An Affair of Vengeance (28 page)

Then his expression darkened.

She spoke before he could. “Don’t think for a second that this changes anything. I wasn’t going to leave you behind before, and I sure as hell won’t now.”

“I didn’t think you would. We’ll leave together. We’ll start by calling Mason and letting him know what’s happened. He can’t bust us out, but he can help once we get ourselves out.”

“I don’t want to be busted out. I want to complete the mission.”

“So do I.” He wrapped one of her black curls around his finger. “But it’ll have to wait for another day.”

“No.” She sat up. “We finish this now. We’re too close to back away now. When else are we going to get someone as deep inside as we are? When else will we get someone with your connections so close to Kral?”

“It’ll take a while,” he said, staring up at the canopy. “But it can be done. Probably.”

“Not by you. You’re burned the moment we peel out of here.”

“I don’t care. I only care for your safety. Nothing else matters.”

“OK, but how do you figure we escape? Drive out the way we came? Remember those armed guards on the roof? In the forest? On the road? We wouldn’t make it far.”

“Do you have a better plan?”

She rested her chin in her hand, thinking. Then she remembered something Kral had said at dinner the night before. “I just might.”

T
WENTY MINUTES LATER
, after much whispered discussion, Evangeline stormed out of the suite with her suitcase in hand, slamming the heavy door shut behind her with as much force as she could gather. She charged down the stone staircase, banging her luggage on the wall in the process.

Her overstuffed bag exploded in a flurry of silk and jersey.

“Damn it!” she shouted at the top of her lungs to no one in particular. Her curse boomeranged around the walls of the inner courtyard. She knelt down to shove her things back into the suitcase, mumbling bitterly to herself all the while.

“Evangeline?”

She popped her head up.

Kral called to her from the table beside the pool. “My dear, whatever is the matter?”

She didn’t answer, but let her face crumble into tears. She ducked back down. “Nothing.”

“That is ridiculous.” There was a scraping as a chair was pushed aside, then footsteps.

She finished repacking her luggage and stood, straightening her skirt and brushing her hair back. The tears, she left on her cheeks. She smiled as she walked toward the pool. Kral met her
halfway. He reached out for her hands, which she gave without a shudder.
Excellent work
, she told herself.

“Something has upset you.” His crystalline eyes narrowed and his grip tightened. “Did McCrea hurt you?”

She frowned. “He’d like to think he has.”

“A lover’s spat, then?” He patted her shoulders in a fatherly way. “It will pass.”

“Not this time. He’s…” Her lower lip trembled.

“What?”

“He’s told me to go.”

His nostrils flared, but then he gathered her into his arms. “Oh, dear. That is terribly shortsighted of him.”

She battled her desire to drive her knee into his nuts. “He’s just such an ass!”

“Men like McCrea have an air of mystery that gets the best of even the smartest, most otherwise levelheaded women.” Kral smiled, a meager grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “What do you wish to do now?”

“I’m not sure. I can’t stay here. I’m not wanted.” She emphasized her last word, drew it out to mock herself. Tears welled in her eyes again, and she looked at her feet. “I need to get back to Marseille. He gave me his car keys and told me to leave. I just want to get away from him.”

She lifted an arm up, toward the covered walkway where she knew McCrea would be standing watch. Kral’s eyes followed where she pointed, as they’d planned. McCrea was now supposed to give him a signal, a thumbs-up or something to let him know that it was OK to let her leave, that he’d cut her brakes and she wouldn’t get out of town alive. He hadn’t, of course. He’d refused. But she planned to make it look as though he had.

From the length of time Kral stared at the walkway, shaking his head once, and then nodding slowly as a new, sick smile creased his face, she guessed that McCrea had succeeded in
communicating his intentions. She hoped it was enough, and Kral would let her leave.

“Oh, my dear,” Kral murmured sympathetically, turning back to her. “I would ask you to stay here, but I’m afraid that McCrea will remain here, as well. It would only be awkward and painful for you to linger. Could I at least interest you in a drink before you leave?”

“I think that’s exactly what I need right now. Just one, though, because I have to drive.”

“Of course.” Kral wiggled a finger toward a servant, who dashed forward to take Evangeline’s suitcase. She suffered Kral’s hand on her elbow as he guided her to a shaded seat near the pool.

“To new friends,” he toasted when a fresh tray of champagne flutes had been brought out.

“New friends,” Evangeline concurred with a smile before sipping the bubbly liquid. Poisoned? Maybe. It tasted fine, delicious even. She’d heave it up as soon as she could. For now, drinking with him was her best shot of proving that McCrea hadn’t alerted her to danger. For their plan to work, it was vital that his standing with Kral not be damaged.

She finished her champagne and stood. “I really must be going. Thank you for everything.”

Kral smiled. “Say nothing more. It has been my pleasure. I wish you a safe journey.”

She nodded quickly before she walked away, her heart pounding in her chest. Her luggage was already in the trunk of McCrea’s convertible. As the engine roared to life, she glanced up to the corner room where she knew McCrea would be watching. He was there in the window, luminous in the sun. His face betrayed no emotion, but his fists were tight.

Evangeline caught his eye and held it for a long moment. Her nose tickled like she was about to cry. She looked away.

She needed her eyes to be clear. The road ahead was long and twisted. She gripped the steering wheel and guided the roadster out of the compound gate and into the town.

Up ahead was a curve to the right. Normally, she’d touch the brakes to slow the car.

But she had a role to play. She forcefully downshifted to first gear to slow the car as much as possible. The engine grated, complaining about the inelegant effort. Even in the lowest gear, the car gathered speed at a frightening rate. But she wouldn’t tap the brakes.

Her heart struck a quick beat as she guided the car around a tight left turn that opened into a large sunny square.

Where four school-age girls played hopscotch.

She rapped the horn in a staccato pulse to get their attention. They looked up, smiling at first but then drop-jawed in shock. Evangeline repeated the horn’s warning. Just as she thought she’d have to brake, all four girls leaped to safety.

One hand blaring the horn, Evangeline braced herself for the next turn, this one a ninety-degree angle to the right.

The nimble car made it with a squeal of tires.

Adrenaline sharpened her senses. This was, after all, exactly what she’d been taught to do. CIA trainees spent a great deal of time learning driving maneuvers such as these, for eventualities just like this. Here, as she had learned in training, she used the narrow lanes to her advantage, bouncing the light car off crumbling walls in an effort to slow it down. The road sloped too steeply for the car to lose momentum entirely, though. She’d have to run into a building to do that, and she couldn’t risk ramming an occupied dwelling, not with so many civilians about. Her missing body would raise too many questions, anyway, if she didn’t throw the car off a cliff. She needed to leave no room for doubt.

Up ahead was another corner. Horn shrieking, she yanked the steering wheel sharply to the left. The convertible careened as commanded, but its back end skidded out from under her,
straight toward a tall yellow building. Forced to speed up or crash the car too early, she depressed the accelerator. The burst of gas sent power to the rear-wheel drive, pushing the car through the rest of the turn.

Plaster grated off the wall as she flew by.

A straight stretch through the center of town loomed ahead. With nothing to slow her progress, Evangeline raced down the cobbled road, gaining speed.

Just one more turn before the long narrow bridge that covered the deep ravine.

That final turn came quickly. Too quickly. She wrenched the steering wheel to the right, but she pulled too hard. The car was going too fast, and she couldn’t control it any longer. Its rounded nose pointed toward the ravine, not the bridge. If she kept going, she’d shoot straight into the river. She needed to hit the bridge to break her fall.

She corrected hard to the left.

The quick change of direction set her on a path that would shoot her over the narrow bridge, but at a bad angle. Unless she did something right now, the car would bust right through the crumbling stone wall that lined the bridge deck.

Exactly what she’d been hoping for.

In the final seconds before the modern car rammed into ancient stone, she gathered her body into a crouch and leaped out of the driver’s seat.

An explosion resounded through the valley like a thousand shotgun blasts, popping McCrea’s ears. Vomit rocketed up his throat and into his mouth. He fought his body and swallowed the disgusting stuff back down. He couldn’t be seen to be surprised by any of this. Whatever had happened to Evangeline, whether she’d made it out alive or not, he owed her his best.

He wasn’t a religious man, but right then, he mouthed a quick request to his Maker. He prayed for one thing: that Evangeline be alive.

But the black smoke swirling up from the direction of the gorge gave him doubts.

A cold sweat springing in the pits of his arms, he sprinted out of the compound and joined villagers and Kral’s houseguests as the entire population of the town ran toward the direction of the wreck. As he ran through the twisted alleys and narrow streets that would have been Evangeline’s path out of town, he saw deep, violent gouges in the stone buildings.

It was the sort of damage that a car would have made as it careened out of control down the steep road. There were no black skid marks that would have indicated emergency braking.

Which meant she’d done her job, and kept her foot off the brake to give the appearance that they’d been cut. Pride and admiration mixed with unbearable worry, and he began to run.

As he got closer to the bridge, the oily smoke that billowed thickly into the sky coated his nose. Flames crackled sharply over the low rumble of voices. He knew enough Czech to translate. “She was out of control,” “must have been thrown out,” and “probably drowned,” the gathered villagers murmured.

McCrea shoved his way through the small mob. There, where the road became a bridge that crossed a river far below, an inferno engulfed his Porsche. Its blunt front end poked through the bridge wall. Its front wheels dangled precipitously over the edge. He strained forward, but didn’t see her in the car.

She’d jumped out. She had said she would, had assured him that it’d be easy for her. She told him that she had hung outside the window of his hotel room to film his meeting with Ménellier, and that she’d hopped through a tree to escape a surveillance car before she met with him at Miel. Her Farm training, which was more extensive than that which he’d gotten with SOCA, had prepared her for such physical feats.

Not only could she do it, but she wanted to, and he couldn’t stop her. Now, he could only hope that she’d vaulted clear and hidden before the crowd had gathered. She was strong, smart, and quick, and the car was a convertible. She should be safely ensconced in someone’s vegetable cart by now. Wasn’t she? He stepped forward to make sure that her body wasn’t trapped in the seat.

A sharp crack sounded from underneath the car. People around him screamed. He rushed forward, but arms flailed around him, catching him and pulling him back. The ground rumbled as chunks of stone and mortar fell two hundred feet down to the river, smacking the water’s surface and echoing through the narrow canyon.

The small car tipped forward slowly, obdurately, like the lazy yawn of a great and powerful beast, until it hit a point of no return.