The Complete Mackenzies Collection

  That had been the easy part. Getting through the window was something else.

  She measured it visually. She could angle her shoulders through; her head and hips would be the biggest problem, but her buttocks would compress and her skull wouldn’t. She decided to go headfirst, so she could find out immediately if her head would fit through. It would be awful to go out feet first, then be stuck with her head inside and the rest of her body outside. Humiliating, at the very least. That is, if she didn’t find herself hanged.

  First, she had to change clothes and put on some shoes. She shone the pencil flashlight on the contents of her closet, taking care that no light was visible from the outer rooms. Dark clothes would be practical, but she hadn’t brought any dark clothes with her. It was August in the southern Nevada desert; she hadn’t anticipated being obliged to sneak around in the dark.

  She would stand out like a sore thumb in her light-colored clothes, but there wasn’t any help for it. She would just have to make certain no one saw her.

  Nevertheless irritated by her lack of preparedness, she quickly pulled on a pair of thin cotton pants and a T-shirt, and defiantly slipped her ID tag into her pocket. If she got caught, they wouldn’t be able to say she didn’t have proper identification. As an afterthought, she added her keys to her pocket. She could hardly reenter by the window, though if she managed to catch Cal up to no good, she wouldn’t have to worry about the guards out front.

  She climbed up on the bed again, but a minute’s experimentation made it plain that she needed to be higher so she could angle through from a more horizontal position. She got a kitchen chair and balanced it on the bed, then climbed up on the chair. It was a wobbly perch, but she was holding on to the edge of the window and wasn’t afraid of falling.

  One arm and shoulder went first, then she turned her head to the side and eased it through the slot, earning nothing more horrendous than a minor scrape. She wiggled the other shoulder and arm through and braced her arms on the wall below her as she wriggled forward. As soon as her hips were through, she suspected, her center of gravity would shift drastically forward and she would fall on her head, dragging her legs the rest of the way through the window. It wasn’t a high drop, but she didn’t want to break her neck landing. To prevent it, or at least slow her down, she hooked her legs backward so her heels were braced against the inside wall, and inched forward some more.

  The edge of the window cut into her soft bottom but she ignored the pain and forced herself on through. Immediately she lurched forward and only her hooked legs inside kept her from doing exactly as she had feared. Frantically, she braced her arms again, forcing herself as far away from a vertical position as possible, then cast a fearful glance toward the front of the building where the guards were parked. To her relief, she couldn’t see the car from where she was.

  She hung there a minute before she faced the inevitable: there was no graceful way to do it. She was going to be scraped and bruised. Moreover, there was no way she could now reverse the process and inch back inside. Her legs were trembling from the strain. Without giving herself time to dwell on how much it was going to hurt, she straightened her legs and gave a push with her arms at the same time, launching herself the rest of the way out of the window. She tried to turn in midair so nothing vital was damaged on landing, like her head, and succeeded in turning mostly to the side. The impact was harder than she ever would have suspected for such a short distance. The loose gravel scraped skin on her temple and cheek, down the side of her left arm and on her left ankle. She had banged both knees somehow, and jarred her shoulder.

  But she couldn’t just sit there and take stock of her injuries. Her senses were still swimming when she forced herself to move, to scramble against the shadows at the side of the building and walk quickly in the opposite direction. Only when she had gone almost a hundred yards without hearing a warning shout did she relax and take a deep breath. Immediately her pains made themselves felt, and she stopped to lean over and rub both aching knees, then her bottom. She rotated her shoulder to make certain it was in working order and gingerly touched the side of her face. She didn’t seem to be bleeding, but the scrapes burned. A scarf threaded through the loops of the pants usually served her as a belt, but she stripped it out and carefully blotted the scrapes to remove the dirt and tiny bits of gravel from her face.

  Something else she could lay at Cal’s door.

  She trudged the long way around, no longer making an effort to avoid being seen on the theory that someone would be more likely to notice her if she was trying not to be noticed. If she acted normally, no one would pay any attention to her.

  Joe sat up and threw the sheet off, cursing steadily under his breath even as he got up and began dressing in jeans and boots. It wasn’t military business he had to attend to, and the long, restless hours in a bed that was far too empty had steadily eroded his patience until there was none left. He glanced at his watch, surprised to see that it was only about 0200 hours. He’d been in bed less than two hours, but it had felt more like four or five. It didn’t matter. No matter how long it had been, he wasn’t going to be able to sleep until he’d had it out with Caroline. He wanted to hear her explanation of why she’d done what she had, and he wanted her to tell him to his face. He wouldn’t let her ignore him again the way she had earlier in his office.

  He decided to walk rather than take the truck for the relatively short distance; maybe the walk would settle him down. He was dangerously close to exploding, and he knew it. He had been six years old the last time he’d lost his temper, and he’d sworn then never to do it again, but Caroline tested his control to the extreme.

  He’d walked less than a quarter of a mile when he first saw the slim figure walking boldly through the night, and his first thought was that temper was making him hallucinate. He stopped and stepped back out of sight, going down on one knee next to a trash can. He hadn’t mistaken her identity; the overhead streetlights gleamed on her pale hair, and he knew that walk as intimately as he knew his own face. The arrogant set of slim shoulders, the gentle sway of rounded hips, were burned into his memory.

  Was she coming to see him? His heart thumped wildly, but then he wondered how she had gotten past her guards. He knew they had been there, because he had suggested to Hodge that it would be a good idea, and Hodge had agreed. He’d even heard Hodge give the orders. But here she was, walking around the base at two a.m., not a guard insight.

  He waited until she had walked past him before slipping from his cover. As always, he moved soundlessly, dropping back about fifty yards but always keeping her insight. If she turned toward the BOQ he could rapidly close the distance and approach her. But she didn’t even pause at the BOQ, and his anger rose to the boiling point. She was headed straight for the laser work area, damn her treacherous little heart. His palm itched with the almost irresistible impulse to storm up behind her, take her by the nape of the neck and bend her over his knee. By the time he got through walloping that pretty little backside he would feel a lot better and she would have a better appreciation of just how angry he was. Damn it, didn’t she know how serious her situation was?

  Of course she did. By her own actions, she was proving herself guilty. Probably she intended to finish the traitorous work she had already begun.

  He thought of stopping to alert the security police, but decided in favor of keeping her insight. If she tried anything like setting the place on fire he could subdue her and hold her until security got there. In fact, he would enjoy subduing her. He just might get that walloping accomplished while they were waiting.

  He saw her stop and get something out of her pocket, then attach it to her shirt. Her ID tag. Why hadn’t Hodge relieved her of it? Because he hadn’t seen any need to; she had been under guard, and the codes would be deleted from the computer first thing in the morning. Joe was suddenly furious again, but this time at both Hodge and himself. They had been inexcusably lax, especially for a project with security as tight as Night Wi
ng. She couldn’t get off the base, but she could still wreak havoc on base. They relied too much on technology to do their guarding for them, something he intended to change immediately.

  Someone was already inside the building; there was a very dim glow coming from one of the windows, barely noticeable. Caroline saw it, too. He saw her head turn as she stared at the light; then she continued straight up to the door and slipped inside, as silent as a wraith.

  Twenty seconds later, he followed. He wasn’t wearing his ID tag, so he knew central security would be alerted immediately.

  Up ahead, he saw Caroline reach into the office and flip on the light switch, bathing her in the bright light. “What did you do, use my name tag again?” she demanded furiously of someone else inside. “The computers will probably go crazy when they record Caroline Evans entering twice in a row. You sabotaged my project, damn you!”

  Realization burst in his brain like a bomb, and shock slammed through him as she stepped completely inside the office, out of sight. Damn the little idiot! She didn’t have one iota of caution. She had simply charged straight in without thinking that cornering a traitor could be dangerous. Joe launched himself down the corridor, running silently, desperately praying with every fiber in him that he wouldn’t hear a gunshot that would mean the end of that foolhardy courageousness.

  He heard a sudden movement, a gasp, a sickening thud, and he burst through the open doorway just as Caroline slid to the floor. Cal Gilchrist was standing in front of a glowing computer monitor, his face utterly white. Too late Joe saw Cal’s eyes dart to the side, behind him. He tried to whirl, but he’d been too distracted by his own unreasoning fear. Before he could react, something hard crashed against his temple. It felt as if his head was exploding. Then there was nothing but total blackness.

  Chapter 12

  Caroline slowly regained consciousness, at first aware only of being jounced uncomfortably. Her head hurt with a deep throbbing that dulled her senses, but gradually she became aware of pain in her shoulder and arms, too. Then she began to realize that she could hear voices, that there was someone else near her, but for a blank, frightening moment she didn’t know who or where she was.

  Then she recognized one of the voices, and awareness swept through her. She remembered everything. Cal. It was his voice she recognized, and just as she realized that, she also realized that she was in a vehicle of some sort, perhaps a van, and she was tied. Gagged, too, damn it.

  Slowly she opened her eyes, quickly closing them again in pain when a bright light flashed quickly through the windows. She heard a rushing sound and realized some other vehicle had passed them on the road, nothing more. She tried again, this time opening her lids only a slit so she could accustom herself to the discomfort. This must be what a hangover felt like, and she hadn’t even indulged. All the misery without any of the fun.

  Someone was lying beside her.

  This time she closed her eyes in panic, startled by the realization that there was a man right next to her. She was acutely aware of her helplessness. Oh, God, were they going to rape her?

  But the man wasn’t moving. Cautiously she opened her eyes one more time and found herself staring straight into Joe Mackenzie’s pale, furious eyes.

  Even if she hadn’t been gagged, she couldn’t have said a word, she was so astonished. How had he gotten there? She had a good idea how she had come to be in such a predicament, because she had foolishly rushed into the office to confront Cal without making certain he was alone. But how had Joe gotten involved? Then fear swelled in her chest, because he was in danger, too.

  “I say we forget about it and get out of the country,” Cal was saying feverishly. “It’s over. I can’t take it any further. They’re going to check the entire system, and they’ll find everything.”

  “I told the others you didn’t have the nerve for this,” someone else replied dismissively. Caroline tore her gaze from Joe’s and craned her neck so she could see up front. Another man was sitting beside Cal, who was driving. She didn’t recognize him, but at the same time he looked vaguely familiar.

  “Nothing was said about murder,” Cal replied furiously.

  “And I suppose if that pilot had died when his plane was shot down, you wouldn’t have been responsible for that?”

  “That was different.” Despite his words, Cal’s tone was uneasy.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “That was…chance. But this is cold-blooded murder. I can’t do it.”

  “No one’s asking you to do it,” the other man said impatiently. “You don’t have the nerve for it. We’ll take care of it. Don’t worry, you won’t even see it happen.”

  If her hands hadn’t been tied behind her back, Caroline would have lunged for the man, she was so angry. He was talking about killing them as casually as he would talk about doing the laundry! Joe silently nudged her ankle with his boot; actually, it was more of a kick, and her ankle was already sore. She turned her glare on him, and he gave a tiny, warning shake of his head. She kicked him in return, and he blinked at the pain.

  They were in a van, one which was evidently used for hauling cargo rather than people, for there was no carpeting on the floor, only bare metal. The vehicle swayed with every turn, curve and bump, adding to the discomfort of her position. She was lying on her sore shoulder anyway, and having her hands tied behind her made it worse.

  She tried to discern what they had used to bind her; it felt like nylon cord, while it was probably her own scarf they had tied around her mouth, adding insult to injury. Her keys were still in her pocket. If she could get them out, and if she and Joe turned so their backs were to each other, and if they had enough time, she might be able to use the edge of a key to saw through the nylon. The keys weren’t sharp, but they were rough. Joe’s pockets had probably been searched for a knife, a common item for men to carry, but women weren’t expected to carry anything in their pockets, and evidently Cal and his cohort had totally overlooked hers.

  “There’s no point in killing them,” Cal was saying raggedly. “It’s over. We barely got out of there before the security police started swarming all over the place. By now they know I left the base, and they have a record of the van’s license plate. When Caroline and the colonel are both reported missing but neither of them is recorded as leaving the base, they’ll put two and two together so fast there’ll be an APB out for the van within another hour, at most. Right now we’re looking at life, but if we kill them, we’ll get the death penalty.”

  To Caroline that sounded like a very convincing argument, but the other man didn’t seem impressed. He didn’t even bother to respond.

  Sometimes she wished she weren’t so darn logical. She couldn’t turn off her thought processes even when they were telling her something she would rather not know. If the other man disregarded Cal’s argument, then it must be because he had some reason to believe he himself wouldn’t be tied in to the sabotage. As Cal had pointed out, his own involvement was known, but this other guy must think himself safe…except Cal knew about him and could tie him to everything. Therefore, the man felt safe only if he knew that Cal wasn’t going to be alive to make the connection.

  Furiously she began rubbing her face against the floor of the van, trying to scrape the gag away from her mouth, pushing against it with her tongue at the same time. Joe glared another warning at her, but she ignored him. Her frantic movements attracted the attention of the man in the passenger seat up front, and he turned around.

  His voice was genial. “Welcome back, Ms. Evans. I hope your headache isn’t too bad.”

  Joe had closed his eyes again and was still lying motionless. Caroline made an angry noise, muffled by the scarf, and continued her struggles. She kicked her bound feet and twisted her torso, all the while fighting the gag.

  “You might as well stop wasting your time,” the man said in a mild, faintly bored tone. “You can’t get free, and all you’re doing is pulling the cord tighter.”

  She wasn’t concerned
about the cord. Her two aims were to get the gag off and somehow dislodge the keys from her pocket. Not an impossible task, since her pants were loose, flimsy cotton, but not an easy one, either, because the pockets were deep. She mumbled a few unintelligible curses at him and continued with her struggle.

  She had managed to push the scarf out of her mouth, and on an impulse she scooted over next to Joe and pushed her face hard against his shoulder, using the contact and the friction between his shirt and the scarf to roll the gag downward. Joe didn’t move, and his eyes remained closed. She worked her jaw until the gag slipped down to hang around her neck. The man in the front seat was frowning at her, starting to get up on his knees and twist around.

  “You dirtbag, you’ve killed him!” she croaked, forcing as much rage as possible into her voice, even though her tongue and jaw didn’t want to work.

  The van swayed alarmingly as Cal jerked on the wheel, his head swiveling around to stare into the back. The other man fought for his balance. “Keep your eyes on the road!” he barked at Cal.

  “You said he was just unconscious!”

  “He isn’t dead, damn it. I hit him harder than I did her because I didn’t want any trouble with the big bruiser if he woke up before we could get them out of there and tied up.”

  Caroline yelled, “Cal, he’s going to kill you, too! Why else wouldn’t he be worried about a murder charge unless he’s going to try to blame the whole thing on you?”

  The man lunged at her from over the seat, reaching back to grab her around the throat. Quick as a cat she turned her head and sank her teeth into his arm. He howled and tried to jerk back, but she hung on like a limpet, working her jaws to inflict as much damage as possible.