‘Is something wrong?’ Even over the phone, Shavit wasn’t going to use names.
‘Two men tried to take the package tonight. They used force. I had to kill them.’
‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes.’
There was a moment of silence. ‘This was an unfortunate occurrence.’
More unfortunate for the dead men. Miriam tried not to think about that, or the fact that the men might have had families that would miss them. In her job, she’d learned that usually even the worst of men were loved by someone. Someone’s heart would soon break with the news.
‘Are you there?’
Miriam realized Shavit had been speaking. ‘Sorry. I am now.’
‘Can you do this?’
‘Of course.’
‘I know this is hard. Something like this … it’s always hard.’
‘I am fine.’ Miriam brushed at the tears that had started running down her cheeks.
‘Has your situation with the package been compromised?’
‘No.’ Miriam didn’t even want to go into the situation because it was ludicrous in light of what had happened. This terrible thing she’d done couldn’t be linked to something so trivial. ‘He still doesn’t know who I am. I can make the rendezvous points without his being any the wiser.’
‘We will pick him up at this end.’
‘All right.’
Shavit’s voice softened. ‘Try to get some sleep if you can. Even though you are there, you are not alone. What happened tonight wasn’t your choice. We put you in the position you found yourself, and those men decided their own fates.’
‘I know.’
‘You did well. I will see you soon.’
Even after Shavit hung up, Miriam clung to the phone a little longer, not wanting to let go of that human contact.
Standing in the shadows just outside the yellow glow spilling from the bar, Mufarrij let his frustration flow from him and disappear into the cold wind blowing around him. He had been close to getting his hands on Lourds, to finding out what the man knew about Lev Strauss’s secret, but the German mercenaries had been hanging around too closely for him to snatch the man.
He’d almost interceded in the bar when Lourds had so stupidly risked himself over the young woman. She was a surprise, though. The way she’d handled herself in the bar had impressed him. Of course, taking out a drunken man was no great feat, but she had done it with no wasted movement.
She was young, though. A more practiced agent wouldn’t have stepped into the limelight so quickly or so strongly.
In the street with her pistol, she had been death incarnate. In all his years fighting against hard, desperate men, Mufarrij had seen few people who possessed that kind of speed and accuracy.
The two dead men lay in the street beside the jeep used by the local police. Sullen-faced policemen carried assault rifles and asked questions of the bar’s patrons. Most of the bar guests were only too willing to step forward and tell their stories. They were from out of country and this was probably the most exciting thing that had ever happened to them.
Mufarrij sipped his coffee and lamented that it had already gone cold. He also lamented the fact that the local police were taking Thomas Lourds and his Uighur friend into custody.
The chase was not over yet.
Lourds’s head pounded as he sat on the uncomfortably thin mattress on the jail cot and looked in the metal mirror he’d finally been able to borrow from his jailer. His nose was swollen, and his left eye had a huge mouse underneath that promised a spectacular shiner later. He sighed and placed the mirror on the cot beside him. Having a hangover and a possible concussion was not how he’d wanted to wake up.
‘It could be worse.’ Big Mike sat on the other side of the room, lounging on the cot bolted into that wall. He’d rolled up one of his socks and was playing catch with it, throwing it up into the air and catching it when it came back down.
‘How?’
‘You could have gotten your nose broken. And you missed the whole gunfight.’
That was the part that really made Lourds’s head hurt. He shook his head and regretted it immediately. ‘Tell me again about that.’
Big Mike did, and this time the story grew even grander. By tomorrow morning, the young woman — whoever she was — would be plucking their attackers’ bullets from the air and throwing them back at the men.
‘I never saw anyone so fast.’ Big Mike smiled dreamily. ‘I thought I was a dead man. Truly. I threw myself at one of those men, intending to save you.’
‘Save me?’
‘They said they were there for you.’
‘You heard them say that?’
‘Yes.’
‘You couldn’t be mistaken?’
‘No. They told the woman they were going to take you.’
Lourds took a deep breath and released it. He thought back over the last few months and couldn’t think of a single reason why anyone would come gunning for him. He’d made some enemies over the last few years, over the Atlantis thing and the problems in Saudi Arabia, but those people had bigger problems than a relatively obscure professor of linguistics.
It didn’t make any sense. And that was what scared him. He didn’t know if he was leaving trouble behind or heading straight for it.
‘Anyway, I threw myself at one of the men, intending to save you. He tried to shoot me, but this woman shot that man, then she shot the other. She was so fast, she was like Clint Eastwood.’
‘Clint Eastwood?’
‘Yes. You have seen his movies?’
‘I have. This woman didn’t look like Clint Eastwood, did she?’
‘No, she was a very beautiful woman.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Of course she was. I’m sure that’s why you were going to her rescue in the bar.’
Lourds barely remembered that. He didn’t know if the memory loss was from the drink or from getting punched in the face. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten hit so hard.
‘But there you were, on the floor.’ Big Mike threw his arms out and looked like he’d been run over by a steamroller.
‘Thanks for that visual. Really.’
Big Mike grinned.
‘You know, I’m beginning to think you look entirely too comfortable on that jail cot.’
‘I’ve had an exciting life since you left the village.’ Big Mike folded his hands over his broad chest. ‘Jails are all pretty much the same.’
‘Are you sure you don’t remember anything else about the woman?’
‘She was beautiful. We are truly lucky, Professor Thomas.’
Lourds narrowed his good eye at his friend. ‘How so?’
‘The story would not be nearly so good if we’d been rescued by an ugly woman.’
Footsteps sounded out in the hallway, and one of the policemen reappeared. He wore a green-and-tan uniform and had a hat tucked up under his arm. Thrusting the key into the ancient lock, he worked the mechanism and pulled the door open.
‘You’re free to go.’
‘Someone bailed us out?’ Lourds grabbed his hat and clapped it onto his pounding head. He looked past the jailer, wondering if the beautiful young woman with the fast gun was waiting out there and wondering, too, if her presence was going to be a good thing or a bad one.
‘No. You are just free to go.’
Lourds stepped out into the hallway, closely followed by Big Mike. ‘Why?’
‘You did not kill those men. All the stories have agreed on this. You were dead drunk when that happened, and your friend was barely able to stand on his own.’
‘I wasn’t dead drunk. I’d just been in a bar fight.’ Lourds pointed to his injured eye and swollen nose.