Pushing the Limit (11 page)

From beneath the table her foot pushed out the chair. “Sure. You will probably be very interested in the things that he’s uncovered about the foundation that sent us here. But I’ll let him tell you. I suspect he’ll enjoy the audience.” She smiled. “What are you doing this evening?”

“Waiting for David. We were supposed to grab a drink, but he’s late.” He laughed. “He was always late when we were in the unit. Always. Late for chow, late for meetings, late whenever we had to leave for anything. It was like he couldn’t read a clock. He obviously hasn’t changed at all.”

“I didn’t know him that well. He came around after the funeral with some of the other guys from the team.” She paused. “You never came, though.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I was a bit of a mess. I was there, you know. When it happened.”

“Don’t apologize about a thing. I don’t remember half the people I saw, and I didn’t know what to say to the visitors, anyway. I was a mess, too. And we were so young. No one that young should have to deal with that, and yet in that year so many of us did.” She shook her head and smiled, pure life and vitality shining from her eyes. “Please don’t blame yourself for anything.
Anything
.”

He had no idea what to say to her. So he just nodded slowly and looked for the waiter to order a drink. One came and he asked for another beer.

Harry checked her watch again. “He’s been gone for twenty minutes. I feel as if my date was bored with me and has skipped out on paying the bill.”

As if anyone would. He was about to say as much when the waiter came with his drink, but as soon as it was handed to him, someone shouted something in Arabic, and the waiter took the drink back from Matt’s hand and disappeared with it into the kitchen.

He looked at Harry. “I didn’t just… that really happened didn’t it? My beer was here, and then it wasn’t?” He had hoped to make her laugh, but instead she pushed up from the table and looked toward the kitchen, and then back to the lobby. He got up, too. “What’s going on?”

“The police have been called. They’re allowed to serve alcohol here, but they don’t want to have any out when the police get here. Look.” She pointed at the bar, which was being closed. Huge metal shutters came down from the ceiling around the actual bar, so people could still sit in the room, just not get any booze.

“Can you find out what happened? I can’t be here if this turns out to be something hairy.” His boss would kill him if he gave a statement to the police about anything, especially what he was doing here.

“Let me ask the man at the reception desk,” she said, hugging herself around her middle. She was obviously getting the same vibes as he was: something bad had gone down.

He stood in the entranceway to the restaurant, watching her progress. She took a step back from the desk and turned toward Matt, one hand clasped at her chest, a look of pure anguish on her face. He stepped toward her, but she ran back to him, ushering him into the deserted restaurant again.

“He said the old Englishman was found dead in his room.”

“Jesus. I’m so sorry, are you okay? Was it a heart attack or something?” He touched her arm. He wanted to hug her, but she was closed in on herself. Slightly bent over and arms wrapped around herself again.

“Not a heart attack. He said there was blood everywhere.” She straightened. “Unless he had some kind of freak accident, he was killed, Matt.”

Just at that second, four policemen ran through the lobby with their guns drawn. Matt pulled Harry back. “Don’t get in their way. By the way they were holding their weapons I’d have to assume that they’re not highly trained.”

Harry shivered and looked at the table she and Malcolm had been sitting at just minutes before. “These were all his research notes on the foundation we’re working for…” Matt needed to know what Malcolm had discovered. “Listen, Malcolm had suspicions that we were sent here to find something specific, and given what we know…”

“Shit.” Matt looked at all the paperwork. “Gather all this up, stow it in your bag, and just pretend it’s yours. Don’t let it out of your sight. Don’t tell anyone you have it.”

He was right. They needed to keep this. Maybe Malcolm had dug up the answers without really understanding what he had. She grabbed all the papers, shuffled them on the table so she could fit them all in the foundation folder, and slipped them back into the leather satchel that Malcolm had brought to dinner with him.

At that moment a low whistle came from the kitchen door. Both of them looked up. It was David.

“You should go with him. Get out of here, and come back when it’s all clear,” she said. No way did she want to get Matt tied up in hours, maybe days of red tape.

Matt beckoned David over. “You’re a lifesaver. A fucking late lifesaver, but I’ll take it. Someone has died in the hotel, probably murdered. A colleague of Harry’s.”

“I heard. We have someone monitoring the police frequencies, and they advised me because I had an asset here. Luckily I was already on my way.” He grinned and snapped the gum he was chewing.

“I’m not your asset,” Matt grumbled.

“I thought you’d prefer that to ‘protectee,’ brother.”

“Fair point.” Matt dug in his jeans pocket and pulled out his phone and gave it to her. Call us when the police have left. But don’t leave it too late; I don’t want you left alone. You stay downstairs, in sight of the police and the receptionist, until we come back, okay?”

She took the phone. “Sure.” As soon as she said the word in an embarrassingly small voice both guys took a step toward her. Then they both glared at each other. “Get out of here, both of you. I can take care of myself.”

“Press the pound key. It’ll speed dial this”—David waved his identical phone—“and we’ll come right back.”

“Go,” she said, lifting Malcolm’s satchel onto her shoulder. She watched them pass through the door into the restaurant kitchen. Matt turned and cast one more glance in her direction before disappearing from sight.

She looked down at Malcolm’s satchel and realized that she ought to stuff her small purse in there, too, lest it look weird that she had a shoulder bag and a purse just to come down to dinner. She sat in the not very comfortable chairs in the lobby and waited. Her heart ached for Malcolm, and whoever he’d left behind. She wondered if she should gather his team, but if memory served he had a deputy manager with him. Maybe she’d wait until the morning to see if she could help in making arrangements.

Taking a breath and closing her eyes, she tried to organize her thoughts and feelings. Malcolm had been killed. Malcolm had been looking into the Megellin Foundation. Malcolm had unexpectedly returned to his room when he was supposed to be having dinner. Maybe he interrupted someone looking for something? Her eyes dropped to his satchel. A shudder rattled through her so strongly that she looked to see if anyone in the lobby had noticed.

A few people had migrated to the lobby now, having been ejected from the bar. She should call Jason and Molly. She inched around the semicircular sofa until she reached the house phone. She called Molly’s room and asked her to come meet her, and to bring Jason. Harry tried not to give a hint of what was wrong.

Molly came down the stairs first and waved when she saw Harry. As she was striding over to the sofa, she stopped when she saw a policeman talking to a hotel employee. Then came over looking askance at Harry.

“What happened? Are you all right?” Molly’s brow creased. “You look awful. What happened?” she repeated.

“Malcolm Rapson died in his room. He went upstairs to get a piece of research, and he never returned.”

“Oh my God, that’s horrible. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Sad, but fine.” In truth she was a lot more worried than sad. Something that she hoped time would reverse.

“Was it a heart attack? He always ate that British M&M-type candy. He popped them in his mouth all the time at that conference we went to. Remember? Smarties, he called them. Said he needed them to stay smart.” Molly smiled at the memory and leaned back against the hard knobbly back of the sofa.

“I don’t know what it was exactly”—she took a deep breath—“but the man at reception said that blood was all over his room.”

Molly paled and braced herself on her knees. “He was killed? Who would kill such a nice old man?” She shook her head and then went still. “Do you get a weird feeling about everything that’s happened here? The artifact you found, the constant e-mails and calls from the foundation…”

“You’ve been getting them, too?” Harry asked in amazement.

“Yeah, both me and Jason have. I’ve been ignoring them. Figured it was bad form for them to try to circumnavigate talking to you first.”

“Do you think Jason has been talking to them?” She hoped with all her energy that he hadn’t.

“I don’t know, and I couldn’t find him just now. So he must be out somewhere or avoiding us after this morning.” Molly started tapping her hands on her knees as if she was impatient to go. She turned to Harry, still tapping. “None of this feels right to me. You?”

“Not much, no. Do you want to go home? I can arrange it, and it won’t be a problem at all. I just don’t feel like this is a safe place for you and Jason right now.” It would be some kind of a blessing not to have to worry about them, but equally worrying to be alone. Except she had Matt, and David.

“Why don’t you come home, too?” Molly asked, tacitly showing that she’d quickly made up her mind to leave.

“I can’t. I can’t abandon a job. We may never get hired again. They want a premature report, so I’ll just give them one.” Except if Malcolm was right, Harry and her team were not surveying for college students, but maybe for looters, or some kind of treasure seekers. She wasn’t going to sit idle and watch something that belongs to the Iraqi people be taken, and if truth be told, she didn’t trust Matt to do the right thing, either. She’d known enough military to know that they follow orders to the letter. If Matt was ordered to recover the money and take it back to the USA, he would. Unless she was around to exert some pressure.

“I’m staying. But it’s absolutely fine if you need to go. There’s more than enough work to keep you occupied until I get home, too.”

“I’ll think about it tonight,” Molly said, frowning again. “Do you think we’re safe in our rooms?”

“I’m sure you are if you lock it well.” Then she remembered how easy Matt found it to get in. “Just make sure you use the dead bolt and jam a chair under the handle. I don’t know if that works, but it’s been in so many movies that I’d have to assume it might give you some security?” She shrugged and smiled. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Molly stood up. “Are you coming?”

“No, I’m going to wait for Matt here. Besides, I don’t know if anyone will tell the police I was having dinner with him before… I’d rather speak to them here than in my room.” Although if the person monitoring the bug heard her talking to police, maybe they’d leave her alone.

Just as Molly was saying good night, shouting came from the corridor behind the staircase. Harry started, and clutched Malcolm’s satchel closer to her side. Four policemen emerged, jostling and shouting at each other and those around them. Taking a closer look, they looked young and scared, and that seemed to be driving how loud their shouting was.

Harry grabbed Molly and pulled her down onto the sofa next to her. “Don’t look at them,” she ordered. Molly acquiesced immediately; she put her hands in her lap and cast her eyes down. Sometimes in Iraq it was by far the best thing to fade into the background, and luckily, being women, it was easier to be overlooked. She wished Mueen was here and wondered how to get ahold of him. He would know what to do.

Abruptly, boots appeared in her line of sight. She slowly looked up, knowing as soon as she saw the uniform pants that she was going to have to talk to the police. As she met his eyes, she smiled, hoping to pull off an innocent smile. Dammit. She
was
innocent.

A small man poked out from behind the reception desk. “Sorry, Mrs. He asked of me who Mr. was with before he…” His voice faded before he said the final word.

The policeman, who still had his gun in his hand, looked angry. Very angry. He motioned with his gun for her to get up, but he didn’t step backward, so when she stood her face was inches away from his eyes.

* * *

“Where are we going?” Matt asked as soon as Nitro pulled out of the tiny parking lot of the hotel.

“We’ll hole up at the Majestic. It’s a fancier hotel a mile or so away. We’ll wait for news. I have people at the hotel if we need help, Harry has your phone, the old man is already, unfortunately, dead. We’re in a holding pattern until we hear otherwise.” He glanced at Matt, then back at the road. “They have a reasonable bar there, so there’s that.”

Matt nodded. He could do with a drink. But most of all he wanted Harry safely in sight, and Rapson’s research into the Megellin Foundation in his hands. He should probably tell Nitro, but it felt as if he’d gotten his act together here, and he didn’t want to cause him any trouble, or get him into trouble.

“Damn. I feel like I’m in a book, you know? The famous archaeologist is murdered, and no one knows why.” He shook his head as he looked out into the dark of the desert.

“Except, in a novel, everyone else would start turning up murdered, too. Let’s not tempt fate here. Let’s just have a quick drink and see how the cards fall.”

“My worry is that it’s going to be much easier to blame a death on a foreigner. And that hotel has a lot of Americans in it.”

“And don’t tell me you feel responsible for them all?” David laughed. “Dude. You’re not even here for them. You’re here for three dead servicemen. Don’t get all caught up in something unrelated. I get the whole Harry thing. That’s different.” His voice dropped. “That’s Danny. But don’t get confused about this. You are here to try to retrieve three sets of remains that may, although probably may not, be here.”

Shit, he was right. He had to keep his brain on the job and out of the peripheral issues. He was trained for this. Trained to compartmentalize. But somehow everything had gotten tied up in his brain. The dead professor, Harry, Danny, the dead crew, the money, Harry, Harry… Suddenly he was really anxious to get back.

The SUV stopped and David hopped out in front of a huge Western-style hotel. Could have been in any city of the world. At least it looked anonymous. He climbed out slowly. Every fiber of his being wanted to be back at their hotel.

“Come on, brother. I’ve got your six. And Harry’s. I’m not going to let anything happen. My company has huge resources that are in-play right now. If you go back right now, you’re going to get involved in a police investigation that we can’t control. Relax for an hour until we get news.”

He was right. Matt shook off the instinct to go back and followed David through the lobby to the bar. It was exactly like every Hilton he’d ever been to. It was strangely comforting.

They ordered and sat at a small table against a wall. Matt couldn’t help but laugh as they both made an attempt to sit facing the door, with their backs to the wall. Matt gave the high ground to David.

“So tell me about Harry. Did you know she was going to be here?” David asked.

“You could have knocked me down with a Crazy Ivan,” he replied, referencing the paper targets they used to shoot at in training. “Worse thing is, I’d met her a few months ago at a party and never knew that she was Danny’s wife.”

David’s eyes widened. “Oh man, tell me you didn’t accidentally nail her. I knew your dicking around days would come back to bite you.”

“Not exactly, but you know, close.” He shut his eyes, trying to ignore how his heart had sped up. He didn’t think it was guilt at sleeping with her now. It seemed to be guilt that he wasn’t repulsed at the thought of it. He was guilty that he didn’t feel guiltier?
Aw, fuck
.

Silence descended between them. David swirled vodka around his glass. “Did you ever, you know, speak to someone about what happened that day?”

Matt hesitated, then decided to be honest. “Nah. I thought about it, but I couldn’t bear the thought of talking about it, you know. I just wanted to forget.” And he hadn’t. Not for one day.

“Do noises still bother you?”

Matt looked at him and frowned. How had he… But yeah, they had hung out together for a while after Danny’s death. That’s when he’d started picking up women. “Yeah, I guess. Not bangs, explosions. Just loud ambient noise, you know?” Except that was barely true anymore. It used to be that crowds made him irrationally frantic inside, but since he arrived in-country, a whole raft of other things was making him lose his iron-tight control. Iraq plus Harry obviously equaled bat-shit crazy.

“Same for me, for a while. The guy I… went to see, said it was the roar of the explosion and its aftermath that would stick in my head. You should talk to someone. It’s been too long for you to feel this way.”

He’d come to the same conclusion a day before. “Yeah, we’ll see after this trip.” He knew that the military was much more open about mental health these days. Seven years before, it had been a different matter. You’d say you were seeing a shrink in the same way you’d say you were seeing a friend’s wife. You didn’t.

He sipped his beer. He didn’t dare have anything stronger.

David went on. “Do you see anyone else from the unit?”

“God… no, not really. You’re the first I’ve seen in, like, five years I think. You know how the military is. They dispersed us around the bases. You?”