Out of Sight (7 page)

He'd said "risk
our
lives." Did that mean he'd changed his mind? AJ kept her gun in her hand as she walked beside him, and felt ancient spirits and centuries-old traditions brush her skin. Imagination, of course. Something to do with the big black cockroaches skittering underfoot, and the towering walls surrounding them. It was hard not to be affected by a structure that had been built more than two thousand years ago. Despite the rising temperature outside, down here in the bowels of the earth, the air was cool and a little musty.

"What is this place?" Her quiet voice echoed off the high, vaulted ceiling of the underground cavern.

"Necropolis," Kane answered. "City of the Dead."

"Lovely." AJ had no trouble imagining the square alcoves off to each side of them as receptacles for sarcophagi—a
lot
of coffins. The little burial rooms soared several "stories" above their heads. Condos for the dead. Hundreds upon hundreds, row upon row, as far as the eye could see. People long forgotten, their bones turned to dust, the artifacts, buried with them to take across the River Styx, long since looted and defiled by grave robbers. Faded and worn traces of ancient inscriptions above each crypt were etched and timewom against the sand-colored walls. Memories of loved ones, the name of the mortician, even spells to ward off evil, spelled out in hieroglyphs.

The colors must once have been brilliantly vibrant, some still were. Terra-cotta and gold, black and peacock blue. At any other time, AJ would've enjoyed lingering, learning, knowing about the people who had been interred here. Now all she could think about was the possibility of being back in the game.

Kane walked beside her, galabayya swirling about his feet. The Hotel Ra was, as the mole crawled, six miles across town.

When they'd emerged down the stairwell thirty minutes earlier and approached the parking garage, they'd found then-car being watched, as well as the entrance and exit from the building.

T-FLAC operatives learned early and well there must
always
be a way out. Which, in this case, there was. AJ rather wished she'd been the one to know about the maze of catacombs beneath the city. She needed to rack up some Brownie points pretty damn quick.

If they didn't get lost in the labyrinth of the catacombs, they'd arrive beneath their hotel in about an hour. AJ looked at him. "How'd you know about this place? I thought the Necropolis was in Alexandria."

"There's one there, too. They discovered that one first, then this one a couple of years later. They're still excavating both. Alexandria is taking precedence because they think Alexander the Great may be buried there. But there is some incredible history here, too. You interested in Egyptology?"

"Right now I'm more interested in the here and now than in a bunch of very old dead people."

"Seven centuries of dead people, in this case."

"I'll be sure to come back on my next vacation."

He didn't stop walking, nor did he slow down. The man
was
the Energizer Bunny. They passed broken shards of pottery stacked by the archeologists in higgledy-piggledy piles on the sandy floor. They passed rows of what looked like Roman lamps, they rounded a corner and saw hundreds of terracotta figurines lined up ready for inspection.

Maybe if she could figure out what made him tick. "Don't talk much, do you?"

"No. This isn't a cocktail party."

All righty, then. "Are you chatty at cocktail parties?"

Kane slanted her a glance. "What do you think?"

I think you don 'tget a lot of invitations.
"Not."

"Right."

"Just as well." AJ heard something behind her and glanced back over her shoulder. A rat. The rodent variety. She tried to relax but the back of her neck felt as though it were being gripped in a vise. Every small noise was spooking her. Odd that she was more freaked out by a noise than she had been seeing Struben lying in a pool of his own blood.

The known and the unknown? Probably.

"If you weren't on this op," AJ asked Kane, to break the thick silence, "would you enjoy being here?" Her hand encompassed the immense chamber they were crossing, the frescoes and friezes, the trompe 1'oeil.

The old-man disguise Kane was wearing right now was an illusion to fool the eye just as the ancient paintings on the walls were.

"Very much. I was invited here by the Egyptian government when it was first discovered several years ago. Did a photo essay for
National Geographic."

He speaks!
AJ looked at him. "You did?" She knew his work as a photographer was another part of who Kane Wright was, but of course there were no reports to study on that aspect of him. Although she'd accidentally come across some of his work in magazines when she'd been in the hospital, and had been fascinated. His photographic work seemed to cover the spectrum of subjects. From high fashion to famine. People always featured prominently in his work. In the
National Geographic
piece she'd seen, his pictures of a tiny South American village had brought tears to her eyes. Somehow, he'd managed to capture the quiet dignity of an old chieftain and the simple joy of the children. In a few beautiful photos, he'd made time stand still—and had drawn her into a world she'd never known.

"Yeah," he said, fishing a length of cream-colored fabric out of the bag he carried. "Really. Had to use ultraviolet light. It was incredible to see all the glyphs for the first time in centuries. Here." He handed her a
nigab.
"Put this on. Cover your hair and face. We'll cut through the subway station and cross the street to the back of the hotel."

She was almost stunned into silence. Kane Wright had been
talking
to her. Like she was a person. Like a person he didn't hate.

"Right." Not all Arab women covered their heads these days, and many wore pants. Still, if she wanted to hide in plain sight, the long dress and veil of the
nigab,
worn by conservative Muslim women, would do the trick. AJ took a moment to brush off her black pants and shirt. Dust rose from the fabric in little clouds. "I hope nobody looks at us too hard. I'm filthy enough to raise questions."

"You'll be up to your neck in hot water in ten minutes," Kane said, probably thinking about a shower himself.

Too late, AJ thought ironically as she pulled the fabric over her head and settled it into place. Way, way too late.

She'd been in very deep, very hot water for hours already.

An uneventful ninety-two minutes passed as they swam fhe tide of early-morning commuters, traversed the crowded Rameses train station, then strolled across the street to the back entrance of the Hotel Ra.

AJ kept her eyes modestly lowered as they went through the service entrance of the hotel. Not only was it the custom, she didn't want anyone getting a good look at her. Green eyes would stand out like a bikini in the marketplace around there. She'd be made, and remembered, in an instant.

She and Kane had arrived, with attitude and a mountain of Louis Vuitton luggage, through the front door yesterday morning. The world-renowned photographer Kane Wright and his model dujour. For their entrance this morning they chose the service elevator and low-key.

The elevator smelled of spicy food, B.O., and some kind of pungent furniture polish. Quilted brown fabric covered all four walls, absorbing sound.

"There's a commercial flight out at two. That'll give you a couple of hours to clean up and rest," Kane told her as the doors closed. "I'll be taking you to the airport myself."

So much for that second chance. AJ slanted him a look. "Don't trust me to catch a cab by myself?"

"No," he told her shortly. "And that's wasted on me, Cooper."

"What's wasted on you?"

"That flirty under the lashes look. I'm not your boyfriend. Nor am I charmed."

AJ hadn't realized she'd done whatever it was he was accusing her of. But his crappy attitude was really starting to piss her off. Irritation rose like a wave. "Where the hell do you come o—" AJ snapped her mouth shut.

Jesus God. What was she
doing
? Pissing him off even more?

On the other hand, she thought, what did she have to lose? Who knew? Maybe he'd even respect her standing up for herself. Arguing for the right to prove she was more than one bad mistake.

"You were saying?"

Maybe not. The words backed up to sit like a rock in the pit of her stomach. "Not a damn thing." Her jaw ached from clamping her teeth together, but she didn't say a word for the rest of the trip upstairs.

The elevator stopped. AJ glanced around as they emerged into a wide corridor on the eighteenth floor. Plush red and gold carpeting cushioned their feet. Not a bug in sight. -

"Yippee," she said drolly. "No creepy crawlies." Just then they passed an ornate mirror over a gilded table and she got a good look at herself in decent lighting. "Oh, man!" She choked back a laugh at her filthy, disheveled appearance.

"Wait here," he said, flashing a quick look at her as the door quietly snicked open under his hand.

AJ followed him into the suite. She wasn't about to put herself in the position of the little woman, told to stand in a corner and quietly wring her hands while the big strong man took care of everything. She was a trained operative. Okay, maybe not as experienced as Kane. But she knew what she was doing.

Hand on her weapon she scanned the large cream and gold living room of the suite, listening, hoping like hell there were no intruders. If she stumbled over a tongue-slasher right now, she'd probably just shoot him, and then cranky Kane would be even crankier. No thanks.

By the look of things, the room hadn't been disturbed since they'd left yesterday afternoon.

Unlike the low-rent safe house across town, these accommodations were top of the line. The Queen's Suite consisted of elegantly monochromatic tones in cream and gold, cool and soothing to the eye. Pale, silk-lined walls were bathed in the soft, warm glow of recessed lighting as morning sunlight filtered in through the sheers at the bank of tall windows.

Antiques mingled with tasteful modern pieces. Everything had a subtle Egyptian flavor, from the curved lotus shape of the gilded legs on the tables to the understated hieroglyphs on the wallpaper and fabrics. The elegant room was filled with the fragrance of fresh flowers reflected in the gold, embossed mirror on a half-round table across the room.

"Grab that shower," Kane told her. "I want to check your head. You might need stitches."

"I don't."

He raised a fuzzy white brow. "You a doctor?"

"Nope. Not a patient, either." She didn't want him to touch her, and that was the honest truth. There was too much emotion swirling around inside her, and AJ wasn't sure just how she'd react if he did. She'd either pummel him, or grab him and… kiss his bad temper away. Which would either start a war, or the opposite. Until she could manage to get her all-over-the-place emotions in check, she'd lay off having him touch her, just to be on the safe side.

Her stomach growled.

Kane reached for the phone. "I'll call room service," he said briskly. "Any preferences?"

She shook her head. "Food, and lots of it. As long as it's not green."

"Meet me back here in fifteen minutes for debriefing." .

"I'll be back in ten."

In the end it tookAJ half an hour to shower and wash her hair thoroughly. It was lovely having French milled soap and delicately scented floral shampoo, but given the way she smelled, she needed industrial-strength cleaners and a good hard wire brush. A flea dip might not have been out of line, either.

Finally clean, she spent a few extra minutes applying antiseptic cream to various small cuts and scrapes. She could feel the knot on the back of her head with tentative fingertips, but couldn't see how badly she'd been hit. Considering where Kane had found her, she was damn lucky this was the worst she had to show for her overnight experience.

Female T-FLAC agents always knew in the back of their minds that they could, and possibly would, be sexually assaulted if an op went wrong. It was a frightening, and very real, hazard of the job. An implant protected against pregnancy. But there were far worse things a woman had to be concerned with. Her psychological training had included a hundred different scenarios. Thank God she hadn't needed to utilize any of that information. Yet.

Knowing what she did of Raazaq and his followers, AJ knew just how damn fortunate she'd been to escape his methods of interrogation. Once. But she was pretty sure her ration of luck was used up. She couldn't count on getting that lucky again. If Raazaq managed to snatch her a second time…

"But you won't have to worry about that, will you?" she asked the disheveled woman in the mirror. "Pretty hard for Raazaq to snatch you out from behind a desk at T-FLAC headquarters."

She scowled at her own reflection, trying to figure out just how she was going to lose Kane. The man was being as pissy as a maiden aunt and she didn't doubt for a minute that in his current mood he'd walk her right onto the plane and buckle her seat belt for her.

The thought of Kane's hands on her caused another shiver to skitter through her. AJ shook her head. Even though he was mad at her, even though he was rude, insensitive, and bossy—God help her, she was attracted to the j erk.

"You need help," she told the idiot still staring back at her from the foggy glass. "And step one is to get over it. For God's sake, the man can't stand the sight of you. Do you really need more punishment?" A good argument—unfortunately, neither she nor her reflection seemed to be paying attention.

The psychiatrists would have a field day with this one.

"Cooper! Move your ass."

"Yes, sir, O captain, my captain," she muttered, thinking briefly about how tempting it was to slam something heavy into his hard head. She could make her escape while he was out. Of course, when he came to, there wouldn't be a country big enough to hide in. The satisfaction, however, just might be worth it. Grumbling to herself, she yelled, "I'm coming, already!"

A couple more hours in his company and they'd go their separate ways. She could bite her tongue—instead of his, AJ thought with a sudden grin—for just a few more hours. A few hours of keeping her thoughts to herself were do-able.

Drying off quickly, she wrapped a towel around her wet hair, rubbed most of the moisture out of it, then tossed the towel over the rack and padded naked into the luxuriously appointed bedroom.

She pulled on clean underwear and jeans, then tried to find a top that didn't expose her boobs. She hadn't chosen any of the clothes hanging in the closet herself. T-FLAC wardrobe department had selected and packed for her while she'd been in briefing. She'd stepped aboard the plane bound for Cairo a few hours later carrying just her backpack. Everything had been waiting for her in baggage claim on arrival yesterday.

Normally, she wouldn't be caught dead in any of this stuff. Everything was a little too tight, and a little too low cut. But it wasn't her tastes being catered to. It was Fazur Raazaq's.

AJ finally settled on a white tank top, turning it around so the low, scooped neckline exposed her back instead of her breasts. She started finger-combing the heavy mass of her damp hair. Hanging halfway down her back, it was long enough to be a nuisance, and she rarely wore it loose. She absently started plaiting it into a tight French braid as she walked into the living room.

Kane stood by the window across the room, talking on the Sat Comm link.

The real Kane.

Tall, loose-limbed, and broad-shouldered, dressed in black pants and charcoal shirt. AJ sighed inwardly. If her attraction to the man hadn't been dimmed when he'd been in full makeup and looked like her grandfather, why had she thought it would go away when he was back to his normal gorgeous self?

Her knee-jerk reaction to him was the same now as it had been the first time she'd laid eyes on him. Damn. She'd hoped everything that had happened recently would've put paid to the lust problem. It hadn't.

Maybe it would fade when he started snarling at her again. A girl could hope.

He glanced up, impatiently waved her into the room, then seemed to physically withdraw as he turned his attention back to the conversation on the phone.

His shaggy hair, wet from his shower and finger-combed back, exposed the contours of his face in bold, unrelieved strokes. He'd needed a shave several days ago. He looked damn good. Too damn good. He also looked sinister, rakish, and dangerously appealing. Fortunately for her good sense and libido, his features shouted "Do not disturb" in no uncertain terms.

He looked his normal unapproachable and taciturn self. This was a man used to giving orders and having them obeyed without question.

Well, wasn't he going to be in for a surprise.

A small table, elaborately set for two, drew her attention. Her stomach growled. Loudly. She sat down, not waiting for him to complete his conversation, though she did try to hear what she could.

"I'd appreciate anything you can get me by noon our time today." Kane paused, and AJ felt his gaze on her, but didn't look up from spreading apricot jam on a slice of warm bread. Rivulets of melted butter ran down the backs of her fingers.

"No. I am
not
happy, but you're giving me no choice," he said into the phone, then paused to listen, impatience tightly reined.

Hmmm,
AJ thought, hiding a smile behind her bread.
Apparently I'm not the only one who can drive the man to the absolute end of his rope.

"Yes. I agree. Give me what you—" He paused, and AJ glanced up to see him watching her lick the butter off her fingers. "—can," he finished tightly.

"Problems?" She absently sucked at her pinky finger. What concerned Kane affected her, and vice versa. Besides, if someone was making him mad, she wanted
that
guy on her side. "What's going on?"

"You're back in the game, Cooper." His voice was grim, his eyes an opaque dark blue as he snapped the phone closed and stuffed it into his back pocket. "God help us both."

"I am?" AJ cleared the frog out of her throat. "I am?"

"Against my better judgment, yes."

She turned her attention back to her breakfast to hide her elation. He could be as crabby as he wanted to be. The point was, she'd won. She wasn't going home. She was going with him. Largely under his duress, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was, she had the chance to salvage what she hoped would be a long and proud career. Inside she was turning cartwheels and doing the Snoopy dance. She kept her expression sober. "You won't be sorry."

He faced her, all steely eyes and grim determination. His expression telegraphed he was already sorry. "Tell me the truth, Cooper. Are you capable of killing Raazaq?"

She met that gaze with a cold, hard look. "Yes."

"Unequivocally? "

"Unequivocally."

"You do realize we won't have another chance, right? Once he leaves Fayoum, we won't know where the hell he is. And if when we get there he puts together the fiasco the other day with who we'll be when he meets us, we'll wish we were dead. Got it?"

"Jesus, I'm not an idiot." She stiffened and told herself the hell with it. If she was going to be burned, she might as well be burned for being cocky instead of being unsure of herself. "I know what this means. I know we wouldn't be in this mess if I hadn't screwed the pooch. But I did. I can't change it but I can assure you it won't happen again."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because you have my word. I'll get close enough, and Raazaq will die."

He looked at her for a long minute that seemed to tick by in eternity-filled seconds. AJ didn't look away. She stared right back at him.
Don't let him see your fear. Don't look away first. Be the Alpha dog.

Right.

After staring at her hard enough to do a mind-meld, he nodded. "All right. Tell me what you know about your target."

He had a made-for-radio voice. Deep, dangerous, mysterious. Very sexy.
Oh, for God's sake,
she thought irritably,
for-get Kane. Concentrate on getting what you wanted. Another opportunity.

She took a bite of warm bread, chewed, and swallowed. "We were at the same briefing. I know what you know."

"I doubt that. But what I'm telling you to do is to distill what you know and regurgitate it for me."

She could play the game as well as he could, AJ thought. He wouldn't catch her flat-footed again. This time, she'd be prepared. This time, she'd knock his socks off. "Fazur Hessan Ali Raazaq. Forty-three. On the FBI's Most Wanted list for the bombings of United States embassies in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, Nairobi, and Johannesburg."