Chasing the Night - Iris Johansen [99]
His hands clenched into fists. He wanted to strike out at her. Strangle her. She was getting close to Rakovac. He knew it.
Bitch. Bitch. Bitch.
Go after her?
No, she had meant what she said. He wouldn’t put it past her to turn on him and give him a karate chop just to prove to any onlooker that he was not supporting her in any way.
Rage was searing through him. He was losing his chance at Rakovac.
And all because of that damn kid. He had known her son could screw things up for him, but he’d had to accept Luke if he wanted Catherine’s expertise and dedication.
Okay, don’t go after her.
Stay across the street in the vestibule of that butcher shop and watch and wait for her to surface.
He strode across the street, dodging the pushcarts.
The butcher shop’s interior was as crowded as the rest of the market. He pressed against the far side of the vestibule to allow people to come and go.
He tried to smother his anger as he settled down to wait.
2:05 P.M.
“She hasn’t gotten the call yet,” Venable said. “Helder just contacted me and wants to know what’s happening.” He added sarcastically, “He tells me time’s money, you know.”
“He’s only five minutes late so far,” Joe said. “Helder wouldn’t realize that people aren’t robots you can program.” But he was as tense as Venable. “I placed Cal Parkins in the market, and he said she arrived ten minutes ago. She’s moving from booth to booth, and there’s been no sign of aggressive action against her. He hasn’t spotted anyone who appears suspicious.”
“If he could spot them, Rakovac wouldn’t use them,” Venable said. He was staring at the clock. “Why the hell doesn’t he call her?”
The butcher shop smelled of sawdust, herbs, fresh salmon, and the sour sweat of the people who were coming and going, Kelsov thought.
Not pleasant.
He wanted out of there.
Where the hell are you, Catherine?
He’d give her another five minutes, then go into the market after her. He’d talk fast, tell her that he’d go along with anything she wanted, persuade her that he’d had a change of heart.
It might work.
It was better than standing here being overwhelmed by this stink. Catherine should be—
“Excuse me.” Another bulky man was trying to squeeze by him. He must have been three hundred pounds and was dressed in a red sweater, black pants, and a gray cap. “You should not be here. It’s a fine day. Why are you huddled in the corner? Are you ill?”
Pretty close to it. And this monster of a man wasn’t helping. Get rid of him. He inhaled and pressed even tighter back against the wall. “I’m sorry I’m in your way. Go on past me. I’m fine.”
“Not ill?” The man asked again with concern.
“I told you, I’m not—”
Sharp pain…his wrist…
2:10 P.M.
No call.
Catherine stared blindly down at the odd purple carrot in the bin before her.
Dammit, why didn’t he call? She had been afraid that she had pushed Rakovac too hard. With her luck, he might decide to call her in a half hour…or not at all.
“You buy?” The chunky woman at the carrot booth urged. “A special Azerbaijani carrot. Very rare—150 rubles per kilo.”
Catherine shook her head and moved on.
Her fifteen-minute window the NSA had given her was almost up. She knew those bastards. It would take a miracle to get them to extend that time.
Call, Rakovac, she prayed. Call now.
2:14 P.M.
“We’re releasing the focus on the Ling phone in one minute,” Helder said when Joe picked up the phone. “This is your official notification.”
“Is it?” Joe said softly. “How kind of you to let us know.”
“It’s policy,” Helder said. “We’re not happy. This has been a complete waste of our time.”
“I believe Venable has informed you that this may be a matter of Homeland Security.”
“May,” Helder repeated. “Do you know how often we get agencies telling us the same thing? We can’t let every little threat cause us to disrupt our schedule.”
“I’m sure an important unit like yours is swamped. We’re very grateful.”
“One minute,” Helder repeated.
“You don’t care that it’s very likely a national emergency that might kill thousands