Page 9

Kurt laughed, and she glared at him. He stopped smiling. He liked that she stood up for herself and other women. He happened to agree but also tended to steer clear of making statements about people because he didn’t want to end up misquoted on some news outlet. “What? You don’t think he’s a hero?”

“With his penis-shaped rocket ships designed to rape the nearest planets of natural resources while he lines his pockets? Or his satellite systems cluttering up the sky while he takes control of communications on a global scale? Gilder’s the villain science fiction writers have been warning us about for decades. ”

“You’re definitely not a fan.” He flicked the station off.

“Most billionaires are selfish egotists with nothing much to recommend them, but Gilder is particularly obnoxious. Uncle Peter and Aunty Anoona met him once, years ago.”

He glanced at her then.

“They said he was exactly as you’d imagine that kind of self-absorbed narcissistic personality would be. Uncle Peter said they almost came to blows over some comment he made about Anoona, but Gilder backed down when faced with someone tougher than he was.”

“Wanker.”

She grinned at his use of the British insult. He was reminded how pretty she was. He looked back at the road.

They were approaching the outskirts of Marondera. “Write a list of your clothing and shoe sizes on my phone.”

“I can’t come in with you?”

“I don’t want anyone seeing you with me.

I don’t want anyone associating me and what I purchase with you.

I’m going to pick up clothes, food, water, a burner phone so we can apply for a visa to get into Mozambique without linking it to our own phones.

Maybe some hair dye or a new hat for you.

And I’m going to buy some bleach wipes and sanitizing supplies so we can attempt to get rid of any trace evidence linking us to the crime scene. ”

Her hands formed a twisted bunch of fingers in her lap. “What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing. Sit in the car and keep your head down. Read a book or something.”

“Usually my favorite thing.”

“Use my cell to direct me to a supermarket and then a shoe store. The FBI encrypts the signal, so it’s the best one to use in a pinch, but I’d rather we both fall off the radar until we’re on neutral territory if possible.”

She did as he asked, and five minutes later, he pulled up outside a fancy-looking Pick-n-Pay.

It was still raining heavily, which suited him perfectly.

Fewer people going in and out, and hopefully, the rain would remove any traces of blood from his shoes transferred from Rowena’s onto the foot pedals of the car .

Her bloodless lips were pressed together in a thin line.

“You gonna be okay?”

Her green eyes were huge and frightened. “I don’t know.”

“I mean waiting in the car?”

“Oh.” She glanced around as flags of color appeared in her cheeks. Nodding briskly, she folded her hands neatly in her lap. “I’ll be fine.”

“I might be a while.”

“I’ll be here.” She held his gaze. “If I’m not, I’ll be at the police station. In handcuffs.”

He sighed. He wanted to reassure her everything would be okay but there were no guarantees. “Keep your face averted. Don’t catch anyone’s gaze. But don’t act suspicious either.”

She gave him a rapid nod, and he climbed out of the vehicle, leaned back inside. “Any allergies?”

She shook her head and dragged her bag from the back seat into her lap.

He shut the door and headed into the grocery store.

He grabbed a cart and mentally calculated the minimum supplies they could get away with.

Water was a priority, so he got a flat of still bottled water.

Then he picked up a few apples, bananas for the car, sports drinks, energy bars, some packet soups, and a small cheap saucepan in case they ended up having to cook in the open.

Some bread rolls. He threw in two big bags of chips because he was starving.

He found wipes with bleach in them and tossed in three packs along with a box of tissues and some matches.

He grabbed two packs each of ready-made sandwiches and some emergency chocolate bars.

They could be over the border in a few hours.

Or, if he decided it was too dangerous, they might have to hike cross country through the mountains and figure out a way to contact someone to come pick them up on the other side.

His preference would be SEAL Team Six, but it was more likely some local spook who’d shove them in the back of an embassy vehicle and then onto an aircraft in Maputo.

What he did know was that if they couldn’t get a visa stamp from the border guards, then travel in Mozambique would be just as dangerous as traveling across Zimbabwe—especially with someone who might be a suspect for murder.

Not a lot he could do except prepare for the worst. He added another pack of sandwiches. Paid cash and took the loot back to the car, tossing Rowena a sandwich and a Coke and a pack of wipes.

“Wipe off the pedals and the footwells and bottom of your shoes as best you can. I’m going to the shoe shop and electronics store next.”

She nodded.

“You have any cash? Or Bjorn?”

She rifled through her wallet and handed him a wad of US dollars. Then she opened Bjorn’s wallet and there was a picture of his beautiful young wife and two great-looking kids.

It shook him.

Murder was always shocking.

He inhaled and shoved the feelings aside. She handed him a wad of cash that he’d replace when he was back in the States. He couldn’t afford to lose his focus. Not until they were safe.

It was still raining, but he was already drenched so it didn’t matter. He was warm and didn’t really care.

He got to the shoe store and bought waterproof hiking boots for Rowena along with some good woolen socks for them both. Next door was a clothing store, and he walked inside not really having a clue what Rowena might prefer. He found jeans and T-shirts and a rain jacket and a light fleece.

They were going to look a bit his-and-hers but perhaps that would help sell the girlfriend-boyfriend idea.

As long as no one counted the creases at the corners of his eyes, the two of them might get away with it.

He added woolen hats too. Where they were going was more elevated than Harare, the nights cooler in the mountains.

He used Rowena’s cash for this haul. He would save his alias’s credit card for emergencies .

He wished he’d been able to find a tent and a couple of sleeping bags, but perhaps staying at a local lodge or hotel and maintaining their cover as tourists would be wiser for a white couple who so obviously didn’t belong.

Or they could sleep in the car.

He went back to the SUV, placed the supplies in the back seat, and met her gaze. Her cheeks were flushed from exertion, and she held a wad of dirty tissues in one hand.

He emptied a plastic bag and held it out to her. “Finished?”

She placed the used wipes inside. “I think so. I scrubbed everything I could think of.”

“Pass me your shoes. Put these on.”

She took the new boots from him and placed them on the driver’s seat. She dragged off her sneakers and passed them over one at a time.

Then she cleaned her hands on another wipe and tossed that into the garbage bag he held.

She bit her lip. “Anything else you want me to do?”

“Just one thing.”

“What?”

He frowned heavily at her, keeping a straight face as she nervously waited for him to answer. “Don’t eat all the potato chips.”

Kurt headed across the road to a small outdoor mall that had an electronics store.

He tossed the garbage bag in one trash can, placed Rowena’s purple sneakers on top of another, and kept walking.

Chances were someone would pick them up and take them home because they were nice shoes.

That disposed of them a whole lot more effectively than putting them in the trash.

He was soaked down to his underwear which reminded him to go into another clothes store and pick up something for both of them.

He checked his cell for her sizes. He thought about calling his bosses, but it would be better if he waited until he had some actionable intel.

They weren’t expecting him until tomorrow, and no one was waiting for him at home anyway.

He picked up a couple of pairs of boxers for himself because he hadn’t done laundry in a week, expecting to be home next time he needed anything clean.

Then he wandered over to the women’s section and eyed the array of bras with dismay. What the hell did he know about choosing women’s underwear? The woman behind the counter came over and he admitted defeat.

“My, er, girlfriend asked me to pick up some new underwear while she’s at the grocery store. She gave me her sizes.” He raised his hand at the vast selection. “I don’t have a clue what she might like.”

“Is she skinny or full figured like me?”

Kurt tried not to stare at the woman’s ample figure as she skimmed her hands over her hips. “She has curves.” He could feel himself blushing. Fuck. He read the sizes again. “She’s a 34C chest and UK 12 pant size. Can you help me out?”

The woman laughed and picked up a piece of lace he realized was supposed to be panties, and he shook his head.

“We’re doing some hiking. So something comfortable not er…

that.” He did not need to be imagining Miss Rowena Smith in anything remotely like that .

He needed to think of her the same way he thought of his daughter.

“Let’s pick a selection.” She picked out a variety of sensible-looking panties and added a few scraps of material that made heat creep up his neck. Then she headed for the bras.

Kurt spotted a sports bra and grabbed one. “This will do.”

The woman eyed him with pity and grabbed a ruby red bra and pantie set. Then she picked up a matching coverup that was practically sheer.

He almost swallowed his tongue.

The shop assistant eyed him over her glasses. “A woman sends a man shopping for underwear, she isn’t asking for practical.”