Mortal Crimes: 7 Novels of Suspense (176 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

There was nothing yet from Terrance when Julia first got her new computer up and running and logged into her email account. Well, it had only been a few hours since the call. She’d check again that evening.

They hired a Land Rover and drove north, along the N7, through the Cape Winelands. They passed mile after mile of vineyards with rugged mountains offering a dramatic backdrop.

Driving rules were the same as Namibia, with the cars driving on the left side of the road. The hard thing to get used to wasn’t driving on the wrong side, but sitting on the wrong side. If Ian took a curve too fast, she found herself clutching for a non-existent steering wheel or stabbing at a brake that wasn’t there.

North of the Winelands the land dried out, the population grew more sparse. Every time they stopped, whether to get fuel or grab a bite to eat, Ian came back with his accent stronger. Ian’s family had lived in an English-speaking enclave of Cape Town, but he seemed fully bilingual. As his accent strengthened, he kept dropping untranslated bits of Afrikaans into his speech.

Back in Julia’s school days, when Apartheid was the
cause de jour
, she’d come away with the superficial understanding of South Africa as a white minority with a poorer black majority, but the reality was more complex. There were plenty of people who seemed of mixed race—Ian called them colored—and others who looked Indian or Southeast Asian.

Ian had an especially chummy conversation with a white man who pumped their gas at one petrol station and he returned to the car with a light step and a broad smile across his face.

“You catch that?” he asked.

“I heard lots of words. Some of them sounded like English.”

“Aweh, that was my old china.”

“What? Now you’re just making stuff up.”

He grinned. “‘An old friend. We played on different sides in a cricket league when I was a boy. You’d never know it by looking at him, but one of his grandfathers was black. He told a couple of us kids, but swore us to secrecy.”

“That wasn’t allowed?”

“No way. Whites only league.” Ian took a short detour through Garies, a loose collection of farms in the Northern Cape. He drove through a couple of farms until he found a sun-withered old man working on an irrigation ditch through corn fields.

“Wait here,” Ian said.

Ian spoke with the farmer, and after a short conversation where Ian pointed to Julia, the old man put his arm around Ian and led him into the house. Ten minutes later they reemerged, and Ian walked back to the land rover, a pistol tucked in the waist of his pants.

“Where did you get that thing?” Julia asked.

“This isn’t California. No waiting period.” Ian smiled. “At 400 rand—that’s about 50 bucks—it was a steal. I’m sure it wasn’t his best. Told him a bunch of blacks were hassling you on the road, I needed some protection.”

She glanced back at the farmer, confused. “But he’s black, too. Didn’t that offend him?”

“He’s colored.” A shrug. “It’s complex.”

They spent the night in the little town of Springbok on the Northern Cape. Ian wanted to keep going, but it was the last major town before Namibia and Julia needed to find somewhere with broadband wireless so she could download and install the software from her husband. And she was exhausted.

The hotel was in a charming little building across from a stone church. The available room had only a single bed, but Ian quickly offered to sleep on the floor.

Best still, the hotel had wireless, and she was pleased to discover a series of emails from Terrance in her box with large attachments.

Hey, sorry I cut you off earlier. I’m glad you’re okay, I really am, and I hope everything works out. As soon as you know what’s going on, tell me and we’ll figure out what to do, k?

Anyway, here are the files. Unzip them all in a folder, and then double click the “autoinstall” file. You’ll be all set.”

Love, Terrance

The email was sent from an anonymous account, one she didn’t recognize. So much for his speech about security. She followed his instructions. It took forever to download the series of files and even longer to install. What she wanted was a shower, followed by a good meal, and then to sleep and sleep.

Ian came out of the shower a few minutes later. He wore a pair of jeans and a white tank top that showed off his shoulders and arms. He was freshly shaved for the first time she could remember since training several weeks ago. Julia’s eyes slid lower to the back of his jeans as he combed his hair in front of the dresser mirror, then back up to the mirror where she could see his blue, penetrating eyes. He glanced in the mirror back to the bed, where she sat in front of the computer. Their eyes met briefly and she looked quickly back to her computer.

Too much time together; that was the problem. She needed to stay focused on the professional side of the relationship. And then there was that tiny little detail that she was married. She chastised herself for letting her eyes wander. She was nearly ten years older than he was anyway. How stupid to think that he wouldn’t completely lose interest in her the second some twenty-two year-old nymph walked by in a pair of tight pants.
Focus.

“Can you babysit this install while I get cleaned up?” she asked.

“What do I need to do?”

“Just click ‘yes’, ‘next’, that sort of thing.”

The hot water felt good. She’d been chilly; it was almost what passed for winter in the southern hemisphere and the thick stone walls had kept the room cool. The shower was good to clear her head.

She forgot to bring fresh clothes into the bathroom and so she peeked her head wearing only a towel, prepared to ask Ian to hand her what she needed. But he was laying on the bed, next to the new laptop, his eyes closed and his breathing regular.

Julia pulled fresh underwear, a t-shirt, and some shorts, all clothes they’d picked up on their way out of Cape Town, at the same time she was shopping for a computer.

Back on the bed, dressed, she checked the computer. The install was complete. Julia started up the software, tested to see if it could connect to the probe, which it could. She wanted to pass the probe over the CPU in Ian’s chest and see if she could make a connection, if the backup battery still had charge. But she imagined him waking up to see her downloading information. After everything that had happened, she doubted that would go over well.

She sent a quick email to Terrance to tell him again that she was okay and to thank him for sending along the software.
Terrance came through in a pinch.
He always had. Sure he had his faults, but he was a devoted husband. She felt guilty for letting her thoughts run away from her. She’d make it up to him, once this was over. Explain why she’d had no other choice. She was sure she would lose her job, but she was nothing if not mobile. She’d find a job, maybe private practice. Let Terrance pick where they wanted to live. His career had taken a back seat long enough.

Julia shut the laptop, turned off the desk lamp and lay down on the bed next to Ian. She meant to just shut her eyes for a minute, but when she woke up, there was a gray light pressing through the window that cast everything in dark shadows. It would soon be dawn.

Ian was still asleep, too, but while they slept, they’d moved closer to each other and she could feel her arm pressing against his. She propped herself on one elbow and looked down on him.

Without thinking, Julia reached out her fingers and rested them against Ian’s bare shoulder. She moved aside the corner of his shirt and looked at the fresh stitches. Not bad for stitching at 60 miles an hour. The wound was still red and crusted with blood, but there was no sign of infection.

His lips muttered something in his sleep. With a guilty feeling that only spread with every second, she brushed her fingers against his lips.

His breathing changed. It was still too dark to see if he’d opened his eyes.

She started to pull back her hand, but he reached out and took her wrist. His grip was firm, but not overly tight. He pulled her gently but firmly toward him. By the time he released, their bodies pressed together and her face was only inches from his.

And then her lips were against his. She wasn’t sure how it had happened, but since she was above him and he was no longer pulling her she must have done it herself. She felt pressure against her chest from his body. Her eyes closed.

The kiss only lasted a second before she recovered her wits and pulled away. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to…”

“There are worse ways to wake up. Don’t worry about it.”

She stood, straightened. Her heart was pounding and the feel of his mouth still burned on her lips. She felt dizzy, disoriented. My God, what was she, sixteen years old again?

“Well, I guess we should get going.” Julia threw open the curtains. The light was still weak, but it was enough to see by.

“It’s early. Are you sure you don’t want to lie down for a little while longer?” he asked.

“No, no, I’m awake. Just a cup of coffee and I’ll be fine.” She wasn’t sure if that’s what he meant. Probably not. Definitely not.

“All right.” Ian sat up, stretched, ran his fingers through his hair, which had turned into an endearing mop as it had dried in the night. He turned toward his bag of clothes and stripped off his tank top, then rummaged for a shirt. Julia had a hard time looking away.

I’m married,
she thought.
Married, married, married.

________

“Springbok, South Africa?” Markov asked. He was in a hotel in Windhoek, Namibia. Markov spread a road map of Namibia and South Africa on the table.

“That’s right,” Terrance Nolan said on the other end of the phone. “Chang’s Trojan Horse worked as advertised. Julia installed the software and logged back in to send me an email.

So far his search had come up empty, but he was handicapped by lack of resources and by hostility from the Namibian government to his presence. He was in the country on a diplomatic passport, but nobody was fooled. Charles Ikanbo, Central Intelligence Service Director, met him personally at the airport, and warned Markov that he’d be watching at all times. Ikanbo had two men parked outside his hotel room even now.

Not that it mattered. Markov could lose the tail whenever it became necessary.

“Hold on, let me find it,” he told Terrance.

Markov studied the map. Looked like Springbok was a couple of hours south of the border by car. As the news was already three hours old, and he was short-staffed, it didn’t make sense to send someone to watch the border.

“Does that help?” Terrance asked.

“It does, but I can’t get to her just yet. What I need is someone at Langley to watch for updates from her computer. Around the clock. I need to know the instant she connects again.”

“Sure, no problem. What do you think she’s doing back in Namibia?”

“I’m not sure, but I wouldn’t tell you if I knew. That information is available on a need to know basis.”

“Right, of course. I was just curious. But I guess the only reason Sarah would send you would be to neutralize Ian.”

Markov didn’t say anything.

“Ah, well. I guess that’s life,” Terrance said after a minute.

“And you don’t care?” Markov asked. He should have kept his mouth shut, but couldn’t help himself.

“What? Of course I care.”

“You know me, I’m a company man. The things I’ve done for my country—well, you wouldn’t understand, and you’ll never know anyway—but Julia’s your wife, for God’s sake. If I were Sarah Redd, I’d have sent you on forced voluntary vacation the instant Julia went AWOL. Put you on a beach somewhere with a drink in your hand and two minders who never left your side.”

“Good thing you’re not Sarah Redd,” Terrance said. His tone was testy.

“Right, because I guess I’d have been wrong. You’re not only
not
helping your wife, you’re helping us capture her. And I’m wondering why.”

“Because it’s my job, you son of a bitch,” Terrance said. “What’s wrong with you? Just make sure she’s OK. It’s that bastard Westhelle you need to take out. I’m this close to going out myself and finding her.”

“You can’t be serious. You haven’t been in the field for fifteen years.” It was real anger, Markov thought, but misdirected. He wasn’t trying to hide a genuine anguish over what was happening to his wife; he was angry that Markov was calling him out.

Interesting.

“Sorry if I offended you,” Markov added. “I do appreciate your help. And it must be very painful to have your wife in danger. All the years you’ve spent together, your history together.”

“Yeah, it is. Hurts like hell.”

“I’ll do everything I can to keep her safe. I promise.”

After he hung up with Terrance, Markov spent a few minutes trying to figure out how to trap Ian and Julia, given his minimal resources. Where were they going?

Two possibilities occurred to him. First, they might be trying to meet up with Charles Ikanbo. Find out what the man knew about the battle at the mining camp. Ikanbo had come upon the aftermath, had met with Li Hao and the Chinese group, as well as with the Blackwing Contractors.