Page 10 of Elusive Promise

Three

Jared MacIntyre slid onto a stool at O'Malley's Pub near Times Square just after ten. The pub was crowded, as expected on a Friday night, with the usual mix of singles and couples, many of whom were tourists staying at the nearby hotels. He'd picked the pub for that reason. There weren't a lot of locals. The crowd turned over every weekend, and no one would remember him being there. He ordered a beer from the bartender. When it came, he drank half of it before setting it down on the bar.

"Looks like you needed that," a man said, as he took the stool next to him.

"It's been a night." He turned to look at the thirty-nine-year-old man with the short, neatly trimmed brown hair and intelligent brown eyes. Although, they'd been in contact almost daily the last month, he hadn't actually seen him in person in over six weeks. "You look better than the last time I saw you."

"Considering I was in the hospital then, that's not saying much."

"I'm glad you've fully recovered. How has it been—being back in New York?" Gary Heffernan had been living overseas for almost three years, and until a few months ago had been sporting a full beard and long hair.

"Different," Gary said, then shrugged. "And yet the same. I'm happy I still have a job. Although, I don't know how long I'll have it if I keep helping you."

"Speaking of which, do you have something for me?"

"I do. But first I need a drink. I'll have what he's having," Gary told the bartender, then gazed back to him. "You're a little overdressed for this place."

"I didn't want to take the time to go home and change. I'll do that later. Do you have a name for me?"

Gary waited until the bartender set down his beer, then said, "Parisa Maxwell."

"She wasn't on the guest list."

"She was a last-minute entry. Her stepfather is Harry Drummond, longtime US diplomat. He was assigned to the embassy in Bezikstan eighteen years ago. He and his wife Riya, and his stepdaughter Parisa, spent three years there. They were close friends with the Kumars. Raj Kumar was the minister of commerce at the time that Mr. Drummond was stationed there, and the two men facilitated trade agreements with the US. Parisa went to school with the Kumars' daughters."

"Which was why she was at the party."

"I would think so. It might interest you to know that Drummond and his family left Bezikstan after an attack on the embassy fifteen years ago. Several staffers were injured, and a Marine guard was killed. They barely got away with their lives."

"I don't remember seeing her parents' names on the guest list."

"They weren't. Parisa's mother and stepfather arrived in Bali a week ago with an expected stay of at least a month. They're participating in a yoga meditation retreat, which involves complete isolation and technological disconnect—no phones, no computers."

"So, they probably haven't heard anything about their daughter."

"Doubtful."

"What about her biological father?"

"I only have the basics, but Doug Maxwell divorced his wife when Parisa was about three. He runs a residential moving company in Florida."

"What else do you know about Parisa? What does she do for work?"

"Like her stepfather, she also works for the state department, but she serves as a translator. She's been working in San Francisco for the last several months. She flew in last night and checked into the Parker Hotel, which is located about six blocks from the consulate."

"Where is she now? Do you know her condition?"

"She was taken to St. Paul's Hospital, where she has been receiving treatment and undergoing interviews with the local police, the FBI, and Bezikstani security."

"Any mention of me?"

"Not that I've heard."

"Good. Do you know her prognosis?"

"They're expecting a full recovery. She's lucky. The two security guards didn't make it."

His gut churned at that piece of information. He'd gotten to her just in time. "And my target?"

---