“Fiji.”
Liam gave her the once-over. “You would look great in a bikini. I have to say I agree with Major Hummer.”
“About what, you Irish beggar?”
He leaned over and lightly bit her earlobe. “You are pretty.”
She whooshed out her breath, and he felt the warmth feather against his skin before she jerked back.
“Now, now, love, I know you want to kill me, but it isn’t going to happen. Sit still and be good.”
She was angry, frustrated at her own impotence. He said, “You know what’s in the box, don’t you?”
She said nothing.
“I’d guess it’s leverage, for blackmail. But you know something, lass? I don’t frigging care the first thing about it.” He thought it amusing that he’d had a hand in frustrating Petrov for over a month. Now it was nearly over.
Liam leaned over, brushed his knuckles against her cheek, and started singing “Molly Malone,” his grandda’s favorite song, in a fine baritone. “?‘In Dublin’s fair city, where the girls are so pretty, I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone—’?”
Elena closed her eyes, reminded herself Sergei would let her kill him as soon as he had the chance.
43
SERGEI PETROV’S HOUSE
SOUTH OF ALEXANDRIA
WEDNESDAY MORNING
Henley settled the helicopter once again on its pad on the barren stretch of land off the Potomac, turned off the rotors, and started his checklist. Liam said, “Good job, mate. Are you going to get reimbursed for the fifty bucks?”
Henley shook his head. “Consider it my contribution to Major Hummer’s welfare, Mr. Hennessey. Is Krug champagne really that good?”
“The ambrosia of the gods; give it a try.” Liam lifted Elena out of the helicopter and stomped his feet in the shoes Abram had given him. They were too big for him, which was good, since there was a thick bandage wrapped around his heel. The shoes were white patent leather, made him feel like Elvis. Best yet, they didn’t hurt his heel.
“My turn,” he said to Henley, and hoisted Elena up into his arms. “Don’t move or I’ll drop you on your head. Then who knows what I’ll do?”
The area looked deserted once again, but Liam knew Petrov would be prepared for him this time. He’d be safe only until he delivered the metal box to him, and then he’d have only Elena and the gun to her head to keep him alive. Good thing for him Petrov held her in high affection. A slight breeze rustled the oak leaves as he walked behind Henley, his every sense alert for any movement. He sniffed the air, recalling the odd citrus smell Abram had worn, but there was nothing.
Petrov and Abram were waiting for him on the porch, both men standing quietly, watching them approach, Petrov’s eyes on the metal box in his hand. Petrov had to know Liam could shoot him where he stood, a bullet to his forehead.
Liam wasn’t invited into the house this time.
“Give Elena to Henley, Mr. Hennessey, then place the box on the porch.”
Liam eased her down and stood her against Henley. He never took his eyes off Petrov as he placed the metal box at the edge of the porch. He stepped back, waved the Walther. “Now the four million dollars, Mr. Petrov.”
Petrov picked up a bulging satchel from behind him and laid it next to the metal box, stepped back.
“Ralph, ease Elena onto the ground and fetch the satchel,” Liam said. Henley did as he was told.
“Now open the satchel, count the money out loud.”
Petrov made a disgusted sound.
When Henley finished counting, he looked a bit shell-shocked. “I’ve never seen so much cash before. It’s correct, four million.”
“Take a couple of hundred for your efforts,” Liam said, and watched Ralph peel off two hundred-dollar bills. “Now pick up Elena.”
Liam waved the Walther at the metal box. “It’s all yours, Mr. Petrov. You want to check it?”
Abram picked up the box and handed it to Petrov. Petrov studied the box a moment, looking for any signs it had been broken into. Liam smiled. “Not a scratch on it.”
Petrov pulled a small key out of his pants pocket and opened it, studied the contents, gently closed the box. “No curiosity, Mr. Hennessey?”
“Mr. Petrov, the box doesn’t interest me. It never did. It was a job, nothing more.”
“I have to admit I’m surprised the box was where you left it. The FBI did an extensive search.”
“They surely did, but don’t you see? I’m smarter than the FBI.”
“He had a homeless man keep the carryall for him,” Elena said.
A black eyebrow shot up, matching his dramatic widow’s peak perfectly.
Liam shrugged. “You have your box. I wish you luck with your blackmail. It’s past time I leave now. I’ll be taking Elena with me again. I’ll send her back with Ralph once we land where I tell him to.”
Petrov frowned. “You have your money; you have the helicopter. There is no reason to take Elena.”
Liam shrugged again. “I’ve always believed in redundancies, Mr. Petrov. One never knows what might happen to a helicopter or what might happen on the way to a helicopter. I know you have more affection for Elena than you do for Ralph and me, so it’s safer that way.”
Abram gave a low growl, took a step forward.
“Control your dog, Mr. Petrov.”
Petrov shook his head at Abram, and Liam gave them both the same salute Major Hummer had given Elena.
“No need to worry. Elena will come back to you safe.” Liam laughed. “If she wants to come back to you, of course.”
* * *
It wasn’t long before Liam was staring out the helicopter window at the Potomac below. He would miss the city, particularly the lights at night, and all the countless marble monuments, a beautiful sight really. But still, it wasn’t Belfast. Liam remembered the pounding excitement of besting an enemy or a mark. Thinking about it still made his blood pump fast and hard. No, there was nothing like Belfast in the bad old days.
Elena said, “All I want is to get back home and take a shower.”
Liam looked at her, smiled. “Maybe where we’re going we can shower together.”
She turned to look at him. “In your dreams. You look like a clown in Abram’s white shoes.”
He leaned over, lightly rubbed the Walther’s muzzle over her smooth cheek. She didn’t move. He admired that. He drew back, smiled at her. “You have guts, moy golub,” he said.
“I wonder if I will have time to kill you and exactly how I’ll do it.”
Liam laughed.
Ralph’s voice came over Liam’s headphones, “Where do you want me to go, Mr. Hennessey?”
“Do you have a full tank of gas, Ralph?”
“Nearly.”
“Fly north, mate, I’ll tell you when to drop me off.”
44
DR. HICKS’S OFFICE
JEFFERSON DORMITORY, QUANTICO
WEDNESDAY MORNING
Dr. Emanuel Hicks, FBI psychologist and huge Beatles fan, stood when Savich and Sherlock walked into his office behind a pale-faced young man. He had dark smudges beneath pale blue eyes that held no hope. He looked ready to climb in a coffin and pull the lid down. Dr. Hicks had seen the same look in the terminally ill. He wore jeans, a white shirt, and an old dark-brown hoodie. So this was Saxon Hainny, the twenty-four-year-old brilliant young grad student in computer science at George Washington and the son of the eminent Eric Hainny, the president’s chief of staff. Dr. Hicks thought the young man would have looked quite handsome if the life hadn’t been leached out of him.
“Mr. Hainny,” Dr. Hicks said and shook the young man’s limp hand. It felt nearly boneless. “Thank you for coming.”
Saxon slowly nodded. “Agent Savich told me you could help me remember.” He looked down at his sneakers. “I don’t understand how, since everything is a blank.”