayed out of it. Would it have been too much to leave it up to me? You knew I’d follow up.”

  “Yes, I knew you would,” Jill said wearily. “Because you’re as obsessed as I am. But it was my story—you might have been—too late.” She was getting weaker, she realized. That temporary adrenaline rush when she’d felt so safe with Novak was fading. And there was something she had to do, she remembered vaguely. “Do you have a first-aid kit in this jeep?”

  “You don’t have to do it yourself. I’ll get you help right away, Jill.”

  “It’s not for me. I need some medical gloves. I couldn’t describe those men, but I—fought them. When they surprised me, they took away my gun, but they’ll have scratches.” She looked numbly down at her hands. “And I might have some DNA beneath my nails if it survived my trip—through—all that mud.”

  He muttered another curse, reached into the backseat for the first-aid kit, and handed it to her. The gloves were on top of the bandages, and she quickly pulled them on to protect her nails. She set the first-aid kit on the floor at her feet. Better. One more thing done to rid herself of that terrible feeling of helplessness. “You were driving slow. You were looking for me, weren’t you? How did you know I was here?”

  “My informant at the embassy intercepted an anonymous call to the secretary shouting about how U.S. journalists were to blame for the ruin of his country and claiming that he’d taken care of one tonight. Their directions were pretty damn accurate. They wanted you to be found. I was lucky to reach you before the soldiers from the embassy.”

  “No, I’m the lucky one.” Though luck was a bittersweet concept tonight. But she could imagine how she would have felt if anyone but Novak had found her. “Now take me somewhere you can get those gloves off to a lab so I can get clean again. Then I’ll try to figure out how to find out how they knew it was me Hadfeld had contacted.”

  He was silent. “It might be my fault.”

  Her gaze flew to his face. “You’ve got a lead?”

  “Better. I think I might be able to get my hands on the skull. So go home and let me work on it,” he said roughly. “You’ve gone through too much as it is.”

  “Yes, I have.” Her hands clenched into fists. “And I’m not the only one. Do you actually believe I’d ever let those bastards get what they wanted? Can’t you see? They knew the first thing that the embassy would do if they found out about this would be to notify my publisher. And then they’d send me back to the U.S. to some discreet hospital to go through debriefing and therapy. That’s why that bastard told those other men that they had a job to do. That’s why they kept beating me. That’s why it was rape.” Her eyes were suddenly blazing at him. “After all that’s gone down here in Maldara, the last thing those diplomats would want would be to have a journalist injured and raped at this stage of the game. Six hundred thousand people were murdered here. Genocide. Now they think they’ve put Humpty Dumpty back together again. So they’d need to hush any disturbance and wrap me in tender loving care. Why else do you think this happened?” Her voice was shaking. “I told you, those men knew what they were doing. They wanted to hurt me. They had their orders. Well, I won’t let them get away with it.”

  “Easy,” Novak said quietly. “I’ll take care of it. No one’s going to let that happen.”

  And if he took care of it, it would mean anyone in Novak’s way would be destroyed. She had seen it before. But she didn’t want it to go down that way. “You bet they’re not. Do you know how weak they made me feel? The pain kept coming and wouldn’t stop, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I’m never going to be that weak ever again.” She wanted to close her eyes and just stop arguing with him. She needed to shut out the world, and maybe, for a little while, those four monsters would vanish with it. But she had to get Novak’s promise first. “So this night never happened. Because you’re going to let me see to it myself, aren’t you? It will take a little while for me to get over this, but you’re not going to let anyone sideline me. You’re going to let me go after them. I deserve it, Novak.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” he asked hoarsely. He looked away from her. “Okay, you don’t go back to the U.S. I use you and let you help me take them down. And, if you get hurt again doing it, I just consider you collateral damage. Is that the plan?”

  “That’s the plan.” She could close her eyes now. She could relax her body and attempt to block out the pain…and the memory. “Just get me fixed, and then you can tell me how you’re going to get the skull.”

  “And just how am I supposed to fix you, Jill?”

  She was getting so blurry she wasn’t sure she understood. “You’re right, I spoke without thinking. My responsibility…Just take me somewhere, and when I’m better, I’ll take care of it.”

  He was cursing beneath his breath. “Never mind. You’re not thinking straight enough to recognize monumental frustration when you hear it.” He said slowly, clearly, “Listen. Stop trying to be strong. I know you’re strong. You don’t have to prove it to me. And I’m not leaving you until I know you’re okay. We’re in this together.” He reached out, grasped her hand, and pressed it tightly. “Do you understand? I’ll not let you go.”

  And, in spite of Novak’s being one of the toughest men she’d ever met, he was having trouble with her being hurt and not being able to put her back together again. Strange…

  But she couldn’t help him now. Maybe later…

  Right now, she could only cling desperately to his hand and take whatever comfort he could give her. Because she was starting to shake again, and he had said she didn’t have to be strong. “That’s very…kind. Do you mind if I—don’t talk anymore, Novak?”

  “Hell, no.” His grip tightened. “Look, this is what we’re going to do. I’m taking you to Baldar, the private airport we use near the border, and flying you to Nairobi. There’s a hospital there where I send my men when I need absolute secrecy. No reports. No leaks. No one in Maldara will know where you are.” He muttered a curse. “Even though I don’t want to do it because it will take about an hour and a half to get you there.”

  “That doesn’t matter.” Yet she could see he was upset again, and she had to make one last effort. “None of this was your fault. Your decision. My—choice. Stop blaming yourself.”

  “That’s right,” he said bitterly. “Collateral damage.”

  She didn’t reply. She was at the end of her strength, and she just wanted to crawl away somewhere until she could heal.

  Collateral damage.

  It wasn’t an accurate description of her role in this nightmare. She had gone after the story with her usual drive and determination. Novak might have thought that the decision he had made caused this to happen to her, but she did not. She’d not been smart enough to read the signs of betrayal when Hadfeld had phoned her. She’d been too eager
to get to him and obtain the proof she needed. Even if Novak had found a way to get the skull, things might still be on the verge of exploding.

  And there might be true innocents on the horizon who could be hurt by what had happened here at Maldara.

  Collateral damage…

  Chapter

  1

  Lake Cottage

  Atlanta, Georgia

  Two Weeks Later

  I thought you’d be finished with her by now.” Michael was tilting his head and gazing in disappointment at the reconstruction of the skull on Eve’s worktable. “I wanted to see Nora before I left today. Did you have trouble with her?”

  “No.” Eve made a face at her son as she wiped the clay off her hands with her work towel. “I had trouble with you. I was busy packing your bags and making arrangements for that summer camp your sister, Jane, is so set on taking you to. Nora had to wait.”

  “She won’t mind.” Michael wasn’t taking his gaze off the skull of the six-year-old child who was Eve’s current forensic sculpture. “She’ll know you’re trying to do what’s best for her, that you’re trying to bring her home, Mom.”

  His voice was gentle. Even as a toddler, he had never had a horror of these skulls of the victims that had appeared in her studio through the years. Now, though he was only ten years old, that understanding and gentleness seemed to have deepened. Eve had never had to explain to him about the monsters who had killed these children, then tried to burn them, bury them, toss them away as if they had never existed. Michael just accepted that Eve was trying to fix something that was broken, that those children were lost and had to go home. Lord, she was lucky.

  She gave him a quick hug. “Well, Nora may understand, but the Chicago Police Department isn’t that patient. I have to finish this reconstruction and get it back to them so that they can start sending out photos to the newspapers and TV shows. We have to see if anyone can identify her.” She turned him around and pushed him toward the hall. “And you have to gather all the treasures you can’t bear to leave behind for the next month and pack them in your duffel. Last chance. We have to be at the airport in four hours.”