Free Sandstorm by Alan L. Lee Page A

in a fog, as his was. She was crossing the Atlantic by plane headed for London after boarding at Philadelphia International Airport, once again traveling under the guise of Nathalie Tauziat. What she didn’t know yet had Alex and Duncan slightly on edge as they lounged in the sitting area of his Mayflower Hotel suite.
    Alex took another swig of his rum and Coke. He was trying to get a grip. “Okay, okay,” he said impulsively to his friend Duncan sitting next him. “The guy from the CIA had to be a freaking coincidence. He made a phone call after he was in Starbucks and then started asking questions.”
    “I’ll give you that. But”—Duncan sat up on the sofa to gather papers from the coffee table in front of him—“the Department of Defense and the FBI! Who knows who the hell showed up after I booked. She’s on a serious watch list.”
    “Yeah, it’s fucked up, all right. I’m not sure what the hell I can do here. I’ve been out of the loop for too long. This isn’t my thing anymore. I should have stuck with my initial impulse and not gotten involved.”
    “That was an option, mi amigo,” Duncan said, tapping Alex’s chest with a couple of fingers. “That ol’ heart of yours, though, wouldn’t let you do it.”
    “Yeah, yeah, I hear you.”
    Duncan could tell his friend was at a crossroads. He wanted to walk away, but he had given his word, and now Nora was depending on him. That she was a former lover only made it tougher.
    “Look, for what it’s worth, you looked pretty damn efficient out there today,” Duncan said, raising his drink in a toast.
    Alex exhaled as he fell back into the sofa’s cushion. “Physically I can get the job done, but this requires a whole lot more than muscle.”
    “You’ve still got some connections out there. You pulled today off. Like it or not, you got involved. Getting Nora on a plane for London to do a job, you’re already thinking ahead. She’s a strong woman, but right now, she’s alone and the world is getting smaller. Janway was killed for a reason, and judging by today’s circus, some people are very nervous about her association with Nora. So, from where my drunken ass is sittin’, you don’t have much of a choice.”
    “Is that right? Well, I suggest you pack a bag as well, because you’re in it now too.”
    Duncan chuckled. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Where are we going?”
    “You said you recognized a name in Janway’s little packet of misinformation?”
    “Yeah. A big player on the black market. This guy could get you ice water in hell.”
    “To hell it is, then.”

 
    CHAPTER 14
    It was obvious the director of the National Clandestine Service was not a happy camper. George Champion was known to be calm under fire, so his present demeanor warranted treading lightly. Little had been said so far during this hastily scheduled early morning meeting.
    The four other people seated at the lengthy, polished table were anticipating the fall of the proverbial axe, even though none of them felt responsible for the matter at hand—none, except for the man with the bandaged face, for whom the others unconsciously made plenty of room.
    Karl Peters used every ounce of concentration he could muster to remain focused. The stitches just below his hairline tightly sealed a nasty gash that was extremely uncomfortable. The bandage under his black and blue right eye made it challenging to focus. Every move of his neck painfully reminded him of his carelessness. He was holding off on taking the prescribed painkillers because he wanted to remain as lucid as possible.
    Champion lifted his head from the folders in front of him, briefly diverting his eyes to Peters. The man was like a devoted dog with little bite. Peters didn’t have much field training; his present state was evidence of that. He should’ve still been under observation in the hospital with the concussion he suffered, but he refused to accept the doctor’s recommendation, promising instead