No Remorse (28 page)

Despite the white tablecloths and efficient formality, the ambiance was laid-back and the meals tasty and exquisitely plated. After a bottle of Château Pouget, which Tally drank most of, and two hours of swapping anecdotes, Mac was feeling more relaxed than he had in years. Maybe Tally was right about Paris being good for the soul. More unexpected, though, was the fact that he was enjoying her company. More than he’d enjoyed anyone’s company for years. They seemed to share an understanding that the conversation not intrude on areas that would upset the mood.

She told him about her childhood on a dairy farm in chilly Vermont, about wanting to be an astronaut, about the complex formula she’d devised at age twelve for projecting milk production. “My high school math teacher, Mr. Eddie, got me into programming. By the time I was fifteen, I was maintaining the school’s website and doing some jobs for local businesses—databases, online stores, websites, security... that sort of stuff. I guess I had a bit of a crush…” She frowned. An exaggerated frown, as though she was slightly inebriated.

“When did you discover you had a photographic memory?”

Tally took a gulp of wine. “My dad gave me a book by Isaac Asimov,
The Realm of Numbers
. I used to read it every day. I realized one day I could recite it, word for word. I could visualize every number, equation, problem solution and pattern. Rubik’s Cube takes me less than a minute.”

“I can’t do it in two hours. How do you—”

“Hey, Mac, I’ve been doing all the talking here. You must be busting for your turn, mister.”

He chuckled. “I don’t feel the need to talk much. People trained as snipers tend to be task-focused types.”

“Stop trying to get out of it. It’s your turn. Your special subject is…fondest childhood memories.”

He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Okay, you win.” He told her how his parents had met in Vietnam, his father servicing Iroquois helicopters and his mother a theater nurse. How he grew up in a middle-class district in Boston, before moving to Seattle.

“My father really wanted to be a pilot. But he had a slight hearing loss, so he worked two jobs and put himself through engineering school so he could work around aircraft. He taught me a lot about determination and persistence.”

He told her how he’d considered a career as an aircraft engineer before his mother had taken him and Nick back to Boston.

“You feel bad about leaving the Army?” Tally asked, the wine glass in her hand again. “Sorry, that a no-go area?”

She’s deliberately getting drunk. What’s she up to?

“That’s okay. The Army’s like a security blanket. Routine, rules, predictable. Until you’re in combat. But the unit’s not like that. You never know what’s going to happen next. Still, we had discipline of a different sort. I loved it. I miss it, miss the guys. And Derek’s an asshole. But, you know, I’m actually enjoying this more than I expected… I guess at the start I wasn’t...”

“I know. Me too.” Tally reached over and put a hand on his. It was unexpectedly intimate, and he felt a sharp tingle along his forearm.

There was a long silence, as they locked eyes. It occurred to him that things between them had fundamentally changed. Then again, being attracted to someone was one thing. Allowing those feelings to develop momentum was another. He shook his head slightly. He hadn’t drunk much. How was this happening? He couldn’t let those feelings take control. No way would he again allow himself to care, only to lose the woman he loved. In the Army, his relations with female soldiers had been mostly for sexual release.

“What are you thinking about?” Tally said, stroking the back of his hand.

“How much has changed between us in a couple weeks.”

“Let’s just keep things uncomplicated,” she murmured. She leaned across and kissed him on the cheek. “I like you, Mac. But I’m just not ready for anything more…”

“What? I didn’t mean…” He could feel the tension rising inside.

Tally laughed softly. Maybe a little nervously, he thought. She smiled at him, her hazel eyes mesmerizing.

“God, you’re like a witch. I just want to… Sorry, I mean, you have amazing eyes.”

“That’s okay. You can say that.” She put her hand against his cheek and kissed him again, this time lightly on the lips. “I think it was lovely. It came straight from the heart.”

They didn’t speak for a few moments. Without realizing it, his eyes drifted to enjoy the view of her sculptured neck and prominent collarbones, the soft swelling of her breasts…

“Hey… you’re undressing me!” she said in mock outrage.

He opened his mouth to deny it, but saw the grin on her face and realized there was no point. “Well, you wanted us to be uncomplicated.”

They laughed together. As they finished their coffees, he raised his hand for the check.

Outside, the rain was streaming down and the streetlights dazzled with millions of tiny refractions. As they stumbled back towards the Hyatt, Tally caught a high heel in the uneven pavement and her left shoe tumbled out onto the road.

“God, I hate high heels,” she grumbled, sitting on the sidewalk, taking off her other shoe. She put her head in her hands and rested her elbows on her knees. “You go ahead. I’ll just sit here a bit. I’ll be fine.”

She was soaked. In more ways than one. He dodged the traffic to grab her shoe, which was a write-off. “Come on, let’s get you into a dry bed.” He scooped her up. She was light in his arms and smelled fresh and wet.

“Oooh…!” she whooped, tucking her head into his chest.

He carried her along Boulevard Malesherbes and into the Hyatt, where they had adjoining rooms. He helped her into her room and was turning to leave when her hands clamped around his neck. She pulled his head down to hers. Her lips were moist and tasted of coffee as she parted them, uttering a warm sigh when his tongue touched hers. It wasn’t an uncomplicated, end-of-night kiss, but he responded, allowing it to continue until Tally broke away to take a breath.

“Mmm, that was good,” she whispered. “Undo me.” She turned her back.

He hesitated, swallowed. “Uh…”

She laughed. “Come on, zips are a husband’s duty.”

He could hear her breath quicken as he slid the metal clasp down the back of her dress. Where was this heading? Did she want him? Was it the alcohol? Despite what she’d said at the restaurant, this could become very complicated.

Walk away.

Tally flipped the security bar on the door and turned off the lights. The streetlight outside streamed through the sheer curtains, silhouetting her as she slipped the straps off her shoulders and let her dress fall to the floor.

Oh, man.
Mac could scarcely breathe. She was naked. He moved across to her, and for a moment they stood close, not touching, as though some invisible force was keeping them apart. He placed his hands on her waist, feeling the smooth skin over her ribs, and pressed his lips against hers. His hand moved up, so slowly, over her breast.

Tally uttered a soft moan and backed up, squeezing his hand, leading him to the bed. “I want you to promise me something, Mac. That you’ll finish the job. Whatever happens. You know.”

It took him a moment to realize what she was saying. “What?”

She lay down on the bed, drawing him closer. “Look, I want to be honest. Derek’s worried about how you might react if—”

The moment was shattered. He sat up. “Do you know something? Is there something you’re not telling me about Sophia? What is it, Tally?”

She reached for his hand. “No, no. It’s just that there’s a lot at stake here. A lot more than… I mean, what we’re doing’s a lot more significant than perhaps… you might realize.”

He turned on the bedside light. He spoke slowly, barely able to restrain his emotions. “Tell me.”

Tally pulled the sheet up to cover herself. “I can’t. Derek thinks you’ll go off the deep end.”

“Tell me, Tally. Or I get up and walk out of here right now.”

“Let me ask you a question first. Do you know if either Sophia or Danni have type AB negative blood?”

“What?” Mac shook his head. “I know Sophia has a rare blood type. Bob has the same. He told me he had to donate his blood before his operation just in case, because they had none available in Martinique. But I don’t know what type. Why?”

“Oh, God. Rosco and I found some emails. We think maybe Khalid’s using captive children for organ transplants on Andaran. Someone with type AB negative blood is due to have their liver removed on the eighteenth. For a terrorist, possibly Zodhami. Abu-Bakr had the same AB blood type. But he died. I think he may have been the original intended recipient. A lung transplant.”

“What? When were you going to fucking tell me all this? Or weren’t you going to?” He glared at her, scarcely believing she could be so uncaring as to hide that from him. That she could sit through a three-course dinner and try to seduce him without saying anything. It was almost as sickening as what Khalid was doing.

One thing he was sure of, he needed to squash his anger and get things moving. Tonight. They needed to take Khalid hostage. And if that failed, he’d have to get some guys to Andaran in the next few days to try to stop the operation.

“What are you going to do?” Tally said softly, her eyes full of remorse.

“Eight days… Eight days we have. And it’s better you don’t know.” He jumped off the bed and hurried through to the adjoining room, locking the door from his side.

He lay there in the dark, staring at the shadows dancing on the ceiling. Everything now was about timing. Khalid would have to leave the Riston sometime. And he’d have to fly to London for Bill’s funeral. Mai had promised to hand over the plans for Khalid’s fortress. Now he realized that his decision not to mention that to Tally had been wise. She was Derek Wisebaum’s informant, his tool.

His mouth could still taste the sweetness of their kiss. But it was bittersweet, and the trust he had begun to feel for her had vanished.

Some time later, he opened his eyes. His phone alarm. It was 1:30 a.m. After a long piss, he dragged on his clothes. He could still sense Tally’s fragrance as he hurried through the lobby to greet Scotty, Jog and Schmidt.

Tally’s skin tingled as she sprayed the steamy water across her belly and breasts. She’d learned so much more about Mac from his lips. They’d been soft and warm, not urgent and forceful like Austin’s. Mac had clearly assumed that she’d drunk too much. But she knew her limits and had always been able to keep up with the guys. As a student at the University of Vermont, she’d eat a heap of bread and ice cream before heading out partying. Slowed down the absorption. And Mac had fallen for it. It was the end game that counted. She always focused on the end game.

Though in truth, she’d enjoyed the dinner more than she’d been expecting to. She chuckled at the image of Mac risking his life in the crazy Paris traffic to fetch her shoe and then carrying her up to bed. Who did that anymore? Still, it was… nice. And then the kiss…
Oh, God, the look on his face when the dress dropped to the floor.
She closed her eyes and directed the pulsing spray lower and tried not to think.

In the end, her feelings had compromised her focus. She hadn’t been able to have the uncomplicated relationship with Mac that she’d hoped for. She couldn’t look into his eyes and make love to him, without telling him about Sophia, regardless of Derek’s orders. But Derek had been right—Mac had gone off the deep end. Worse—she’d screwed up the trust that had been building between them. Even so, she felt she’d done the right thing telling him.

She lay awake for a long time, and decided to call Benita for a long chat that was overdue. At some point, she heard the muffled sound of Mac’s phone alarm from next door. Her clock said 1:30 a.m. A short time later, she heard his external door close. She got up and watched through the security viewer as his distorted figure walked along the corridor and waited by the elevator.

She went to her desk and typed his phone number into her computer. He still had it switched on so she could track his movements. Zooming in on the street map, she followed the progress of the vehicle he was traveling in until it suddenly disappeared from the screen.
Damn!
He’d taken the battery from his phone. He must have suspected she’d be tracking him.

She stared at the screen. The image had disappeared near the Place Pigalle. The red-light district. It was obvious what he was doing. Sleazing to some strip show, or worse. She felt a sense of outrage, quickly dismissing the flicker of guilt that she might have provoked this behavior by stripping in front of him. No. This was the soldier, on the prowl for demeaning sex. And to think she had almost allowed him to… that she had led herself to believe he had principles.

On her way back to bed she locked the door between their rooms. No way was he coming back for a grope after dry-humping some doped-up lap dancer.

The limousine’s tires crunched on the brightly lit gravel driveway of the estate near the forest of Saint-Germain-en-Laye and as it came to a stop, Khalid opened the window and inhaled the scent of freshly mowed lawn. Ziad and his two security men Sadiq and Ali stopped talking and followed him out of the car. The imposing two-story brick structure with three dormer windows in the slate roof was even more magnificent than Khalid remembered. Beside the steps on their approach to the front door, were enamel statues of fish, rams, dragons, and two female goddesses in flowing robes. Taoist deities. It was an indication of his father’s pragmatic approach to business that he allowed such blasphemous figures.

The front door opened and a tiny, silver-haired Chinese man with an irrepressible grin waited on the threshold. In the porch light, Jing-Ho’s wrinkled skin resembled hide from a goatskin tent, and he had a tooth newly missing at the front. Bushy eyebrows jiggled like the feathers of dancers at the Follies Bergère as the squinting eyes narrowed to focus. The old man reached out his hand.

“Peace be with you, brother,” Khalid said in French, bending to kiss the old man on the cheeks and touch noses three times.

“And with you, Highness. I very pleased to see you again. I in shock when I hear about your father.”