Bodyguard of Lies (20 page)

Nine hours after Ray Suggs faxed his copies of their passports to Nero, Hannah and Neeley were packing their gear in the trunk of a rented car in Frankfurt. It was a couple of hours before dawn and though Neeley could sense some jet lag, the flight had been boring enough to be restful. Hannah had spent hours in conversation with a young man wearing a t-shirt announcing
I have a liberal arts degree. Will that be for here or to go?

Neeley had decided that Hannah could carry on a conversation with a tree stump. That there might be some jealousy in her observation was not lost on Neeley. She wondered how Hannah did it. With Gant and those who he associated with, conversation had been limited to the essentials. She also was beginning to realize there was a method to everything that Hannah did. She talked to gather in information from people much as she apparently had learned so much from all those books in her house.

It was much cooler in Frankfurt but Neeley knew that the sunrise would take care of a lot of the chill. The big heat tab in the sky, Gant had called the sun until the day he died.

The sky had been overcast and sickly gray that day. Gant had gestured weakly and Neeley had bent low to hear what were almost his last words, surprise and a little fear that he would never see the sun again. He felt the clouds were cheating him. Watching Gant's slow death she wondered how much of his career choice had simply lain in the fact that he had hoped for a fast, though brutal death over the slow calculating dying that most people could look forward to. She’d wept for him as every day he experienced the fear anew.

Hannah and Neeley decided to stop for some breakfast before they got on the autobahn for Strasbourg. Hannah was surprised at the Americanization of Europe as they pulled into the IHOP parking lot.

As they had their breakfast, Neeley thought of the last time she had been in Strasbourg. The floodgate of memories kept her quiet for a while until finally Hannah poured them both more coffee and said: "OK, so tell me about this Jean-Philippe guy."

Neeley played with her coffee cup. "Jean-Philippe. I wonder how I survived knowing him. Some people are so poisonous to the human soul they should have a big warning label on their forehead. But they don't, of course. They are usually wrapped in beautiful packages because beauty and sweetness tend to make us forget about danger. Haven't you ever noticed that's the way with snakes too? The most deadly are so brightly colored?"

Neeley didn't wait for an answer. It was as if she were talking to herself, verbalizing thoughts that had always lurked in her brain. "I was entranced by those bright colors. He was poison and he killed the best part of me. Sometimes I think it's because people like that are so dead themselves they destroy those who are alive out of jealousy. Other times I think they do it because they're mean and it's a sport. All I know for sure is my part, and I know my loving him destroyed something in me. I miss it every day."

Neeley was caught in her narrative and paid no heed to anyone in the bustling restaurant. "You know how you can tell if you are with a poisonous person? You begin to commit acts which are completely, totally foreign to you. Of course you can't see this, but your friends can and your family too, the people who know you're good and special, they recognize when something in you is dying.

"But here’s the weird part. You start to think those friends are the enemy. Instead of seeing them as saviors, you see them as bitter, jealous cynics trying to deprive you of happiness and you get rid of them instead of the real poison.

"It wasn't hard for Jean-Philippe to turn me from a schoolgirl into a conspirator. I would be lying if I said that I wasn't responsible for my part. Today, what I hate so much is that he used all my flaws to destroy my strengths and then what am I left with? You tell me?"

Hannah signaled the waitress for the check and reached her hands across the table for Neeley's cold fists. "Neeley, can't you see that he didn't kill your soul or your spirit? He hurt it, he angered you, he filled you with a rage you've never felt before and therefore didn't know how to handle. He didn't hurt you as much as he made you aware of hurt. Your flaw, and mine, is that we can't deal with that pain so we ignore it. You let Gant cover up that hurt with his attention as surely as I did with a house and reading books."

Neeley smiled mournfully. "Isn't that the worst part? Being so responsible for your own fall? Isn't that a tragedy?"

"It is very tragic of course, but the whole point of tragedy is to rise again from the very qualities that destroy you. It is to seek redemption."

Neeley stared at Hannah, trying to reconcile the person in front of her with the woman she had spied on in St. Louis just a few days ago. "You are so amazing. How can you be so positive about things you don't understand?"

Hannah let go of the other woman's hands. "See you are doing just what you did before. Pushing away the person who knows only the good and strong in you."

"But I said I pushed away the people who tried to pull me away from Jean-Philippe. There is no poisonous person in my life now."

Hannah gathered her things and stood. Looking down at Neeley she said: "But of course there is-- Gant's ghost."

Neeley felt a stab of pure pain explode in her chest and squeezed her eyes shut as if that small gesture would soothe the turmoil within her. "Let's go," she said curtly.

The traffic on the autobahn was so thick and treacherous that the breakfast conversation soon receded to a place where both women could ignore it for a while.

Neeley stood with Hannah at the edge of Josephine Park. Neeley’s grandmother had brought her to this park every day as a child during her summers in France and later she had come with Jean-Philippe.

The drive into Strasbourg, on top of the recent conversation she'd had with Hannah, had stretched Neeley's emotions to the limits. The city was on the west side of the Rhine, just over the border from Germany. Getting to the Park had required driving across the Rhine, into the southeast part of the city, through the center, to the northeast suburbs, activating all the attendant memories of the time Neeley had lived there.

The Park was bordered on the north by the Marne-Rhine Canal and spread over numerous acres with paths winding through thickly forested terrain. It, at least, had not changed much from her childhood memories.

She led Hannah to the southeast section of the park and the statue of the Goose Girl. As a child she had been drawn to the fountain.

There were few people about since it was early and the weather was not conducive to hangers-about. Just a few nanny types quickly walking through with their charges braving the chill because of duty and a gray haired man on a bench opposite the fountain.

Neeley walked around the bronze figure. The little girl was pulling her basket away from the attentive goose. As a child, Neeley's mood had dictated whether she saw fear or playfulness on the frozen face. Now she stared at it and felt the chills erupting as bumps on her arms and legs.

Hannah was ignoring the fountain and staring at Neeley. It was the first time she saw fear in Neeley and Hannah was immediately worried. Her eyes darted back and forth, scanning the area for the threat that her senses recognized even if she didn't.

"Let's get out of here, Neeley. This place gives me the creeps."

Neeley ignored her and was walking backward away from the fountain, her gaze still focused on the statue. Her head was a jumble of all the things Gant had taught her over the years. She was starting to shake all over and when she turned to Hannah she saw the woman's face was a mask of concern.

Hannah pulled Neeley toward one of the benches arranged in a circle around the little frozen girl and forced her to sit down.

"What's wrong with me?" Neeley could only gasp the question.

Hannah put her arm around the shaking shoulders. "It's the fear you've always run from. You're supposed to be afraid Neeley, so am I. This is a good thing. You're just showing on the outside what's always been on the inside."

"My, God, I couldn't function if I was always like this; how can this be a good thing?" Neeley's teeth were chattering now, making it even more difficult to talk.

Hannah just kept holding her. "Now you see why everyone isn't a professional killer. I guess you did pretty good to get this old without feeling the fear that rules the rest of us."

"But I was this afraid before, the day in the airport, when I met Gant."

“And Gant was there for you,” Hannah said,

Neeley looked up. “And now you’re here for me.”

"Let's get whatever we came for and get out of here." Hannah was trying to be chipper but the effort was wasted on Neeley.

Neeley leaned forward until she was staring at the ground between her feet. She took several deep breaths, then looked up. "OK."

Hannah waved her hand about. "So what did you tell him about this place? What did he think was important enough for you to remember always?"

"You know, typical childhood memories. My grandmother bringing me here, buying me a milk chocolate bar. I would run around and play mostly. Sometimes I'd walk on the rock wall over there in those bushes but I had to stop because it was loose. Some people yelled at me one day and I was mortified.

"Once my grandmother even got upset because I was despoiling the park, as she said." Neeley stopped and looked at the bronze girl. One hand was pulling the basket from the playful goose and the other was thrust forward as if for balance and the fingers were pointing across the park. She followed the tips of the fingers to the low rock wall and stood.

Hannah had to jog to keep up.

"That's where it has to be. I told Gant about my grandmother getting so angry when she found out that I was stashing paper from my chocolate in the loose stones. One day I put a flower in the foil and wrapped it tightly and stuck it there thinking that someday I'd be back. A little time capsule of my childhood. I just hope we don't have to tear the wall down."

But they didn't have to do that at all. Amazingly, the stones and their arrangement were very familiar to Neeley even after so many years. The tightly bound packet was where Gant had left it, close to Neeley's first childhood cache buried under a couple of loose stones. With trembling fingers she opened the foil and looked at the dried flower. Tears dripped down Neeley’s face. Reluctantly she opened the small package that had been on top and extracted two pieces of paper. She read Gant's spidery handwriting.

"Well, what is it?” Hannah asked. “Where’s the tape?"

"It's the rest of the cache report. But there's also a note here. I don't understand."

Hannah glanced around nervously. "OK, good, forget the note. Do you know where the tape is?"

"Yes. This says the bridge from the other half of the report is in West Virginia. Near where his ex-wife Jesse and his son live." But Neeley was more interested in the address written in Gant's hand on the note. There was nothing but the street and a number. "We have to go to some address here in Strasbourg." Her voice had gone cold and flat.

"What?"

"Shit, Hannah, I don't know. It says Rue d'Adelshoffen in Schiltigheim, which is a part of Strasbourg."

Hannah looked up at the overcast sky. "Let's just go to West Virginia, get the tape, make a deal with Nero and forget this note." Hannah reached for the paper just as a shadow fell across the stone wall.

Neeley was facing Hannah, her hand resting on the stone wall. "It's the guy from the bench, isn't it?"

Hannah watched his arrival from behind Neeley's right shoulder. He appeared quite brazen in his approach but then his gun was walking point. "Uh-huh."

Neeley remained perfectly still. "Does he have a gun?"

"Of course."

"Does it have a silencer?"

"Yes."

"Put the paper in your pocket."

Hannah started fumbling along the sides of the tight ski pants. They both heard the sound of the gun's slide being pulled back. Hannah realized the man was staring at her empty-handed fumbling. Before she could throw herself to the ground, Neeley had turned to throw the loose stone that was in her hand as hard as she could in the direction of the noise.

They both heard the light pop of the gun and the bullet pinged the wall, slicing shards of stone, one of which clipped Hannah across the cheek.

Hannah fell to the ground clutching her face. Neeley jumped the wall as the man once more pulled back the slide on the silenced weapon. She snap kicked, catching his wrist and the gun went flying. He immediately assumed a professional fighting posture and easily blocked Neeley's next two kicks.

They circled, each looking for an opening when he quickly reached down and pulled a knife from a sheath on his right calf. Neeley had left her own personal arsenal back in Denver, knowing she wouldn't get it through airport security, and now she regretted not having taken the time to rearm herself here in Europe.

He was stepping forward, throwing his left hand in a jab toward Neeley's face. She took the punch, knowing it was the knife hand that was all-important now. The blow brought a sharp pain, but she caught his right hand in a perfect X block, her forearms crossed. She twisted, trying to disarm him, but he'd been trained well and he slithered his arm out of her grasp, the blade slicing cloth on her arm but not skin.

He slashed, and then continued the move, spinning, swinging a backfist with his left, which Neeley ducked. She hit him hard with her open palm in the chest and heard the air rush out of his lungs. As she went in to finish him off, he jabbed up with the knife, the point piercing her jacket, and causing her to abruptly change course and leap back or be spitted on the blade.

The man straightened and took a deep breath before speaking in French.
"No more games."

He pulled a second knife out from behind his back and whirled the two about, the steel glinting. Neeley realized she was finished now. This man knew what he was doing and with two blades it would literally be a process of him whittling her down, a cut here, a piercing there, until he got with a fatal blow or she was so disabled she couldn't defend herself.

Neeley's eyes narrowed.
"I'm going to kick your teeth down your throat,"
she growled in French.

The man smiled, but the smile froze as she leapt forward, feinting, kicking. He backed up to get an angle on her attack and that's when Hannah smashed the stone down on the top of this head from her position on the wall.

The man dropped.

Hannah vaulted off the wall and stared at their attacker. Neeley recovered the pistol and chambered a round, before joining Hannah. She searched his pockets.

"Is he dead?" Hannah asked.

"He will be in a second," Neeley said, pressing the end of the muzzle against his temple. She paused to see if Hannah would protest, but the other woman said nothing.

Neeley pulled the trigger and the head rocked from the silent internal explosion.

Hannah nodded acceptance. "Was he from the Cellar?"

Neeley looked at the body. "I don't know. I don't think so. It's strange, he didn't ask about the tape or the papers. This guy just wanted us dead. But if it's not the Cellar, how did he know we'd be here?" Neeley grabbed Hannah's arm. "Let's get out of here."

The two women made it out of the park without speaking to each other. Neeley cleaned the wounded flesh of Hannah's cheek once they were safely at the car.

“The question is what do we do about Rue d'Adelshoffen in Schiltigheim?" Neeley asked.

Hannah kept gingerly poking her face and checking it in the rearview mirror. "Let's have an early lunch and maybe find a plastic surgeon."

Neeley grabbed the other woman's hand. "Leave it alone. You'll infect it for God's sakes. You want to go have lunch while armed men are lurking about?"

Hannah rolled her eyes. "Every meal I've had with you has been life threatening. I say we find a very public place. The Cellar wouldn't shoot through the lunch crowd. I think we need a little time to catch our breath and think for a moment."

“If it wanted to bad enough, the Cellar would blow up the lunch crowd,” Neeley said.

Hannah shook her head. “There’s more going on here than we know. Don’t you sense it?”

“What do you mean?”

“This magical mystery tour we’re on. You say it’s because Gant needed to protect you and hide things. I don’t buy that completely. And my husband. Disappearing like that all of a sudden. Why did Nero send him running?.”

Neeley frowned. “Good question. Why would Nero do that?”

“I don’t know yet,” Hannah said, “but before this is over, I think we need to find out.” She nodded. “Let’s do lunch.”

Neeley agreed to a quick lunch but had to add: "I wonder what's at that address?"

Hannah pulled Gant's message from her waistband, the only place she could stick it during her frantic search for a pocket. "By the way, I know what you did."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't be coy, Neeley. It's not a good look for you. I know that you set me up to dig through my clothes so that man would think I had a gun. What if he'd shot me?"

"With the silencer and the locked breach I knew he had to work the slide to chamber a second round. I knew I'd have time. I threw the rock to screw up his aim on the first shot."

Hannah pushed her fading blond hair away from her face, careful not to disturb the stinging slice there. "Well, I think that's a little presumptuous. What if you'd been wrong or he hadn't been distracted?"

"You'd be dead." Neeley started the car and leaned back to check traffic. Neeley pulled the small car smoothly into the heavy traffic. "I want to go to that address before we leave. If we're lucky, we have a few hours before they find us and we can't stay in public places forever. Eventually the public goes home. We need to be in the air before nightfall."

"Neeley," Hannah said, "if we only have a few hours, don't you think we should leave France now? Getting that tape is our only chance, not running off on some goose-chase, no pun intended."

Neeley remained silent and Hannah knew it was hopeless. Hannah also had a very good idea what was at that address and she was surprised Neeley didn’t. But she kept her peace, not wanting to ruin the upcoming meal. The lunch traffic was so chaotic that Hannah soon forgot her complex thoughts and concentrated on learning and using the obscene gestures directed toward them by the irritated French drivers.

***************

The pungent odor of flowers made Racine want to gag. His nose had always been sensitive and what others found sweet he found cloying and vaguely frightening.

He hated parks and this one was the worst. Fucking traffic getting here was a nightmare and it seemed that once again he had lost the bitches. He was definitely grateful that he wouldn't have to contact Nero with more bad news. This time he knew where the women were going thanks to his directional mike and their big mouths.

Racine was chewing on a piece of French bread, a long, thin baguette. A small piece of the crusty loaf fell to the ground. Racine snarled as a squirrel darted across the grassy expanse and poked at the bread. These park squirrels were pretty daring and it only scampered off when Racine's foot swooshed the air alongside its quivering tail.

He looked around and caught a few looks of disdain. A good time for a tower and a sniper rifle. He was muttering as he tossed the remaining bread into the lake. Let the rodent work for it.

As he sauntered off, he tried to steady his anger with two thoughts: Nero didn't know he was in Strasbourg and the two bitches were having their last day. Screw the tape. Nero needed another tape like Congress needed another asshole. Fucker probably had the entire 20th Century on tape or that dotted paper he was always running his fingers over. Besides, this was personal now. Racine had only to think of Kansas City and his guts would twist until he thought he could kill with just the pure energy of his hate.