spoke, he did so without turning around. “If they send you in pursuit of this man, will Marissa be involved?”
The question caught Kealey off guard. “I don’t know. That isn’t up to me.”
“But given your record, I’m sure you have a say in the matter,”
Machado persisted. He turned around, and Kealey saw that any trace of wry humor was gone; his face had assumed a business-like expression. Kealey couldn’t help but feel that he was being sized up.
“Kealey, I would greatly prefer to keep my daughter out of harm’s way, but she is very good at her job. If you can’t use Kharmai, you should consider taking Marissa in her place. She will not disappoint you.”
Kealey hesitated, unsure of which part to respond to first. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. There’s a specific reason Naomi was brought into this. A few reasons, in fact, but one in particular.”
“I can guess,” Machado said. “The secretary was abducted in Pakistan, and setting aside the British accent, Kharmai is clearly of Asian descent. East Indian, if I were to hazard a guess.”
“Exactly.”
“And I assume she has some useful language skills.”
“She speaks fluent Punjabi and some Urdu.”
“Well, she seems to be the ideal choice, then. So you’re on your way to Pakistan.”
Kealey couldn’t help but wonder how Machado was arriving at these assumptions, or if they were even assumptions at all. “It’s a definite possibility,” he conceded.
“I can help you.” Javier Machado seemed suddenly eager, almost desperate, to offer his assistance. Even his posture was different. He was hunched forward in a strange way, and his stance seemed to emphasize the energy housed within his massive frame. It was a startling transformation, Kealey thought, given his calm, reassuring demeanor of a moment ago.
“I know a man in Lahore, a fixer of sorts,” Machado continued.
“He has many connections, and he can get you around without attracting attention. Anything you need, he can provide. And when it’s time to leave, he can handle that as well. Should you find yourself backed into a corner, his services will be invaluable to you.” The Spaniard let his voice drop a fraction of a decibel. “Perhaps more importantly, he knows everything there is to know about Benazir Mengal.”
Kealey froze, unsure if he had heard correctly. “What did you say?”
“You heard me, young man. I can give you direct access to Benazir Mengal.”
Kealey looked for his voice and managed to find it. “Have you shared this information with the Agency?”
“No,” Machado said, his face turning suddenly hard, “and if you take this to them, I’ll deny every word. I will work with you and you alone to find Mengal, provided you do one thing for me in return.”
“And what would that be?”
“I want you to take my daughter with you.” Machado leaned forward, his eyes flickering with a strange, unsettling light. “I want you to use her, but more importantly, I want you to bring her back alive. Let me be blunt, Kealey. I value her well-being more than you could possibly understand.”
Kealey shook his head. “Even if I agree to this, there’s no way I could—”
“Stop playing games. I know all there is to know about you and the things you’ve done. Remember, I worked at the Agency for thirty years. I may be out of the loop, but I still have a small degree of influence. Marissa didn’t have to say a word, though she was good enough to fill in some blanks. I happen to know that if you want something, Jonathan Harper will make it happen, so there’s no point in trying to play down your status.” He paused to let his words hit their mark. “So . . . Do we have an agreement?”
Kealey stalled for a moment, pretending to think it through. Then he addressed the obvious point. “If your daughter’s safety is really that important to you, then asking me to take her along seems pretty counterproductive. Whatever happens, there’s going to be plenty of risk involved.”
Machado smiled gently. “That’s where you’re wrong . . . Having her by your side is very much in my best interest. I have my reasons for asking this favor, of course, but I’m not going to share them with you. No offense, but you don’t need to know more than what I’ve already said. At least not yet.” He walked over to refill his drink. “As I mentioned earlier, I am well versed on your background, Kealey. I know that you were reluctant to take on your current task, and that Jonathan Harper effectively forced you into participating by dangling Naomi Kharmai in front of you.”
There it was. Kealey sat back, stunned by the extent of the man’s knowledge. He was too surprised to even be angry.
“I know you are anxious to put the Agency behind you,” Machado continued gently, “and believe me, I want to help you do that. By finishing your assignment as fast as possible, you will only be helping yourself. Besides, what I said about Marissa was not a lie. She will, in fact, be very useful if you choose to bring her along. There are several reasons I want her with you, one of them being your record. You have a reputation for getting the job done, and I know that once you give me your word, you will do everything in your power to bring her back safely. As I mentioned earlier, her welfare is my only concern.”
Kealey considered these words, dimly aware of a phone ringing off in the distance. “Assuming I accept your offer, what happens to Naomi?”
“She can stay here, of course. Or she can return to Langley. But if she stays, we will look after her well. You have my word. My wife is a former nurse, and she’s very capable. Anything she needs, she gets. No exceptions.”
Kealey sat back, thinking it over. His thoughts kept drifting back to Naomi’s thousand-yard stare, the look she’d given him at the Sofitel Madrid. She was clearly into something, but that could be overcome. He knew how important her work was to her, and he honestly believed that in the end, it might prove to be her salvation, if she could find a way past the day’s events.
On the other hand, if he sent her back to Langley in her current state, there was a good chance she would be forced out immediately, no questions asked. He simply couldn’t do that to her, even though a small part of him was saying that might be the best thing.
“Okay,” he finally said. “I agree to your terms. But I want Naomi to stay here.”
Machado leaned back and let out a long, unsteady sigh; clearly, he was vastly relieved by Kealey’s decision to accept his proposal.
“You’ll have to talk to her,” he cautioned. “She might not take it well. You leaving her behind, I mean.”
“That’s the understatement of the year,” Kealey said, “but don’t worry. I’ll give her a reason to go along with it.”
“Good.” Machado stood, as did Kealey, and offered his hand. Kealey accepted it reluctantly, still wondering what he was getting himself into. “I appreciate this more than you know. I’m sure my contact in Lahore will prove to be a valuable resource in finding Mengal. Just one other thing . . .”
“What?”
“This arrangement stays strictly between us,” Machado said quietly. There was a hint of menace beneath his words, nothing pronounced, nothing overt, but just enough to trigger Kealey’s internal alarm. “Not a word to Jonathan Harper. Not a word to my daughter . . . not a word to anyone. Make up any story you like, but it stays between us. ?
Kealey was about to reply when he sensed movement behind him. Turning, he found himself face-to-face with Marissa Petain. She was staring at each of them in turn, a slight frown on her face, but Kealey didn’t notice. His eyes were drawn to the bulky satellite phone in her right hand.
“It’s Director Harper,” she announced, breaking the awkward silence. She thrust out the phone, and Kealey accepted it without a word. He walked into the kitchen, feeling their eyes on his back the whole way. Then he closed the door behind him and lifted the phone to his ear.
“Yeah, I’m here, John. What do you have? Anything new on Mengal?”
“Plenty,” the deputy DCI replied grimly, “but you’re not going to like a word of it.”
CHAPTER 23
