Lynne Heitman - The Pandora Key aka The Hostage Room

I did, happy to let someone else be in charge. He worked quickly and expertly, cleaning and dressing the wound.

“Drazen’s got some technical operators,” I said. “These guys were pros.”

“How many?”

“Two for sure. Maybe three.” I didn’t know if the one we had scraped off the Humvee in the garage had been a third man or the Taser man. “They had all the gear. Masks and night-vision goggles and armor. All kinds of firepower. Bat belts. They were definitely Velcro guys. Owwww.”

“Hold still.” He dabbed at the gash on my head, which had become the primary focus of all my nerve endings. “Voices?”

“I didn’t hear any. They weren’t talking, and there was too much other noise.”

He put the lid on the bottle of peroxide and found the trash can for the pile of bloody cotton balls that had accumulated from his ministering. “They were not Drazen’s men,” he said. “He knew nothing of what happened.”

“What? How do you know?”

“I spoke to him. He told me.”

“But they were looking for Rachel. I mean, I think they were. They were looking for someone, and they were ready to take me out, so it must have been her.” I started to stand up, but a wave of nausea put me right back down. “He must be lying to you, Bo.”

“He wants Roger Fratello. He wants you to find him. Why would he kill you?”

I looked into his face, trying to detect whether he believed what he was saying or whether he believed it because Drazen had told him to. All I saw was a lot of stress in his eyes and deep creases in his thick forehead.

“If they weren’t Drazen’s men, then who were those guys?”

“I don’t know. When my men got to the address you gave me, there were no bodies.”

“No bodies? It’s been, like, an hour. Are you sure they were at the right place?”

“As you said, technical operators. There were no shells or weapons or bodies. They cleaned up.”

I leaned back against the tank and thought about it. If it wasn’t Russians, there was only one other possibility. “Blackthorne.”

Bo had found a large adhesive bandage. He peeled off the back and centered it over the cut. “Who is Blackthorne?”

“It’s a what, not a who. A private military firm. Army for hire.”

“Yes, yes. We had many such groups in my country. That is how the Croats beat the Serbs.” He perked up at the memory. “Their militia was trained by one of your American companies.”

“Blackthorne had a car parked outside Rachel’s house. They’re all ex-military and intelligence. These guys must have been from Blackthorne.”

“What did they want?”

“Rachel.” This time when I got up, I managed to stay on my feet. “And she’s about to tell me why.”

Harvey and Rachel were still in the kitchen when we went downstairs. I settled in at the table with them with a big glass of cold water and a bunch of ibuprofen. Bo went off to make calls. He was still working his way off the Boston PD’s “person of interest” list. Looking across the table at the newly constituted couple, I was almost afraid to begin.

“Rachel, why is Blackthorne after you?”

“Who’s Blackthorne?”

“A private military firm.”

“Mercenaries?” She looked at Harvey. “French Foreign Legion? That kind of thing?”

“No,” Harvey said. “These are private firms that provide military services for profit.”

“They can do that?”

“It is sometimes appropriate for governments to transfer some of their public responsibilities to the private sector.” Harvey’s measured tone was a nice balance to Rachel’s increasing shrillness. “It can be more efficient on many fronts, including cost.” Harvey looked at me. “Why do you ask?”

“I think that’s who came after us at the house.”

“That’s terrific,” Rachel said. “That’s just great. First the Russians, and now I get to have a bunch of mercenaries on my ass.”

“You have no idea why?”

“Not a clue.”

I could have pushed harder, but there was so much to cover. I moved on. “You killed Vladislav Tishchenko.”

“In self-defense.” They said it in stereo.

“We’ll talk about that in a second. Let me just get all the facts out first. You killed him, but Drazen thinks Roger Fratello did it. He’s looking for Roger to, I don’t know, exact his revenge, and he thinks Harvey can tell him where to find him. It’s possible he thinks this because some mole inside the FBI tipped him off. That’s pure speculation, but it could make some sense, because we know the FBI also thinks that Harvey can help them find Roger.” I pulled out the only unoccupied chair at the table and put my feet up. “The FBI wants Roger because he tipped off his Russian-actually, Ukrainian-business partner, who I assume is Drazen Tishchenko, that there was an FBI agent undercover at Betelco. Drazen then either killed this agent or had him killed. Is that true, Rachel?”

I looked at her, hoping that our fracas in Acton would have convinced her the time for bullshit had passed.

“Drazen was in Betelco,” she said. “That part is true, but I don’t know anything about the FBI agent except that he died.”

“It wasn’t natural causes, Rachel. He was missing his head and his hands when they found him, which, according to the FBI, scared off any other potential witnesses in the Betelco case. That sounds like Drazen to me. What do you think?” Her neck stiffened. Either she was surprised by the news, or she just didn’t like being reminded.

“Yes.” She spoke precisely. “It sounds like something Drazen would do, but I had nothing to do with it. And I wouldn’t.”

“Even if it meant you would have gone to jail?”

“I wouldn’t have done anything like that no matter what.” Harvey put his hand on the table next to hers, and the two of them entwined fingers. She did sound convincing.

“Okay, so everyone is looking for Roger. As a way to protect Harvey, I have committed to Drazen that I would find Roger for him. At the time, I had no idea that doing that would put your life, Rachel’s life, at risk. Your life would be at risk because Roger didn’t really kill Vladi. He knows that you did and would presumably use that tidbit as a way to save his own life, if forced to choose. Is all of that right?”

Neither raised an objection. “Good. That means we have a conundrum. Find Roger and save Harvey, or leave him lost and save Rachel. My goal is to save you both…and me, of course.”

“How do you expect to do that?”

“First, I need all the facts, starting with Betelco. I want to understand your relationship, Rachel, with the Tishchenkos. Start at the beginning, and don’t leave anything out.”

She hesitated, so I rephrased. “Susan Fratello says you brought the Tishchenkos into Betelco. She said you talked Roger into killing a pending deal to sell Betelco at a fair price in order to do it. Is that true?”

I thought one of Harvey’s almost useless legs would pop up and bang the table. “I beg your pardon?”

He looked at me, I looked at Rachel, and then we both looked at Rachel.

“All right, here it is. The cold, hard truth. It’s true. I did bring Drazen in.”

Harvey’s chin dropped about half an inch as he turned away. It wasn’t much, but enough to convey his disappointment. She brought her other hand up so that she was holding his hand with both of hers. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to get him to look at her. “I had no choice.”

Gee, that was a shocker.

“It was my husband. My sweet, stupid, degenerate gambler husband. Gorgeous to look at, but…” She couldn’t suppress a wistful smile before she must have realized it was Harvey’s hand she was holding. “I never should have left you, baby. I didn’t know what a good thing I had.”