No Easy Target Page 11

  “I can do it.” He didn’t look at her. “I’m good. Hell, Patrick used to say I was a damn genius at getting through firewalls. As far as the password is concerned, everyone chooses what’s easiest for them to remember. If I can tap Nicos’s memories and experiences, then I’ll be able to run thousands of possibilities until I find the right one. I just need more time.”

  “How much more time?”

  “Three, four days. A week at the most.”

  But how much time does Sean Patrick have? she wondered. And she realized Lassiter was probably wondering the same thing. He must desperately want to barge past all the barriers to get to his friend, she thought. “What will you do if the time you’re allowing yourself isn’t enough?” she asked.

  “A week is plenty of time. It shouldn’t even take that long. It will be enough.”

  “What if it isn’t? I’m certain you have another plan, too.” She smiled faintly. “One that concerns me. You had a long time to work it out while you were hunting me.”

  “It won’t be necessary.”

  “I have a right to know. After all, I might have to veto it.”

  He was silent. “An offer to exchange you for Patrick. A meeting set up that is not on Vadaz Island and with the guarantee that he’ll bring Patrick to the site of the exchange.”

  “He won’t keep his promises.”

  “I know. But if he wants you enough to show up himself, I’d get the opportunity to grab him and force him to give the order to release Patrick. I’ll bring in the Special Forces team I told you about to stage an ambush.” He paused. “But I’ll make sure that he doesn’t get a chance to get his hands on you at the same time.”

  “He’ll bring enough men with him to make any of that very difficult.”

  “It’s only to be expected. But it’s not as if I won’t be prepared. My security team is waiting for word from me in Cancún right now.” He glanced at her. “It’s not as if I haven’t had experience at this kind of thing, Margaret. All I have to do is stage the ambush, get my hands on Nicos, and then get you out of there.”

  “Piece of cake.”

  “No, but I can do it. I have the men and the weapons and the experience.”

  She didn’t doubt he had all of those priceless advantages because of his years in the Special Forces and the CIA, and she had found him to be much more clever than Nicos. But it didn’t stop her from going cold at the thought of having to face Nicos again.

  “You’re afraid.” Lassiter’s gaze was on her face. He muttered a curse. “Of course you are. You’d be nuts if you weren’t. Don’t think about it. It’s not going to happen.”

  Maybe not this time. Maybe not this way. But she had a terrible feeling that there wasn’t going to be any path she could take that would let her avoid being there with Nicos again. “I have to think about it. I’ve kept myself from thinking about Nicos for the last three years, but you’ve changed all that. I don’t have Special Forces or weapons or experience, but I have a mind and I have determination and I know that son of a bitch Nicos.”

  He glanced warily at her. “Does that mean you’re issuing that veto you mentioned?”

  “No, it means that I hope to hell that you find that password, because I’m scared. But I’m not going to panic, and I’m not going to discount any plan unless I can work out something else to do.”

  His lips twisted. “That appears reasonable. But you know I didn’t agree with your veto power.”

  She didn’t answer. There wasn’t anything more to say. She would do what she had to do.

  “Is this discussion finished?” Cambry asked politely. “I’m getting tired of being the invisible man. There’s too much temptation to interject my opinion and, though that would be invaluable, I doubt if I’d be appreciated.” Before they could reply, he went on: “I’ve found a small town that should meet your criteria, Lassiter. San Chapo. It’s about three hours from here, close to the Guatemalan border. No formal airport, but a tarmac strip and a couple of hangars available for rent. It’s very small, a couple of played-out silver mines, but mostly farm country. But there’re a couple restaurants and one motel on the edge of town. Do you want me to try my extremely spotty Spanish and attempt to get us rooms?”

  “I’ll do it,” Margaret said. “I spent a year in Guatemala and I picked up enough Spanish to function pretty well.” She took out her phone. “Give me the number.”

  “Gladly.” He handed her his computer. “Morales Motel. Let’s hope they have cell access. This information is pretty scanty.”

  “There aren’t many places in the world that don’t have cell towers nearby these days. Besides, I have satellite, compliments of Lassiter.” She quickly punched in the number. Three rings and the call was answered by a woman who sounded very young, perhaps even a teenager. A conversation of four minutes and the reservations were made. She hung up and handed Cambry back his computer. “Three rooms, smoking. Evidently, they don’t have nonsmoking rooms at the Morales Motel. I made the reservations under the name Rawlins. Hopefully, no one knows the name I’ve been using. You wouldn’t want Lassiter to show up on any computer banks if hotels or rental-car companies are being monitored.”

  “Very efficient,” Lassiter said. “Even to sheltering us beneath one of your false identities. You don’t take any chances.”

  “Isn’t that what you’d do?” She met his eyes. “You told me how sophisticated Nicos’s computer guru turned out to be. I’ve found out how easy it is for someone to trace a name when there are zillions of linked computer networks out there that can trigger one another. I hate those network links. That’s why I had to change my name so frequently.”

  He nodded slowly. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’d do.”

  “And I bet you have a wallet full of phony ID in your pocket right now.”

  He smiled. “Only a few quality cards. They come in handy.”

  “You know all about computers. When you were hunting me, did you ever find out where I’d gone by tracking me through those links?”

  “Only once in the early days. You were very careful most of the time. It was almost all legwork. Very frustrating.”

  “Good.” She leaned back in her seat. “By the way, it wouldn’t be Nicos who would set up links with other organizations and hire computer experts to safeguard records. It would be Juan Salva. I guess you know that.”

  “I know that he’s smarter than Nicos, but he doesn’t have the power to topple him. I knew when he was taking my bribe to give me information that I couldn’t count on him.”

  She nodded. “He’s … terrible. But not like Nicos. He … uses people and he doesn’t—”

  Salva smiling as Nicos raised the gun.

  Don’t think of it. She’d start to shake again.

  She closed her eyes. “I’m going to rest now. Cambry said we had three hours.…”

  * * *

  The Morales Motel was at least thirty years old, with peeling yellow paint and a red tile roof. It was a single-story building that wrapped in a U shape. The pretty dark-haired girl at the desk was a teenager, as Margaret had thought, not over sixteen, with the single name Nita on her ID badge. She handed them their keys and pointed casually down the side of the building to indicate their rooms. Then she went back to talking on the phone to someone named Rico.

  But once they had reached their rooms, they found them to be moderately clean, and there were soap and towels in the adjoining bathrooms.

  “It’s okay,” Cambry said as he came from next door into Margaret’s room. “And okay for a tiny town like this is excellent. I chose well.”

  “Yes, you did,” Margaret said as she unzipped her backpack. “I need to take a shower. Should I do it now, or are we going to try out that restaurant that’s across the street first?”

  “I vote for the shower. How about trying the restaurant in about an hour?” Cambry headed back toward the door. “But we’re on our own. Lassiter told me he was starting back to work on that computer file. He said to
drop off a sandwich and a thermos of coffee when we come back.”

  “Okay.” She should have expected it. Lassiter was nothing if not driven. “Then I’ll see you in an hour.”

  A few minutes later, she was under the cold spray in the shower. No hot water. But the cold water felt good after the warm, stuffy motel room. Though she would probably have been better off with a hot shower. She didn’t need to be jarred awake before she went to that bed, whose comfort was marginal at best. She’d had only minimal sleep last night and only dozed on the plane.

  Sadness.

  The emotion hit her with full force.

  Hunger.

  Death.

  Sadness.

  Sadness.

  Sadness.

  Her hands went out to grab hold of the plastic shower curtain as the emotions cascaded over her, drowning her in the pain of loss.

  Not loss. Not yet.

  Soon.

  Where was it coming from? She couldn’t tell; she was only getting jagged wisps of sensation. She couldn’t even tell if it was animal or human.

  Sadness.

  Loss.

  Sadness.

  Then it was gone.

  She waited for it to come back.

  Nothing.

  What had happened? That reaching out had been incredibly strong.

  But it hadn’t been a reaching out; it had been a cry of desolation. Last night with Lassiter, she had felt terrible pain; this was different. But it had been almost as intense.

  She got out of the shower, dried off, and sat down on the bed.

  Okay, I’m here. I may not be what you want, but I’m here. Maybe I can help.

  Nothing.

  Only that poignant sadness that still lingered in Margaret’s mind.

  She waited another fifteen minutes.

  Nothing.

  Maybe that contact had only happened because the feeling had been so intense. Perhaps the origin of that cry was too far to be within normal range.

  If you change your mind. I’ll be around for a while.

  She couldn’t force a contact. Perhaps the fact that she had heard it had only been a freak of nature.

  She got to her feet and started to dress.

  But her father had called Margaret a freak, too.

  And it wouldn’t hurt to do a little checking.

  * * *

  “What are you doing in here?” Cambry had poked his head into the office, where Margaret was standing at the desk, going through the registration book. “I thought something had happened to you and I was going to have to answer to Lassiter again.”

  “I was just seeing who is registered in the other motel rooms.” She turned back to Nita, the young receptionist. The girl was looking at her with a wary and bewildered look. “I’m finished now, Nita,” she said in Spanish. “I don’t think there is any trouble. Just a few businessmen. No families.”

  The girl was frowning. “I don’t think I should have let you look in the book. My uncle wouldn’t like it.”

  “But you have a good heart,” Margaret said gently. “You wouldn’t want anything to happen to a baby. We had to be sure.” She smiled warmly. “And now we are and you don’t have to even tell your uncle.” She reached over and pressed Nita’s hand. “Your Rico is a lucky boy.”

  Nita giggled. “He’s not mine. He’s only someone from school.” She reached for her phone again. “I’m glad there’s no trouble.…”

  “I only caught a few words of that,” Cambry said as they left the office. “Trouble. And a baby. Would you care to translate?”

  There was no way Margaret was going to describe what had happened in that motel room. She had been relieved that Lassiter hadn’t shared her background with Cambry before, and this would be even more weird and difficult to explain. “I told that nice little receptionist that I’d thought I’d heard a baby crying for a long time somewhere in one of the rooms in the motel. I said that I was afraid someone had left a baby alone in a room and I wanted to be sure that it was safe. But there don’t appear to be any families registered. I might have been mistaken.”

  “You must have been. These walls are paper-thin and I didn’t hear anything.” He was gazing at her curiously. “Can we go to the restaurant now?”

  She nodded. “In a couple of minutes.” She took out a Post-it she had stuffed in her pocket. “There are only four other people registered in the motel right now. I have their room numbers.” She was moving quickly down the walkway, looking at the brass numbers on the doors. “I want to make certain it was only my imagination.” She stopped in front of a door. “Room twenty-six. That’s the first one.”

  “You’re going to knock and ask questions?”

  “No, I only want to listen.”

  She stood there, close to the door.

  I’m here. Do you need me?

  Nothing.

  She moved on down the sidewalk to the next door on her list.

  Nothing.

  At the third door, Cambry said. “Look, if you want to start knocking on these doors, I’ll take the flack if anyone gives you grief about interference or privacy. After all, a baby is a baby.”

  But I don’t even know if it is a baby, or if it’s an animal of some sort, she thought ruefully. That cry had been too faint and remote to identify. But she knew that babies in peril arouse instant sympathy, so she had used that knowledge when she had gone to the office to explore possibilities. Threatened animals don’t arouse the same urgency. It had worked with Nita, the receptionist. And it had triggered the same warmth and sympathy in Cambry. She had told Nita she had a good heart, and so did Cambry. She smiled. “I don’t need to talk to anyone. I just want to listen and make sure that I was mistaken about what I heard.” She moved down the walk toward the last door on her list. “You’re right about those thin walls. You should have heard it, if I did.”

  “Yeah.” He was watching her with narrowed eyes as she stood before that final door. “Ghosts? Poltergeists?”

  She chuckled. “No way. Might have been the pipes in my shower.”

  Nothing here, either.

  Dammit, I didn’t think you’d be this close, but I don’t have anything else to work on. Help me.

  “Are we done?” Cambry asked. “Or are you trying to starve me?”

  “We’re done.” She started to cross the motel parking lot toward the diner across the road. “Thanks for being patient.”

  “No problem. Toward the end, it was even becoming intriguing. I’ve never felt as if I was communing with a door before.”

  And Cambry was no fool. He might not know what was going on, but he suspected it wasn’t what she had told him. She wasn’t going to explain, but she could address the suspicion. “It’s over.” She smiled. “No more doors.”

  “Except this one.” He opened the glass door of the diner. “And I refuse to stand in front of it. That red booth over in the corner looks as if it has my name on it. If you promise not to do anything bizarre that will delay my meal any longer, I’ll let you share it. Let’s hope the food is passable.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The diner’s food was passable if you didn’t mind grease and burgers mixed with jalapeños and really good soft tortillas. And the coffee was strong, black, and aromatic, and the waiter kept it coming. They were able to buy two thermal travel mugs at the cashier’s stand and filled them to the brim with that coffee for Lassiter.

  Cambry handed Margaret the bag with the sandwich and coffee as they were crossing the parking lot back to the motel. “You give Lassiter his food. You have a better chance of getting him to eat it. Sometimes he doesn’t pay attention to me.”

  “He’s a grown man. No one should have to persuade him to do what’s good for him.”

  “Right. But he’s going to be working all night and he often forgets to eat.” He made a face. “I sound like a nanny. How humiliating.”

  “Yes, you do.” She looked at him. “Why? I know you work for him, but it’s more than that, isn’t it?”
r />   “I told you: I owe him.” He smiled. “I was in Afghanistan with him and I got mixed up with drugs.” His smile ebbed. “When I got out of the service, I was pretty messed up. He got me off them. He stayed with me for six months before he had to report to train for the CIA. He was there for me, watching me, holding me when I had the shakes, yelling at me.…” He met her eyes. “Being a nanny. Which was a hell of lot harder for him than it is for me right now. You can see his temperament is light-years away from that particular vocation.”

  “Definitely,” she said drily.

  “And that I have to do what I can to repay him?”

  “Yes.” She shook her head. “But not by pawning off the nanny duty on me. Not cool, Cambry.”

  “He tends to ignore my sage advice. You, on the other hand, are obviously pissed off at him, probably with good reason. Sheer guilt will force him to pay attention to you. Get him to eat the sandwich and drink at least one cup of coffee.”

  “No, there’s no way I want to do this.”

  “There’s no way I wanted to stroll around the motel and hover like a gargoyle outside those doors.” He paused. “Or watch you at the restaurant tonight going off into space and missing a few lines of my fascinating conversation. It wasn’t me that you were listening to or for at that table this evening.” He nodded at the paper bag. “But if you’ll deliver that food and assure that it’s eaten, I won’t ask questions you clearly don’t want to answer. And I won’t even discuss it with Lassiter and possibly distract him from what’s important for him to do tonight.”

  He was very sharp. She hadn’t been aware that her inattention had been so obvious at the restaurant. He had even used the word listening. He had guessed that she was doing the same silent monitoring as she had done outside those doors. Not that it had done any good. There had been no contact there, either. “That sounds a little like blackmail.”

  “Perish the thought. It’s only an exchange that will benefit both you and Lassiter.”