Locked, Loaded and SEALed Page 10

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  SOPHIA PUSHED AWAY her plate with her half-eaten meal and dug her elbows into the table. “Do you think you’ll be able to see what’s going on from the top of that building at night?”

  “My scope has night vision.” Austin aimed his fork at her plate. “Are you going to finish that fish?”

  “Help yourself. I can’t eat another bite.”

  “If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to meet Patel. I’ll meet him. If he clams up, I’ll take him in. He’s involved in whatever got Dr. Fazal killed, and our intelligence agencies have every right to question him.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s going to talk to you.” She took a sip of water. “He wants to talk to me. I’m sure he’ll be more open with me, and then if you want to pick him up later, you can do so.”

  “Oh, I’m sure the FBI is going to want to pick him up later.” He sawed off the edge of the salmon and popped it in his mouth. “You sure you don’t want to eat the rest of this? You hardly touched your food.”

  “I’m too nervous to eat.” Her gaze swept from his empty plate to her own, which he was in the process of emptying. “I guess nerves don’t affect your appetite.”

  “I’m not nervous.”

  “You do this all the time?”

  “In the middle of an American city? Uh, no.” He signaled to the waitress. “Do you want dessert?”

  “I’ll have a bite of whatever you’re having.” She twisted the napkin in her lap. “So, this is a new experience for you, too, but you’re not anxious about it.”

  “It’s a job. It has to be done. I’m the one who has to do it.”

  He smiled at the approaching waitress as if they’d just been talking about the weather. “Can we get the caramel apple pie—and two forks?”

  “Coming right up.”

  Five minutes later she watched Austin dig into that pie as if he wasn’t going to be watching the Old North Church through the scope of a rifle.

  Shoving the plate toward her, he said, “Try it.”

  She picked up her fork and then reached forward to dab a spot of caramel from his chin with the tip of her finger.

  His eyes darkened for a moment to a murky, unfathomable green. She plunged her fork into a glob of ice cream.

  “Make sure you get the apples, caramel and nuts.”

  The gooey sweetness exploded in her mouth and she closed her eyes and rolled her lips inward. “That’s yummy. Can we just sit here, finish this delectable dessert and forget about Patel?”

  “You can.” He rested the tines of his fork on the edge of the plate. “I already told you, Sophia. I’ll take care of this. The FBI will get info out of Patel—one way or the other.”

  “He wants to talk to me. If he’d wanted to bring US intelligence into this, he would’ve called you. I’m sure Dr. Fazal had you guys on speed dial.”

  “If he had, he didn’t use it after making contact with Patel. Maybe if he’d called us first, we... I could’ve moved in sooner.”

  “There must be some reason he didn’t after that first call, and I’m going to find out why tonight.” She stuffed another piece of pie in her mouth before she could chicken out—besides, she had a navy SEAL sniper watching her back.

  Austin paid the check, and if they weren’t on their way to a meeting that could result in someone’s death, this would’ve been a pretty damn good date—better than the Spark dates she’d been on.

  When they hit the sidewalk, Austin stretched and said, “Let’s take the T back to the hotel.”

  Yeah, because he had to get his rifle ready to shoot someone.

  The short ride on the T brought them back to the hotel faster than she expected, faster than she wanted.

  They got to the room, and Austin pulled a case that looked more secure than Fort Knox from the closet.

  “If you didn’t want to heighten the suspicions of the hotel staff—” she rapped her knuckles on the hard case “—I think you failed.”

  “I don’t care if their suspicions are heightened. I just don’t want them getting inside.”

  “What if they just hauled away the whole thing?”

  “Impossible. It has a GPS tracker on it. They can give it a try though.” He stuffed a black cap into his pocket. “Do you want to run through the plan once more?”

  “We’re going to park in the structure down the block, and then split up at the building on the corner. You’re going to find your way to the roof of the building, and I’m going to keep walking toward the church. I’ll come up from the right-hand side, and if I don’t see Patel, with his baseball cap and scarf, I’ll pace a few times in front of the church.”

  “What’s the signal if you see anyone but Patel approaching you?”

  “One if by land and two if by sea?”

  “Funny. Tell me.”

  “I’m going to raise my scarf over my head, like this.” She grabbed her scarf on either side and pulled it up toward her head.

  “That’s right.”

  “And you’re going to take out the interloper.”

  “Take him out as in kill him? No. Let’s just say I’ll make him think twice before approaching you.”

  “Where were you during my formative years?”

  “If I’d have known you and known you needed protection? I would’ve delivered.”

  He’d made the pronouncement with a half smile on his face, but she believed him.

  “Are you the eldest of the three brothers and two sisters?”

  He nodded as he hoisted the case from the bed.

  “You must’ve protected them, too—scared the stuffing out of your sisters’ boyfriends and put the bullies in place who were picking on your brothers.”

  Her words had wiped the smile from his face, casting a shadow over his features. He shrugged. “I never cared who my sisters dated.”

  She’d said something wrong but didn’t know what. She was supposed to be the complicated one. “Okay, then. Let’s do this.”

  She picked up the framed photo again, and this time a piece of glass fell out and hit the carpet. “I’m going to get a new frame for this.”

  “Where was that taken?” Austin leaned over her shoulder.

  “It was at a conference in Chicago, where I won an award. H-he was so proud of me. Nobody has ever been proud of me like that, and I doubt ever will again.”

  He took the frame from her hands and placed it on the credenza. “Don’t sell yourself short, Sophia. You’re about to do something pretty amazing right now.”

  “I just hope Peter Patel has some answers.”

  As they walked through the hotel, only a few people gave Austin’s case a second glance. Probably thought he was the trombone player for the Boston Pops.

  When they got to his rental car in the hotel parking lot, Austin did a thorough search of the vehicle. They drove to the church in silence.

  Sophia couldn’t stop her leg from bouncing, so she settled for closing her eyes and taking deep breaths. She didn’t want to meet Patel only to faint at his feet.

  Austin found parking on the first floor of the structure and retrieved his weapon from the trunk of the car.

  “Remember, if anything happens, you take off running back to the car—unless you’re being followed. Then you run toward the street and the most populated area you can find.”

  “Got it.” She saluted, but she felt like throwing up.

  He must’ve seen the look before because he cupped her face with one hand. “I’ll be watching you. I’ll keep you safe.”

  “I know.” She’d never been surer of anything in her life.

  He held her hand as they left the structure and as they strolled down the sidewalk just like any other couple on a date.

  Then he gave her fing
ers a squeeze and slipped into the building where he’d be watching her from the roof.

  Loosening her scarf around her neck, she followed the red line on the sidewalk that marked the Freedom Trail, traversed by millions of tourists every year.

  The white walls of the Old North Church gleamed in the darkness and she focused on the beacon of light the church represented. Nothing would happen to her here, not at Dr. Fazal’s favorite place in all of Boston.

  He’d loved the story of Paul Revere and his midnight ride. He respected rebels. He’d been one himself.

  A couple walked toward her and veered left toward the square. Sophia let out a sigh and then sucked it back in when she saw a lone figure in a baseball cap sitting on a bench under the trees across from the church’s entrance. Was his scarf red?

  The lights around the church didn’t extend that far, so she squinted into the darkness. Should she call out? He hadn’t seemed to notice her—hadn’t made a move.

  Sophia glanced over her shoulder. Several feet behind her, two women walked up to the gate surrounding the church and peered through the bars. Then they wandered toward the street.

  Sophia straightened her spine and marched toward Patel, who hadn’t yet lifted his head. Did he want her to identify herself?

  “Mr. Patel?” She slowed her steps.

  He didn’t budge.

  She swiped her tongue across her dry lips. “Mr. Patel?”

  She got within five feet of the bench when the smell hit her full force—the same odor from Dr. Fazal’s office, the same odor from that nightmarish afternoon when she was four years old.

  She gagged and stumbled forward, falling to her knees in front of Patel.

  Then she noticed it—blood dripping from his neck, soaking his red scarf, pooling beneath the bench.

  So. Much. Blood.

  Chapter Nine

  Austin’s pulse flickered in his throat. What was she doing?

  Through his scope, he saw Sophia crouch in front of the figure on the bench. Were they talking? The man, Patel, still had his head down, his chin practically resting on his chest.

  Sophia now blocked his view of Patel’s body, but it looked like she’d taken his hand in hers. What the hell was going on?

  He did a quick sweep of the surrounding area. The couple who’d strolled into the quad was still sitting there, their backs to Sophia and Patel. After the two women who’d peeked in at the church, nobody else had come along.

  He brought Sophia and Patel back into focus. She cranked her head over her shoulder. His heart skipped a beat and he sucked in a breath.

  Something had gone wrong.

  His muscles tensed as he got ready to push off the wall. Then another figure came into his sights. A man had come around the corner, moving at a brisk clip, his hand in his pocket, his focus on Sophia.

  Austin got the man in his crosshairs, and then he adjusted his aim downward and fired off a shot. The cement post in front of the man exploded.

  The stranger jumped back, his head twisting from side to side.

  Austin muttered under his breath, “You’re not getting anywhere near her, you SOB.”

  He squeezed the trigger again and another cement post shattered into pieces. One of them must’ve hit the guy, because he jerked like a puppet and grabbed his leg.

  Sophia lurched to her feet and Austin silently yelled at her to run. She must’ve heard him.

  As the man stumbled back and the couple in the square jumped to their feet, Sophia took off. Patel remained on the bench, and Austin could now see a dark stain spreading across his front.

  The stranger had taken one step toward Sophia’s retreating figure and then thought better of it. He spun around and limped off in the other direction.

  Austin could no longer see Sophia and just hoped to hell she was heading back to the car in the lot. He kept watch for several more seconds.

  The couple had approached Patel. They both sprang back at the same instant. The man got on his cell phone, and there was nothing more Austin could do.

  He pushed away from his station, slinging the case over his shoulder, where it banged against his hip as he ran toward the staircase. He broke down his rifle at full speed while he negotiated the steps.

  By the time he reached the bottom of the building, his rifle was in pieces. He leaned against the door to the street and stashed the parts back in the case. Then he pushed out onto the sidewalk and strode toward the parking structure.

  He found himself chanting Sophia’s name like some magical incantation—as if that would be enough to make her appear beside the car. The sirens in the distance quickened his pace.

  His bullets were untraceable, and if Patel had been shot, there would be no match between his bullets and the ones that had killed Patel. Who knew what the cops would make of it?

  Had the couple in the square noticed Sophia? Would they be able to provide some kind of description of her to the Boston PD? It didn’t matter. The FBI could get her out of anything at this point—if they wanted to.

  With his breath coming hard and fast, he turned into the parking structure. He zeroed in on his rental and his gut knotted. No Sophia.

  He pressed the key fob and the car’s lights flashed once. A head poked out from the post beside the car and relief swept through his body.

  He called out to Sophia, “Hop in.”

  He opened the trunk and hoisted his weapon inside. When he slid into the driver’s seat, he reached across the console and took Sophia’s face in both of his hands and landed a hard kiss on her mouth.

  “God, I’m glad to see you.”

  “Same.” She snapped her seat belt, which suddenly hit him as ridiculous after what she’d just been through.

  He laughed, and she scowled at him.

  “What happened to that man you shot at? You missed him.”

  “I missed him on purpose. There are just so many dead bodies we can leave on the streets of Boston. Besides, I didn’t see a weapon on him. I’m not authorized to commit murder.” He threw the car in Reverse and the tires squealed on the polished cement as he wheeled out of the structure. “He took off in the other direction from you. I guess he didn’t want to take his chances on where the next bullet would land.”

  “I didn’t even notice him coming up on me until you took the shot.”

  “What happened to Patel? I didn’t see that he was dead until you’d moved away from him.”

  “Someone slit his throat.” She squeezed her eyes shut as if trying to erase the image from her vision.

  “I’m sorry you had to see that.” He checked his rearview mirror as he pulled up to the intersection. An ambulance flew past him. “They probably followed him or were able to track him. Even if they hacked into his phone, they wouldn’t know Dr. Fazal’s favorite place in Boston.”

  She hugged herself, and he wished it were his arms wrapped around her body.

  She tipped her head to the side, resting against the window. “I guess the one silver lining to this is that Dr. Fazal’s killers aren’t out to kill me.”

  “Yet.”

  Her body twitched and he clamped down on his bottom lip. He didn’t want to blacken the one bright spot she’d been holding on to, but he did want her to face reality and get rid of the crazy idea that if she opened up to these guys they’d believe that she didn’t know anything about Patel and Fazal and let her go about her business.

  They’d never allow that.

  “One thing they do know now...”

  “What’s that?” He glanced at her profile.

  “If they believed I was with some random boyfriend the other night in Cambridge who’d gotten lucky and disarmed a man with a gun, those crazy shots from nowhere just disabused them of that notion.”

  “You’re right.” He li
fted his shoulders. “And that’s not a bad thing.”

  “Will it make them give up?”

  “Probably not, but it might make them more desperate and that might make them more careless, and that’s not a bad thing either.”

  They returned to the hotel and he hauled his weapon case from the trunk. Fewer people were milling around the hotel now than when they’d left, and nobody gave his strange case a second glance.

  When they got to the room, he locked the rifle up again and stored it upright in the back of the closet. He grabbed two bottles of water from the minifridge and tossed one to Sophia, who’d stretched out on the bed and kicked off her boots.

  He dragged a chair to the foot of the bed and slumped in it, facing her. “I wonder how they got around Patel to...to kill him.”

  “I don’t know. I wonder how long he’d been on that bench before I arrived.”

  “I guess all we really know is that they followed him and didn’t want him communicating any information to you. Also, the fact that they killed him indicates to me that they didn’t need any info from him...or they’d already gotten it.”

  She dragged a pillow into her lap and punched it. “I was hoping we’d get some answers tonight.”

  “We don’t even know who Patel is—was. That, at least, would have helped.”

  Gasping, she rolled off the bed and lunged for her purse. “We can find out.”

  He eyed the phone she had pinched between two fingers. “Did you take his picture?”

  “God, no, but this is even better.” She dangled the phone in the air. “I got his fingerprints.”

  “What?”

  “When I realized he was dead and that he wouldn’t be telling me anything about why he came into Dr. Fazal’s life, I got so frustrated. Crazy angry at him. I took out my phone and curled his hand around it.”

  “That’s what you were doing.” He smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I thought you were holding his hand or something. I couldn’t figure out what was going on. How in the hell did you have the presence of mind to do that?”