Staying Alive (14 page)

Krueger waved someone from the van over and an agent she didn’t recognize hurried to do his bidding. He placed the necessary earpiece and tagged her with an undetectable listening device. He called it a microfiber job. It’s clear color made it invisible against her navy sweater.

“Thanks.” She touched the earpiece as the agent’s test call sounded in her ear. “I can hear you fine,” she told him.

“Excellent.” He looked from her to Krueger and back. “You don’t need to worry, Miss Grant, the imbedded team already has sound as well as visual, but this will take care of you if you’re taken to a different location. There’s a new technology tracking device built into the micro—”

“That’s all Miss Grant needs,” Krueger cut in.

Krueger’s hand was suddenly at the small of her back ushering her toward the entrance. “This is as far as I can go with you, Claire. They’re watching the lobby. Explosives are rigged for detonation if anyone other than you comes inside. The room is 1420, just down the hall from the suite of rooms we’ve been using for a command post.”

Claire stopped and turned to face him. “What
was he talking about, the imbedded team? Did he mean the agents who are down?” He hadn’t sounded as though that was what he meant.

“That’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Something was missing here.

“Twelve minutes remaining since the warning call,” Carver announced.

Claire knew she had to go, but she wanted the whole story here. Something was wrong and Krueger’s guard was firmly back in place, shielding whatever was on his mind.

“I’m not going in until I know what that means. You said your men inside were down. That agent—” she nodded toward the one who had rigged her “—just talked about the imbedded team inside. What’s going on, Krueger?”

“Probability statistics showed that there was a major risk that Nusair wouldn’t buy the bombing scenario. So we leaked information about your sister’s location.”

Disbelief and shock hit her with the impact of a launched rocket. She couldn’t have heard right. “You purposely put my sister’s life in danger?”

“It’s not that simple—”

She slapped him as hard as she could. “Damn you, Krueger. If she dies I’m going to kick Nusair’s ass and then I’m going to come back down here and kick yours.”

For a moment he just stood there staring at her and then he grabbed her, held her close against his chest. She tried to pull away, but he was far too strong. What the hell did he think he was doing?

“Your sister is safe. An agent is posing as her,” he whispered against her ear. “Trust me, Claire. We know what we’re doing, but no one else needs to know.”

His grip loosened and she drew back. His jaw was red where she’d popped him. “Okay. Maybe I won’t have to kick your ass.”

Krueger’s guard fell away and this time she saw the fear mingled with the desperation. “Be careful in there.”

“Ten minutes,” Carver reminded.

Claire held Krueger’s gaze a moment longer. There was a lot she would have liked to say to him, but there wasn’t time. She turned away and entered the hotel.

The elegant lobby was empty, the silence deafening.

She walked to the elevators and pressed the call button. Nothing blew up. No shots were fired. Thank God.

“We have movement.”

Claire didn’t recognize the voice coming across her communications link. Evidently one of the
agents imbedded on the fourteenth floor. Whatever that meant.

“Can you confirm that the intruder is the target?”

Krueger.

A soft ding announced the arrival of the elevator. As she boarded she wondered if the target meant Nusair. Had to, she decided. She selected the fourteenth floor and leaned against the wall as the elevator doors closed.

“Negative. Male, approximately six feet, medium build, wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap.”

Krueger swore.

“Intruder is entering hot zone.”

Claire felt her pulse pounding. Her sister was safe but the life of those agents depended on her. She had to do this right. No mistakes. Full cooperation.

The elevator abruptly stopped. Claire checked the floor. Twelve. She glanced at the control panel. She hadn’t pushed the wrong button. Fourteen was still lit.

The sound of gunfire erupted in her earpiece.

Fear rose in her chest.

“We have eliminated the intruder!”

“Confirm!” Krueger fairly shouted.

The elevator doors began to glide open but the ruckus in her earpiece held most of Claire’s atten
tion. She jabbed at the button for the fourteenth floor. What was going on up there?

“Negative. I repeat, negative on the target. The downed intruder is not the target.”

What did that mean? Was she supposed to continue toward the fourteenth floor? She hadn’t received orders otherwise.

The elevator door started to close again.

Finally. She didn’t get why they had opened unless Krueger’s people were in control of their operation and the stop had been to slow her arrival since gunfire had erupted.

“Claire! Get out of there!”

Krueger’s voice.

She started to ask what he meant when, at the last possible second, a hand cut between the two doors and stopped them from closing.

Her heart lunged into her throat.

“Claire! Get out of there now!”

Krueger’s words rang in her ear once more but it was too late. The muzzle of a weapon had already been jammed against her forehead.

The man grabbed her by the arm with his left hand and dragged her out of the elevator.

She strained to get a better look at him. His face was not hidden by a mask as had been the case with the men who had stormed the school.

Was this Nusair? Or one of his henchmen?

The doors of the other elevator opened and he hauled her inside. He pressed the button for the top floor. With the gun jammed into her forehead, he used a handheld device to scan her body.

She realized he was looking for bugs.

Seconds later he had pinpointed the microfiber job on her sweater. He removed it and pressed it on to the elevator wall. Then he took her earpiece and tucked it into his own ear.

As he went about his business she studied his face, attempted to visualize Habib’s face next to his. Same nose. Same mouth and eyes. This was Nusair all right. The resemblance was irrefutable. She’d seen the photos Krueger had of him but they were all of a man wearing one kind of camouflage or another. Either sunglasses or the traditional headgear of his homeland. None had shown a full front-on image of his face.

But this was him.

She should be screaming…. She should be scared to death. But somehow she was grateful this moment had finally arrived.

He held his finger to his lips and nudged her with the weapon. She got it. No talking until they were off the elevator.

Once they had exited onto the top floor, he hurried toward the east end of the corridor.

“You won’t get away.” It wasn’t exactly original
but she wanted him to know. Krueger’s people would get him this time.

“Perhaps not.” He glanced at her, a look of indifference on his face. “But neither will you, Claire Grant.”

Definitely Nusair. The sound of his voice made her tremble despite how hard she tried not to react.

When they reached the stairwell exit, instead of going down, they went up.

The roof.

Oh, boy. She was pretty sure she’d rather be shot than take a dive off a building this size. Or any building for that matter. Maybe once they got up there, if she resisted he’d simply do the easy thing and shoot her.

When they reached the roof exit the door was locked.

Thank God.

Just when she thought there might be hope, he produced a key card and opened the door.

The sound of running footsteps echoed from many floors below.

She smiled at Nusair. “They’re coming for you.”

Antagonizing him wasn’t a good idea, but she couldn’t help the dig. She might be about to die but he wasn’t getting out of this one. No two ways about that.

They burst out onto the roof. The wind whipped around her. She blinked, pushed the hair out of her face and blinked again.

She’d thought it might be her eyes playing tricks on her, but now she heard it as well.

A helicopter coming…directly at them.

C
laire understood with complete certainty that if Nusair got her on that helicopter, when it landed, that she was finished.

She might be dead anyway, but at least here she could die on her terms. And just maybe she could buy enough time to ensure Krueger’s people got Nusair. At least then her death wouldn’t be for nothing.

With all her might she jerked at his hold.

He jammed the weapon harder against her skull. “Do you wish to die now, Claire Grant?”

She dug in her heels and slowed down his forward momentum. “Why not!”

“Very well, Teacher. On your knees!”

He shoved her downward.

She landed hard but never took her gaze off his. “You’re a coward, Abdul Nusair. Just like your son.”

Nusair’s face twisted in anger.

The bullet exploded in the air.

Nusair stiffened. Surprise claimed his face.

Claire’s gaze shifted from the hole in his forehead to his fingers still clutched around his weapon.

A second shot entered his chest and he staggered back.

This time Claire had the sense to scramble away from his line of fire.

Gunfire erupted from the helicopter.

Claire crouched behind a turbine roof vent. Her heart felt as if it had stopped beating altogether.

She closed her eyes and prayed none of the ricocheting bullets would hit her since there was no place else she could hide.

The whop-whop of the helicopter begun to fade and she dared to open her eyes. The helicopter swayed precariously then dropped suddenly.

“Are you hit?”

Krueger.

She looked up at him standing over her and shook her head, uncertain of her voice at this point.

He rushed over to Nusair and checked to make sure the scumbag was dead.

Several of Krueger’s agents had moved to the edge of the roof. She heard one of the men say that the helicopter had made a hard landing in the parking lot. Whoever was on the helicopter wouldn’t be getting away. They were surrounded.

She was glad.

Claire stood on shaky legs. She took a deep breath and walked over to where Krueger was going through Nusair’s personal effects. Among his things was a picture. Claire crouched down and looked at it. Habib, his son.

Maybe the man was human after all.

“Don’t go there,” Krueger warned, evidently reading her mind. He was pretty good at that. “This guy doesn’t deserve your remorse or your pity.”

“You’re right.” The announcement surprised her almost as much as it apparently did him. “He was an animal.”

She was glad the nightmare was finally over. Her gaze settled on Krueger once more. She was still a little ticked at him for leaving her in the dark about this part of his operation.

“Where’s my sister?”

“This isn’t the way this was supposed to play out,” he offered, his expression revealing the depth of the regret he felt.

She felt so many things at that moment. Relief,
hope, fatigue, anger. She needed to think. To figure all this out. “Not right now, Krueger.” She moved her head side to side. “Right now I just want to see my sister.”

He made no attempt to hide the disappointment in his eyes. He wanted her to understand why he’d made the decisions he had. She was sure she would, later.

“I’ll get you there.”

Claire placed the picture of Habib next to his father and pushed to her feet.

It was really over.

Finally.

Or at least she prayed it was. If she had to worry about his followers coming after her, she couldn’t deal with that right now. She was running on emotional overload.

She turned away from the scene and started walking toward the door that would lead her back into the hotel. She wanted to be as far away from here as possible.

If she lived a hundred years she never wanted to think about guns and dying again.

She would add terrorists to that list as well except that, in retrospect, she realized she couldn’t watch the news and avoid any of those things.

Not everything in life was meant to be pleasant, she supposed. And staying up to snuff on current
events was something she never intended to fall down on ever again.

Agent Talkington jogged up beside her. “Miss Grant, I’ll take you to the safe house to see your sister.”

The house was one she hadn’t seen before. It reminded her of her bungalow that had been blown to bits, really old but much larger. She liked old houses.

She wondered where the FBI came up with all these different locations. Did the houses actually belong to the agency or were they borrowed?

She didn’t have the energy to ask just now. She was tired. Tired and ready to move on with her life.

Her blown-up house flashed through her mind again.

She groaned. Putting her life back together would take some time.

Talkington opened her door. She snapped out of her worrisome thoughts and thanked him.

He led her up the walk. He knocked and a female agent Claire hadn’t met let her in.

“This is Miss Grant,” he explained. “She’s here to see her sister.”

Talkington didn’t follow her inside. He
probably had to get back to the hotel and finish things there.

“Claire!”

Whitney hugged her so hard she couldn’t breathe. When she finally let go, she surveyed Claire from head to toe and back. “I was so worried. It was bad enough when they let me believe, for about an hour, that you’d blown up in that van.” She glanced at the television set that was currently showing images from the Plaza. “But when we saw that helicopter go down I was scared to death all over again.”

Claire squeezed her sister’s hands. “Sorry about that.”

Whitney hugged her again, then said, her expression hopeful, “We have a lot to catch up on.”

“Yes, we do. Let’s sit.”

Claire held her sister’s hand as they got comfortable on the sofa. “You know they blew up my house.”

“That’s just terrible. You lost everything.”

“Not everything.” Claire thought of the photo album and the diary. She could make sure her sister got that later. “I’ll be okay now that you’re here.”

“I was thinking,” Whitney ventured, looking a little uncertain and sounding a lot nervous, “that maybe when school is out in a few weeks that you
could come spend the summer with us while your house is being rebuilt.”

The invitation brought tears to Claire’s eyes and a leap for joy in her chest. “That would be a huge imposition on you and your family,” she reminded, giving her sister a way out of the too-generous offer.

Whitney squeezed her hand. “You’re part of my family, Claire. I’d like nothing better than to have you there for as long as you want to stay.”

“You’re sure about that?” She wanted to go so badly. To get to know Christina…to share in the happiness her sister had found.

“I’m positive.”

They hugged again, until their arms were too tired to hold each other anymore.

Claire pressed a hand to her stomach. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten.

“I can always eat,” Whitney chimed in. She patted her own tummy. “Especially since I’m eating for two.”

Claire’s jaw dropped. “Are you pregnant?”

Whitney nodded, her eyes glittering. “Reggie and I couldn’t wait to add to our family. I wanted to tell you earlier, but too much was going on. It didn’t seem like the right time.”

The idea sent a pang of want deep inside Claire.
Her students had always been enough to satisfy the nurturing instinct in her…. Maybe that wasn’t the case anymore.

But this wasn’t about Claire. This was about Whitney.

“That’s wonderful, Whitney. I’m so happy for you.” She hugged her sister again. Seeing her this happy was something Claire had always wanted for her younger sibling. “Momma and Daddy would be really proud of you.”

Then they both cried. The agent hovering nearby cried, too. When they recovered their composure a little, Whitney introduced Claire to Agent Rebecca Neels.

Claire swiped her eyes. “We should go out and celebrate. With a huge steak.”

“That sounds good.”

“Sorry, ladies,” Agent Neels said with visible regret, “we can’t leave the house.”

Claire’s expression drooped as did Whitney’s.

“But we can certainly have something delivered by one of my colleagues,” the agent offered.

“There’s just one other thing,” Claire interjected.

Agent Neels turned an expectant gaze on Claire.

“Can your colleague pick up my friend Darlene, too? We need her to make this celebration complete.”

The steak was to die for. The wine as smooth as silk, though Whitney restricted herself to juice. By the time they’d eaten their fill, Claire felt relaxed for the first time in days.

When the meal was finished, Agent Neels opted to hang out in the living room so that the ladies could have some privacy in the dining room.

Darlene poured Claire as well as herself another glass of wine. “So what’s up with that Agent Krueger?”

Claire started to whistle nonchalantly. It sounded pretty pathetic. But she wasn’t about to answer that question.

“Don’t try that,” Whitney scolded. “I saw the way he looked at you.”

“And the way he touched you and the way he—”

“Enough!” Claire leaned back in her seat and glanced toward the living room. Allowing Agent Neels to overhear this conversation would not be a good thing. When she had decided it was okay to talk, Claire looked at first one and then the other seated at the table with her. “We have a little connection going on,” she confessed.

“I knew it!” Darlene shouted.

“The question is,” Whitney put in, “what are you going to do about it?”

Claire exhaled a heavy sigh. “I’m not sure there’s anything I can do about it. He already has a significant other.” Though he had promised not to walk away…that could mean many things, none of which could be what she had meant.

Two mouths formed perfect
O
s of shock.

“The job,” Claire explained. “He’s married to the job. I’m not sure I can compete with that. I’m not sure I even want to.”

“Claire.” Darlene reached for her hand. “Listen to me, friend. If the right guy comes along, you’d better fight tooth and toenail to claim him.”

“You said it,” Whitney confirmed. “Believe me, I’ve had it both ways. The wrong guy isn’t worth the trouble.” She smiled and her eyes took on a dreamy look. “But the right guy, he’s worth the world.”

Claire threw her hands up. “Okay. So I’ll see what happens. Can we change the subject please?”

Darlene sipped her wine. “Maybe. Then again, he’s the hottest subject I’ve seen lately.”

“That’s it.” Claire stood. “I’m going to take a bath.” She surveyed the naughty twosome. “I’ve had a tough day. I need bubble bath to take me away.”

“Wait!” Whitney jumped up. “I have to go first.” She pressed her hand to her still-flat belly. “This pregnancy is already keeping me running to the bathroom.”

“In a house this size, surely there are two bathrooms,” Darlene suggested.

“Come on.” Claire gestured for her sister to follow her. “We’ll check it out.”

“You want to borrow something to wear?” Whitney offered as they headed for the hall.

Her sister was about the same size as Claire so she didn’t see why not.

Especially considering she had a couple of blood spatters on her favorite sweater that she’d only just noticed.

“That would be great.”

Whitney rounded her up a pair of jeans, panties and a pink-and-white striped blouse. Claire thanked her sister and closed herself up in the bathroom for some alone time. To everyone’s relief there
were
two bathrooms, one on each end of the house, which was very good since Claire wanted to take her time and relax thoroughly. It wasn’t every day a girl went up against pure evil and survived.

There was no scented oil. No bubble bath. But that was okay. She could be perfectly happy with lots of hot water. Especially since this house had the same sort of huge clawfooted tub her house had…or used to have.

Claire stared at her reflection as she pinned her hair up to keep it dry. She didn’t really look any different. Despite having killed another man, having
suffered three near-death experiences and having regained her sister, she looked pretty much the same.

She looked exactly like the fifth-grade teacher she’d been before all this mayhem.

Claire stripped off her clothes. She studied the bloodstains on her sweater and scowled. They wouldn’t be coming out. Her gaze narrowed as she picked at something else there. Clear. Sticky. Round. The microfiber thingamajig. Hadn’t Nusair stripped that off her in the elevator? Who knew? Didn’t matter now. He was deader than a doornail.

Throwing the sweater aside, she stepped into the water. She leaned back in the tub and closed her eyes. Something else about the past few days was different. Her long-slumbering libido had definitely awakened.

Funny, she mused, after all these years she’d thought maybe her desire for a love life had gone into permanent retirement. To have it suddenly wake up, during all the other insanity, was totally unexpected, to say the least.

Was it possible to have one’s life back after being basically dead for six long years?

Four times she’d had the hand of death brush against her in the past forty-eight hours. If she had
died…she would have died without having lived at all…actually.

When she’d soothed her weary muscles long enough, she dragged herself out of the tub and dried off. She slipped on the panties and the blouse Whitney had lent her and partially buttoned it.

Now for this mass of hair. There was a blow-dryer but no straightening iron. Oh, well. She’d just have to make do. There was always a French braid. If she remembered correctly her sister had been really good at those.

The hair dryer was ancient and loud, but it worked and that was what counted. She held the dryer like a weapon in one hand and fluffed her hair with the other to help make the process go a little faster. Her thoughts took a detour and she couldn’t help wondering where Krueger was now. Still rounding up those who had survived the shootout today, she supposed. Then there would be lots of reports to write. He’d been tracking Nusair for a long time. This would be a big change for Krueger.