Flashpoint (19 page)

Just the way the melon thief was devouring the entire melon she’d stolen from the marketplace—seeds and rind and all.

Decker realized instantly that she was destroying the evidence. The theory being that if there was no melon, then she couldn’t have stolen it.

He realized a fraction of a second later—as the last of his hopes were dashed—that not only wasn’t she Sophia, but she also wasn’t even a woman.

“She” was a boy. Barely a teenager, he’d taken off the veil to have better access to that melon. He was skinny, with dark hair and pale skin—as if he didn’t often get out into the sun.

He was also missing his right hand. He’d been marked—most cruelly, and some years ago, from the look of it—as a thief.

“I thought you were someone else,” Decker told the kid, using the local dialect, hoping to alleviate his fear. “It’s okay—I’m not going to turn you in.”

The boy’s entire burka was a mess, with streaks of dirt and dust and melon down the front of it.

Deck backed out of the alley, glad that Nash hadn’t come with him. If he were here, Khalid would no doubt have a new assistant.

Decker went back to the marketplace, knowing what he’d known even before he’d left Rivka’s barn.

That he wasn’t going to find Sophia Ghaffari unless she wanted to be found.

And she didn’t want to be found.

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

“Where is he?” Tess leaned close to ask, and Jimmy saw that she was perspiring beneath the scarf she was required to wear—at least in this part of town—whenever she stepped outside of the house.

The temperature was already two million degrees, and the sun was still climbing into the sky. They stood in Rivka’s yard and sweated as they watched young Khalid harness his horse to his wagon.

Jimmy was grateful for his cargo shorts and short-sleeved shirt—the back of which was already soaked. Tess must’ve been dying.

“Other side of the neighbor’s wall,” he told her now, his back carefully to that wall in question. “Across the street and east. Don’t look.”

She gave him an exasperated roll of her eyes. “I wasn’t going to.”

“You know, if you don’t want to do this—”

Tess cut him off. “I do.”

He was the one having serious doubts. “I’m not so sure—,” he started.

She stepped even closer. “I am. I can do this.”

To someone, like, for instance,
Boston Globe
reporter Will Schroeder, who might’ve been watching them, like, for instance, from behind the neighbor’s stone wall where he was too far away to hear their hushed voices, it would look very much as if Tess were gazing up at Jimmy with eyes that were filled with affection and concern.

Of course, her concern was only that Jimmy was going to change his mind and make her stay behind.

“This isn’t hard,” she said, “or dangerous.”

“You’re kidding, right?” he countered. “Because there’s not a moment that passes here in K-stan that
isn’t
dangerous.”

“I
meant
, it’s not
more
dangerous than staying behind while you go off and play James Bond.” She winced. “Sorry—that came out wrong. I know that this isn’t any kind of a game.”

Damn straight it wasn’t. “Decker isn’t going to like the idea of your being alone out there,” he told her. It was easier to say
Decker
instead of
I
.
I don’t like the idea of you alone out there.
Damn it, this was a mistake, sending her out so that Schroeder would follow her instead of Jimmy. If something happened to her . . .

But Schroeder was a persistent prick. Jimmy could shake him—no doubt about that. But it would take effort. And then Schroeder would wonder why Jimmy had gone to such effort to shake him. He’d lurk in the neighbors’ yards night and day and night in hopes of finding out.

“I won’t be alone,” Tess assured him. “I’ll be with Khalid.”

“Whom we don’t really know,” Jimmy countered.

“Who thinks you’re God’s nicer brother,” Tess told him. “He’s so completely ready to worship at the altar of Nash. You own him. Totally. I don’t know all of what you said to him—”

Jimmy shrugged. “I just offered him this job.”

“You’re really great with kids, you know.”

Okay. Now he was starting to get embarrassed. “It’s not that big a deal. It’s not that hard to do. You listen when they talk. Most kids spend their entire lives being ignored or used as punching bags. Conversation can be a real pattern interrupt.”

Tess wasn’t so willing to shrug it off. “Khalid told me you cleared it with Rivka—that he can keep his horse and wagon here for as long as he needs to. Do you have any idea what that means to him?”

Yeah, actually he did. “His own barn is a pile of stones.” Jimmy kept his voice even. “As long as Rivka doesn’t mind . . .”

It wouldn’t take a lot of effort to make sure that Khalid continued to treat him like a hero. And more important, he was going to treat Tess like a hero’s wife.

Khalid, like Rivka and Guldana, thought Tess really was Jimmy’s wife. And how weird was that?

“He adores you,” Tess said, smiling up at him. “If I wasn’t afraid you’d take it the wrong way, I’d tell you I do, too. You’re the very nicest jerk I know.”

Jimmy laughed. “Yeah, and you’re too forgiving.”

“You want me to stay mad at you?” she asked. “That could cause real problems, considering we’re sharing a bedroom.”

But not a bed.

Jimmy cleared his throat. “Well, it’s one thing to forgive, but . . .”

“I think it’s useful,” she said. “My not completely hating your guts. I mean, communication could be a hassle.”

“You don’t just not hate me, Tess, you actually like me,” he said, and it wasn’t until the words were out of his mouth that he realized they sounded like an accusation.

Tess adjusted her head scarf. “I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. I’ll try harder to hate you. Does it help that I think you’re relationship challenged and a socially pathetic loser?”

Jimmy laughed. “Yeah,” he said. “It does. Thanks.”

She smiled back at him. “Good.” She stood on her toes to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Have a nice day, dear. I’ll make sure Khalid brings me back by curfew.”

He caught her arm. “Yeah, whoa, he better have you back way before that.” Jimmy had told the kid to find the nearest work party and to get Mrs. Nash signed on to help doing something relatively safe. Like handing out aid packages. He’d told Khalid to stay away—far away—from the Grande Hotel. “I need you back here, this afternoon at the latest, finding out everything there is to find out about Sophia Ghaffari.”

Because, Sainted Mary, Mother of God,
what
was up with this Sophia woman and Decker? Jimmy had never seen his partner so completely rattled.

And by a recently escaped palace concubine? A woman Decker had been with for at least part of last night? A significantly lengthy part of last night. Deck had returned to Rivka’s well after the sun was up.

Add into the bizarre equation the fact that said recently escaped palace concubine had very nearly managed to kill Decker. Which meant that, at some point, Deck’s guard had been down.

Or at least lowered.

And didn’t
that
make Jimmy’s imagination run wild.

Except for the fact that this was Decker. Put him alone in a room with a palace concubine, and Deck would probably end up helping her do her taxes.

Across the yard, the horse sneezed and shook its head, making the bridle jingle. Jimmy looked up to find Tess watching him. He was still holding on to her arm. Too tightly.

He let her go.

“You all right?” she asked softly.

“I’m worried about Deck.” Okay. His honesty surprised her almost as much as it did him. “Killing me when he finds out I let you go out with only Khalid,” he added.

And she so didn’t buy it. But being Tess, she played along. “It’s not like we have a choice. Besides, we’ll probably both be back long before Decker is.”

Over by the wagon, Khalid gave Jimmy a thumbs-up—horse, boy, and wagon were all almost ready to go. To take Tess out of the safety of this yard and into the city.

Shit.

“If you’re stopped by a patrol of any kind, either official police or one of Bashir’s goon squads, let Khalid do the talking,” Jimmy told Tess. “And if you’re in doubt, keep your head covered.”

She was smiling at him. “No eye contact, even if I’m directly addressed. Especially if I’m directly addressed. It’s not always easy to tell Bashir’s men apart from the police, although depending on the precinct, the police might be even more difficult to deal with than Bashir’s squads of murderers, so don’t let my guard down. When I come back to the house, don’t forget to check that that piece of rope is hanging on both the gate and by the door. If it’s not, don’t go in the house, don’t slow down, just walk on past. Check inside that old shed down the street for messages. You know, if you talk really fast, James, you may have time to tell me all this for a third or even a fourth time before the wagon clears the gate.”

Shit.
“Sorry, I’m just . . .”

Tess touched his hand. Her fingers were actually cool. In this heat. How did she manage that? “I’ll be careful.”

“Yeah, I know you will.”

She squeezed his hand. “You be careful, too.”

While Tess distracted Will Schroeder, Jimmy was going to walk the perimeter of the newly modified target area around the hospital.

The information from Sayid’s autopsy report had made him significantly revise his estimate of how far the terrorist leader might have been able to walk after being injured in the quake.

And he had been able to walk.

His ribs, his shoulder, and his right arm had been badly broken, but the damage to his legs was minimal.

He’d had a head injury, but cause of death was internal injuries.

Tom Paoletti had reported that Sayid’s hospital files listed him as conscious but extremely confused at check-in. He was unable even to ID himself, yet he’d told the triage medic that he’d walked there. That medic had probably assumed anyone ambulatory to that degree could wait to see a doctor. He’d blown it big-time by sticking Sayid into a makeshift bed in the lobby without checking his blood pressure—which by then was probably dropping fast.

According to hospital records, Sayid had bled to death within a matter of hours.

With his injuries, he simply could not have made it to the hospital under his own steam from more than a few very short kilometers away. And that was assuming he had a giant S on his T-shirt.

Jimmy had checked a map and noted that Padsha Bashir’s palace was still well inside the revised target area.

In addition to walking that newly outlined perimeter, he was intending to find the most severely damaged part of the palace and walk the most obvious route from there to the Cantara hospital.

While Tess led Will Schroeder on a wild goose chase.

Putting herself in danger, god damn it.

Tess broke into his thoughts. “Seriously, Jimmy. I know this thing with Decker is distracting you. Be extra careful out there today.”

And now, from Will Schroeder’s point of view, it looked as if she were gazing at him with concern in her eyes—because she
was
gazing at him with concern in her eyes. Because she thought
Decker
was distracting him.

“I’ll be fine,” he told her. “I’m not the one who’s pregnant.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not either,” she said, but she dropped his hand and took a step back, just as he’d intended. But she knew that, too. She shook her head as she looked at him and laughed. “Congratulations—right now I honestly hate you.”

She wasn’t supposed to be amused. And yet he couldn’t keep from smiling back at her. Damn, she was cute when she smiled like that. Cute, and smart, and . . . “Try to find out what Will Schroeder knows,” Jimmy ordered her, mostly because smart women hated being ordered around.

“You’re that certain he’s going to follow me. Instead of you.”

“Yes, I am.” There were many reasons why, when forced to choose between following Jimmy or following Tess, Will Schroeder, ace reporter, would choose Tess.

Because she was a woman, because she was young, because Will didn’t know her and would assume he had a better chance at wheedling information from her, because Will had surely noticed the way Jimmy looked at her. Because . . . “Will’s good at what he does,” he told her. He glanced over at the neighbor’s yard. And there he was. Will Schroeder. Trying to hide. And failing. Christ. “Good at some things.”

“Apparently he was good enough to find us here at Rivka’s. You know, we should just go over there, tell him about Sayid and the laptop, and offer him an exclusive on the story if he works with us.”

Jimmy laughed. “Yeah, right.”

Tess adjusted her scarf, trying to get air underneath it. “What exactly do you have against him?”

“He’s a reporter. Isn’t that enough?”

“The members of the Fourth Estate
can
be our friends,” she told him. “Valuable friends.”

“Ready, sir and ma’am,” Khalid called.

Jimmy started for the wagon.

“Did you really sleep with his wife?”

“What?” Jimmy turned and looked at Tess. “Where did you hear that?”

“It was just something he said—implied really—when he got off the bus yesterday.”

He could tell from her eyes that she believed it, believed that Jimmy was not just capable of, but highly likely to.

“It’s a long story,” he said, which was stupid because number one, he didn’t owe anyone an explanation for anything he ever did, and number two, they were both better off if she judged him and found him less-than. “That’s synthetic.” At her blank look, he added, “Your scarf. You need to get one that’s made of cotton.”

Tess nodded. “And, hmmm, he changes the subject.”

“Cotton breathes. You’ll be much cooler. I’ll pick one up for you.”

“You know, really, all you have to say is ‘None of your business.’ ”

“None of your business,” Jimmy said.

“Unless, of course, it
is
my business. Unless it’s something that I need to know because I’m going to be dealing with this guy and—”

“Yes,” Jimmy told her. “The short answer is yes, I slept with his wife. He hates my guts—you two can start a club—but be careful. He’ll probably try to charm your pants off. Literally. Don’t let him get too close.”

And now he could tell that she’d changed her mind. Now she
didn’t
think he was capable of . . . How the hell had that happened?

“She didn’t tell you she was married, did she?” Tess guessed. “That must’ve hurt.”

“None of your business.”

“What was her name?”

“I don’t remember anymore.”

She laughed. “You’re such a liar. It was Jacqueline—Jackie—Bennett, wasn’t it?”

How the hell did she know that? “Did Decker tell you—” He cut himself off. Of course Decker hadn’t said a word. Tess was a comspesh. No doubt she’d done some homework on Will Schroeder. With her hacking skills, she probably knew more than Tom Paoletti did about all of them. Except Jimmy. His records had been deleted.

Except, of course, that one file that the Agency kept buried so deep that not even Tess would be able to find it.

Good thing.

He could just imagine the information it contained.

James Nash, aka Diego Nash, aka Jimmy the Kid Santucci, b. 11 August 1969, White Plains Hospital, New York. Mother: Marianna Santucci, b. 1950, d. 1987. Father: unknown.

It would include all kinds of lists.