Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Sometimes I hate being right.
Dan’s limbs shook, and his heartbeat raced, shooting pains through his chest. He strove to remain calm as he gazed into the mirror at the face he recognized instantly from the photo Nathan had shared.
Damn it, I was right about his eyes. They were blue and glacial.
He cleared his throat. “What can I say, Mr. Powell? I’m here because I follow the game.” His own reflection was as ashen as Sam’s had been. Tendons stood out in his neck, and he gripped the edge of the sink to keep himself upright.
Come on, Nathan. Tell me you were listening.
Powell blinked, and Dan knew he hadn’t expected to be recognized. Then he recovered.
“Sure, and my name is Tinker Belle.” What had to be the muzzle of a gun poked harder, and Dan’s heart felt as though it would explode.
“So it was you following me in Provincetown. I knew someone was.” Dan had to keep talking, to give Nathan time. Just send the cavalry before he kills me.
Which looked like a very real possibility.
“How could you know that? I’m damn good at my job. No one sees me.”
Despite his mounting panic, Dan quirked an eyebrow.
“Not good enough, apparently. Who do you think you are? John Constantine?” It occurred to him that provoking a man holding a gun to his back wasn’t the wisest course of action, but there was always the possibility Dan—and Nathan listening in—would learn something useful.
“I’d rather discuss what you’re doing here.
I spotted you before the game started. We’d expected company, after my colleague caught a glimpse of someone paying way too much attention to his movements.
” Powell stared at him in the mirror. “But you? You gave me quite a shock, Porter.” His gaze hardened.
“You also messed up our plans, which I didn’t appreciate. We had to fall back on Plan B.”
“There’s a Plan B?” Dan feigned surprise.
Fuck. I really hate being right.
Powell cackled. “This isn’t some movie where I share our dastardly plot right before someone turns up in the nick of time to stop me from killing you.
” That cold glint raised the hairs on the back of Dan’s neck.
“Because I am going to kill you. That part still works.” He put his hand on Dan’s arm, and Dan stiffened.
“But not here. Too many eyes. We’re gonna take a little walk.
And then I get to do what I should have done in Provincetown. ”
From outside the door, Dan caught raised voices coming nearer, and when he recognized one of them, he fought to suppress a shudder of relief.
Powell jerked his head toward the door, his gun still jammed against Dan’s back.
“Not a word, Porter,” he whispered as the door opened.
Johan and Amahle strolled in, locked in an animated conversation in Afrikaans. Dan froze, and Powell shifted closer to him. He gave the two men a friendly nod.
Johan glanced at Powell. “Het jy enige laaste versoeke?”
Dan detected a pleasant, sweet odor, and his heartbeat raced.
“I’m sorry,” Powell began. “I don’t speak Afrikaans—”
Amahle moved swiftly to cover his mouth with a pad, and he reacted instantly.
Both men grabbed him, and he struggled to free himself.
He was clearly a strong man, but Johan’s powerful frame and Amahle’s thick arms proved too difficult to overcome.
At last he sagged in their arms. Amahle shoved a hypodermic into Powell’s neck and pushed the plunger, injecting its contents.
The two operatives swung into action. Amahle held the stall door open while Johan dragged Powell’s limp body into it. Johan closed the door, and Dan heard the snick of the lock. Then Johan climbed over the top of the stall into the neighboring one.
He grabbed Dan’s arm. “Let’s get out of here.” They marched out of the restroom, and when they were at a safe distance, Dan bent over, his hands on his knees, adrenaline shooting through him, his chest tingling, his breathing shallow.
Johan crouched beside him. “You okay, man?”
Dan struggled to breathe. “Is he dead?”
“Yeah. Cyanide. Looks like we got the chloroform dose right. We knew his height, but we had to guess his weight.” He patted Dan’s shoulder. “This your first time staring death in the face?”
Dan managed a chuckle. “Actually? This is my third time.”
Johan locked gazes with him. “Then take care, Mr. Porter. Cats may have nine lives, but you’re no cat.” He cocked his head. “Can you stand up?” He helped Dan to straighten.
Dan breathed deeply. “Can I ask…? What did you say to him?”
Johan’s eyes twinkled. “I asked if he had any last requests.” He smiled. “By the way, you did good. You kept him talking until we got there.”
Dan cast a glance toward the restroom. “I guess he was right about not revealing their next move before someone rushed in to save me.” Multiple shivers coursed through him. “He would have killed me in a heartbeat.”
“You don’t know that,” Amahle said quietly.
Dan turned his head and gazed at him. “Yes, unfortunately I do.”
“Mr. Porter.” Nathan strode purposefully toward him, Gary beside him. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, thanks to these two.”
Amahle smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“As soon as I heard Powell through your mic, I called them to get their asses in there.”
Gary stood still, staring at Dan, his arms by his side.
Dan couldn’t move.
Johan rolled his eyes. “For fuck’s sake.
Hey, Mr. Detective, just grab your boyfriend and kiss him, okay?
We don’t give a shit.” That twinkle was still there.
“He is your boyfriend, right? I mean, unless you give all your colleagues a peck on the cheek? And if that’s the case, someone else can have my kiss.
” He grinned. “Don’t get me wrong, I love redheads, but you have the wrong set of equipment as far as I’m concerned. ”
Before Dan could utter a word, Gary seized him in a tight hug and kissed him on the lips.
“You have got to stop scaring me like this,” he murmured, his cheek pressed to Dan’s.
“Can’t make any promises,” Dan murmured back.
Nathan coughed. “Much as I hate to break up this touching scene, can I point out we still don’t know where Winter is, who the delivery girl is, or how they’re going to carry out the test, if indeed they still are.” He aimed a hard stare at Johan. “We could’ve asked Powell.”
He shrugged. “Bit late for that, boss.”
Gary released Dan. “Can we clear the stadium? A bomb threat?”
Nathan shook his head. “One, that would just cause widespread alarm. And two, they could still release it in the ensuing panic.”
“So they’re going to get away with it.” Dan gazed at Nathan in dismay. “They could be out there right now, using God knows what to spread it.”
A roar went up from the stadium, and Amahle beamed. “I think the Sharks finally scored. Good. They need to play much better if they’re going to win this year. We can’t let WP win again.” Then he flinched when Nathan glared at him. “Sorry, boss.”
“How much longer will the game go on?” Dan asked.
“Less than an hour now,” Johan told him.
Dan nodded. “Then we watch, and we wait until full-time. That’s all we can do.”
“At least we only have one knight to watch for,” Gary observed.
“And how many female spectators have you seen since we got here?” Dan demanded. “Because there are thousands of them. We don’t know who she is, what she looks like—”
“Then we try to spot Winter, and hope she’s staying close by him,” Nathan interjected. “And we remain focused. There’s still time.”
Dan had a feeling time was a precious commodity that was slipping through their fingers.
5:47 p.m.
Gary listened to the shouts and hollers that reverberated around the stadium. “The Sharks are still in the lead, aren’t they?”
Warren glanced around to make sure Nathan wasn’t close by before replying.
“It’s 17-12 to the Sharks. If WP are going to win, they’ve got maybe eight or nine minutes to pull a miracle out of the hat.”
“This waiting is driving me nuts,” Sam grumbled. “I’ve had it with standing around while everyone else is spread out doing something useful.” She huffed. “Watching the rugby would even be more preferable, and I hate rugby.”
“It won’t be long now,” Gary told her.
She squared her shoulders. “What time will they blow the whistle?”
Gary looked at his watch. “In about eight minutes. Why?”
“Then I’m going for a walk,” she declared.
“You can’t,” he retorted.
Sam raised her eyebrows. “Says who? I’ll be back before the crowds, I promise. I need to stretch my legs, that’s all.” And with that she slung her purse over her shoulder and walked away from him, heading for the stairs.
“Where’s she going?” Dan glanced up from his phone and stared after her. “And does Nathan know?”
“Nathan went off God knows where to talk to Bosman.” And when he returned, Gary felt certain he would blow a fuse if Sam wasn’t there.
Dan chuckled. “I wouldn’t want to be in her shoes.”
He studied Dan. “You okay now? You look better.”
Dan nodded. “At least I know I wasn’t imagining things. That day in Provincetown when I felt sure I was being watched? It was Powell.” Then he froze. “Prepare for Hurricane Nathan.”
Gary turned to find Nathan walking toward him, scanning from right to left, his brow furrowed. He came to a dead stop in front of Gary.
“Where’s Sam?”
“She went for a walk.” Gary knew how lame that sounded, but he couldn’t have prevented her from leaving, short of cuffing her to him.
Nathan narrowed his gaze. “She did what?” He tapped his earpiece. “Sam? Where the hell are you? … I don’t care. Get your ass back here, now… I said now, goddammit.” He blinked, then gaped at Gary. “She switched her mic off.”
“She said she’d be back before the end of the game.”
“She’d better be.” Nathan’s tone was grim.
Gary leaned against the concrete wall. He wanted this to be over as much as Sam did. Full-time was approaching fast, and they had a limited window to find Winter and disable whatever device they were using as backup.
Boston had never seemed so far away.
6:06 p.m.
The whistle had blown ten minutes ago, but the tide of spectators kept on coming. Gary knew Nathan and Bosman had operatives at every exit, watching as the crowds filtered past them, ready to act the second they caught sight of Winter.
What was more worrying was Sam’s failure to return to them, or to answer Nathan’s repeated calls. Nathan had sent out a message, asking his team to be vigilant and report any sighting of her, but so far there was radio silence.
We’re going to miss Winter in all these people.
Johan had said it would take at least half an hour to clear the stadium, and that was a pretty big window of opportunity, but with every passing minute, Gary’s optimism diminished.
Nathan seemed to be clinging on to every ounce of calm he possessed, but even he appeared haggard in the face of such overwhelming odds.
“I wish there was something I could do.” Dan stared at the mass of jubilant Sharks supporters, cheering, laughing, talking at the top of their voices as they exulted in their team’s triumph.
Lord knew Gary wished that too.
“Where are you?” Nathan’s voice rose above the tumult.
Gary jerked his head in Nathan’s direction. Sam? he mouthed.
Nathan nodded, frowning as he strained to hear her. “I don’t care what you … No, forget it. … Sam? … Sam?” His eyes widened.
“What’s happened?” Gary’s heart pounded.
Nathan shook his head. “She didn’t say where she was, only that she must be going crazy because she’s just seen someone who couldn’t possibly be here. And now she’s not answering.”
“Has she switched her mic off again?”
“No. I can still hear people talking around her.” He stilled. “Wait. It just went quieter.” His brows knitted. “I think she’s in a restroom.”
“Winter,” Dan murmured next to him. “That’s Winter!” And before Gary could get a word out, Dan launched himself into the passing crowd that swallowed him whole and carried him away.
Gary gaped. “What the fuck?”