The Libra Affair (21 page)

“How can you know that?”

“When he ran with his kid, he lost all credibility with the Iranians, he's a criminal now. Let's just hope Libra flies before the Chinese find out what happened. Taking Farrokh and his kid out of the game now is the only way to keep our cover.”

Jordan expelled a searing breath.

The driver turned into the parking lot.

Sonya punched the button to roll down the window between them and the driver. She pointed toward the parked vehicle. “Over there,” she said, directing her driver to Jordan's vehicle. “Take the spot behind the car, not the one next to it.”

The Samand was dark inside; Isbel must have ducked down into the seat when she saw the headlights of their car.

Sonya withdrew the weapon concealed inside her suit jacket. She checked the ammo and released the safety. When their car pulled to a stop, she told the driver to keep watch.

Jordan punched the button to close the window between them and the driver. “She's just a kid.”

“War always has casualties.”

“I know. It doesn't make it any easier.”

“Are you getting weak, Jordan?”

“I just think there's got to be a better way.”

“What?”

“What if we need her?”

“Seriously?” Sonya's voice rose in indignation. She was losing her patience.

“It's possible. And Farrokh, we're leaving a loose end.”

Sonya pulled on the latch to open the car door. “He'll be dead, remember?”

“What if the girl's supposed to make contact with him and she doesn't? Then what? If you don't get Farrokh, you know he'll talk. You know, this op doesn't finish as soon as the fireworks pop. That's just the beginning.”

“Jordan, you had orders from the Chinese NSB to eliminate the liability — the girl's part of that now. I'm sure I don't have to spell it out for you, but if you don't follow through, Fat Su will, and then guess who's next in line.”

“I know.” Jordan was cornered.

“And furthermore,” Sonya said, “why would the NSB believe anything Farrokh had to say?”

“True. That's true.”

“Consider it done, accessories included.” Sonya pressed the button to lower the window, then pushed open her door.

“It wasn't supposed to happen this way.”

Sonya looked back at her. “You of all people should know that, Jordan.” Sonya paused for a brief second. “Why are you going soft?”

Jordan turned away. No way was she going to admit her feelings for Ben. It was agonizing enough not to know what was happening to him at the hospital.

“It's that boyfriend of yours,” Sonya continued.

Turning the tables on her, Jordan faced her again. “What did Snake say we should do?”

“I'm sorry?” Sonya replied as if suddenly slapped.

“He must have had an opinion.”

“I don't see anyone around here with that name.”

“I just thought you might have discussed this with him.”

“Snake's not here. I'm making an executive decision,” Sonya rebuked. “Do you question my authority?”

“No,” Jordan lied.

“Thank you.”

The two women locked eyes.

It was Jordan's turn. “Make it clean.”

“I always do.” Sonya smiled. “And one more thing, did I not risk everything to get you away from that torturous pig?”

“Yes, I know. That was different.”

“No. We have one objective,” Sonya reminded her. “So I'm going to ask you one last time, are you in or out?” She pointed her gun at Jordan.

“Don't misunderstand me.” Jordan stared back at her. “It just seems like we're rushing into this, like we haven't thought it through.”

“So you're in?” Sonya forced her to commit.

“Just do what you have to. Get it over with.”

As Sonya started to walk away, Jordan suddenly pushed opened her door. “Sonya, wait,” she called to her.

Sonya turned, the whites of her eyes glowing.

Jordan hurried to her.

“When the authorities find the girl, they'll be onto us,” Jordan said.

Sonya took a single step toward Jordan. “Honestly, Jordan.”

“We didn't think it through,” Jordan tried to stall her.

But Sonya said, “That's why
you're
going to dispose of the body.”

There was something altogether different about night air. It wasn't peppery like the dry-pitted air of the day. And there was something altogether wrong about killing a kid.

Jordan hung her head. She was unable to bear witness to the deed. But she was assured of one true conviction: it'd be a long day in hell before she ever disclosed the existence of her own daughter, Willoughby, to Sonya Roth.

“Tough day?” the driver asked Jordan.

She cut him a look. “Not really.”

A car door slammed.

Jordan bounced toward the front seat and peered out the windshield. Sonya was running toward their car.

“What happened?” Jordan asked the driver.

“I don't know,” he said.

“What did you see?”

And before he could answer, Sonya jumped into the backseat, cursing repeatedly in her native tongue.

“What happened?” Jordan asked her.

“I can't believe it.” Sonya was spitting mad. “Unbelievable!”

“What? What went wrong?”

“She's gone!”

“What do you mean gone?”

“Gone as in gone. She's not there.”

Jordan was puzzled. “She's got to be here somewhere.”

“If she is, she's hiding because no one, not a soul, is in sight.”

Jordan glanced out her side window and searched the perimeter. “She's got to be here somewhere. She couldn't have gone far, not with her leg. Maybe she headed across the street to a cafe or — ” Jordan stopped. “You think the police caught up with her?” She looked at Sonya.

“Who knows?” Sonya replied.

“Did you search the car?”

“It's clean.”

“How about the trunk?”

“Good idea.” Sonya reached to open the door.

“I'll go with you.”

Together, they ran back to the car. “How about the glove compartment?” Jordan asked on the way.

“Nothing but papers.”

“Let's check inside the car again first; maybe you missed something. Maybe she left a note.” Reaching the car, Jordan jerked the front passenger side door open and yanked on the glove compartment.

“Find anything?” Sonya asked from the backseat of the car. She was checking underneath the seats.

“Everything's gone.” Jordan lifted the front floor mats. “Except the registration papers. Come on, let's check the trunk.” They hurried to the back of the vehicle and lifted the lid. “My bag's still here.”

“Check it.”

Jordan ripped open the bag and began searching through the contents.

“Did the girl have a bag?” Sonya asked.

“Yes. It's gone.”

Sonya cursed more. “What about your bag, is everything there?”

“No. A gun, my papers, they're gone, but they missed most of the money — ”

“They!” Sonya cried. “There's no
they
.”

“You're right.” Jordan looked at her. “If the cops were here, my bag would be gone, too.”

“You think?” Sonya derided her.

“I don't understand.” Jordan was stunned. “Why Isbel would have run, especially when she knew you were bringing me to her?”

“Perhaps she phoned her father,” Sonya suggested.

“It's possible, except … ” Jordan rubbed her face as she thought a moment. “Farrokh said there'd be no way to reach him. But she might have had a way. Then again, if he took off to Iraq, how could he have gotten here so soon? I don't know. Maybe he didn't even go to Iraq.” She stopped. “What am I thinking?” She glanced at Sonya. “She didn't call her father. She would have called him before she called you.”

“And you're sure she doesn't have any relatives here in Iran?”

“This doesn't make sense. If Isbel was leaving, why run with my stuff? It means she's turned on us … or maybe … ” Jordan looked into Sonya's disgruntled face. She had a new sense of clarity. “I know where she is. There's only one place.” Jordan zipped up her bag and pulled it from the trunk.

“You don't think she'd be that stupid?” Sonya said.

“Where else could she be?”

“That's crazy. Why would she go to the hospital?”

“All the girl has ever known is her father. Maybe she doesn't trust women.”

“What did your boy say to her?”

“Nothing she could understand, but that didn't stop him; he was trying to make her feel better. She was scared.”

Back inside the car, Sonya spoke to the driver. “We've got to go to the hospital.”

“Sonya, we need to talk about Ben,” Jordan said to her.

“Oh, right. The matter of your boyfriend.”

“What's his stat?” Jordan asked, masking any emotion. “Tavaazo wouldn't say anything concrete. What do you know?”

“His spleen was ruptured.”

“His spleen?” Jordan felt as if Sonya had kicked her in the chest. Ben was no doubt beat up a bit, but last night on the beach, in the water, he'd seemed fine. More than fine. “So what did they do?”

“He went straight into surgery. That's all I know.”

“I wonder if he's out of post-op yet?”

Sonya glanced at her watch. “I'd be surprised if he wasn't.”

“You know this is a real problem,” Jordan paused. “It's not like we can grab him and hit the road.”

“No.”

When they reached the hospital, Sonya turned to Jordan. “Stay here.”

• • •

Sonya opened the door to Ben's room. A girl was sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the bed. Ben was sleeping.

“Who are you?” Isbel asked.

Sonya walked inside. “Isbel, it's me,” she told the girl.

“I don't know you.”

“It's me, Sonya. Don't you recognize my voice?”

The girl lifted a gun and pointed it at Sonya. If she fired the weapon, everyone would hear the shot and come running.

Sonya slipped a hand inside her jacket and gripped her own gun.

Isbel's eyes were crazed. “I know how to shoot,” the girl told her. “Take your hand out of your pocket.”

“Isbel,” Sonya said her name in a calm voice, “put the gun away.”

“No. Do what I say,” the girl argued back.

“Isbel, don't be silly. It's me, Sonya,” she repeated. “I'm here to help you.”

“I don't trust you. Where's Jordan?”

“She's in the car. She's waiting for us now.”

“I don't believe you.”

“I know you've been through a lot. I know you're scared, but I promise I'm not going to harm you.”

Isbel's voice shook. “Why are you helping me?”

“I think you were the one who called me. Remember?” Sonya slid her hand out of her pocket and held both in front of the girl.

“How do I know it's you?”

“Of course it's me. You know my voice. And think back, I was there when you had the accident, when you broke your leg. Remember, I was the lady in the car behind the van?” Sonya explained.

“Why is Jordan waiting in the car?”

“She's been through a lot today. So have you. So why don't you just come with me now so we can get out of here. Jordan is waiting.”

“I don't believe you.” Isbel shot back. “The police took her.”

“That's right, but she's with me now.”

Sonya searched the room and saw what had to be Isbel's bag. “Look, Isbel, you don't have much time. I think you'd better come with me before the authorities figure out who you really are and show up here.”

“I'm not going without him.” The girl nodded toward Ben.

“I don't think he's going anywhere anytime soon,” Sonya tried to explain.

But the girl was obstinate. “Then I'll wait.”

“You're being foolish. Now come on, Isbel.”

“No.”

It was time to get tough. “Answer me this, Isbel. Why do you bite the hand that feeds?”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“You steal from the woman who sticks her neck out to save your life. Who helps you escape. Who keeps you from going to prison. You run away as if you don't know her. And now, you question me.”

“Call it insurance,” the girl returned.

Sonya didn't try to hide her incredulity. “If you think what you're doing gives you some sort of insurance policy, then you better cash in now before it expires.”

All Isbel could say was, “Whose side are you on?”

“Side?” Sonya questioned. The girl had obviously learned one thing from her father — how to weasel around from one side of the board to the next.

Sonya slid a hand back inside her coat pocket. A second later, her weapon was in her hand.

“That won't be necessary,” Jordan said from the doorway.

Glancing back, Sonya asked, “What are you doing here? I told you to wait in the car.”

Jordan approached the girl. “Isbel, put the gun down. Now.”

“No,” the girl cried.

“Isbel.” Jordan scolded her like a mother to a child. “You're not thinking clearly. It's the pain medication. It's playing with your mind.”

“No. I'm fine.”

Jordan inched forward. “Everything will be all right. You have to trust me.”

“I can't trust anyone.”

“Your father trusted me. Remember? He trusted me to take care of you. Remember that?”

Isbel's hands were shaking. The gun was wobbling.

“You can't stay here. The authorities are looking for you,” Jordan told her.

“What about him?” Isbel thrust the gun toward Ben.

“It's complicated,” Jordan tried to explain. “He can't stay long, but he's in no condition to leave. You can see that.”