Page 128 of Close Pursuit

“I suspected.”

“Why did you take the job?”

“Allowed me to throw my hat in with the good guys without freaking out my old man. Of course, he figured it out soon enough.”

“And here we thought we were being all clever and stealthy, drawing you in without you having any idea what we were up to.”

“We? Is Charles McCloud in on this by any chance?” Alex asked quickly.

Fortinay pursed his lips and declined to answer, which Alex would take as a yes. He blurted in dismay, “And Katie? Was she in on it?”

“No.” Quick. Firm. No hesitation. Fortinay wasn’t lying.

ThankGod.

Katie had been telling him the truth. Although he supposed in his heart he already knew that. She was too open a soul, too warm a person, for everything that had happened between them to be a lie.

Patience, Katie. Be smart and come back to me alive and well.

After the visit by André Fortinay, Natasha’s phone went silent. No more calls. No more negotiations. The Russian woman got antsy, and then started to fret. She paced inside the office, muttering loudly enough to herself in Russian to be heard out in the main warehouse.

Katie watched the woman warily. What was going on? Why the long silence from outside? She hoped the FBI negotiator was just icing Natasha.

She felt some sort of crisis building. But what it could be, she had no idea. She knew from hearing her dad and brothers talk over the years that hostage situations usually dragged on for hours and hours. The negotiators would wear down Natasha. Exhaust her, or even starve her, into surrendering.

But why the sudden uptick in tension? Was it just her own paranoia?

She remembered Alex’s words vividly. It’s not paranoia if someone really is chasing you.

Where are you Alex? What’s going on?

Fortinay must have called Charles McCloud, because Alex’s phone rang sometime later. His watch said nearly two hours had passed since the doctor’s visit to Katie. His nerves were stretched to the breaking point, and Alex generally prided himself on having nerves of steel.

“Alex? Charles McCloud.”

“Any news?”

“Yes, in fact. I thought you might want to be the first to know that the results are back on the baby’s blood and urine samples. We have the proof we need to show that uranium mining was going on in the Karshan Valley. The POTUS will be calling Moscow shortly.”

The President of the United Stateswas personally involved in this?Day-umm. “Time frame?” he asked tightly.

“Within the hour. We’re pulling together a talking paper for him as we speak. He’ll need to go over it with his advisors, first, of course. We’ll keep you informed.”

“Thanks.”

“Welcome aboard, Alex.”

He stared at his phone as the line went dead. It wasn’t that simple, dammit. Looking around in the jumble of cop cars, vans, fire trucks, and ambulances, he spotted the telltale satellite dish on top of a step van. He strolled over next to the vehicle, just behind the dish. He waited until no one was near and pulled out his cell phone.

“Now what, Alexei?” his father asked a little irritably.

“I thought you might like a heads up. POTUS will be calling the Kremlin shortly. Shermayev’s uranium mining operation in Karshan is busted.” Alex disconnected the call without waiting for a reply from his father. None was necessary.

Roman could now call his superiors, forecast that the United States would catch on to Shermayev’s plan to secretly mine uranium and sneak it into Iran, thereby impressing his bosses with his brilliance and prescience.

It would give Russia a little time to plan damage control before the President’s call. Nobody liked to be surprised, particularly with the global nuclear balance on the line.

The Russian president might secretly approve of Shermayev’s operation, but he would no doubt cut his losses and hang the general out to dry, now. And Roman Koronov had an opportunity to distance himself from the general and come out on the winning side in this fiasco.

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