Iris Johansen - Dead Aim

Afghanistan. Did you have any trouble?"

"I did some dodging."

That was all he was going to say. Well, she didn't want to know anyway. "Bob Jurgens was in that first car you wrecked."

"You recognized him?"

"He was the FBI agent who interviewed me."

"He wanted to put her in a safe house," Galen added. Morgan gave a low whistle. "Interesting."

"It's more than interesting to me," she said. "It's damn world-shaking. He seemed… I thought he was starting to believe me."

"I'm sure he did."

She shook her head. "I'm not sure of anything right now." Except that she might have died today if Morgan hadn't been there. That fact was as bewildering as everything else that had happened to her.

"It's natural for you to be confused," Morgan said quietly. "It's against your instincts to doubt the authorities. You want to believe them."

"I'm not sure that I don't."

"Yes, you are," Morgan said. "Listen to your gut feelings." She couldn't do that. Her gut feelings were telling her to run and hide, and that wasn't an option she could live with.

The ranch outside Sibley was located twenty miles from the town and set some three miles back from the road. From the air the house looked to be a nice, clean little wooden cottage with a wraparound porch.

Galen set the helicopter down in a meadow to the south of the house. "You two get inside. I have to find a way of camouflaging this chopper. There should be a key underneath the phony rock beside the porch."

"Some security," Morgan said.

"It's that kind of town. Most people don't lock their doors here at night." "I always wanted to live in a town like that," Alex said as she walked toward the house. "Fourth of July parades where everyone knows everybody. Picnics. Bands playing in a gazebo in the park."

"Sounds nice," Judd said. "But I notice you chose to spend your life globe-trotting instead." "It just happened. At first, I was curious about everything and anything. After my father died… I needed to work. I went where I was sent. Where I was needed." "But you still like the idea of your small town with un locked doors."

"I guess I feel a little vulnerable. Going back to the way things were fifty years ago is like feather beds and mashed potatoes. Comfort."

"But we're not in a comfort zone right now." He moved ahead of her and retrieved the key from beneath the rock. "So stay outside until I check out the house."

"Galen said this place was safe."

"More soldiers are killed when they think they're safe than at any other time." He unlocked the door. "Oops, sorry. More military garbage." He disappeared inside the house but returned in a few minutes. "All clear."

"Galen would have been upset if it hadn't been," Alex said as she entered the house, whose furnishings reflected the same hominess as the exterior. It was all chintz slipcovers and pine cabinets. There was even a rocking chair in the corner. "He seems to take pride in his ability to move us around like chess pieces."

"He's proud that he's good at his job." Morgan was at the fireplace, kneeling to light the kindling. "But he has no desire to move the pawns around the board. Neither do I. Too many people in my life have pulled my strings. All I want is to be left alone."

"But evidently you made an executive decision when you snatched me."

He shrugged. "I'd committed myself to keeping you alive. I had no choice." He rose to his feet. "I'll go raid the kitchen and see if I can find coffee and some food. Those three doors leading off the living room are bedrooms. Why don't you choose one and wash up?"

"I will." As she moved toward the first door, she noticed a television set against the far wall. "And why don't you see if you can get some news on that television? I want to see if I'm wanted for the murder of any of those FBI men you shot as well as for blowing up the dam."

"I was as careful as I could be. I hit them when they were almost down to the valley and wouldn't go off the mountain. I targeted the tires. You said you didn't want anyone hurt."

"Jurgens was holding his arm. I think it might have been broken."

"So I'm not perfect. I try to make sure I don't have to calculate car speed on a target. It's very tricky. And no one has ever wanted me to take out cars instead of men." He opened a cabinet over the sink. "Ah, coffee. If you want to take a nap, I promise not to drink the entire pot."

"I'm not going to take a nap. Why do you keep trying to get me to go to sleep? We need to talk." He glanced at her as he took down the coffee canister.

"That sounds ominous."

"What happened last night was ominous. It scared me to death." She opened the door. "I don't like to be scared. I don't like to feel helpless. And I sure as hell don't like being made a target. I have to know what's happening." She didn't wait for him to reply but closed the door and leaned against it. Lord, she was exhausted. She needed sleep. Her shoulder throbbed and she felt as if she'd been through a war.

Morgan knew about wars. They were his stock-in-trade. Well, they weren't her trade. She hated violence. Which made the fact that she had been forced into defending herself against this hideous charge all the more sickening.

Flames consuming the lodge, clawing at the sky.

No, she hadn't even been given the chance to defend herself. So forget about rest. She had to figure out why this had happened and what she was going to do.

Morgan was still alone in the living room when Alex came out of the bedroom an hour later.

"Did you change your mind about that nap?" he asked. "I was just going to check and see if you were all right."

"No, I just wanted a little time to myself. Where's Galen?" "We're low on groceries. He went to town to pick some up." "How? I thought Sibley was twenty miles away."

"There was an old Ford pickup in the barn. Nothing fancy, but it works."

"Why did I even question? Galen seems to fill all needs." "Thank God." He went to the cabinet. "I'll get you a cup of coffee. This is the second pot. Galen and I killed the first one."

"I could use the caffeine." She sat down on the couch in front of the television set. "Was there anything about the attack on the lodge?"

He nodded. "You and your accomplices resisted arrest and they had to fire. They haven't been able to go into the lodge yet to get DNA evidence, but they're almost sure you escaped. Particularly since the fine forces of law and order were ambushed while they were in pursuit of a suspicious vehicle."

"Resisted arrest? There was no one in that lodge."

He shrugged. "Poltergeists?" He handed her the cup. "And they've identified me as one of your accomplices. I was wondering when they'd decide to put me in the hot seat too."

"You're probably used to it."

"Yes, and you'll be glad to know that the injuries I inflicted were minor. Jurgens has a broken arm, and one of his men has a minor concussion."

"I'm not sure I am glad."

He gazed at her with raised brows.

"Or maybe I am." She took a sip of coffee. "I just don't know. I still find it difficult to believe the FBI is out to get me."

"Then maybe you should consider that organizations like the FBI and CIA are so spread out and secretive that sometimes one department doesn't know what another is doing. Much less what each other is up to. That was one of the prime outcries after September eleventh." He poured himself a cup of coffee. "It's entirely possible that we have a bad apple in a fine, healthy bushel."

"Jurgens?"

He nodded. "But you've got to be aware that he might not be alone."

"So much for your theory."

"This attack on you has pretty wicked firepower. The media mentioned Homeland Security." "Oh, for God's sake. Now you're saying they're involved?

Why not the President?" "Jesus, I hope not. I like Andreas. By the way, his trip to the dam has been postponed at the request of Homeland Security until the Secret Service can verify there's no threat from Matanza."