Running Dark (17 page)

WHEN BANNER WOKE, IT WAS FULL DARK. THE HOUSE HELD A
quiet, restful feeling. His shoulder, however, was less than restful. In fact, it was throbbing in a persistent rhythm. The ice pack remained full of not-yet-melted ice. Stromeyer must have replaced it recently, but for the life of him Banner couldn’t recall her doing so. He heaved himself to a sitting position, catching the ice bag as it dropped off his shoulder. He headed straight to the shower, studiously avoiding looking in the mirror. While the hot water was not the greatest for his swollen shoulder, it did wonders for his mood. He dressed and strolled to his living room, where a light glowed through the open door.

He found Stromeyer there, sitting in his favorite reading chair, next to his favorite reading lamp, her feet on his favorite ottoman. She had a stack of paper next to her, along with a glass of red wine, a plate of cheese, and a highlighter pen. Banner’s gas fireplace threw flickering color around the Oriental carpet on the floor, and in the background his integrated music system played soft jazz.

“How do you like the chair?” he said.

Stromeyer looked up at him, and a smile lit her face. “How do you feel?”

He wanted to shrug, but the movement would cause unnecessary pain, so he settled for rocking his left hand back and forth. “Okay. Shoulder is bad, but not as bad as it could have been.”

She rose. “Do you want to sit?”

He waved her back down. “You stay there. I’ll use the other one.” Banner sank into a matching chair opposite Stromeyer. She went to a minibar set in a corner of the living room, poured him a shot of his preferred cognac, and walked across the room to hand it to him. He noticed she was barefoot. Her toes were painted a nude color.

“How long have I been sleeping?”

Stromeyer settled back into her prior position, folding her legs underneath her. “Eight hours. The police were here. At first they insisted that I wake you up. I refused, and I opened the door to the bedroom so they could see you. One look at your face and they agreed that the interview could wait until after you woke.” She picked up a business card off the cocktail table in front of her. “Here’s the detective’s number. He said just call the interview in. He’ll take it from there.”

“How bad do I look?” Banner was so busy focusing on his shoulder pain that he’d forgotten about the temple shot. He reached up to touch it gingerly. There was a swelling that felt like a small egg, but it didn’t throb nearly as much as the rest of him.

Stromeyer cocked her head to one side as she assessed him. “Like you’ve been in a car accident. The side of your face is a lovely black with red around the edges. Not to worry, though—I don’t think you’ll have any lasting marks. Your good looks remain.”

Banner snorted. “Who cares about my looks as long as everything continues to function?”

Stromeyer took a sip of her wine. From her expression it appeared as though she wanted to reply, but she refrained. She held the cheese plate out to him. “Hungry?”

Banner leaned forward to pluck some cheese from the platter. “Starving. Want to go to dinner? There’s a great trattoria around the corner. Run by an entire Italian family. It’s not fancy, but the food is outstanding.”

Stromeyer nodded. “Sure. But before we go, I have some bad news and some much worse news.”

Banner didn’t like the sound of that. He grimaced and took a swallow of his cognac. “Okay, go ahead.”

“Ahmed never made contact with Caldridge. He was found dead in his apartment.”

“Who found him?”

“The neighbors called the authorities after they smelled a stench. No signs of a struggle. The authorities are conducting an autopsy.”

“And Caldridge? Is she still in Nairobi, then?”

Stromeyer shook her head. “Roducci said she insisted on flying a khat flight into Somalia. Vanderlock flew her.”

Banner leaned back in the chair. “That’s a lucky break. Vanderlock’s fairly reliable.”

“The Price Pharmaceuticals jet went up in flames after landing at the Hargeisa airport.”

Banner stilled. “What in the world was a Price corporate jet doing in Hargeisa?”

“No one seems to know.”

Banner took another sip of his cognac while he digested this information. “A bomb blows up at an ultra where Price is a sponsor and Caldridge a Price-sponsored athlete. During the race someone targets Caldridge and injects her with a performance-enhancing drug. And now the Price jet blows up in Somalia. Quite a set of coincidences.”

Stromeyer nodded. “Too many coincidences for my taste, but I can’t figure out if all of this is somehow tied into your getting beaten up.”

Banner pointed his shot glass at her. “I beg to differ. I wasn’t beaten up, I was the one doing the beating.”

Stromeyer raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you should go look in the mirror.”

Banner always took pains to avoid looking in the mirror after any pummeling. In his experience the aftereffects of a beating were
always worse than the actual injuries. It was better not to dwell on them. Otherwise he might think he was more broken than he really was.

“I have a hunch the whole thing is tied to Price somehow. The mousy assistant—”

“Susan Plower.”

“—said that Price manufactured the vaccines. Maybe whoever’s at the bottom of this got wind of Darkview’s mission to secure the ship and they’re covering all bases. One of those bases includes threatening me.”

Stromeyer looked pained. “That’s a bad thing on so many levels, I don’t know where to start. If you’re correct, then they must already know what the ship is carrying. And if
that’s
true, then all this secrecy is wasted effort. We might as well send in seven different aircraft carriers to surround the ship and escort it to port. You think they tapped our phones and that’s how they heard we were hired?”

Banner considered her suggestion. “Doubtful. The DOD call came through on this home line. We’ve never detected a tap here.” He stood up. “Let’s go to dinner. Maybe it will all become clearer on a full stomach.”

The night air was fresh, with more than a hint of summer. Banner enjoyed this time of the year, and he found himself relishing the walk through his neighborhood. The only dark spot on the evening was right before they left, when Stromeyer had insisted he carry concealed. He had a license to do so but rarely did. He’d spent so many years carrying guns that he was loath to do it on civilian territory. Besides, he figured Stromeyer had one on her person somewhere. He thought his weapon was overkill. Also, Banner preferred a shoulder holster, but his injury didn’t make that feasible. Currently the gun was located at the small of his back in a holster that wrapped around his waist. He wore a casual blazer to hide the bulge of the gun.

They made it to the restaurant, ordered dinner, and, as if by mu
tual consent, changed the topic to current events. It was only when the espresso order came that the subject veered back to their immediate circumstances.

“Are you going to sleep at the town house?” Stromeyer asked.

Banner sighed. “No. I’d be an easy target. I thought I’d pack a bag and head to the airport hotel.”

“And from there?”

“Dubai.”

Stromeyer didn’t seem surprised at all. “You’re due to speak at the local Rotary Club.”

Banner groaned. He’d forgotten all about it. “Can you cover for me? Tell them I’ve been in some sort of accident? God knows it wouldn’t be far from the truth.”

“Of course I can cover for you. I expect to see Cooley there.”

“Cooley! Why?”

“He’s a member. Didn’t you know?”

Banner put his espresso cup down a little harder than he intended. The noise of it hitting the saucer clanged through the room. He really disliked Cooley.

“All the more reason for me not to go. You do the speech. If Cooley’s there, pull him off to the side and tell him just what happened to me in the basement of his office. Let me know if you think he was involved in some way.”

Stromeyer shook her head. “I’d be shocked if he was. He’s a jerk, I’ll admit that, but he doesn’t seem to be the type to beat up rivals.” She caught the waiter’s eye and made a writing motion. He appeared at their table with the check.

Banner took it, extracted his business credit card, and slapped it down on the vinyl wallet that held the bill. Ten minutes later they were back outside and working their way toward the town house. Banner’s arm throbbed, his face hurt, and his torso felt as if someone had used it for a punching bag—which, when he thought about it, was exactly what had happened. What he wanted more than any
thing was to sleep in his own bed that night. He turned the corner to his house, and three of his best men were lounging on the front steps. They all stood up to greet him and Stromeyer.

“Hey, Banner,” Gage Johnson said. Gage worked most of England and Ireland for Darkview. He was a trained knife fighter, and so he thrived in settings where guns were not the norm. He was in D.C. for only a few days on a brief layover from Los Angeles before heading back to England. Standing next to him were Steven Cardill and Tyler Walter. Both worked Northern Europe.

“To what do I owe the honor of your visit?” Banner asked.

“We heard about your close encounter with several of D.C.’s finest criminal elements. We figured you might need some security. Are you up for a poker game? Should keep us occupied most of the night.”

Banner stepped into the pool of light thrown by the outdoor lamp, and he watched the men grimace.

“That’s bad,” Tyler said.

“Don’t tell me. I haven’t looked yet. But I’d like to sleep in my own bed. If you guys stand guard, I’ll be more than grateful. But I’ll pass on the poker game. It’s all I can do to stay on my feet.”

“Major Stromeyer, you could be the fourth.”

Stromeyer shook her head. “I’m out, sorry. I’ve got to prepare a speech for tomorrow. My car is parked just down the street.”

“I’ll walk you,” Gage said. Stromeyer waved at them all before leaving.

Half an hour later, Banner dozed off to the murmur of conversation and the thud of thrown poker chips emanating from his kitchen. Once again he was thankful for sleep.

“THANK GOD, YOU’RE ALIVE,” EMMA SAID. THE GAG IN STARK’S
mouth made it impossible for him to respond. The van’s interior was stripped to the metal sides. Stark sat with his back against the wall separating the cabin from the cargo area. His tied hands rested in his lap. His face was bright red, alarmingly so. He looked about to pass out from the heat. Emma jumped into the vehicle and went straight to remove the gag. Stark bent his head forward to give her easier access to the knot.

When the fabric fell away, Stark said, “Water.” His voice was hoarse, almost a croak.

“There’s some in the car parked ahead of this one. Let me help you out of this furnace, and I’ll go get it.” Emma turned to the cloth strips binding his wrists and ankles together. After a minute they, too, unwound. She scooted backward with Stark following. He staggered onto the ground.

“Let’s get the water and go back to hide in the trees.”

Stark said nothing while Emma retrieved the canteen. She gave it to him and watched while he took huge gulps.

“Better?” she asked.

“You have no idea.” He took a deep breath.

“Let’s get out of the open. Last thing we need is for the crowd that brought you here to come back.”

Stark followed her to her hiding place. Emma crouched down
behind a tree. When Stark joined her, she asked him the question that couldn’t wait any longer.

“Who suggested that you hire me to review Cardovin?”

Stark rubbed a hand over his eyes, whether in irritation or resignation, Emma couldn’t tell.

“Do we have to have this conversation now?”

She nodded. “Absolutely. Bumping into me in the airport wasn’t just a coincidence, was it? You’re in this up to your eyeballs, Mr. Stark. I just can’t figure out how I play into the situation. And think before you answer, because if you lie, or try to hedge, I’ll leave you here to deal with whatever comes.”

For a minute he said nothing. Then he nodded, almost to himself. “We were pressured by a lobbyist claiming to have ties to both the FDA and the members of Congress who were threatening to conduct an investigation into various drug products.”

“Members of Congress? Not Cooley.”

Stark grimaced. “The lobbyist said that Cooley would be one of the senators assigned to review certain products. We were told that if we hired you, it might go easier on us.”

“Easier? How?”

Stark shrugged. “The lobbyist seemed to think that Cooley would see any opinion written by you or your company to be unbiased.”

“What a crock. Cooley is gunning for me, not listening to me.”

“At the time we hired you, we weren’t aware of that. The investigation into the pipeline bombing wasn’t yet in full swing. The press was still fawning over Banner, his company, and you,” Stark said.

Emma thought about Stark’s comment. It was true that in the early days of her return to the States, both she and Banner were media darlings. Banner dodged the limelight every chance he could, and since he was a security-firm contractor doing business with the Department of Defense, the press was unable to hound him too aggressively. When they did pepper him for answers, Banner simply parroted “state secrets” and they’d back off. Emma, on the other hand, had
no such convenient excuse to avoid scrutiny. She simply kept repeating the tired line that she was shocked from her ordeal and did not wish to discuss it. As a result the press hovered nearby almost continuously, waiting for a chance to report her story. During that time both she and Banner were hailed as heroes who’d helped save airline passengers. It wasn’t until after the full extent of the pipeline damage became apparent that the oil companies started calling for blood. Cooley led the charge.

“I got injected after the bombing. Do you know with what?”

“That had nothing to do with Price,” Stark said.

“I don’t believe you,” Emma said.

“I’m telling the truth.” He took another swallow of water.

“Did you know Cardovin had problems?”

“I told you. We knew that some test results showed an inconsistent effect, but on the whole we thought the product had enough efficacy to merit its marketing. We, or at least I, had no idea it would prove to be worthless. To be frank, I’m still not sure whether to believe that.”

“What happened in Hargeisa? Are the pilots alive?”

Before Stark could respond, the sound of gunshots cracked through the quiet. A group of birds flew upward from the trees about a hundred yards away. Answering shots followed. Emma pulled the pistol out of the holster attached to her ankle. She handed it to Stark.

“Can you shoot?” She kept her voice soft and low.

“I’ve been skeet shooting since I was a kid.”

“Ever shot a pistol?”

“I’ll figure it out.” He held the gun in his right hand and stared down the path, as if the discussion were over. Emma reached out, wrapped her palm around his wrist, and pulled his arm sideways, toward her. While she did this, he kept the gun’s muzzle pointed in the general direction of the shots. At least he knew enough to aim the gun away, she thought.

“Watch,” she whispered. She flicked the safety off, then pushed
his hand back so that the gun was once again aligned with the path. Stark colored a little but said nothing.

They waited.

The three Somali women who had carried the provisions burst out of the trees, with terrified looks on their faces and running for all they were worth. Their head scarves flowed out behind them. After, with their backs to the path, came two of the four men. They held their assault weapons at the ready. Stark raised his pistol. Emma stilled his arm. He cast her a quick look; she shook her head no, and he subsided.

The men ran to the Range Rover, flinging open the door. Within seconds Emma heard the engine turn over and then roar as the driver punched the gas pedal but must have failed to release the clutch. The motor whined while the car stayed in place.

The final two men, the ones who had carried the crate, came next. One turned around and released a volley of shots. The rifle visibly rattled in his hands. Bits of bark from nearby trees burst into the air. When the shooter was finished, he jogged into the Rover.

The last man headed for the back of the van. He yanked the rear doors open. Emma would have given anything to see his reaction once he realized that Stark was gone, but the panels blocked her view.

Seconds later the man came around. He had a grim look on his face. He ran to the Rover and leaped into the backseat. The driver finally released the clutch, and the car shot forward, careened sideways as it circled left, and sped down the path, away from the ocean. In less than a minute, Hassim and Nick came into view.

Emma stepped out from the path. “They’re gone.”

“For now,” Hassim said.

“I think I found our hostage.” She waved Stark forward. Both Hassim and Nick stared at him.

“Who are you?” Nick said.

“Richard Stark, CEO of Price Pharmaceuticals.”

Hassim got a knowing look on his face. “You didn’t die in the fire, then.”

“Thankfully, no,” Stark said.

Hassim looked wary at this latest piece of information, and Emma didn’t blame him. Stark’s miraculous escape seemed too good to be true.

“I want to hear what happened, but not now. We only have a few minutes. That crowd will run to the village to collect assistance. We need to get on the boat and out of here immediately.”

Hassim turned and started a slow jog toward the ocean. Emma, Nick, and Stark fell in behind him. When they reached the area where their own vehicle was hidden, they grabbed the chemistry duffel. The waves crashed on the beach. Along with them came the bodies of jellyfish. Over fifty spread out on the sand—large ones with pink umbrella forms, smaller blue ones in a crescent shape. They lay on the beach, baking in the sun.

“Watch out for the jellyfish,” Hassim said.

“Why are there so many?” Emma asked.

Hassim took the duffel from her and handed it to Nick. “The corporate trawlers are overfishing, removing tons of sea life and upsetting the balance. The jellyfish bloom when their natural predators are reduced or gone. When they migrate in masses like this, they can be extremely dangerous. The ones on the beach are a small fraction of the schools that we will find in the water.”

Stark stopped when he saw the small craft bobbing in the water. “What are you doing?”

Hassim indicated to Nick that he should keep moving. Nick continued forward, picking his way around the beached jellyfish. He began wading into the water. Emma paused to listen to Hassim and Stark.

“We need to get Ms. Caldridge to a cruise ship that requires her assistance. We’ll use this boat to get there,” Hassim said.

“Are we all going?” Stark sounded suspicious.

Hassim shook his head. “Not Nick. He’ll drive the car back to Berbera.”

“I’ll go with him,” Stark said.

Hassim shook his head again. “No you won’t. Everyone in Berbera knows Nick. His presence there will go unnoticed. But that will not be the case if he appears with a Westerner. I won’t put him at risk.”

Stark stopped cold. Emma could tell he was going to dig in his heels.

“I’ll take the risk. Nick can drive me to Hargeisa.”

“The Hargeisa-Berbera road is monitored by the pirates. Even with SPUs I can’t guarantee that you won’t be subjected to a revenge attack.”

“SPU?” Stark said.

“Special protection units,” Emma said. “They’re security guards who ensure your protection along the road. But I think you should listen to Hassim. He knows what he’s talking about.”

Stark looked aggravated. “Are you sure about that?”

“He works for Banner.”

“Ah, the vaunted Banner. Then get
him
on the phone. Perhaps he knows what we should do.”

Hassim made a disgusted noise. “You deal with him,” he said to Emma.

He turned and headed out to the cabin cruiser. Emma gave it one last shot.

“Listen, I know you don’t want to get any deeper into this, but you’re not safe here, and we have to go. Either you come with us or Nick and Hassim will leave you to fend for yourself.”

Stark gave her a long, pointed look. “Don’t you understand? I’ve just had the most harrowing twenty-four hours of my life. All I want to do is get to civilization and go home. You’re off on some wild-goose chase for this Banner guy. What makes you think I want to go along?”

The discussion was cut short by Hassim yelling from the boat. “Leave him! We go!”

Emma sighed. “You’re right, I’m heading into a mess, but staying here is a mistake, too. It’s yours to make, though, so I’ll leave you to it.”

She started wading toward the boat. Nick was on the way back toward shore. He high-fived her as he passed.

“Luck to you,” he said.

Emma reached the ladder and pulled herself up. She heard a splashing behind her. She looked back to see Stark heading toward them.

“What did you say?” Hassim said.

She shrugged. “I left the decision to him. I think he realizes that he’s in an untenable situation. The problem is, I can’t tell if he’s the source of our troubles or another innocent victim.” They watched Stark come nearer. He climbed onto the deck.

“I really think I’m going to regret this,” Stark said.

“Ashes fly back into the face of the one who throws them,” Hassim replied.

“What does that mean?” Stark said.

“It means don’t press your luck,” Emma said.