Security (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“She was always like this, you know, stubborn. It isn’t something new,” Alison said.

They had sat in silence for the last ten minutes, listening to the ticking of the clock on the sideboard. It was Art Deco style, just like the one down in the basement. The night Autumn composed
“Broken Pieces” seemed like a lifetime ago.

He wondered what Tawanda was saying to her. To go home, to offer herself up for kidnap was ridiculous, and she wasn’t thinking straight. Finding out her father was still alive, giving her hope that she might be with him again, was clouding her judgment. She was disregarding everything under the false impression that she would be with him again, even for a moment. He understood, but he had to think like the professional he was, and that voice said the idea was insane.

“She tried to dye her hair when she was ten. I caught her at the bathroom sink with a bottle of bleach and a can of body spray to mask the smell. She had hideous streaks in it for a year after that. She said she didn’t want to look like Daddy anymore because it hurt too much to look in the mirror. Ten years old,” Alison sobbed, tears falling from her eyes.

Nathan looked over at her. “What d’you want me to say, Alison?” he asked.

“I love my daughter, Mr. Regan, despite what she thinks, and I love my husband, too. I don’t know what to do, what’s best. I’m frightened that, no matter what I do, it won’t be enough.”

She let Tawanda brush her hair. She needed the quiet, the soothing humming, and the light touch of Tawanda’s hands as she moved the brush through her h
air.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Autumn stated, “but I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m not thinking anything, child.”

“You are. I can hear you.”

“I know, from knowing you only a few days, how you feel about your father.”

“Did you know he was alive?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“I did not know. I do not work for this Section 7,” Tawanda said.

“Sorry.”

“Your father must be a very important man for all these people to care so much about his safety.” She stopped brushing Autumn’s hair and moved to face her.

“I think they care about what secrets he holds, not about him. That’s where they all differ from me. I would give anything to have a second in his arms again,” Autumn admitted.

Tawanda took hold of her hands. “You hear what your mother say. That would not happen.”

“Not if she controls what happens. But maybe, if
I
control what happens then—”

“These are dangerous people, Miss Autumn.”

“I know, but what choice do I have?” Autumn tried to hold in the tears that threatened to fall. “This isn’t going to go away, unless the terrorists or the government find my father before they take me. I don’t want that to happen either.”

There was a knock on the door. Nathan didn’t wait to be invited in.

He had had enough of talking to Alison. Back and forth, round and round, she could talk for Britain, always trying to turn the conversation her way. It was getting them nowhere, and he was concerned by what Autumn had said. He knew her relationship with her father was the only good, solid thing she had experienced in her life. And, it was all so long ago. She treasured and coveted it, and would probably do anything to restore it, no matter how hopeless the situation. He’d had another idea while listening to Alison go on and on about how long it had taken her to gain the trust of the terrorist group. He pitied her really, for thinking that terrorists actually trusted anyone outside of their close-knit community. As-Wana was notable. They weren’t an outfit to be taken lightly. They’d killed hundreds of people, innocent people. They had worthy connections bank-rolling them, all under the radar, of course, but those in his line of work knew the lie of the land. They were brutal. They would stop at nothing. That being the case, what the future held for Alison Raine at the end of all this, he didn’t know, but he did know it wouldn’t be good.

Both Tawanda and Autumn looked to the door as he entered. He’d put a loose cotton shirt on, but it was undone. It didn’t feel appropriate. He started to fasten the buttons.

“Tawanda, can you give me five minutes with Autumn?” he ordered rather than asked.

Tawanda rose to her feet. “You will not bully her into doing anything. She’s made up her mind
, and you have to respect that, Mr. Nathan.”

“Keep an eye on Alison, will you? And don’t give her any more herbal teas. They seem to make her talk more,” Nathan said as Tawanda went to the door.

“I’ll make eggs,” Tawanda finished.

Autumn chewed on her bottom lip and appeared to be counting in her head. This plan he had was crazy, but it was just slightly less crazy than letting her do anything on her own.

He sat down next to her. “I’m not going to stop you from going back to London,” he stated.

“You couldn’t stop me,” Autumn snapped back. “I’m not your prisoner.”

“Just hear me out,” he suggested.

She reached for her purse and clutched it to her, playing with the clasp.

“I’m going back with you. We carry on with the pretence that I’m your guy, and I’ll be by your side twenty-four-seven, just like before, but—”

“But what?”

“But I won’t try to stop them from taking you. I’ll let them, and...I’ll get them to take me, too,” he said finally.

Her resolve—the conviction that this was the best option for everyone—flooded out of her the second his words left his mouth.

“No, that’s suicide!” Autumn exclaimed in horror. “You saw what they did to Blu-Daddy. They shot him. They killed him. No matter who or what they think you are, they’ll see you stood next to me, and you’ll be a threat. They’ll kill you.”

“Maybe, but I’ll take my chances. If they take us both
, then hopefully we have a good chance of getting your father collected by the government before he makes direct contact with As-Wana, and a much better chance of me breaking us out before they decide to get trigger happy with either of us. I can’t let them pick you up on your own. Tawanda says you’re a fucking useless shot, even with the automatic,” he said, the corners of his mouth rising up in a smile.

She reached for his hand and held it tightly in hers. Who was this man? She barely recognized him from the stern, scary, all-too-angry guy she’d met at the hotel in London only a few days before.

“You’d do that for me?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion.

“It’s my job,” he responded.

The swallow he’d made gave away to her a feeling he’d tried to pass off with words. She let go of his hand.

“If I let you do this, I have one condition,” she said with both hands back to her purse.

“What is it?”

“I want Tawanda to come, too. She can be my new personal assistant.”

He let out a laugh and shook his head. “Tawanda is a great cook,” Nathan said, “and she’s the best shot I know, apart from me, but let’s just say her IT skills aren’t quite up there with Mr. Jobs.”

“I don’t care. I mean, I can handle my own schedule. Well, I’ve never done it before, but how hard can it be? And it isn’t like it’s going to take that long to get kidnapped, is it? A few days? Less?” Autumn gauged, her voice weakening as she reached the end of the sentence.

“Maybe,” he replied, his tone sober.

“So, are we agreed?”

“You inferred I didn’t have a choice.”

“You don’t. Good, that’s settled. I’ll pack. Am I allowed to take some of these clothes?” Autumn asked as she indicated one of the open wardrobes.

The outfits she had been wearing since she arrived in the US were so unlike anything she had at home, but she’d grown accustomed to the new style. She wasn’t sure she wanted to go straight back into the high-fashion, uber-styled clothes she used to wear. Things had changed.
She
had changed. Being out of the limelight she’d discovered so much about herself, about what was important, about who she was and what she wanted to be. Art gallery openings didn’t matter, and bingeing on food and purging afterwards wasn’t normal. Grenades felt nothing like the new Blackberry, and you could wear an outfit more than once without it combusting. How shallow she was. How stuck-up and self-absorbed. Nathan had fought for his country, had put his life on the line, and now he was going to do it again, for her. She hadn’t deserved that a few days ago. Did she really deserve it now?

He nodded and stood up.

“Make sure you take the turquoise dress,” he added as he walked to the door.

She looked in the wardrobe for it
, and then turned back to him.

A hint of a smile appeared on his mouth. “It’s in
my
room.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It had taken less than four hours for Teo and Jazz
to arrange an aircraft for them. That had been just long enough for Autumn to pack and have one last blazing row with her mother. Alison wasn’t onboard with the new plan, but whether that was because she thought it might make a hole in her carefully crafted cover or out of concern for Autumn, no one knew.

He had dropped the Foreign Secretary at the port on Beaver Island and assumed she would go back to her hotel to make her calls and regroup her minions. He still wasn’t sure of her motives, or whose side she was really on. But, seeing as Autumn had made up her mind over this, it had become irrelevant.

He looked at Autumn across the narrow aisle of the plane. She sat next to Tawanda with her head resting against the woman’s shoulder, helping her with a crossword book she had found in the house and brought with them. Despite the desperation of the scenario, she was smiling. What had that pop star life done to her that this could be better?

“Mr. Nathan, what is
something carried, weighs upon you
, 6 letters, something, something, ‘r’, ‘d’, something, something?” Tawanda asked.

“We don’t need that one yet. That one there is ‘Aniston’,” Autumn said, pointing to the book.

“The lady from
Friends,
yes?” Tawanda said.

“Yes.”

“Burden,” Nathan spoke up.

“What?” Autumn asked.

“The clue you asked. The answer’s ‘burden’.”

“Of course it is! How did I not see! Thank you, Mr. Nathan.”

Autumn smiled across at him as Tawanda wrote in the answer. What he was doing for her was against all his instincts as a soldier. You didn’t have to know the ins and outs of battle to know that if you were surplus to requirements in a situation, things probably weren’t going to end well. He knew that, and he was going against his gut to save her. That wasn’t just his job. That was something else. But what? Was it because he cared for her? Or was it because he didn’t care about himself? She hoped the second one wasn’t true. She didn’t dare think about the first. She had trouble even looking at him without seeing a re-run of their night together.

“Tawanda, do you know how to use an iPhone?” she asked her.

“iPhone is like a normal phone, just with more apps,” Tawanda replied. “I’ve lived in the UK for almost twenty-five years, child. I can even work satellite television.”

Tawanda raised her eyebrows far up on her forehead. Almost made them disappear into the purple scarf tied around her head.

“When we get home, I’m going to take you out to dinner. There’s this exclusive restaurant, a ten minute cab ride from my apartment, that does the best chicken I’ve ever had,” Autumn announced.

“The best you’ve ever had, huh?” Tawanda queried, her eyebrows unmoved.

“Well, obviously it
was
, until I’d tasted yours. Listen, if you don’t think it’s good, we’ll complain to the chef and suggest he tries using your recipe.”

“You would do that, child?”

“I was very rude to you when we first met, I can remember how to do rude,” Autumn answered with a smile.

Nathan’s phone rang
, and both the women looked over at him. He took it from his pocket and looked at the display. He didn’t recognize the number, but that wasn’t unusual. He hovered his thumb over the answer button, unsure whether to take the call or not.

“Who is it?” Autumn asked, noticing his hesitation.

“It’s probably Section 7,” he responded.

“Then why aren’t you answering it?”

Why wasn’t he answering it? That was a good question. Because he would have to lie to them? Because he was concerned about their motives in this whole operation?

He pressed the button on screen with his thumb and put the phone to his ear. “Hello.”

He listened, all the while knowing, full well, that Autumn and Tawanda would be trying to decipher what was going on by every word he uttered.

She watched him. His expression gave nothing away. There wasn’t one twitch, one slight movement, no indication about who the caller was or what they were saying. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, she was just really beginning to see how intricately woven this web of security was. Section 7 was pulling all the strings, and in different ways, but who was pulling theirs? Friend or foe? She didn’t know whether it was more dangerous to know or not. She continued to look at him as he ended the call and put the phone back into his pocket.

“Who was it?” she inquired.

“Section 7. It was nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Listen, not everything’s cloak and dagger. It was Section 7. It was nothing. I promise,” he insisted.

She kept her eyes on him, waiting for an indication that he was being anything but truthful.

He turned in his seat, faced the window. “Help Tawanda with the crossword. I’m going to get some sleep.”

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth together. He hadn’t lied. It had been Section 7, but the conversation had been far from nothing. They wanted him to pull out. They’d wanted him to be a dummy in this game, use his past reputation to make the set-up look real, but not have him use his expertise to figure out the whole plan. Now that Autumn had made her own decisions, they didn’t want him to be the cheese in the mousetrap, and they were well aware he could be. He was a loose cannon. He’d never toed the official line before, and they knew that. They must also know that he had a plan, and that it wouldn’t follow their exact steps of execution. They wanted Rick O’Toole. If they could take some members of As-Wana, that would be all well and good, but Autumn wouldn’t be their priority. If they lost her, despite the worldwide press attention, it would be a tragic accident, a work of terrorism. They would not be culpable.

He was going nowhere. He’d made her a promise and he was going to protect her with every fiber of his being, no matter what anyone said. It was the right thing to do, the honorable thing. But now the stakes were even higher. If As-Wana didn’t kill him, chances were the British military would.