Mortal Crimes: 7 Novels of Suspense (163 page)

“Because of the contractors, yes, but also because the Namibian military has fewer than seven thousand men, and they are under control of the minister of defense—a prickly, uncooperative man. My security forces, unfortunately, number in the low hundreds. We do not have the resources nor the political backing to protect foreign business interests.”

“Then you will allow the Americans to continue to violate your sovereignty?”

“Of course not.”

To be honest, this was the tricky business. Charles had been told through more than one channel to back off, that the Americans had been dealt with already, whatever that meant.

“I have been assured that there will be no further incidents,” Charles said, “which means that if I turn up more spies, I am free to act. But I will not be guarding your camps or participating in corporate espionage.”

“Corporate espionage?” Li asked. He sounded shocked. “We wouldn’t do that. But I would really love to have your closer cooperation with my contractors. Isn’t there anything I could do to change your mind? Perhaps I could put you on retainer, offer you a stipend for private consulting work.”

“You mean a bribe,” Charles said in a cold voice. “Give you my men and resources to pad my bank account.”

“Bribe? No, it would be for private work. If not that, how about a grant, or something to help your home village or to further a project you find especially worthy.”

“This is Namibia. It is not Angola or Sudan. I would never accept a bribe, no matter what you call it.”

“If only everyone in Namibia felt the same way,” Li Hao said with a sigh. He leaned down to look through his telescope.

“Is there anything else, or may I go?” Charles asked.

“Can you do this much, at least? Can you at least warn me if you get word of any more American spies in Namibia, so we can prevent another ugly incident.”

“That is the first reasonable request you’ve made all afternoon. Yes, I can do that.”

“Good, since you seem to be an honest man, let me give you a bit of information. You may already know, but just in case, I thought I’d pass along what I’ve heard. Nothing to back it up, no official source, just whispers.”

“Go ahead,” Charles said.

“There are elements within the armed forces who are unhappy with recent developments.”

“Recent developments? By that I suppose you mean the concessions granted to ChinaOne.”

“Yes, exactly,” Li said. “They fear they will be left out of the action.”

What “elements” could possibly know about what was going on at the Chinese camp in northern Namibia? Charles himself didn’t know, not for sure, and his brother was the Minister of Mines and Energy. Maybe the Minister of Defense knew, perhaps a few of his aides or generals, and of course, the president and maybe the prime minister and a few other members of parliament.

“Does that mean they are pressuring the president to renegotiate the terms of the concessions?”

“I’m afraid they have even more despicable plans.” Li shook his head. “That’s one problem with your elected governments. They may work fine in America and Germany but in a small, weak country like Namibia, you’re just one bad general from losing everything.”

Charles paused a beat. It was true that Namibia was a young country. It had begun as a German colony, then a South African protectorate after World War II, but had only been an independent country since 1989. And nobody knew the growing pains of starting a new government in Africa better than himself, who had seen it all from the beginning. He watched Li Hao, who stared back, unblinking. “A coup? In Namibia? Impossible.”

Li Hao tightened his mouth into a line and Charles began to suspect that whatever the man had heard, it was not just speculation.

Charles’s mouth felt dry. He had to warn the president. And his brother. Unless…no, he didn’t want to go there.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Julia flashed her badge at the door. The guards let her back inside the CIA-run asylum in Nephi, Utah, and then she had to get past the security desk. A young man in a white shirt and tie took her badge and scanned it, then glanced at his monitor, which was turned from Julia’s view. He typed something into the computer and stared at the monitor again.

She had her story worked out. If they told her she was no longer authorized to enter the government run asylum, she would claim she’d left her cell phone in the examination room, or thought she had.

“What’s the purpose of your visit?” the man asked.

“I was here earlier, remember?”

Her voice came out in a squeak and she wanted to kick herself. If she was going to pull this off, she had to get tough. In a hurry.

“Yes, but you checked out, so the system needs me to reenter a reason for your visit, and it won’t show the details of your previous entry. I don’t even know, since you arrived at the previous shift. Which patient are you seeing?”

She let her breath out slowly, relieved. The computer hadn’t flagged her name. Sarah Redd was so used to being obeyed that she hadn’t bothered to countermand Markov’s authorization for Julia to enter the facility. “Ian Westhelle.”

“Ah, the new guy. Heard about him.”

Dr. Eric Jonas met her in the hall as she made her way toward Ian’s cell. He gave her a smile that made her skin crawl. “Back again? I thought you’d given up.”

“What? No, I just stepped out to get a bite to eat.”

“Should have told me, I could have shown you around. There are a few places around town that pass beyond McDonalds and the local greasy spoon.”

“Thanks, but maybe next time.” She hoped the shudder didn’t make its way into her voice.

“Here, I’ll give you a hand.” Before she could protest, he flagged down a couple of security guards and followed her into the wing where they kept Ian. No numbers, but she remembered the correct cell by count.

There were two slots on the door. The first was like the money exchange at an inner city bank, where only one side could be opened at a time. For sliding in food or water. The second was a metal door to slide open, beyond which was a plexiglass shield, perforated with holes for communication, beyond which were metal bars.

She slid open the second door. “Ian, it’s me, Julia.”

“It’s Dr. Nolan,” Jonas corrected from over her shoulder.

“What do you want?” Ian asked.

“If I come in, will you promise not to attack me?”

“You’re not serious,” Jonas said. “This man is an animal. You saw what he tried last time. He’ll tear your head off. Let us go in and subdue him and you can examine him while he’s strapped down, like last time. Better yet, drugged.”

Julia ignored him. “Ian?”

“You’re safe,” Ian said. “But don’t bring anyone in with you, especially not that ass Jonas. For that matter, tell him to ‘
gaan kak in die mielies.’
”

“I want to take you to the examination room. We can talk there. No drugs, no restraints. Is it a deal?” She turned to Jonas. “Could you enter the code, please?”

Dr. Jonas slid shut the metal panel. “I’ll need authorization for this. If you’re serious, not just playing with the patient, I’ll have to make a phone call first.”

Julia took a deep breath. Now was the time to be confident. She forced an aggressive tone to her voice. “You want to call the Director of National Intelligence?” Julia raised an eyebrow. “God, you’ve got some balls. Well, go ahead if you’d like.”

“Sarah Redd?” For the first time Jonas looked nervous. “I was thinking about Anton Markov. This is his patient.”

“Of course, and Anton is my boss. He knows I’m here, but he’s not the one who sent me. I’m under personal orders of Sarah Redd.”

This was, in fact, the complete opposite of the truth. But this little worm would never know that.

“Well, move it, then,” she said when he continued to hesitate. “Either call or open the damn door.”

“I can’t take responsibility,” he said. It was astonishing how quickly his tone had become groveling now that she’d shown some backbone. “Of course not. Why would anyone expect you to take responsibility? You’re just a functionary. I’m the specialist in charge of Westhelle’s care. Now open the door.”

________

Ian rolled over on his cot as Julia entered his cell. She took a single step in, then stopped. Two men stood directly behind her in the hallway, shotguns lowered in Ian’s direction.

She fought down her fear, remembering the way he’d jumped her last time. But this time he looked more approachable, even eager to see her.

“Can we talk?” Julia asked.

“It would help if the guards lowered their weapons.”

She took another step into the room. “I know, they act like you’re going to eat my brains or something.”

Ian chuckled dryly. “That might be
exactly
what they worry about around here. Are they going to drag me out again?”

“They’ll have to take me down first.” She looked back at the guards. “Keep your distance. We’re coming out, walking.”

Ian climbed slowly to his feet and followed her into the hallway. Jonas shrank against the wall as the two walked toward the examination room.

“Please don’t disturb us, Dr. Jonas,” Julia said. “And I won’t need your security detail, either.”

“I don’t know what to think,” Julia said after they’d retired to the examination room and she’d told Ian why she’d returned to the facility. “Except that my husband either told Sarah or she told him.”

Ian was sitting on the examination table, not strapped down. The guards were in the hallway. She waved a probe over his head, made contact, then entered the password into her laptop to download data.

“Information only flows one way,” Ian said. “Upstream. That means your husband figured out what you were up to and informed his superiors.”

“But how did Terrance know?” she asked. “I told him I was going to Denver for a conference and kept my tickets and my itinerary private. He wasn’t paying attention, he never is.”

“He didn’t
look
like he was paying attention. That only means your husband is a good agent.”

“ He’s not a field agent,” she said. “He has a desk job.”

“Don’t underestimate him. I don’t care what he does now, he has field agent written all over him. He noticed you were acting funny, probably figured you didn’t intend to leave it alone and when you rushed off to this conference, he got suspicious.”

Julia paused.
Could it really be true that Terrance had a whole previous career he had never told her about?
She wasn’t sure about anything when it came to Terrance, not any more.

“Maybe, but why tell Sarah? I mean, if he’d gone to Markov, then Markov would have told him that I was authorized to visit you.”

“Unless your husband and Sarah Redd had already agreed to bypass normal channels, if they’re working something else on the side.”

“Why would they do that?” Julia stepped back from the computer with a frown. The system wasn’t letting her in. “I can see the implant just fine, but I can’t make a connection. Here, let me try something else.”

“I don’t know, but it’s clear there’s a massive screwup in this project. Things went wrong and now someone wants to cover it up. Could Terrance be involved?”

“My husband and I have had our problems, but he’d never do something like that.” She no longer felt a hundred percent certain about that. Then, more vehemently, “No, he’d never do that.”

“Sorry, I’m sure you’re right.” Ian still looked skeptical.

“Can you tell me what happened with Kendall?” she asked. She tried once again to run diagnostics on the implant.

“I think he’s dead.” His voice sounded flat, dead.

“They said you killed him.”

“They did?”

Julia nodded. “They said you had a psychotic break, killed Kendall, and tried to cut his implant out with a knife.”

“Liars.”

“Did you have a psychotic episode? Is there a chance—”

Ian cut her off. “No chance, no way. I was perfectly lucid through the whole incident, including when the Namibians took me prisoner. I thought they were Blackwing contractors, and expended all my ammunition while holed up under a burned out APC. They trussed me up and threw me in the back of a truck, and next thing I know—wait a second.” He looked away for a moment. “One of the guards stuck me with something. Knocked me out. I woke up in some shithole a few days later. I remember seeing you there…”