A Cloak of Lies Ch. 08

He ran to the kitchen and then the dining room, but she was gone. There was only one other place she could be, although he knew without looking she wasn't there. Jamming his feet into his shoes, he snatched his shirt from the floor and took the stairs two at a time.

Niko was beyond caring by the time he reached Olan's door, tossing it open to bang loudly on the wall behind. His partner woke with a start, coming upright on the bed.

"Where is she?" Niko demanded.

"Wha...?"

"Camille. Have you seen her?"

Olan rubbed his wounded shoulder, looking as if Niko had been speaking Greek.

"She's gone, Olan."

"Did you look downstairs?"

"Yes, God damn it," Niko hissed. "I looked everywhere."

"Did you say someth..."

"No!" Niko yelled, cutting his friend off. "We were together all night. She told me... Just forget it. What if they got to her? I have to find her."

"Just hold your horses, dammit. I'm going with you."

"You'll tear that bullet hole open. Stay where you are."

"Nothin' doin'," Olan stated flatly. "You might not get a chance to come back for me. I'm going with."

"Katarameni gynaika."

"What's that?" Olan said, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

Niko reached a shaking hand to help his friend to his feet. There was an all-consuming fire burning in his brain as his imagination conjured all manner of evil being done to the woman he loved.

"I said, damned woman," Niko growled, handing Olan his trousers. "What was she thinking, running off like that?"

"How do you know she ran off?" Olan countered, grunting against the pain in his chest as he pulled his clothing on. "How do you know someone didn't take her?"

"You're not helping," Niko said, casting a baleful glance at him. "If they came in and took her, they would have killed you and me. That's how I know."

"Fair enough, pal. Hand me that shirt."

Niko tossed the shirt at Olan, leaving him to fend for himself while he went to Camille's room to have another look around. He found the gun he'd given her laying right where she left it. Snatching up the weapon, he returned to Olan's room to help the man down the stairs.

Once he got his wounded friend into the car, Niko ran back inside. When he came back out, he was carrying the few items of equipment that he'd taken inside when they had first arrived. For a moment he toyed with the idea of setting fire to the cabin to erase their presence, but he decided against it. It would take too much precious time and there was no telling what kind of trouble Camille was in.

"Any ideas where she might be?" Olan asked as Niko slid behind the wheel.

"Yeah. She went to call that boyfriend of hers. I know exactly what was going through that blond head of hers. I told her no, so she went to find a phone just to spite me."

Olan started to laugh, moaning a little and clutching the wound high up on his chest.

"What's so funny?" Niko demanded.

"Back in that barn where you two found me, she called you an arrogant bastard. You know, I think she hit the nail right on the head with that one."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You think the world revolves around you. Did you ever stop to think that she didn't bother to take your feelings into account? Maybe she did it because she thinks she needs to."

"Shut the hell up and let me drive," Niko snarled, burning rubber as he pulled the car onto the highway.

***

Camille's leg muscles were burning by the time she crossed over the railroad tracks at the edge of the trees. She had maintained a fast pace all the way to town, keeping the road in sight, but staying within the cloak of the woods. A small, niggling doubt began to plague her as she entered the little town of Cabool in the early light of the rising sun.

She dodged between houses and buildings, hoping that not many people would be up this early and that no one would notice her as she looked for someplace to stop and make the phone call. There were a few vehicles moving about and noises coming from open windows, but for the most part it seemed as if people were minding their own business.

After passing by a couple of streets that didn't look too promising, she stepped onto Ozark Avenue. Glancing to her right, she saw a sign that read, "Ginger's Kountry Kitchen." That seemed to be a likely place.

She approached cautiously, keeping her head down whenever she passed someone as she walked. When she finally reached the front door of the little diner, she was happy to see that it wasn't particularly crowded.

"Hi, there," a friendly voice greeted as she entered.

Camille looked up to see a tidy-looking waitress carrying a pot of fragrant coffee. She gave the woman what she hoped was a pleasant smile.

"Hi. That coffee smells good."

"You just get yourself a seat and I'll come pour you a cup."

"Sounds great. Do you have a pay phone?" Camille said.

"Right over there, Hon," the woman said, pointing to the back of the room.

Camille thanked the woman as she walked to the cashier.

"What can I do for you?" the man behind the cash register asked.

"Hi. Just got into town and my phone won't work. Can I get change for your payphone?" she asked, holding out her wadded money, trying to smooth it with her fingers.

"Local or long distance?"

"Um, long distance. About three dollars worth should do it."

She took her money, heading to the back of the restaurant, trying not to meet any of the curious stares of the patrons. The uneasiness that had begun when she entered town was growing steadily worse. She just couldn't shake the feeling of vulnerability now that she was out in plain sight.

It had been so long since Camille had used a pay phone that it took a few moments to figure it out. In her uneasiness, she misdialed the number and had to dial it a second time before it finally went through. A computer voice told her how many coins to insert and the call started ringing.

It wasn't until the fifth ring that a familiar voice answered. She actually jumped at the sound of it.

"What is it?" Doug said, his voice tinged with irritation.

"Doug? It's me."

"Camille? Where the hell are you? You just disappeared."

He sounded tense, nearly yelling over the noise in the background. The line was full of static and the sound of machinery. She tried to make out what was causing the racket. It sounded like the rush of wind and a motor as if he were driving somewhere, which made no sense because she'd dialed his home number.

"I can barely hear you, Doug. What's all that noise?" she asked, trying to keep her own voice down.

Ignoring the question, he asked again, "Where are you? What happened?"

"It's a long story and I can't talk now. I just wanted to let you know that I'm all right. Doug, I won't be coming back."

"What?"

"I said, I won't be coming back. I'm sorry, honey."

"Where are you?" he demanded, his voice growing angry. "I've been searching for you. I have to see you."

"No, Doug. I... I'm sorry."

"You're in Missouri, aren't you?"

She was silent a moment, shocked that he would know what state she was in.

"How did you know that?" she asked finally, her voice shaking.

"I told you. I've been searching for you. I got scared when I got the call that your house had burned to the ground. They said you were gone."

"My house burned? Oh, my God. Doug, I have to go."

"Tell me where you are, baby. I just want to know that you're all right," he said, the tone of his voice cajoling and soft.

She didn't answer, didn't know what to say as her mind tried to focus on her home having been destroyed. How could she tell him she was with her "dead" husband?

The computer voice returned, telling her to deposit more money for the next three minutes. Her movements were automatic when she complied as a cold feeling spread throughout her chest.

"You're in the Ozarks, aren't you?" he asked, surprising her again.

"Yes," she answered without thinking.

"Which town? baby, I need to see you."

"You can't. You can't see me again. I have to go."

"You're with him. I already know, Camille. The police told me all about your husband. Did you know he's wanted for murder?" he insisted, his voice turning angry again. "He's dangerous. Tell me where you are."

"Cabool," she said, her mind reeling.

How could Doug know about Niko? How could the police know? The icy feeling around her heart spread to her limbs until she felt as if her legs would no longer support her.

"Where?"

"A diner. I have to go. I'm out of money."

"Which diner? Where?" Doug prodded, determined to know the truth.

"A place called Ginger's Kountry Kitchen. Why?"

"Don't move," he commanded, his voice harsh. "I'll be right there."

"What do you mean? You're hundreds of miles away."

"I told you I've been looking for you. Just sit tight," he ordered again.

The phone went dead, leaving Camille staring at it in confusion and fear. He was coming for her, was actually close enough to "be right there." How could that be? She had dialed his home phone in Illinois.

Replacing the receiver on the hook, she walked slowly to an empty booth nearby, sinking onto the vinyl-covered seat. Something was there, something she couldn't put her finger on.

He'd said that Niko was wanted for murder, called him dangerous. Niko had admitted to her that he'd killed, but murder? If the police knew about him...

"Coffee?"

Camille jumped, glancing up at the sound of a voice. She saw the waitress standing over her, pot in hand, an expectant smile on her face. Nodding at the woman, Camille sat back, looking anxiously about the room. People were watching her, staring at her as if she had grown a second head.

The woman poured the coffee, hovering over her even after the cup was full. She eyed Camille intently, studying her as if she were searching for some truth.

"Is something wrong?" Camille asked.

"Maxine," someone called. "More coffee."

"Hold your horses," the waitress yelled over her shoulder before turning back to Camille. "It ain't none of my business, honey, but would you be named Cammy Pavlo?"

Camille's eyes grew wide with horror. Even if this Maxine had gotten the name wrong, it was still close enough to warrant real fear.

"Oh, dear," Maxine said. "You look terrified. Don't worry. I won't tell no one. There was a couple of guys come in here yesterday. Had a picture, said they was looking for you. I don't mind tellin' you I didn't much care for the looks of 'em. Looked like government types. You in some trouble?"

Camille looked the woman in the eye. Maxine's expression was caring, kind and more than a little conspiratorial.

If people had come there looking for Camille, then they were looking for Niko too. And they were close. Doug was close as well.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm in real trouble," Camille whispered, glancing at the door. "I have to get out of here. Some really bad people are coming to get me. Is there a back way?"

She didn't know why she would trust this stranger, but Maxine seemed so sincere. There was a wisdom in her eyes that reminded Camille of a picture of her grandmother, a woman her father had revered.

"You just come with me," the waitress said, setting the coffee pot down. "And don't you worry about a thing. Those boys come back and we'll send them packing soon enough. We'll send 'em on a wild goose chase clear to Texas."

Camille followed her through a crooked hallway that lead past the restrooms to the rear exit. Maxine opened the door, sticking her head through and looking around cautiously.

"The alley's empty," Maxine said. "You better get a move on."

"Thank you, Maxine," Camille whispered, touching the woman's arm.

"Think nothing of it. I just hate to see a nice girl like you get in trouble."

Camille slipped into the bright sunshine, walking as fast as she could without running. She had to get back across Ozark Avenue in order to find her way back to the cabin. Ducking between two buildings just before the end of the block, she peered out at that street.

Just as she stepped from the relative shelter of the buildings, a hand closed around her upper arm, wheeling her around. She came face to face with Doug Johnson. Her heart skipped a beat, causing a sharp pain in her chest.

"Going somewhere, Camille?" he asked.

She didn't answer, merely stared dumbfounded. He was glaring at her, daring her to speak. Without being aware of it, she tried to pull her arm free.

"I think we should talk," he said, tightening his grip as he pulled her out onto the sidewalk.

"Please, Doug. Let me go. I have to..."

"Have to what?" he asked, interrupting her without faltering a step. "Let's get you somewhere safe."

"I can't!" she fairly yelled, planting her feet. "I have to go."

"Go where?" Doug demanded. "Back to him? Don't bother looking dumb. I know all about it."

"How? How do you know?" she asked, taking a step back.

Doug's expression changed so suddenly, Camille had to blink. One moment he was angry and the next he was cajoling and appeasing. She'd never before known him to have such mercurial emotions. He did not even appear to be happy to see her. For a man in love, he was certainly acting strangely. If he'd been so worried about her, why had he not even hugged her yet?

"I lied to you, Camille," he said, adopting the demeanor of a contrite child. "I'm not who I said I was. I work for the CIA. Niko Pavli is a wanted man. Just come with me and I'll tell you everything."

In her shock, she let him take her arm again, leading her away toward the same end of town she'd come in at. As he walked beside her, he began to talk. The words that he spoke so smoothly were unbelievable and shocking.

"I was assigned to protect you. Pavli was one of us. He got in some trouble a few years back and had to disappear. That's when we arranged his fake death."

"That's a lie," she hissed pulling up short again.

Doug looked at her, giving her his most sympathetic air. He patted her shoulder softly, clucking his tongue.

"What did he tell you?" Doug asked. "Did he tell you that he's been serving his nation after someone ambushed him? He's been telling that story so long that he's starting to believe it."

"I saw the scars. I know he told me the truth."

"No, my poor Camille. So gullible. Pavli was shot a few months ago. It happens sometimes, in the line of duty. He wasn't the same after that day. I guess you could say he lost his mind."

It was too much for Camille to absorb. Her mind raced as she tried to make sense of Doug's words. Seizing the opportunity that her confusion afforded, he grabbed her arm again, hustling her across the intersection.

"Anyway," Doug continued, "Pavli became obsessed with the notion that you were in some danger. The shrinks said that he was fixated on having a home and family, complete with the white picket fence. They said it's a symptom of burnout and the trauma of being shot. He broke out and killed three men in the process."

"Niko...," she choked, her free hand brushing the hair from her face.

"He's a dangerous man, Camille. There's no telling what he might do if he thought you knew the truth. He's likely to kill you. It's my job to protect you and that's what I plan to do."

She walked beside him, stumbling from time to time as she tried to keep up with his ground eating pace. When Niko had first come back, she'd thought he was crazy, carrying her off in the middle of the night. Could it be true? Was he really insane?

Then she thought about all that had happened in the days since being on the run. Niko had wooed her, fought with her, had even promised to let her go, but through all of it, he was still her old Niko.

The way he looked at her with so much love in his dark eyes; that was not the expression of a crazy man. The gentleness in his touch when he held her and the care he'd shown were not the actions of a man who was out of his head.

Doug was dragging her along, the edge of town almost upon them. Panic hit her like a freight train. She couldn't go with this man.

"Dammit!" she hissed, jerking her arm free when she halted her step. "I'm so fucking stupid. None of what you say makes sense. All this time, you were there, keeping an eye on me, staking me out like bait."

She pointed an accusing finger at him, gripped by a powerful urge to dig her nails into his face. He glared at her so smugly that she thought she might just do it.

"You're one of them," she charged.

"Be reasonable, babe. Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?"

"You're one of them. Good ol' steady Doug, coming to the rescue of the broken widow. And I obliged you, eating your bullshit like it was candy."

Doug's face turned cold as ice. The smile that curved his lips failed to reach his eyes. The man that stood before her was a stranger, someone she'd never seen before.

"Honey," he said, "I think you've had too much excitement."

"Stay away from me," she hissed as he stepped forward. "I've known Niko all my life. I don't know you at all. You're a liar."

After hurling those words in his face, she darted back the way they'd come. Her long legs stretched, running harder than she ever had, knowing that she had just endangered the only man she'd ever loved.

She saw the faces of people ahead, began to scream just as Doug grabbed her hair from behind, yanking her off her feet. The pain brought tears to her eyes as she was hauled backward against Doug's hard frame.

He was laughing, his hold relentless, dragging her back to the railroad tracks that marked the city limits. There were two men in the distance who showed more than a passing curiosity over the situation. They seemed to be approaching, coming toward her as if to offer assistance.

Camille began fighting, reaching back to claw at Doug's face, shrieking for help. It only took a moment for him to get control of her, using his superior strength and size. Even when he had both her wrists pinned in his grip, she twisted, kicked and used her head to hit him.

Finally, he wrapped his fingers around her throat, effectively silencing her when he shut off her air supply. The men weren't far away and moving faster now.

"Lover's spat," Doug called out to them.

They looked unsure, hesitating a moment before one shrugged his shoulders and walked away. The other soon followed, looking back once as darkness began to cloud Camille's mind.

Doug loosened his grip on her throat just enough to let her draw a breath. She gagged, wheezing and choking at the constriction in her windpipe. His grip tightened again when he released her hands.

"When I let you breathe again," he said, his voice cold as ice, "you will be silent. Is that clear?"

She nodded, desperate for life-preserving oxygen. He released his grip on her throat, wrapping his arm about her waist and pinning her against his chest while she gasped for breath.

He pulled out a cell phone, pushed a button and said, "Set 'er down."

A helicopter seemed to appear out of nowhere, landing smoothly crossways on the tracks. The bizarre-looking craft was unlike anything she'd ever seen before and made no more noise than a large cooling fan. Camille began to struggle again, his intention now all too clear.

"What's the matter, darling?" a woman called, stepping from the craft. "Can't you keep your little girlfriend in line?"

Doug seemed less than amused, snatching Camille's arm and twisting it behind her back. He shoved her forward, showing little mercy when she cried out in pain.

"Keep your mouth shut, Marissa," he yelled at the woman.

Marissa laughed reaching out a hand to clutch Camille's chin. As her eyes were forced up, she got her first good look at the woman. Her hair was a pale blond, her eyes a cold shade of blue. She was a few years younger and an inch or two taller than Camille, but she could have been her sister.