WAR: Intrusion (4 page)

“Come to boast you have a dry, warm place to stay?” Tony grumbled once Lachlan had given the verbal signal and been admitted into the tent.

“Ach, now. What’s wrong? Is the poor, fragile Englishman not enjoying this impressive show of nature?”

“Sod off, Scots. What d’you want?”

Lachlan reported what he’d found during his search.

“You’re right,” Tony said, “the missing records could be explained by the Foundation’s extremely security-conscious view of life.”

“If there’s a hidden storage room, I didn’t find it,” Lachlan replied. “And I’m not convinced that Dr. Kirk actually has laboratory equipment.”

“Why would Layla’s Foundation brag about this being a state-of-the-art facility with advanced diagnostic capabilities if they can’t follow through?” Tony asked. “The grand opening is the day after tomorrow. Someone’s going to find them out, and from what our research showed, the Foundation desperately needs the money a successful event will bring in.”

Lachlan shrugged. “Whatever’s going on, it explains why the doctor was so determined to see the back of me.”

“Didn’t I warn you that you’d rub the woman the wrong way? Should have let me handle her.”

“I think even Dev would have a hard time charming this lass.” Lachlan told Tony the story of how he’d rescued the bairn and ended up on the wrong end of the doctor’s shotgun.

Tony burst out laughing and it took him a good two minutes to stop. Thankfully the storm was still raging, else his guffaws would have woken the entire village.

“For that,” Tony finally gasped out between chuckles, “I forgive you for having a real bed to sleep in tonight.” He slapped Lachlan on the shoulder.

They spent another few minutes going over Tony’s similar lack of progress on locating any weapons in the village, then Lachlan slipped back out into the storm, which was finally winding down.

When at last he reached the gate into Dr. Kirk’s courtyard, he glanced toward the security bars covering her windows. He hoped the lass slept well tonight, for tomorrow he intended to get some answers.

CHAPTER THREE

AFTER
A RESTLESS night thanks to the violence of the storm and her worry over what MacKay might discover before she sent him on his way, Helen dragged herself out of bed at dawn. She grabbed a quick bite to eat before getting ready to head to the clinic. As she was locking up, MacKay emerged from the storage room looking well-rested, his rucksack slung over one shoulder. The soft morning light did nothing to hide the disapproval in his gray eyes, though.

Reining in her annoyance, she forced herself to be polite. “Good morning.”

“Do you always start this early, doctor?”

“Yes.” Helen pushed open the gate to the courtyard. The dirt path leading to the clinic was muddy after last night’s rain and it squelched beneath her day hikers. “Many of the villagers are farmers. We open the clinic in case they want to stop by on their way to the fields.”

Normally Helen enjoyed walking to the clinic when the day was fresh and the air was cool. But this morning she hurried along the path, finding no pleasure in the early morning hush. She’d just come into sight of the clinic when she caught the faint sound of a plane’s engine.

Oh, no. Why did it have to arrive
now
?

Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she couldn’t tell from MacKay’s stony expression if he’d heard the plane or not. Okay. As she hurried up the clinic’s driveway, she decided that once inside, she’d turn on the wireless and crank the volume. Blasting the news should mask the sound of the plane. Then she’d tell MacKay that she had to treat an elderly patient in the village who wasn’t able to make it to the clinic. She’d explain that for privacy reasons MacKay would have to stay behind, but that Leticia or Theodora would give him the grand tour.

But when Helen reached the front door, she found it locked. Didn’t that figure? The one morning when she needed the help of the other staff, she was the first to arrive. As the engine noise grew steadily louder, she fumbled with the keys before finding the correct one and managing to unlock the door.

“That sounds like a plane. Are you expecting a delivery?”

Helen jumped and dropped the keys. “Don’t sneak up on me!” MacKay stood right behind her and she hadn’t even sensed him moving closer.

“Sorry, lass.” He bent down to retrieve the keys, but he didn’t sound sorry at all. Instead, he sounded almost smug.

“Are you?” he asked again, dangling her keys over her outstretched palm. “Expecting a delivery?”

“Yes.” She snatched the keys from him and strode into the clinic. “I’m due for some supplies.”

Now what? She couldn’t leave MacKay here alone. He’d start searching the premises and soon find the under-equipped lab. Yet she didn’t dare take him with her. She sighed. If she stayed here to babysit MacKay, what would happen to her boxes of equipment? Normally she had to sign for any delivery to the clinic. In her absence, would the pilot accept Kwesi’s signature? Would Kwesi even think to sign off for her shipment?

Helen unlocked the door to the hallway and her office, but left the remaining doors locked. Now what? With MacKay following her around, she wasn’t comfortable retrieving the clinic’s sensitive records and medical supplies from the underground emergency shelter.

Helen tossed her keys toward her desk, where they landed with an angry clatter. What had happened to delay Leticia and Theodora? Xetsa wouldn’t start her shift for another few hours, but the nurses usually beat Helen to the clinic.

A horn honked out front. Once. Twice.

Helen rushed to the door, expecting to find someone delivering a critically injured patient. Instead, it was Kwesi in his gutted-out minivan. The vehicle had once served as a public taxi, but Kwesi had torn out the seats and painted over the exuberant mural on the exterior with a slightly more somber geometrical pattern.

“Kwesi, what’s wrong?” she asked in the local language.

He shook his head. “No problem, doctor. Theodora and Leticia wished me to tell you that the storm caused a tree to fall down in the village. They are helping their neighbors clean up and therefore will be late to work.”

“Oh. Okay. Was anyone hurt?”

“No.”

“Good.” She glanced back at the clinic, met MacKay’s questioning eyes, and quickly returned her attention to Kwesi. “I heard the plane,” she murmured.

“Yes. I am on my way to the airfield now.”

“Would the pilot allow you to sign for my delivery, do you think? This man is investigating the clinic and the villages for one of the investors. I do not want to leave him alone here, yet I think it unwise for him to accompany me to the airfield.”

“Ah. I thank you for your concern, but there is none of my special cargo on this flight. Only the gifts from Mr. Natchaba for the festival day.” He gave her a sly smile. “We could use the white man’s strength while unloading the boxes, since my workers are also helping with the fallen tree.”

Helen nodded in relief. “Okay. We will bring the truck and join you shortly.” She stepped back and watched Kwesi turn his van around and return to the road. The sun lifted over the horizon, outlining the trees in pale pink and gold. Optimism replaced Helen’s worry. This would all work out. The laborers were due to arrive in an hour to start installing the lab equipment, so assuming that the storm cleanup didn’t delay them too long, her timeline should remain intact. She’d figure out a way to spin the delivery to MacKay without mentioning the vandalism. Tomorrow’s grand opening would go off without a hitch and the investors would be generous in their donations.

“What was that about?” MacKay asked when she walked back into the clinic.

Helen explained about the downed tree as she grabbed her keys. She left a note on the door for Leticia and Theodora, telling them to have the laborers wait, on the promise that no matter how long it took for Helen to return, they’d be paid for the full day.

A few minutes later, she steered the clinic’s ancient pickup truck along Kwesi’s tire tracks in the drying mud. The SUV would have better traction, but she needed the large bed of the pickup to hold her equipment.

The trip to the tiny airfield normally took twenty minutes on a good day, but between the mud and the debris left from the storm, today it took nearly twice that. By the time they arrived, Helen’s nerves were taut, thanks to MacKay’s gloomy, silent presence. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was searching for an excuse to tell his boss not to fund the clinic. She’d have to use extreme caution when explaining this unusually large delivery.

She parked alongside Kwesi’s van, relieved that the plane was still there. That was one of the advantages to having Mr. Natchaba offer to pay for a chartered plane to bring in this last delivery of sensitive lab equipment. The regular pilot for the clinic’s deliveries had warned them that he’d only wait ten minutes after landing. If she or Kwesi arrived later than that, too bad. He’d be gone, with their cargo still on board.

“Who is this fellow?” MacKay asked as he followed Helen over to where Kwesi was signing paperwork.

Relieved that she didn’t have to lie, Helen answered readily. “Kwesi Woyongo. He’s a local businessman.” As she and MacKay approached, the unfamiliar white man wearing a pilot’s uniform nodded to Kwesi, then ducked his head and disappeared around the front of the plane. Puzzled by the furtive reaction, she glanced at MacKay. He was frowning in the pilot’s direction.

Was the pilot afraid of being seen by MacKay? If so, why?

MacKay shook his head and returned his attention to Helen. “Why is Woyongo here?” he asked. “I thought this airfield was restricted to your use only.”

“No, you’re mistaken. This is a public airfield. Kwesi uses it to bring in the goods he sells at the market over the border. But today he’s picking up boxes of gifts that will be distributed tomorrow at the festival.”

MacKay gave one of his habitual grunts. But when Helen asked him to pitch in, he started lifting boxes off the plane and separating them into piles without hesitation.

Once all the cargo had been unloaded, Helen tracked down the pilot so she could sign her paperwork.

“Hey!” Kwesi shouted.

Helen thrust the clipboard at the pilot and ran around the plane.

Kwesi was marching over to one of his boxes, which MacKay had slit open with his knife. “Leave that alone,” Kwesi demanded. “It is private property.”

“Just checking that there’s nothing suspicious inside,” MacKay said. “I heard that there are smugglers in this region. My boss won’t invest in the clinic if there’s illegal activity nearby. Too dangerous, you know.”

Helen’s stomach plummeted. Oh, God. Had MacKay been sent to investigate Kwesi’s smuggling?

She studiously avoided looking at Kwesi. Thank heavens none of his usual cargo of smuggled high-end electronics and alcohol were on board. MacKay would certainly have demanded to see the non-existent customs papers.

MacKay pulled a small box out of the packing peanuts and opened it to reveal a shiny MP3 player. “Rather expensive gifts,” he commented.

“Put that back,” Kwesi ordered.

MacKay ignored him and riffled through the rest of the box’s contents.

“Mr. Natchaba is a very generous man,” Helen said. “He enjoys surprising the villagers with gifts.”

“I told you to put the gift back.” Kwesi took a threatening step toward MacKay. Helen sidestepped between them, but MacKay reached up and hooked his arm around her legs, pulling her to the other side of him, away from Kwesi.

That was…unexpected. Was MacKay being protective? Or simply removing her as an obstacle in case he decided to attack Kwesi?

The two men glared at each other as the sun rose over the horizon. MacKay’s hand moved toward his lower back and Helen saw the outline of a gun beneath his shirt. Oh, God.

Shivering under the threat in the air, Helen cleared her throat. “Please, Mr. MacKay,” she said in her most reasonable voice. “Return the MP3 player to its carton. You have no right to go through these boxes. They have nothing to do with your inspection of the clinic. They’re gifts for the children.”

MacKay shot her a speculative glance.

Her pulse kicked. “What’s wrong, MacKay? Don’t you believe us?”

After a tense moment of scrutiny, MacKay lowered his gaze, replaced the MP3 player in its carton, then shut the lid of the packing box. “All of these boxes contain the same devices?”

Kwesi checked his paperwork. “Yes.” He thrust the papers toward MacKay, who flipped through them. Helen barely contained an eye roll when MacKay gave his standard grunt, then handed the papers back to Kwesi.

“All right,” Helen said briskly. “Mr. MacKay, can you please give me a hand loading my boxes into the back of the pickup truck?”

She mouthed “Sorry” to Kwesi behind MacKay’s back as MacKay bent to lift one of her boxes. Kwesi directed a glare toward MacKay, then shrugged. He turned away and started loading his boxes into his van.

“And what do your boxes contain, doctor?” MacKay asked as he placed another box in the bed of the pickup.

“High-tech equipment for the lab, plus some regular supplies.”

His brows rose. “Cutting it mighty close, aren’t you?”

“The equipment had to be ordered from other countries. Bringing it in, waiting for it to clear customs…” She shrugged and picked up one of the lighter boxes. She’d made it clear to both Kwesi and Mr. Natchaba that the shipments for the clinic had to come in through official channels, even though the men had pointed out that they could get the equipment to her faster if they used alternative routes.

Looking the other way on Kwesi’s luxury goods smuggling made her complicit to their activities, but not in direct violation of the law. She could justify that because the smuggling helped the local economy. But she would not break the law overtly to bring in her lab equipment just because it would be more convenient for her.

MacKay’s eyes narrowed as he watched Kwesi drive away. “You have the manifest?”

“Yes.” She found the paperwork the pilot had given her and handed it over to MacKay. He scrutinized it for a long while before handing it back.