Jameson (In the Company of Snipers #22) - Irish Winters Page 0,41

alive. Alex damned well knew it. “We know where the pilot is?”

“From what the fire chief told me, her crew hadn’t arrived yet. Check this out,” Mark muttered as he handed his cell over. “Online video of the conference Lucy Shade held immediately after her jet blew.”

Wasn’t that just like every fame-hungry reporter? Worry about her media exposure and rep more than the people who might’ve died on her damned corporate jet? God, he hated self-serving reporters.

Alex took the phone and thumbed replay. It was her all right. Dressed in black slacks and a flashy orange, yellow, and red flowing blouse that wrapped around her tiny waist. A twitchy African American male, the width and breadth of Mark, stood at her side, but he kept looking over his shoulder as if someone off-screen was talking to him or worried him. “Is that Vladimir?”

“She didn’t introduce him, but I assume so, yes.”

Miss Shade didn’t act nervous at all as she glanced at the man beside her and fluttered her long, gold painted fingernails over her well-endowed cleavage. “Again,” she said, her voice breathless and fake, “I have my excellent bodyguard to thank for saving my life tonight. If Vladimir hadn’t been here, those two awful people would’ve had their way with me, and I—”

“So you believe your kidnappers were aboard your private jet when it exploded?” another reporter interrupted.

“Yesssss…” she hissed. fanning her face with all ten gaudy fingers. “I don’t know what would’ve happened without Vlad. Why, I could’ve been killed or… or worse. And I know this will sound awful, but I’m glad they’re d-d-dead, and I’m not.”

“She’s lying,” Alex said flatly. If there was one thing he’d learned to recognize at an early age, it was a liar. “Why would kidnappers run into the plane they meant to blow up? And why blow it up to begin with?”

“If anyone was onboard,” Mark replied. “We still don’t know that for certain. Wait. It gets better.”

Sure enough. Someone in her audience asked if she knew the perpetrators or if she could describe them. She shook her head adamantly. “Once my handsome bodyguard came to my rescue, they ran for their lives. I was so scared; I didn’t get a good enough look. Sorry. Next question?”

“She’s sure pouring it on about Vlad,” Mark commented.

“Then why’d she contract with me to guard her ass tonight?”

“I’ve already had Mother pull her contract. A copy’s on my phone if you need it.”

“She’s not making sense. If Vladimir reported two people onboard when the jet exploded, then who ran away from it? Were they her abductors or not? How many people are we looking for?”

Someone else asked Miss Shade, “When exactly did the assailants attack? Were they both males? Were they armed? Why weren’t you already inside the plane if you were cleared for take-off?”

“Oh yes, they were both carrying great big AK-14s,” she declared, her head bobbing as if she knew what she was talking about, when it was obvious she didn’t. “Them, I saw because they were pointed straight at me. I was so, so scared. Next question.”

Alex rolled the cramp out of his shoulder. AK-14s? What an ass.

“She’s avoiding most questions,” Mark noted.

Another reporter: “Miss Shade, the hotel you were staying at earlier today just released their security footage, which shows your departure this evening. Is this the man who tried to abduct you and ran away, or is he one of the two people who died in the fire?”

The mega-screen behind her filled with time-stamped footage of Junior Agent Jameson Tenney standing in the hotel lobby, his chin up, his shoulders back, and his head canted. He was a good-looking, dark-haired young man, wearing a TEAM polo under a suit jacket, most likely to conceal his weapon. The round-framed, dark glasses perched on his nose and the white cane perfectly aligned in front of him identified him as visually impaired.

An older woman with salt-and-pepper hair and one of those fluffy, yappy dogs in her arms, entered the hotel’s revolving doors behind Jameson. She’d no more than cleared the entrance when he stepped back and out of her path, then nodded deferentially at her. To look at his reaction, Alex wouldn’t have guessed he was blind. She nodded at Jameson, then stopped, and they chatted for less than a minute. He smiled broadly at something she’d said, then reached forward and patted Fluffy’s cute little head as if he knew precisely where it was. After she headed for the elevator, Jameson resumed