Raymond Khoury - The Sanctuary

That last part ignited the hakeem’s interest visibly. “Another buyer? Who?”

“I don’t know.”

The hakeem held up the needle threateningly.

“I don’t know,” Corben insisted. “He wouldn’t tell me. I tried to counterbid, but the other buyer bid even higher.”

He hadn’t wanted the hakeem to know about the other buyer and cursed inwardly, noticing that the hakeem’s mind was clearly thinking the same thing he was, desperate to find out who the other interested party was.

“Where is this exchange taking place?”

“I don’t know yet,” Corben said grudgingly. “We’re tracking him. It looks like he’s spending the night in Diyarbakir. The trade’s going down tomorrow.” He scowled at his captor. “If you want that book, you’re going to have to work with me on this. I’m the only one who can get that information from our intel guys, and if I don’t show up at my desk in the morning, all bets are off.”

A faint smile played on the hakeem’s lips. “Oh, I’m sure you can get the information by phone. I can’t imagine CIA agents having to punch in every morning. Just as long as you don’t forget to make your sign-in call.”

The hakeem was well-informed: He knew of the Agency’s routine requirement for field agents to call in at specified times every morning to confirm they were okay. Corben watched the hakeem as he thought things through for a moment, before adding, “What excuse were you planning to use to justify your little excursion to Diyarbakir?”

“I was going to be checking out someone Farouk called. Without mentioning the book.”

The hakeem nodded. “I want that book,” he said firmly. “And even more than the book, I want to know who the other buyer is. I’ll get you to Diyarbakir without your people knowing about it. But in the meantime, I’d prefer to keep you close. If you need a way out later, you’ll be able to say we grabbed you from your apartment and forced you along.” He fixed Corben intently. “Take my men to wherever this exchange is taking place. Bring me back the book and the buyer, and we can talk about our future. Do we have a deal?”

Corben’s eyes hardened. He nodded. He didn’t have much choice. The man was, if anything, methodical.

There was one more issue to discuss. “What about the woman? Evelyn Bishop? You heard the ambassador’s announcement. It would strengthen my hand if I get her back at some point.”

The hakeem shrugged. “Like I said. Get me the book and the buyer. Maybe after that, you can stage a miraculous escape and free her too.” He looked a question at the pockmarked man and asked him something in Arabic.

Corben strained to look over his shoulder and saw the killer pull out Corben’s cell phone from a pocket. He’d taken out its battery, which he held in his hand.

The hakeem nodded, then stowed the syringe in the briefcase and motioned to his men to take it away. He turned and walked off, flicking a terse signal to his men. They approached Corben.

“So is it real?” Corben called out after him.

The man kept walking.

“Does it work?” Corben shouted out, persisting.

The hakeem stopped, turned, the corners of his mouth breaking in a thin, wry smile. “I hope you won’t try to be too clever. I can always find room for you in my little clinic. Do we understand each other?”

Corben locked eyes with the hakeem. He realized the man would be impossible to rein in, and Corben knew he’d have to adjust his plans accordingly. If the other buyer knew his stuff, Corben would ditch the hakeem. The thought of bringing the sick bastard in or — even better — pumping a bullet through his forehead seemed hugely satisfying right now.

The hakeem got into a waiting car. He was driven away while his men converged on Corben, gagged him with some packing tape, lifted him off his feet, and carried him off like a roped steer before dumping him into another car’s trunk and slamming it shut.

The dusty morning sunlight conspired with the car horns and street vendors to wake Mia up. In truth, she hadn’t slept well at all despite the cushy comfort of her bed. As if the whole notion of the hakeem’s insane aspiration being possibly not-so-insane wasn’t enough, Kirkwood’s closing words had sent her mind into a confused spin. The three martinis probably didn’t help on that front either.

Kirkwood was right. They had to keep this quiet, at least until Evelyn was safe.

Which meant keeping it from Corben.

Thinking back, Mia had sensed a wariness in the agent when she’d first seen him around Kirkwood. What was the real reason for that? Did the agent know more than he’d shared with her? She thought back to Corben’s telling her about the lab in Baghdad. He’d suggested that it was about bioweapons, but he hadn’t given her a satisfactory explanation of why the hakeem was after the codex, repeating — annoyingly, as far as she was concerned — that it was irrelevant to getting Evelyn out. If the hakeem’s experiments had to do with longevity, surely the CIA’s experts would already have figured that out.

Which meant they’d want to keep it under wraps.

Either she was way off the mark, which she thought was quite likely. Or, on the off chance that what she and Kirkwood had speculated about last night was real, Corben was hiding things from her. Which, she reminded herself, wouldn’t be that shocking. He was a CIA man. He had a job to do. Not telling her the whole truth wouldn’t exactly be keeping him up at night.

On the other hand, she didn’t know much about Kirkwood. She’d felt a certain distance, a hesitancy in his manner, almost a shyness — about something. But he also exuded calmness, a confidence that came with well-honed knowledge. Still, she didn’t know anything about Kirkwood, really. He’d appeared in Beirut wanting to help get Evelyn out, he was with the UN, and that was pretty much it. Mia realized she had to be careful with him too. The same reasons that would have her be wary of Corben had to apply to Kirkwood too.

Her mouth felt dry and her stomach was grumbling in protest. Deciding that the buffet would provide a quicker fix than room service, she quickly slipped on some cargo pants and a shirt and headed out to the hotel’s restaurant.

She was lost in her thoughts and waiting for the elevator when its doors pinged open. Kirkwood was standing inside.

A silver attaché case and a backpack were by his feet. He looked as if he was leaving.

Mia stepped inside, her eyes darting from his face to the bags and back. Something caught in her throat. “You’re leaving?”

His face tensed up, as if he’d been caught out. “No, I,…,” he stumbled, “I’ll be back tonight.”

She nodded, sensing his discomfort. She decided to probe a little deeper. “Look, I’ve been thinking about what we were talking about, and I think I should let Jim know.” She studied his face. “Maybe it’ll help.”

Kirkwood hadn’t slept well either. His chat with Mia, at the rooftop bar, deeply unsettled him. He’d nudged at the truth with her, then he’d pulled back. Which left her with a lot of questions. Questions that could get her into trouble.

Corben and his handlers obviously had their own agenda. Evelyn was expendable, Kirkwood knew that. Mia hadn’t posed much of a threat to them, but if she started asking too many questions, making a pain of herself, they might feel threatened. And he knew what these people did when they felt that way.

He’d made that mistake before. Keeping quiet about the real significance of the tail-eater had put people in danger. He didn’t want it to happen again.

And he certainly didn’t want it to happen to Mia.