Page 35

F or the second night in a row, Kurt woke a few minutes after four, with the dull throb of a headache pounding gently at the base of his skull. Feeling better overall if still a little weak. He’d slept like the dead.

Rowena getting him off in the tub seemed like a fever dream.

An incredible, let’s do that again sometime but with me inside you , fever dream.

She was curled up beside him now, not touching, but facing him, as if she’d fallen asleep watching over him.

Worrying about him. He wished he had the strength to do more than kiss her on the forehead before he got out of bed.

He rose, dressed, and placed the pistol into the waistband of his pants.

He loathed that carry, but without a holster, he had no better option.

In the kitchen, he checked the landline to see if it was working yet.

It wasn’t.

Gilder? Or a coincidence combined with his growing paranoia?

Nah, he’d always been grounded in reality rather than fantasy.

He had to assume Gilder was hunting him.

If so, how long could the billionaire disrupt a nation’s communication services before the population rebelled?

How long would his government co-conspirators let him?

Kurt found the makings for coffee and put on the pot, staring out into the darkness, wondering if and how many mercs were on their trail. A yawning Marianne walked into the kitchen along with Spencer, who ran to the back door and scratched to go outside as the percolator came to a boil.

She opened the door and let the dog out to do whatever he needed to do and run back inside again. She slid the bolt home after he did so.

It was a little humbling to know she trusted them enough to let them sleep in her house overnight. He hoped she hadn’t played them in some way and betrayed them to the authorities. She’d seemed to have taken a shine to Rowena. There was a lot of that going around.

“You look better.” Her voice was gruff with the gravel of morning.

“I feel a lot better. Thank you.” He’d taken another dose of antibiotics and could already feel the difference as the medicine helped combat the infection. “Oink.”

She laughed in surprise.

“Sorry I was an ass last night.” He rolled his arm. It didn’t feel nearly as heavy or as sore as it had yesterday.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m used to men being asses.”

He grimaced. “I’m sorry for that too.”

She inclined her head. “Not my husband, but a lot of people I used to respect who now struggle to deal with me as the person in charge rather than Newt. It’s been eye-opening to say the least because”—her eyes flashed with wry amusement—“I was always the one in charge.”

Kurt passed her a coffee. “You know you don’t have to come with us to Beira. I could pay someone to deliver the truck and the fertilizer back here.” He shrugged. “I can afford to make it worth someone’s while. I hate to think of you making the return journey alone. ”

She watched him carefully. “I’ve been driving that road for nearly forty years and was going anyway. This way I have company one way. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Well, thanks. Appreciate it.”

She looked out the window into the darkness. “Henry can manage on his own this time of year. Hell, maybe I’ll spend the night at some fancy hotel, see if I can pick up a boy toy.”

His mouth-tightened at the obvious jibe about the age difference between him and Rowena.

The edge of her mouth curved up. “He was a lot older than me. Newt. My late husband.”

Kurt cast her a sideways look.

“I can see it bothers you, though she doesn’t seem to care.

But I know it doesn’t always matter what the woman thinks.

” She rolled her eyes and blew the top of her coffee.

“Newt struggled with it our entire married life—he was thirty-nine and I was eighteen, but I knew what I wanted. He was a close family friend, and his first wife died young, which was a damned shame. He was miserable for about a year, and my parents invited him to stay here, which worked for them as they received free vet care. We started to spend more time together and”—she popped her shoulders in a carefree shrug—“events took their natural course one night when my parents were away and I persuaded him to go skinny dipping in the pond with me.”

Kurt wasn’t often at a loss for words, but right now he was struck mute.

She joggled his sore arm. “My advice, not that you asked. Don’t be ashamed of the age difference if you’re still happy to shag her blind in secret.

Otherwise, she might wonder at some point if you’re actually ashamed of her and the only reason you’re together is for the hot sex. And what man would refuse hot sex?”

Kurt coughed, and she slapped him on the back.

“Newt made that mistake and had to come groveling with a big-ass diamond ring to get me back.” She extended her right hand where her diamond engagement ring sparkled like the sun.

“He had to prove to me the age difference didn’t matter and that he considered me his equal, not a child, even though he was two decades older.

Once you reach adulthood, sonny, age is just a number. ”

He huffed a laugh and took a drink of his coffee. “ Sonny ?”

“Just trying to make you feel better.” Her lips quirked.

“I’ll bear that in mind, grandma.”

She smirked.

Not that he and Rowena were an item. He wasn’t sure what they were, but right now, it felt a lot like partners, and he was okay with that.

He needed to get them both out of this situation alive.

If they found a way to see one another again in the future, he’d flaunt her every chance he got. Probably.

His hangups were a problem for future Kurt. His current issue was figuring a way to get them out of the country without Gilder knowing.

“I’ll take Sleeping Beauty her coffee and then go check out the truck.” Figure out how to make it safe and comfortable for someone hiding in the back.

“I’ll throw together a quick breakfast, keep us going. Along with some supplies for the journey.”

“Appreciate it.”

They set off just as the African sun started to rise.

Kurt had lined the bottom of the rear bench seat, which was basically a metal box with a padded lid that was bolted to the chassis, with cushions from the garden chairs and wool throws from the couch.

He’d found two pieces of wood that could be used to prop the seat open and allowed Row to sit upright but out of sight.

Marianne had draped a blanket over the back of the two front seats, and he’d placed the backpack with the gun in it on the floor in the back where Row could grab it should they be stopped on the road.

Marianne had loaded a crate of water into the back, and he’d refilled all his and Rowena’s bottles before they’d left.

Marianne handed him an old sunhat to wear with her farm logo on the front along with some wonky sunglasses. He put them on, wondering if she knew he was trying to avoid being recognized by people and any surveillance cameras that happened to be around.

It was hard to tell what she really thought was going on or why she would help them. Maybe she was simply a romantic and thought they were star-crossed lovers. Or maybe Gilder or Leo Spartan had offered a reward for their capture, and she was driving them right into the hands of their enemy.

He figured they were going to find out.

They passed banana, rice, tea, and tobacco plantations. Saw evidence of the mining frenzy that was consuming whole chunks of Africa in the search for precious gems, metals and now rare earth metals.

They’d almost reached Chimoio when Marianne’s cell phone burst to life with a series of dings.

“Looks like the cell towers are back in action.”

He nodded. He needed to contact someone to get a US Navy ship offshore.

Should he call his boss directly? He feared a man with Gilder’s resources would be smart enough to tap the phones of Kurt’s FBI workmates, and his nearest and dearest. If not to hear the conversation, then to ping the location of the caller.

He didn’t want to do something rash when he could smell freedom.

Even Gilder wouldn’t attack the US Navy. Or British Royal Navy for that matter…

The CIA should have contacts within the country.

Killion’s number had changed when his friend had retired from his Intelligence Officer role to manage The Farm, and Kurt didn’t recall the new one without starting up his work cell which he had no intention of doing.

He did remember the number for the intelligence officer from the embassy in Harare though. Marty Sinclair.

“I need to pee.” Rowena’s voice was high and slightly desperate.

They were about halfway through the journey .

“I’ll pull off onto a quiet road and we’ll find some bushes. There’s a place not far away I’ve used before.”

As soon as the women clambered out of the truck, Kurt pulled the burner out of his pack and inserted the battery and SIM card. It took thirty seconds to activate the phone cards, then he punched in Marty’s number.

The guy picked up on the first ring. “Sinclair.”

“It’s Kurt Montana.”

“Where the hell?—

“Listen carefully. I don’t have much time. What Navy vessels are in the vicinity of Madagascar and how soon can they reach Beira?”

“That’s where you are? I thought you were dead.”

“Naval vessels.”

“I’d have to check.”

“Do it. Tell the FBI I’m alive and need exfil with a twenty-seven-year-old female British national. I’ll be there in a couple of hours, and it would be nice if there was someone friendly to meet us.”

“Who’s the female?”

“Classified. I’ll make a full report to my bosses when I get onboard.

All normal communication channels need to be assumed to be compromised.

Use the SCIF to contact FBI HQ. You can’t talk about this in person or on unsecured channels to anyone, not even the ambassador.

Fuck, not even the president. I’m going to hang up now.

I’ll call back in a couple of hours, and I want a boat or a chopper waiting. Got it?”

He hung up before Marty could reply. Popped the SIM and battery and placed them in his shirt pocket, cell in his pants.

He picked up Marianne’s phone, reading the texts he could see on the Lock Screen. No obvious signs she’d contacted authorities and told them about him or Rowena.

He put the cell down as he heard laughter getting close. The women climbed back into the truck .

Marianne opened the glovebox, and Kurt spotted an old revolver inside. She rifled around and pulled out a bottle of hand sanitizer. She squirted some onto her own hands and handed it back to Rowena.

“She can probably sit up now. Chances of a roadblock goes down dramatically from here on out.”

“I’d rather not risk it. The idea of Row ending up in a jail cell is pretty scary for the sake of another couple hours of being careful. Once we’re at the hotel, I’ll make a few calls.”

“I’m fine back here,” Rowena said brightly. “Probably going to snooze for a while anyway.”

“Want me to drive?” he offered.

Marianne grinned and tilted her head coquettishly. “You’re not insured. Hey, did you call the car hire place? Let them know you survived?”

“My cell’s out of juice.”

“Use mine.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Hardly.” Marianne pulled back onto the main road. “Code’s 1232. Original, I know.”

“Thanks. You mind if I check a couple of other things while I’m at it?”

She shook her head. “Knock yourself out.”

He pulled up the news first, saw reports on the crash and the fact an investigation was happening as soon as they’d finished recovering the dead.

Reporters claimed bodies had been scavenged by animals—convenient if you wanted to lose the remains of someone who never actually boarded the aircraft.

He scrolled down, and the fact an off-duty FBI agent had been onboard along with his name was mentioned.

Then a long list of photos of the dead including his official FBI mug shot.

His heart ached anew for Daisy and his FBI family, and for all the people who’d needlessly died a horrific death because of someone’s twisted need to keep secrets.

Authorities believed it was “mechanical failure” but were investigating. He wondered if the killers would get away with that.

He searched for news about Bjorn’s murder and found a short reference to a vicious attack in Harare. Nothing to suggest they had a lead on a suspect. The air crash had probably diverted resources away from the homicide investigation.

No mention of Rowena.

He deleted his search history.

Then he made a fake call to a car rental place apologizing and begging forgiveness for not returning the car. Next, he checked out the Beira hotels and picked a new modern build on the beachfront. They could hang out and have a meal if nothing else while Marty made arrangements.

This was going to work.

They were going to get out of here and back home. He forced his jaw to relax. And perhaps he could figure out a way to keep seeing Rowena. He was due some vacation time. He wondered how Rowena would feel about that idea. Maybe he should ask her and find out.

Just as soon as they made it out the other side of this mess.