The Sanctuary

Chapter 19

Corben sized up the room with an expert eye and realized another vist — a longer, more thorough one — would be necessary, as soon as he could get Mia settled somewhere safe.

He would also need to look in Evelyn’s office on campus as soon as possible. The local detectives would be checking out both places soon — they didn’t move as swiftly here as they did back home, which, on this occasion, suited him perfectly. He had a window of opportunity and he knew he had to make use of it.

It had all come about unexpectedly, and yet, ironically, he could just as easily have missed out on it altogether. He wouldn’t normally have gotten involved with a situation like Evelyn’s kidnapping, at least, not once he had ascertained that there wasn’t a political angle to it, which was pretty obvious to him from the outset. That he was here now, in her apartment, was due to something entirely different. He’d positioned himself, within the embassy and among his CIA colleagues, as the Iraq specialist. As such, anything having to do with that country would inevitably wind up on his desk. He’d made sure that everyone there knew it. Which was why Baumhoff had — in a cavalier manner, initially — told him about Evelyn’s kidnapping that morning and shown him the Polaroids.

The trail that had begun in that underground lab in Iraq had gone cold for more than three years. He’d changed countries and worked on several other assignments since then, but he’d kept a careful eye on that elusive ball, hoping that when a clue, a hint, something, popped up, he wouldn’t miss it. And now, his diligence and commitment that had paid off. With a bit of luck, maybe — just, maybe — the trail was warming up again.

Life turned on a dime. He’d been around long enough to know just how true that was.

He saw Mia standing by the window and headed over to the oak desk that sat in the far corner of the room. It was stacked with files, textbooks, and course materials. Corben was more interested in the laptop that sat to one side. As he unplugged it, he noticed Evelyn’s thick, weathered personal organizer. It was open to a two-page spread that encompassed that week. A slightly tattered, old-fashioned business card was lying on it. He picked it up. It was the card of some archaeologist out of Rhode Island. He used it to mark the page the organizer was open at, which he then closed and placed on top of the laptop. He’d want to go through that too.

He noticed an old jacket file under the organizer. Something about it drew his eye, and he pulled it out.

Its position on the desk suggested that Evelyn had been going through it just before leaving her apartment the night before. The first image, the woodcut of a snake-eater that leered out at him when he opened the file, sent a jolt of adrenaline through his veins.

The trail had suddenly heated up considerably. And right at that moment, a sudden outburst from Mia snuffed out his excitement with brutal efficiency.

“It’s them,” she blurted out, turning to Corben, her eyes alight with fear. “They’re here.”

Corben rushed over to the window and looked out. Mia was pointing out three men who were walking down the sidewalk, towards the entrance to the hotel. The blood had drained from her face.

“They’re already coming after me!” she exclaimed.

“They’re the guys you saw last night?”

Mia nodded. “The one in the middle’s the creep from the hotel bar. I think the one to his left was with him when they were chasing Mom downtown. I’m not sure about the last one.”

Corben took stock of the three men. His trained eye caught barely discernible hints in their body language that pegged the middle one, the one with the jet-black hair, as the gang’s leader. They moved fluidly along the narrow sidewalk one after the other, sliding discreet glances around the street, acutely aware of their surroundings. He scanned their bodies for signs of weapons, and even from the third-floor window, his practiced eye could make out a bulge under the lead man’s jacket.

Mia’s eyes were glued on them. “They’re just going to walk into the hotel and look for me? They can do that? In broad daylight?”

“They can if they have Internal Security IDs. Which they could well have. Every militia was given its own quota of agents. They could be tied to any one of them.” A more worrying scenario was playing itself out in his mind as he reached for his cell phone and punched a number on his speed dial.

He had a dozen or so local “contacts”—a sampling of ex — militia members mostly, who had their own “circles of trust,” as well as a few officers of the Lebanese military intelligence, past and present — that he could call for muscle, if and when he needed it. Each contact had his own sphere of influence and was useful in a specific area.

After two rings, a man’s voice answered.

“It’s Corben,” he announced flatly into the phone. “I need some backup at the Commodore. I’ve got three guys moving in, maybe more. They’re armed.” He looked out, then added, “Hang on.”

Corben and Mia stood there together in silence, watching the killers close in on the hotel. Corben’s muscles tightened. The moment of truth was seconds away.

Down below, the three men reached the hotel’s entrance.

They didn’t walk into it. They didn’t even look at it.

They just kept going, past a couple of parked cars, past Corben’s Grand Cherokee, and crossed the street.

His alternate scenario was right on the mark.

They were heading straight at them.