Kitabı oku: «To Catch a Thief», sayfa 3

Across the tent Amanda giggled. “She’s got you there. You do seem kind of—intense. I guess that’s a navy thing.”

Dakota moved to help her drink some more water. “What, can’t a man enjoy the company of two gorgeous women in peace?”

The teenager wheezed out a laugh. “Very funny.”

Over the howl of the wind, motors droned closer. Nell could see the dim pattern of light around the flap of the tent. “They’ll have to land below the ridge. Someone needs to guide the rescue team up.” Nell pushed to her knees and grabbed her climbing gear.

“Sure you’re up to it?” Dakota asked quietly.

Nell shoved a coiled rope over her shoulder. “No offense, but I think I’m the best guy for the job.”

His expression was unreadable as he reached out and brushed one finger along the corner of her lips. It was almost as if he was memorizing her smile, Nell thought.

Then his expression hardened. “I hate to admit that you’re right. Watch your six out there.”

“SHE’S REALLY GREAT, isn’t she?” Amanda was watching the spot where Nell had disappeared. “I don’t think anything in the world frightens her. I wish I was that way.”

Dakota listened to the chopper approach. “You never can tell what makes people tick. I think Nell enjoys the thrill of being in danger. Besides, you’re pretty brave yourself. You took a real beating.”

The teenager shrugged. “Not like you two. So why don’t you like her? I mean, you smile at her, but it never quite reaches your eyes.”

The girl was a little too observant, Dakota thought irritably. “Nothing wrong with Nell MacInnes. I like her fine.” He just didn’t trust her.

“How’s Ian doing? Is he…” Her voice trailed away.

“He’s still alive.” Barely, Dakota thought. “That’s a helicopter coming in out there. With luck, you’ll be down at the hotel in ten minutes. How do you feel?”

The girl swallowed hard. “Like I might throw up.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret.” Dakota slanted her a quick smile. “Happens to the best of us.”

The tent flap rose and Nell appeared, snow on her cheeks. “A team is headed up to hitch you into a sling, Amanda. Ready to go?”

“I guess so. You’ll both go down with me, right?”

Dakota zipped up his pack. “You bet.”

“Do you need any help in here?” Nell’s climbing helmet was hanging over her shoulder and she was half turned to the light, looking relieved that the ordeal was nearly over.

“Not a bit. I’ll help Amanda outside and then go see if I can help them with Westlake.”

Nell stuck out one hand. “Nice to meet you, Navy. You can climb with me anytime.”

Dakota gripped her hand and studied her face, looking for traces of cunning or arrogance, but there was only excitement and a hint of a smile.

“I hear the girls are placing bets down at the inn.”

“What kind of bets?”

“Whether or not your butt is as incredible as they all think it is.” She gave a wicked smile. “I’m guessing it is.”

Dakota’s brow rose. “I thought you were into deltoids.”

Amanda gave up trying to hide her laughter. “Where are the deltoids?”

“Right here.” Nell reached out and tapped Dakota’s upper arms. “Something tells me these are pretty spectacular. Too bad I’m never going to find out.”

“I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours. Just name the time and the place,” Dakota said huskily.

Nell’s smiled faded. “I don’t think so. Something tells me it would cost a lot more than I’m prepared to pay.”

“How much are you prepared to pay?”

She studied him a long time. “I’m not sure. Whatever it is, you’d probably cost more. Watch yourself on the big walls, Lieutenant.” She tossed a coiled rope over her shoulder and headed out into the cold gray light of dawn.

Dakota was still watching her as the snow swirled up and the rescue team appeared on the ridge below them.

CHAPTER FOUR

THIRTY MINUTES LATER the storm clouds had moved inland and Amanda Wilson and Ian Westlake had been transferred to a medical flight bound for Edinburgh. Now the rescue team was relaxing, glad to have a successful end to their dawn ascent.

Meanwhile, Dakota’s Foxfire contact was waiting in a military helicopter on the far side of the loch. Izzy Teague was roughly six foot five and could have passed for Denzel Washington, but his grave eyes made him look older than his years. One of the government’s finest security operatives, the man could assess photographs or triangulate cell phone positions faster than most people could breathe.

The chopper was quiet. Restless, Dakota drummed on the window, waiting for the pilot to return.

“Something wrong?” Teague opened his medical bag and pulled out a small metal case.

“Not a thing.”

“Yeah? Then why are you scowling?”

Dakota shrugged.

“How’s your hand?”

“Fine.” Dakota didn’t look up, intent on stowing his gear. He especially refused to look around in hopes of seeing Nell.

Teague glared at him. “Fine? You’ve got two lacerations that need sutures.”

“Nothing that can’t wait.”

Izzy stared at him thoughtfully, then glanced down and made quick notes on the sleek laptop that was never far away. “How did that climbing gear work out?”

“The shoes get high marks. Solid traction and balance. The gloves were useless. No possible way to handle a weapon in them.”

“I’ll pass the word to Ryker and his science boys.” Izzy gave a cocky smile. “Back to the drawing board on the gear.” When Dakota didn’t answer, Izzy raised an eyebrow. “Something eating you, Smith?”

“I’d like to get moving, that’s all. Has my surveillance mission changed?” he asked quietly.

“First things first.” Izzy’s eyes narrowed as he held out a digital keypad. When he triggered a button, a row of lights flashed red-orange. “Before we leave, Ryker wants a medical update. Log in for Madonna and record your response times.”

Madonna, as both men knew, was the code name for Dakota’s unique visual skills, part of the biomedical program based at a top-secret government lab in New Mexico. Thanks to his extensive training and ongoing enhancements, the SEAL could see far beyond the normal spectrum into infrared, ultraviolet and thermal ranges. His skills offered unique applications for military surveillance in high-risk, fast-extraction situations.

But excellent was never good enough for the head of the Foxfire program. A cold, untrusting bureaucrat, Lloyd Ryker demanded constant updates on all his assets.

“Madonna is doing just fine.” Coolly Dakota logged on to the handheld unit and ripped through the tests, shifting easily from light source to light source. Like every man handpicked for the elite Foxfire team, Dakota liked difficult challenges, and he always played to win.

Izzy watched the lights flash, scoring Dakota’s speed. “Want to tell me about Nell MacInnes?”

“Not much to tell. She saved those kids, no doubt about it.” Dakota started to add a character assessment but decided against it. Saying more would amount to empty speculation.

“Did she say anything useful? Any comments about her father or her future plans?”

“We didn’t get around to trading life stories,” Dakota said flatly. “There was a gale up on the summit, if you recall. And now maybe you’ll let me concentrate here.”

For some reason the questions about Nell irritated Dakota. When he was done with the test, he handed the unit back to Izzy.

Across the snowy field, Nell was talking animatedly to a man in a bright green parka and high-tech climbing gloves. “Is that her partner?”

Izzy nodded. “He helped coordinate the rescue ascent. I understand he’s climbed with Nell for almost twelve years.”

Dakota watched the tall climber squeeze Nell’s shoulder. “Are they sleeping together?”

“He’s married with two kids.”

“Which means nothing,” Dakota said curtly. “Married men can screw around as much as single men. Maybe more.”

Nell laughed at something her partner said, and for some reason that irritated Dakota, too.

“My research says no. The relationship is strictly about climbing.”

“Any sign that he’s involved in the theft?”

“I’ve got him on the radar just in case. He’s had no large bank deposits that would indicate unusual payments.” Izzy closed the digital unit and stowed it in a secure case.

“Neither did Nell.” Dakota rubbed his shoulder idly. “Maybe he’s being careful.”

“I’ll handle him. Right now I want you to calm down and rest.”

“I’m not—”

“Of course you are. You’ve been wound up tight ever since you got down. I checked out Amanda Wilson and gave her one of the field hydration lines before she was flown out. You could use one too.”

“I’m fine, Teague.”

“Can it.” Izzy slipped a syringe expertly into Dakota’s arm. “There’s a serious nutrient boost in that line. Shut up and let it take effect.” Dakota muttered something gruff that made Izzy laugh. “I doubt that’s physically possible, my friend, and I don’t intend to find out.”

As the liquid dripped into his arm, Dakota’s gaze slid restlessly over the lower glen. He couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Nell. What made her tick and how many secrets was she hiding? Both questions were suddenly very important.

Izzy followed Dakota’s gaze. “What’s eating at you?”

“Nell. She doesn’t add up, Izzy, and I don’t like things that don’t add up.” He took one last look across the loch, where Nell was laughing with her partner, piling ropes in a canvas bag.

The woman had guts to spare and a quick, clever brain. If things had been different he would have enjoyed a little recreational climbing with her. They could start on a cove in Thailand near the South China Sea.

A beach where clothing was optional sounded good.

The thought of Nell in a tiny string bikini—and no top—made muscles tighten all over Dakota’s body. He let the 3-D fantasy smolder.

And then he put the thought away.

Never gonna happen, pal. She’s the target and you’re too smart to forget that.

Staying focused on the moment was the best way to stay alive.

Dakota’s rules.

He glanced down at the sealed security file Izzy was holding out. “New developments?”

“An international terrorist group just took credit for the da Vinci theft via the Internet. Ryker wants you fully briefed within the hour. The mission just got elevated to a level-four priority.”

Dakota watched the loch glitter silver beneath them as the chopper pilot returned, squinting into the wind. “What group?”

“The October Twelfth Brigade. They’ve been on our watch list for almost two years now.”

“That’s the same group who claimed credit for the theft of the Rembrandt last year?”

“One and the same. The painting never resurfaced, and we assume it was sold clandestinely.” Izzy’s eyes hardened. “I don’t need to tell you the money will be used in very unpleasant ways.”

“How much money?”

“The da Vinci could bring somewhere in the area of thirty million dollars.”

Dakota said something low and vicious.

“My sentiments exactly. Meanwhile, no more surveillance. Our new orders are to locate that piece of art and make certain it does not leave U.S. soil at any cost.” He pointed to the file in Dakota’s hand. “Read it. We have new information from a prison source that Jordan MacInnes is involved. You’re to use Nell to locate the painting. Use her in any way that’s necessary,” Izzy said coldly. “Is that clear?”

“I TOLD YOU already. I’m fine.”

Despite Nell’s protests, a young paramedic was scrubbing her hands with Betadine. When he pushed up her sleeve, she was surprised to see cuts and bruises covering her wrists. In all the chaos, she hadn’t noticed.

“Bad night up there, I’m thinking. Nasty patch of weather you had.” The paramedic glanced out at the remaining clouds that drifted across the dark summit of Blaven. “At least no one was killed.”

“The cold was the worst part.” Nell’s teeth chattered a little. She was feeling dizzy, which irritated her. Fighting exhaustion, she rubbed her face with her free hand. “Where did my partner go?”

“He’s helping to sort out the last kids. They’re phoning their parents now.”

“I should go help—”

“You’ll stay right where you are. Your friend is managing fine.”

Nell had trained with Eric and climbed with him on three continents. They had shared dangerous conditions, then traded stories when they came down. And after that Eric went home to his beautiful, understanding wife and two kids back in Idaho.

End of story.

There was no other man in Nell’s life.

Nell looked up as she heard the roar of a motor.

“One of the choppers is pulling out.” The paramedic glanced through the ambulance’s rear window. “They seemed in quite a rush, according to my crew. Your American climber was aboard.”

Nell shifted, trying to look out the window, seeing Dakota’s outline inside the helicopter. So he was gone. No farewells or an exchange of phone numbers, just a swift, silent departure.

Which was for the best, wasn’t it? There had been something too physical and intense about Dakota Smith.

“Did you need to speak with him? You look upset.”

Nell stared out at the dark peaks trapped in heavy clouds. “No. He’s just someone I met up on the mountain.”

She felt an odd punch at her chest as the dark chopper lifted off.

He could have said goodbye.

He could have found time for that.

Well, she didn’t care one way or another.

“I hear you’ve climbed at Chamonix.”

Nell nodded, trying to ignore the chopper as it droned past. She didn’t let men into her life, not ever.

No trust.

No leaning.

MacInnes rules.

“I thought I recognized your name. You took third prize, didn’t you?”

Nell nodded, barely listening. In the gray light the chopper’s black body grew smaller.

“It makes you feel alive,” the paramedic said quietly. “Nothing can touch you up there. You’d know that feeling, I guess.”

Nell knew exactly what he meant. Her art restoration work kept her busy, but her climbing kept her sane. She had to admit that Dakota Smith would have made one heck of a climbing partner. Maybe he could have been something more.

Instantly she forced away the thought.

“By the way, did you get the messages?”

“Messages?”

“Your father has been trying to reach you. The manager of the inn asked us to tell you that he had called six times. He said it was urgent that you phone him as soon as you returned.”

“Did he say why?”

“I’m afraid not. But I’m almost done here. Then I’ll drive you down to the inn.”

Nell felt an odd prickle at her neck. Her father wouldn’t have phoned her here unless it was something very serious. “You’re sure he called six times?”

“That’s what I was told.”

Out over the Sea of Hebrides the big black helicopter thundered south and was swallowed up by the fog.

CHAPTER FIVE

Jackson Square Art District

San Francisco

JORDAN MACINNES SAT in a pair of worn leather slippers and watched night claim the San Francisco skyline. Home, he thought. Such as it was.

He closed his eyes, angry that he had bothered Nell with his urgent calls to Scotland. It was only natural that he needed to be certain she was safe, but he wished he hadn’t bothered her with his worries. He’d served his seventeen years in prison and he knew how to protect his back. He’d also taken steps to protect Nell now that the shadows around him were closing in.

They’d never release him now. He’d finally accepted that and factored it into his final plans.

The phone rang beside his chair. He forced a smile when he heard his daughter’s worried voice. “Nell? Of course I’m fine. Why aren’t you asleep? Worrying about me? Now that’s a waste of precious time. No, I’m not having any health problems.” Jordan winced a little at the lie, but there would be a time and a place for explanations. “I shouldn’t have called you like that, Nell. Sorry if I scared you.”

But deep inside, the quiet man sitting in the darkness knew all the risks before him. He understood the kind of people he was dealing with, people who wouldn’t hesitate to kill if they were crossed. As long as he did exactly what they wanted, he would be safe.

Even more important, Nell would be safe, too. He’d seen to her protection as his first priority.

As the bridge lights shimmered over the bay, Jordan MacInnes cross-examined his daughter about her Scottish climb and her upcoming conservation projects, keeping any uneasiness from his voice. But he kept thinking about the calls that came at odd hours of the night. Calls with rough, whispered warnings, a reminder that his life was always under scrutiny now. Everywhere he went, he was watched. And it was all because of his years of success—followed by one failed robbery that should have been the perfect crime. Every detail had been precisely planned for almost two years and no expense had been spared in buying insider information. But no one had expected an extra guard to key in and drop off a clean uniform off-shift at three in the morning. As a result, the guard had tripped over a set of glass cutters on the museum’s stairs. Falling headfirst, he’d plunged over a banister and dropped two levels, his neck broken instantly.

A terrible accident, and the only mistake Jordan had ever made in his burglary career of almost two decades. Of course criminals always said that, didn’t they?

He forced a smile into his voice. “I’m listening, Nell. Of course I heard you. Stop worrying about the Tintoretto. No one has better hands than you do. I saw you clean that last Caravaggio, remember? The dealer was delighted.”

With every calm word, he hid the bitter truth from his daughter. He’d sweated out every week of his prison sentence, determined to put the past behind him, but now he was being pulled right back into that world of shadows.

He couldn’t let Nell be pulled in with him.

He stretched his right arm carefully, feeling a sudden throb at his elbow. With every weather shift the ache returned. The beating he’d received the night of his arrest eighteen years before hadn’t helped. Nor had the later beatings he’d received from guards and fellow inmates during his years in prison.

Jordan blocked out the grim memories. All that mattered was the now.

The lean, white-haired man cupped his right elbow, wincing as fresh pain radiated out from the bone. The weather was definitely changing again.

He remembered how Nell had warned him to be prepared, that the world would look and sound different after his release. How right she had been. Wise and quiet and stubborn, his daughter was the only thing that mattered to him. He had failed her miserably by breaking the law and failed her yet again by being clumsy enough to get caught afterward.

Most of all he had failed her by indirectly causing the accident that had left a museum guard dead.

As Jordan MacInnes stared out at the Oakland Bay Bridge, he felt his fear return. Finishing his prison sentence should have brought a measure of peace and a chance at happiness. But you never walked away from your past. He saw that all too clearly now.

Nell deserved a father she could rely on, a man she could be proud of. In the years he had left, Jordan MacInnes was determined to be both those things, even if it killed him.

“What did you say, honey?” When his daughter repeated her question, he frowned. “Watch that Chinese vermilion. Mercuric sulfide is toxic in minute amounts, no matter how careful you are.” Nell knew all about toxic material safety, of course, but a father couldn’t stop worrying.

Jordan was reaching for one of his old books on Renaissance pigments when he heard a click on the line. Another call was coming in. Another whispered warning.

He scanned the number.

Blocked.

Damned cowards.

But he was ready for them now. He trusted only three people in the world, and two of them knew about his dangerous plan. Even if he failed, Nell would be protected from the shadow world and those who refused to let him go.

“Lunch tomorrow? That sounds fine, Nell. I want to hear all about Scotland. You haven’t said more than a few words about the climbs you and Eric made, and that’s not like you.”

Jordan MacInnes was almost certain he wouldn’t be at that lunch, but he didn’t want to alarm Nell. She would be told all she needed to know in due course. His old friend would see to that.

The white-haired thief with the aristocratic face stared out at the darkness, sensing the danger waiting in the shadows.

There was no turning back. Now his death might be the only gift he had left for Nell.