Code Name: Dove. Judith Leon
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Название: Code Name: Dove
Автор: Judith Leon
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Зарубежная классика
Серия: Mills & Boon Silhouette
isbn: 9781472091789
isbn:
She frowned. “I don’t know when you were in contact last, but I called in from Seattle. I was told the terrorist is in really bad shape. He might not make it.”
They entered the main receiving area. From long habit, she did a thorough visual sweep of the room as she continued talking. “Also,” she continued, “the Alyeska man may be—probably is—the only survivor from any of the pumping stations. It’s questionable whether either will be around much longer. We’re to observe the FBI’s interrogation, absorb what we can since the terrorist is the hottest lead we have. Apparently there is evidence of foreign involvement, in which case the Company is going to be brought in and they want eyes and ears here right now. I say we don’t waste time picking up our man. I’ll rent a car and get directions. You call and tell our contact to meet us at the hospital.”
She sensed him tense. Just the merest straightening of his shoulders gave him away. And the slight smile he offered was stiff. She was quite sure that he wasn’t used to taking orders from a woman—or perhaps might resent it. Only time with him would tell. And whether it was going to be a problem.
Chapter 3
Fairbanks, 3:30 p.m.
Sunday, May 15
Nova brought up the car, a Ford Taurus. Within minutes she and Agent Cardone were speeding up Airport Boulevard toward downtown Fairbanks. She’d buckled her seat belt. Her partner hadn’t. The kid’s still sure he’s going to live forever.
She snatched a quick sideways glance. He was frowning as he studied the rental agency map. She liked his looks: a broad face with brown, alert eyes set wide apart, dark brown wavy hair. He stood several inches taller than she. Broad shoulders and chest. She usually characterized a man’s body by sport type: with Car-done she thought boxer.
He wore the low-key suit associated with an IBM representative, but he carried it with a cool confidence. There was something flamboyant about him. He put a finger to the map and smiled, and she knew at once it was the movie-star smile that had given her the flashy impression.
“Got it,” he said. “The hospital’s a few blocks south of this main drag.”
Cardone navigated, pointing and saying, “There.” At the hospital, an intensified wind propelled needle-like rain as they scurried from the parking lot toward the building entrance. A score of media types paced like hungry cats waiting for a press announcement feeding. Inside, she and Cardone shed their dripping raincoats. Cardone strode to the information desk. She followed.
A gray-haired matron sat waiting patiently to provide assistance to the lost. Nova’s partner flashed his Company ID. “We’re here to see the two patients brought from Pumping Station No. 6, and I’ll just bet you know where they might be.”
The matron beamed at Cardone, clearly captivated.
Apparently remembering suddenly that the couple asking directions was on solemn business, the woman smothered her smile. She said, “Isn’t all this such a dreadful thing.” She pointed to a schematic of the hospital. “You’re here, right in the center of this main floor. Take the elevators to your right. Go to the top. Fifth floor. The police and some FBI people are already up there. The nurses’ station is just across from the elevators.”
“Thanks.” Cardone unleashed another dazzling smile.
In the elevator, he punched the Up button. Nova caught her breath when the car took off like a startled racehorse. She had expected the usual hospital elevator—a tired nag. She checked the time. Four-fifteen. Generally a pretty quiet time in most hospitals.
Two uniformed policemen stood guard beside two rooms across from the nurses’ station. One man, tall and lanky, leaned against the wall next to his chair, arms crossed. The other, sporting a beefy, bloated face, sat studying a sheet of official-looking paper, presumably the names and descriptions of personnel allowed to see the patients.
Nova scanned the floor. Only one orderly. As she had expected, things were quiet.
Her partner outpaced her. She trailed him to the desk where a nurse in wild purple-and-blue pants and top sat filling in a chart. Both guards caught Nova’s attention and smiled. She smiled back.
Cardone flashed his ID. “Who’s the physician attending your two special patients?” He cocked his head to indicate the guarded doors.
“Dr. Graywing.” The nurse examined the ID carefully.
Cardone continued. “Can we talk to him?”
“She’s with another patient, but it shouldn’t be long. Anyway, you need to check in down the hall.” The nurse leaned forward and pointed to her right.
Nova walked with Cardone toward the muted sound of conversation in a room at the far end of the corridor. Three men had commandeered a waiting room near the corridor’s end. Institution-issue couches lined the walls, but a table and several straight-backed chairs squatted in the center. One seriously overweight and unshaven man stood in shirtsleeves taking coffee with knock-you-down aroma from a stainless-steel urn. Three sets of eyes examined her and Cardone, but quickly settled on her. “Afternoon, gentlemen,” she said.
A blond with a sharp nose, well-cut blue suit and horn-rimmed glasses spoke first. “CIA? Blair and Cardone?”
“Right,” Cardone said. “Agent Joe Cardone. And this is my partner, Agent Nova Blair.”
The blond shook hands, first with Cardone and then with her, and introduced himself. “David Stivsky, FBI. Been on the case from the get-go.”
He introduced the two other men. The hefty man, Jacobson, was a Fairbanks’ police lieutenant whose reassuring smile offset several unattractive chins. The other was an Alyeska man, from the office in charge of pipeline security. He was a sandy-haired beanpole named Duncan, and his expression seemed stuck on grim. He flipped open the log, checked their ID’s, and entered their names in the record.
“This is one helluva mess,” Stivsky said. He twirled one of the straight-backed chairs, sat and rested his arms over the back. “Three pumping stations and the terminal blasted to smithereens. Burning like they’re never gonna quit. I gather, since we were told to wait for you two, Langley has hard evidence these guys are foreigners.”
“A reasonable assumption,” Cardone said in a serious tone.
The men were getting into FBI-CIA turf issues and Nova had zero interest. Instead she asked, “Have you talked to either man yet?”
Stivsky scowled. “No. They were brought in by helicopter about oh-five-hundred. Pumping Station 6 is just north of here. Unfortunately the terrorist is busted all to hell. Been sedated since before arriving here. When he was first brought in, Wiley, the pipeline employee, talked to the doc, but he’s also been under sedation since before I made the scene.” The scowl deepened. “We’ve waited to have a go at ’em till you two arrived since waiting also made the doc happy.”
She nodded to Cardone. “Let’s see if the doctor is finished.”
“Is Dr. Graywing free yet?” Nova asked at the nurses’ station.
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