Read Online The Kill Shot by Nichole Christoff - Free Book Online
Authors: Nichole Christoff
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night before, Ikaat, Katie, and I stayed up until the wee hours. Us
Americans had pelted Ikaat with questions about the old man. I believed Ikaat had done her best to answer them. As incentive, I hadn’t hesitated to remind Ikaat that Helmet Head wanted to find her father. And that it was in everyone’s best interests that I find him first.
Before leaving the hotel, I hunted up Ikaat in the bedroom she’d shared with Katie. And I instructed her to remain inside Rabbit’s Revenge—no matter what. She was still in the robe she’d donned the night before and I was glad to see it. It meant she wasn’t planning on slipping out of the hotel the instant my back was turned. But her lovely olive skin was sallow and she’d nibbled her bottom lip raw. Worry, apparently, had kept her up all night. And I couldn’t be sure what it would make her do during the day.
With that in mind, I jerked a nod at Katie, silently suggesting she leave Ikaat behind and accompany me to the suite’s door. She did so. And once we were beyond earshot of our traveling companion, I said, “Don’t let Ikaat out of your sight.”
“She’s in danger,” Katie said.
“She could run,” I corrected. “She could’ve lied about not knowing where to find her father. She could’ve gotten cold feet about defecting. She could’ve gotten homesick overnight. In any case, she’s got too many reasons to take off like a shot.”
“Well, that would be all right, wouldn’t it? I mean, you’re not going to force her to go to America if she doesn’t want to. What if she wants to go back to her home country, instead?”
I placed a steadying hand on Katie’s shoulder. With her golden tresses tucked behind her ears and her face scrubbed of makeup, she seemed so young this morning, regardless of the maturity she’d shown in convincing me to stay in London last night. But young or not, she had to understand what Ikaat was up against. She had to face it. And she had to realize that danger for Ikaat meant danger for her and me, too.
I answered, “As far as I’m concerned, Ikaat Oujdad can live anywhere she wants. But that human gorilla with the gun didn’t agree. There’ll be more guys like him, wherever he came from.”
Katie blinked her baby blues, then eyed the cast on my arm.
“Ikaat’s best bet is to get to Washington,” I continued. “It’s up to you and me to help her get there.”
Katie’s eyebrows pinched together, but she nodded as if she agreed with me.
I turned to leave.
Katie plucked at my sleeve. “Jamie, wait. Where will you be? How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know and I don’t know.”
“Well, how will we reach you if we need you?”
“You’ve still got your cell phone, don’t you?”
Her hand delved into her robe pocket. She extracted it, clutched it to her chest like a woman who still hadn’t heard from her dear sister. “Yes.”
“Call me,” I said, “if you need me.”
And with that, I set out to find Ikaat’s father.
According to his daughter, Armand Oujdad had no family in London and no friends at all. He carried no credit cards and only £300 in his trouser pocket. In this cosmopolitan city, I knew £300 was chump change. He’d likely slept rough if he’d slept at all. He couldn’t live on London’s streets indefinitely, though.
And he wouldn’t live long if Helmet Head found him before I did.
The start of my second hour of surveillance found my tan trench coat dark with the wet. My toes stung with the chill rising from the pavement. As the fog thinned, a street cleaner—one of those loud, truck-like things with brushes bristling from its belly—rumbled past me on the cobblestones, generating a roar of white noise. And my BlackBerry, on my hip, began to vibrate. Philip’s number lit the caller ID.
I debated whether to ignore the call.
But against my better judgment, I answered it.
“Good morning.” Philip’s tone suggested his morning had been anything but. “How’s the
Americans had pelted Ikaat with questions about the old man. I believed Ikaat had done her best to answer them. As incentive, I hadn’t hesitated to remind Ikaat that Helmet Head wanted to find her father. And that it was in everyone’s best interests that I find him first.
Before leaving the hotel, I hunted up Ikaat in the bedroom she’d shared with Katie. And I instructed her to remain inside Rabbit’s Revenge—no matter what. She was still in the robe she’d donned the night before and I was glad to see it. It meant she wasn’t planning on slipping out of the hotel the instant my back was turned. But her lovely olive skin was sallow and she’d nibbled her bottom lip raw. Worry, apparently, had kept her up all night. And I couldn’t be sure what it would make her do during the day.
With that in mind, I jerked a nod at Katie, silently suggesting she leave Ikaat behind and accompany me to the suite’s door. She did so. And once we were beyond earshot of our traveling companion, I said, “Don’t let Ikaat out of your sight.”
“She’s in danger,” Katie said.
“She could run,” I corrected. “She could’ve lied about not knowing where to find her father. She could’ve gotten cold feet about defecting. She could’ve gotten homesick overnight. In any case, she’s got too many reasons to take off like a shot.”
“Well, that would be all right, wouldn’t it? I mean, you’re not going to force her to go to America if she doesn’t want to. What if she wants to go back to her home country, instead?”
I placed a steadying hand on Katie’s shoulder. With her golden tresses tucked behind her ears and her face scrubbed of makeup, she seemed so young this morning, regardless of the maturity she’d shown in convincing me to stay in London last night. But young or not, she had to understand what Ikaat was up against. She had to face it. And she had to realize that danger for Ikaat meant danger for her and me, too.
I answered, “As far as I’m concerned, Ikaat Oujdad can live anywhere she wants. But that human gorilla with the gun didn’t agree. There’ll be more guys like him, wherever he came from.”
Katie blinked her baby blues, then eyed the cast on my arm.
“Ikaat’s best bet is to get to Washington,” I continued. “It’s up to you and me to help her get there.”
Katie’s eyebrows pinched together, but she nodded as if she agreed with me.
I turned to leave.
Katie plucked at my sleeve. “Jamie, wait. Where will you be? How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know and I don’t know.”
“Well, how will we reach you if we need you?”
“You’ve still got your cell phone, don’t you?”
Her hand delved into her robe pocket. She extracted it, clutched it to her chest like a woman who still hadn’t heard from her dear sister. “Yes.”
“Call me,” I said, “if you need me.”
And with that, I set out to find Ikaat’s father.
According to his daughter, Armand Oujdad had no family in London and no friends at all. He carried no credit cards and only £300 in his trouser pocket. In this cosmopolitan city, I knew £300 was chump change. He’d likely slept rough if he’d slept at all. He couldn’t live on London’s streets indefinitely, though.
And he wouldn’t live long if Helmet Head found him before I did.
The start of my second hour of surveillance found my tan trench coat dark with the wet. My toes stung with the chill rising from the pavement. As the fog thinned, a street cleaner—one of those loud, truck-like things with brushes bristling from its belly—rumbled past me on the cobblestones, generating a roar of white noise. And my BlackBerry, on my hip, began to vibrate. Philip’s number lit the caller ID.
I debated whether to ignore the call.
But against my better judgment, I answered it.
“Good morning.” Philip’s tone suggested his morning had been anything but. “How’s the
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