DeliciousDanger (16 page)

“Rick said he had a funny feeling,” Mike pointed out. “Too bad
we didn’t pay more attention to it. Or Kelly Monroe and that weird dog.”

“Forget that now. We have to focus on the current situation.
And buddy, I’d still trust your judgment any day.”

“We
will
discuss this later but right now we need to
get Rick out of here,” Mike told him. “Ed and I will stay on for a few days and
see what we can come up with.”

“Troy’s already in the air in a borrowed Gulfstream C-38A. I
have no idea whose arm he twisted but he had the plane ready and medical
supplies and a doctor loaded within an hour.”

“What’s their ETA?”

“I can only give you an approximation but Troy will call you
from the air and give you a better idea. They’ll use Grainger Caldwell’s
clearance information to land. Can Rick hang on until they get there?”

Again Mike looked toward the trailer. “There’s no
can
about
it. We’ll do it. I just hope to hell they get here fast.”

“They’ll have to refuel both going and coming. I want fuel
available to them at BIAP too.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Mike assured him, although at the moment
he wasn’t sure exactly how.

“I’ll have Ed with a chopper waiting at the field when they
land. We’ll take him to Houseman’s place.”

Dr. Janet Houseman ran a private clinic that was better than
a full-service hospital. It was used by high-profile agents and corporate
executives who didn’t need word of their situation to leak to the press.

“All right. Let me go check on Rick. Then I’ll do some
reconnoitering here, see what anyone knows and tell them a Grainger Caldwell
plane will be coming in. I know the company made refueling arrangements.”

“Call me when Troy gets there.”

“Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“There are a million reporters over here. There’s no way to
keep a lid on this. I’m surprised we haven’t collected a mob already.”

“I know.” The heavy sigh was audible over the connection.
“Just station some of the guards around the area to keep them away until the
plane gets there. And tell everyone the first person who opens his mouth will
wish they’d never heard of us.”

Mike clicked off the phone and headed for the trailer. He’d
check on Rick, then go about his business.

* * * * *

Kelly clutched her cell phone to her ear, her whole body
trembling. She could hardly believe what Dan had just told her.

“I knew it,” she kept repeating. “And Xena knew it too.”

“You can’t blame yourself for any of this,” Dan told her.
“Even if you’d been there, what could you have done?”

“Not me. Xena. She’d have known and helped me find a way to
protect Rick.”

“Rick recruited Greg Jordan himself,” Dan pointed out. “This
is a kick in the pants to all of us.”

“But Rick was the only one shot.”

“That’s because Ed and Mike drank the drugged coffee,” Dan
explained. “As did all the security agents we brought over from the States.
Rick was the only one who didn’t.”

“Will you call me the minute they’re back and let me know
how he is?”

“Of course.”

Kelly disconnected the call and dropped the phone into her
pocket, then poured herself the last cup of coffee in the carafe. Xena rubbed
up against her, whining and she rubbed the big head.

“We screwed up, girl,” she told her. “Big time. Actually,
not you.
I
screwed up. I should have agreed we’d go with them.”

Xena pushed her nose into Kelly’s palm, a wet gesture of
comfort.

“Yeah, thanks but I don’t think this will make me feel a lot
better. And you know what? I don’t think the danger’s over yet. We’ve got to
figure out a way to protect him, Xena. Come up with a plan.”

Xena’s eyes locked with hers.

You know what we have to do.

Yeah, yeah, I do. But it means making some complicated
arrangements. And we have obligations here.

Take care of Rick or he’ll be dead.

Kelly sucked in a breath, shocked at the thoughts radiating
from Xena. Drawing in some long, calming breaths, she picked up a pen and pad
of paper from the counter and began making a long list.

* * * * *

“We’ll be landing in Maryland in an hour,” Troy said into
the sat phone. “Be sure the chopper is waiting for us.”

“Ed’s good to go,” Dan told him. “And Dr. Houseman’s ready
for him too. How’s he doing?”

Troy cast a look at Rick’s still figure strapped down on the
gurney, life-giving fluids pouring into him through intravenous tubes, heavy
layers of gauze wrapped around his chest. The surgeon Janet Houseman had sent
with him had operated the moment Rick had been lifted onto the plane.

“It was touch and go for a while. I’ll be damn glad to get
him into the clinic but I think he’ll make it.”

Troy could hear Dan let out the breath he’d been holding.
“Thank god. And you were able to take care of things at BIAP without a
problem?”

“Yup. Two of the security guards we hired knew the drill
cold and greased the skids for us. We landed, refueled, did what we had to and
got the hell out of there.”

“What about the media?”

“We managed to keep them away because technically the
Grainger Caldwell compound is private property. And I threatened everyone left
there within an inch of their lives. The guys we brought over for this are
good. They’ll keep as tight a lid on things as they can but you know it’s gonna
leak out.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. We’ll just have to handle it. How did the
operation go?”

Troy looked at his friend. “He’s a tough bird, that’s all I
can say. The shot to the thigh did some ligament and muscle damage but was
easily repaired. But that chest wound was bad news.”

“I’ll be glad to get him into Janet’s clinic,” Dan commented,
his voice still ragged with concern.“Had Mike and Ed learned anything when you
got there?”

Troy thought about the scene on his arrival. It had been
like something out of the Mad Hatter’s tea party. One hundred very angry
security guards tumbled out of bed, clad in jeans, shorts, whatever they’d put
on. But all wearing side arms. Everyone talking at once and Mike and Ed trying
to take control of the situation. And the media hovering at the edge of the
compound, angry because they were being kept out.

Two Iraqis who guarded the back motor gate to the airport
had been standing to one side, alternately wringing their hands and spouting
angry retorts. It was not their fault. They had nothing to do with it. They
stayed away from whatever the Americans were doing. It was none of their
business. They were not to blame. And on and on and on.

“Nada. Although to be truthful, they’d just really gotten
started.” He gave a rough laugh. “The security guards we brought over were
really pissed-off and ready to tear heads off. Mike’s getting them organized
into teams and handing out assignments.” He paused. “Have you spoken to Charlie
Grainger yet? Or Matt Caldwell?”

Dan snorted. “Oh, hell, yes. I’m lucky I still have my head
on my neck.”

Troy could just imagine the reaction of the huge man with
the hair-trigger temper. For once he was glad Dan got to be the front man.

“Did you manage to let him know this wasn’t just a bunch of
rebels stealing equipment? That is was a well-planned, well-organized
operation?”

“Yeah, for all the good it did me. Greg Jordan was our man.
We recruited him. We should have known what he was up to.” Dan blew out a
breath. “In any event, we’ve got to find out how this happened and where those
weapons are.”

“I have a feeling Greg Jordan is only a small cog in this
wheel,” Troy told him. “This took a lot more than him. Everything’s gone.
Just…disappeared. Someone had to make this happen.”

“Grainger’s going to be in my office tomorrow.”

“I think it’s probably just as well you’re meeting with him
alone,” Troy pointed out. “You and Rick are the only ones who ever seem able to
handle him.”

“Thanks. I think. All right.”

“And Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“You might want to see if Kelly Monroe and her psychic dog
can shake themselves loose.”

In the midst of tension, Dan found himself smiling. Troy,
the pragmatist, actually believing in something he couldn’t see?

“I’ll call her back. Any special reason why?”

“Two, actually. Not that I don’t trust Janet’s security but
these people want Rick bad enough to find a way in there. And on the flip side,
I think our boy’s got a thing for the hot redhead. Her presence might help
speed the healing process.”

“Playing matchmaker, are you? Okay, I’ll call her right
now.”

Both men hung up.

* * * * *

The city of Baqubah, located approximately sixty miles from
Baghdad, had a population of more than three hundred thousand. While the
coalition forces for a time had maintained some semblance of control, it was
one of the heaviest scenes of guerilla fighting and was now firmly in the hands
of Sunni insurgents. While the people involved in the theft of the weapons and
Humvees were Shi’a, as was the al-Dulami family, politics had made strange
bedfellows. United in a common goal—regaining control of Iraq—the two groups of
“friendly enemies” had managed a détente that seemed to work for them both.

Thus it was that the convoy carrying the stolen goods,
moving one truck at a time at the direction of Greg Jordan, had made its way to
this city of turmoil and a well-prepared hiding place. With the transfer of
funds confirmed, al-Dulami and his men had taken delivery of the goods and were
moving it out of the city as it had been moved in—piecemeal.

Lounging back on cushions in the home of a friend of his
benefactor, Greg closed his laptop with a satisfied smile on his face. Every
time he’d had satellite access he’d checked his bank account, just to make
sure. But he needn’t have worried. The money was there. Every dime he’d been
promised. Two more days and he’d be on his way out of here.

“I believe we are about to move the last of the Humvees. In
short order everything will be hidden in the Zagros Mountains where we will
launch our attack.”

Greg started. Al-Dulami had entered the room so quietly Greg
hadn’t even heard him. He slid the laptop back into its case and stood up.

“I’m sure you’ll be happy to have this completed,” he told
the man.

“Ah, but this isn’t the end, only the beginning,” al-Dulami
said with a secretive smile. “Our plans are made. Now we have the means to put
them into play. Soon the al-Dulami family will regain the position of power it
once held.”

“I’ll be sure to be thinking about you when I’m sunning
myself on my private island,” Greg joked.

Al-Dulami frowned. “Mr. Jordan, this is not a frivolous
matter. The future of a country, of history, is at stake here.”

Greg swallowed his sarcastic retort and inclined his head.
“I beg your pardon. My remarks were improper. I wish you the greatest success
with your mission.”

Al-Dulami returned the bow. “Thank you. I appreciate your
words. Please pass along my gratitude to our mysterious benefactor.”

Now Greg couldn’t suppress his laugh. “I think you know as
well as I do who that is. Your son certainly should. But I’ll be sure to give
him your message.”

As soon as al-Dulami had left, Greg pulled out his sat phone
and punched in a familiar number.

“We’re all set,” he told the familiar voice who answered.
“The last of the merchandise leaves tonight. My money’s in the bank. Latrobe’s
history. All’s right with the world.”

“I think your celebration is a little premature,” the voice
said, the words falling like ice chips.

A funny feeling skittered along Greg’s spine. “I don’t
understand. Everything’s been taken care of.”

“Everything but your friend Latrobe.”

“What do you mean? I shot him myself. Twice.”

“Then your aim must not be so good. Or you didn’t stay
around to make sure you finished the job. He was airlifted out of BIAP to
Maryland and has disappeared off the face of the earth. Find him.”

Greg squeezed the phone. “Disappeared? Are you sure he was
actually alive? That this wasn’t just a stunt to fool people?”

“No stunt, you idiot. I have eyewitness accounts. So before
you get too comfortable on whatever island where you plan to drink yourself to
death, I suggest you find out where this man is and get rid of him. I can
arrange the evidence. You take care of the body. And make sure you do it right
this time. We need a dead culprit, not a live liability.”

Greg felt every muscle in his body tighten. “Find him? You
mean come back to the States?”

“I mean, do whatever it takes. A little bird managed to tell
me that they suspect Latrobe has a contact who gave him information we can’t
afford to have leaked. And that’s on top of what you think he saw on your
computer. When the shit hits the fan, we cannot afford to have him put forth
his assumptions. His finger is the only one that can point our way because he’s
a very smart bastard. Tell me what you need and I’ll get it to you. But this is
your mess. Clean it up.”

“Why can’t you have someone already in the States do it?”

“Because we cannot have one more person privy to this
situation,” the man said angrily. “Do you understand? Too many people are
involved already.”

“Yes.” Greg swallowed the bitterness in his voice. “All
right. But I’ll need a way to get into the country unseen as well as some other
things.”

“Just tell me. I’ll get you in and whatever you need will be
ready for you.”

Greg clicked off the connection, aware that his hands were
shaking.

Well, shit. Was it possible for anything else to go
wrong? Damn Rick Latrobe, anyway.

* * * * *

Zarife al-Dulami moved into the alley between two stores so
he could speak more privately on his cell phone.

“Yes,” he told the man on the other end. “My father tells me
all is well. Everything has been received and moved to the appropriate
location. Thank you.”