Evil Deeds (Bob Danforth 1) (41 page)
Read Evil Deeds (Bob Danforth 1) Online
Authors: Joseph Badal
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers, #Spy Stories & Tales of Intrigue, #Espionage
Jack entered his office waiting area and smiled at Miriana sitting in one of the chairs. Now wearing a cropped black sweater, jeans, and flat-heeled, black leather boots, she looked like any young American woman.
“You two getting along?” Jack asked, directing the question to his secretary.
She chuckled. “Just offering Miriana some hints on how to deal with you and the other macho types around here.”
Jack laughed. He waved at Miriana. “Come on in; let’s talk.”
Once they were seated facing each other in the two easy chairs at the far side of the office, Jack looked quizzically at Miriana. “You look worried,” he said.
“Have you seen news?” she said, hugging herself. “Serb Army is moving toward Kosovo. They will go through Mladenovac. Is parents’ town.”
“I’m aware of that. Meetings are going on at NATO right now about what kind of action we should take.”
“Mr. Cole, whatever action NATO takes will be too late to help family. The Serbs know I was involved in Karadjic’s abduction. They will make family pay for my treachery.”
“We’ll think of something, Miriana. I promise.”
Miriana blew out a loud, exasperated stream of air. “Have you found man who kidnapped me? Who attacked Mr. and Mrs. Danforth?” she asked.
“Not yet. We found the neighbor woman’s car. Then some kids found her body in the woods a few miles away from the car. But we haven’t found him.”
“You have to find him!” Miriana heard her own voice tremble.
“We’re doing our best. We’ll keep looking for him. I promise.”
Liz opened her eyes and looked around the unfamiliar room – white walls, stainless steel bed rails. A soft but steady beep-beep-beep sound distracted her. She was groggy and lost. “Bob,” she whispered hoarsely.
She heard someone delicately snoring. “Bob?”
A sharp, slapping sound – a book hitting the floor? A scraping noise – a chair leg on linoleum? Then Bob brought his face into view.
“Liz, I’m here.” He took her hand in both of his.
She tried to say something, but all that came out was a raspy “Wh . . .. ”
Bob filled a plastic cup with water from a jug. He slipped a straw into the cup and guided it between Liz’s lips. She raised her head slightly and sipped. Then she dropped her head back on the pillow.
“Where am I?”
“Bethesda Memorial Hospital.”
“What happened?”
“Do you remember the man . . .?”
Liz tried to follow what Bob said. But her head pounded and the overhead lights hurt her eyes.
“You took a bad knock on the head,” he said. “You’ve been in and out of consciousness for the past four days.”
Nothing he’d said made any sense to her. She tried to force a question from her mouth, but nothing came. Her eyes closed despite her efforts to resist. She felt herself beginning to drift away.
Paulus Tomavic, whistling along with a melody on his car radio, was pleased he’d soon be rid of Artyan Vitas. Because of his injuries, the assassin had to stay in the U.S. longer than planned. This would be Paulus’ last trip shuttling food and medicine to the madman. I’ll deliver the forged documents to Vitas today, then wash my hands of him, he thought.
Traffic was light on this early Tuesday afternoon, and most of the traffic lights were working in his favor for a change. He gunned the engine when the next one switched to yellow, racing through the intersection. Checking his rearview mirror for police, he saw a tan sedan speed after him through the now red light. His stomach seemed to do a full gainer.
He diverted from his normal direct route to the Alexandria safehouse and weaved through a maze of streets. The tan sedan hung back – but it followed each of his turns. Two men sat in the front seat. “Dammit! A tail.” He saw an open curbside parking space and hit the brakes hard to pull into it. He stepped from the car, walked around its front, crossed the sidewalk, and stood before a bakery’s display window. He pretended to look at the breads and pastries, while he looked for the tan car’s reflection. It slowly moved into a parking slot across the street.
After going into the bakery and buying a loaf of French bread he didn’t really need, Paulus returned to his car and drove back toward the Embassy. He saw the same car in his mirror.
Two hours later, the vehicle gate at the Yugoslav Embassy opened to release a Lincoln Towncar. Agents Tommy Shapiro and Lee Ferguson, parked across the street in a tan Oldsmobile, craned their necks to get a view of the driver. It was a woman. They settled back in their seats. “False alarm,” Shapiro said.
A minute later, an identical car exited the Embassy grounds. Again, a female driver. A third and fourth car left the compound shortly after. Male drivers. But not Paulus Tomavic. What the hell! Shapiro thought.
“Shit! We’ve been made,” Ferguson said.
Shapiro pulled the toothpick from his mouth. “That’s putting it mildly. Which one do you think Tomavic was hiding in?”
“Hi, beautiful,” Bob said while pushing a wheelchair into the hospital room.
“Oh, I’m sure I look absolutely gorgeous,” Liz said in a sandpapery voice. She smoothed her hair back and sat up a little straighter in bed.
Bob kissed her on the lips. “You look damn good to me.”
He felt tears well in his eyes and tried to blink them back. When that didn’t work, he quickly wiped them away with the palm of his hand.
“I’m fine now, Bob,” Liz said, patting his arm. “Don’t worry.”
“Easier said than done,” he said.
“I can’t wait to get out of here.”
“The doctor said you were ready to go home. I have your ride right here.”
“Now?” Liz said gleefully. “I can leave now?”
Bob laughed. “You bet!”
A nurse came into the room. “So you’re taking our favorite patient away from us,” she said.
“You’ve all been great,” Bob told her. “But you’ve had her for six days. Now I want her back.”
“No argument from me,” the nurse laughed. “But I want the privilege of wheeling Mrs. Danforth out. Besides, it’s hospital policy that only a hospital employee can push a patient to freedom.”
Bob walked beside the wheelchair to the CIA car parked at the hospital’s front entrance. He nodded at the CIA agent/driver standing next to it. He kept his hand near the grip of the pistol in his shoulder holster until Liz was safely buckled into the backseat, he’d gone around to the other side and climbed in next to her, and the CIA man had pulled away from the curb.
