wish I could lie about it.”
Before they could continue a smiling waitress came over. They ordered two large black coffees. As soon as the waitress left, Dukas turned back to her friend.
“Tell me, and don’t leave anything out.”
Dukas listened without interruption, except for when the coffee arrived, and by the time Malivik had finished, the Stony Man translator knew what she had to do.
“Your uncle Lec? Where is he now? And what about this package he sent you?”
“He asked me to get it somewhere safe. Out of the reach of the people looking for him.”
“And did you?”
Malivik nodded, a ghost of a smile briefly edging her pale lips.
“Did he tell you what was in this package?”
“Not directly. He just said it contained information these people do not want exposed. If it is, a number of important individuals are going to go to jail, or worse.”
“Where are these people?” Dukas asked.
“Some in Bosnia. Others here in the States.”
“So you have no idea what the information actually is?”
“Not until I read an e-mail he managed to send me just before he dropped out of sight. I haven”t had time to check it out yet.”
“First thing, we get you out of here. Somewhere you’ll be safe until I can arrange protection. And not the police, or anyone we’re not sure of,” Dukas said.
“Can you do that?”
“Yes. The people I work for can do it. And you’ll be more than safe with them. I promise.”
Malivik clutched her coffee mug in both hands, drinking the hot liquid in quick gulps. She stared at Dukas. She was agitated.
“This is wrong. I shouldn’t drag you into this. I’m sorry. Maybe I should go and you forget this meeting. These people are really scary, Erika.”
“You should meet some of the people I work with,” Dukas said, smiling. She took out her phone. “I’m going to help. Now I need to make a call. Look, you want more coffee? Something to eat?”
“No, but I need to go to the ladies’ room.”
“You go while I do this,” Dukas said. “Hey, I know your e-mail address. Do I need a password?”
“I don’t have my laptop with me.”
“My people can access your site if they have the details. We need to read that message.”
“Password is JRockets.”
“Very subtle.” Dukas laughed.
“I’m really sorry, Erika. I feel so bad doing this to you,” Malivik said.
“Hey, I said no problem. Now go and let me call.”
As she punched in the number that would connect her with Stony Man Farm, Dukas watched her friend cross the diner and push through the door to the ladies’ room. She was concerned about the way she was acting. It was as if she wanted to get up and run. Her attention was diverted as her call was answered and she eventually found herself speaking to Barbara Price and explaining the situation.
“You listen to me,” Price said. “You did right. I’ll set something up and get right back to you. I’ll pass the e-mail details on. Take Tira to your place. As soon as you arrive call me, and we’ll liaise. Hey, take it easy. Get your friend settled and wait for us.”
“Thanks. I owe you,” Dukas said.
“Oh, yes, and big-time too,” Price said lightly.
Dukas drained her coffee mug. As she placed it on the table she thought Malivik had been gone too long.
She stood up and pushed her way through the crowded diner. She hadn’t realized just how much it had filled up since her arrival. She wedged her way through until the reached the ladies’ room and pushed open the door. Malivik wasn’t there. She checked the cubicles twice. There was only one way in and one way out. As she walked back into the diner a chill coursed through her.
She checked out the restaurant, pushing back the panic edging its way to the surface. Back at the booth she met the waitress holding the check. Dukas paid it and turned to leave. She saw Malivik’s purse still on the booth seat. She picked it up and weaved through the crowd. Outside she stood helpless, not sure which way to go. She wandered around for twenty minutes, searching, hoping her friend had just left the diner to get some air. She called Malivik on her cell phone, but the phone was switched off.
She gave up and went back to her car, deciding to check at her own place first to see if Malivik showed up there.
The weather had become worse, the falling rain bitterly cold as the temperature dropped.
“MISS DUKAS?”
She glanced up at the speaker. He was just behind her, to one side, a stocky man in a dark suit, his tie awkwardly knotted. He held out a black badge holder and flipped it open as soon as she gave him her attention, holding it where she could see it, rain speckling the metal shield. He had materialized from the shadows behind her as she bent to lock her car.
There was something in the too swift way he identified himself, a sense of not being quite who he claimed.
“I’m with WPD. I need you to come with me,” he said.
“And why is that?”
“To help us verify an identification.”
“For who?”
“A young woman involved in a traffic accident.” The man was trying hard to stay professional. “I have a car over there.”
Dukas hesitated, caution holding her back, and when the man reached out to touch her elbow she drew away.
“Why did you come to me?” she asked.
“She kept saying your name. Asking us to find you. We looked in her bag and found your address in her diary.”
“Is it Tira?” Dukas asked, frightened.
“Tira Malivik could be her name, but we need formal identification.”
“Nothing in her bag to prove who she is?” Dukas asked.
“No. Look, Miss Dukas, we need to go now. It is urgent.”
I’m sure it is, she thought, considering I have Tira’s bag in my hand right now.
She finished locking her car and fell in alongside the man as they walked in the direction of the waiting car, engine running, lights on. Dukas saw the dark outline of a driver. Her escort opened the back door.
There
