“I know. Of course, he’s really just a small fish in a very big pond, isn’t he?”
“He is. But not for you.”
No, not for him. Dean had been hunting Minyawi for years. It was why he’d left INTERPOL and gone out on his own. The man who’d murdered his wife was his only priority. And this was as close as he was ever going to get to the sonofabitch.
“You want to make a deal,” she said.
“Don’t I always?” He imagined her tapping her toe and twirling the ring on her finger as she thought through her options. He’d watched her do it numerous times in the past.
“If you’re calling, it means you must need my help. You wouldn’t be telling me any of this simply out of professional courtesy.”
She’d always been a smart broad. Smart and savvy and deadlier than a snake. On that he could match her inch for inch. And Kelly had paid dearly for it.
His jaw tightened. “Leak the information Meyer is alive and on her way to Philadelphia to meet with an FBI contact. It’ll get out eventually if it hasn’t already, but if you jump-start it, Minyawi will come running, guaranteed. And then he’s yours.”
Silence.
He held his breath as he waited for her response. Did she suspect his real intentions?
“And what of Meyer?”
No, she didn’t suspect anything. Not yet at least.
He breathed slowly as he thought about the darkhaired Egyptologist he’d seen pictures of in Halloway’s file. He’d memorized every angle of her face, every word in her dossier.
Halloway had seen her once six years before in Cairo, when she’d gone to the SCA to report her suspicions of an artifact-smuggling ring linked to the tomb she’d been working in. He had been at the SCA office in Cairo that day because of an ongoing, unrelated investigation in which the FBI had cooperated with INTERPOL. Though her story had momentarily intrigued Halloway, he hadn’t done anything about it. Hadn’t reported it to his FBI superiors, to his comrades at INTERPOL, even though the woman had looked flustered and had easily been on edge. Instead, he’d left it in the hands of the SCA.
And that was his first mistake. Because if Halloway had reported it, Minyawi may have been apprehended sooner. And Kelly might still be alive today.
Yeah, Halloway was more than an acceptable sacrifice.
“She’s yours to do with what you want,” he said.
Her end of the line was silent again, and then finally she said, “Give me a specific location.”
His relief was bittersweet as he recited the rendezvous point he intended to use.
In the quiet that followed after he ended the call, he stared out the window at the Philly skyline and thought about Kelly’s sunny smile, her bronze skin, her long, silky dark hair. Traffic whizzed by on the road below, while the low echo of cars braking and horns blaring bounced around the walls of the drab apartment five stories up. The pigeon stared back at him, as if it knew every one of his secrets. Then with a great flutter of wings, disappeared into the sky.
Up to Kelly.
He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Freedom and peace were but hours away. He’d failed Kelly in life. He wouldn’t fail her in death.
He sat down to wait for Katherine Meyer’s call.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Present day
Central Pennsylvania
The two plus hours it took to get to Williamsport felt like the longest of Kat’s life. The snow had lightened up the farther south they drove, but it was still slow going. The iced-over roads were slicker than snot.
Kat tried to sleep, but it didn’t work. Her mind was a tumble of activity. Shifting on the seat, she glanced at Pete through hooded lashes, and try as she might, she couldn’t help focusing on his bloodstained shirt. More than once she’d told him to pull over or lean forward so she could have a look, and more than once he’d told her he was fine.
Fine.
There was a word to focus on. Irritated, on edge, frustrated as hell…all described him way better than fine. But his emotional state wasn’t her problem anymore, was it?
Something loosened inside her chest as she watched his profile while he drove. Shafts of sunlight illuminated the shadowy beard on his jaw, the lines and angles of his face. He was older now, fine lines fanning out from his eyes, creasing the skin around his mouth, but he was still classically handsome in every sense of the word, even with that shiner.