“You hired someone without consulting me?” Miranda stared blankly into the webcam directly in front of her, seething inside, yet appearing at ease on the outside. She’d spent years hiding her true feelings—animosity and pure loathing—for the woman on the monitor.
“I decided to screen the applicants myself.”
“I don’t know why we need the position at all. I oversaw security here—”
“You need what I say you need,” the image snapped back.
Miranda stiffened. The charms on her bracelet clicked, striking the room’s silence like nails hitting steel. Irritation churned in her stomach, and she had to swallow a scathing reply.
“You have enough to do. Security shouldn’t be your concern,” the witch’s voice mellowed to a patronizing tone. “I created this new position to help you.”
“Giger will be upset that you hired someone other than him. He’s handled security matters for us for years.”
“Don’t tell him right away about the position. Let him learn about it on his own.” The witch took a drag off her cigarette. She blew a cloud of smoke at the webcam. The thick cloud filled the monitor and blurred her black silk blouse to gray. “And have Giger meet our new employee at the airport. He arrives on British Airways, Flight 451, at 10:00 a.m.”
“Who is this man?”
“Nolan Taylor. I’ll send you his résumé. He’s perfect for what I need.”
It was always about what the witch needed. What about what was best for the company? The witch thought the whole world revolved around her. One day, she’d discover it didn’t.
“Why is he perfect?” Miranda asked.
“He’s hungry for money and eager for a quiet position in security where he can avoid certain aspects of his life.” A snide smile slithered through the witch’s tone.
“Is he wanted?” Miranda arched a brow.
“Wanted by the wrong people. At least three contracts are out on his life.”
“What’s he done?”
“Let’s just say he made some enemies in his old line of work.” She paused to take a drag on her cigarette. “No, I’m sure our Mr. Taylor will be eager to please and make a good impression. See that he is made comfortable and kept in the dark until we’re certain we can trust him. Keep me informed of his progress.” The hand reached toward the webcam, the spider’s diamond winking, then the picture went blank.
Miranda made a nasty face at the blank screen, then picked up her phone and dialed Giger’s extension. “I need to see you right away.”
Minutes later, a knock sounded on her door.
“Enter.”
Giger Anfinson walked inside and closed the door. He was a Scandinavian giant, towheaded, blue-eyed. His massive chest and arms could crush a man with little effort. He wore brown pants, white shirt and a tweed sport coat, the left side bulging from a side holster and handgun. Miranda’s office always felt small with Giger in it.
He walked toward her desk and paused, towering over it. “What do you need?” A Norwegian lilt marked his words and they had sounded like, “Vat do you neet?” The words also held an undercurrent of jaded ruthlessness, as if he’d do anything she required of him, however unseemly.
Miranda felt a familiar vibration of nerves around him. Though Giger was as loyal as any hound and had worked for Miranda and the witch for ten years, she had always wondered what he’d do if he were double-crossed. He wouldn’t be too happy when he found out the chief of security position had been created and someone else had been hired for the job. If Giger threatened her, Miranda could blame it on the witch and save her own skin. Giger wouldn’t dare retaliate against the witch. In many ways, they were both the witch’s captives.
She kept the edginess from her voice as she said, “We’re expecting a new employee. You’re to pick him up at the airport.” Miranda told him the flight number and time.
“What position is he filling?” An underpinning of suspicion swam through his words, while he gazed at her in that direct, brutal way of his.
Miranda hesitated, weighing her options. She could lie as the witch asked her to do and deal with Giger’s anger later when he found out. Or she could tell the truth and direct his anger at the person who deserved it, the witch. Why not be honest and lay the blame where it should go? Why should the responsibility fall on her shoulders when the witch was the real culprit in this drama? And if Miranda were being honest, she was sick of being under the witch’s tyranny.
Miranda drummed her fingers on her desk. “To tell you the truth, our superior has filled the chief of security position.”
Giger gritted his teeth, the veins in his thick neck bulging and pulsing. His pale complexion transformed before her eyes, getting redder and redder by the moment. His body tensed and shook with rage. He slammed his fist down on the edge of Miranda’s desk and made her jump. “I wanted that position. The bitch knew that. She did this on purpose.”
“I wish I could help you, but my hands are tied on this. She hired this man without my knowledge.” Miranda poured it on.
“We’ll see about this. Nobody passes Giger Anfinson over.” Giger stalked from the office, his hand resting on the pistol beneath his jacket.
Chapter 2
Jijiga, Ethiopia
Lucy rode in the passenger seat, clutching her purse, feeling her insides being jarred loose.
Her father drove the Hummer over another unusually large rut.
Lucy grabbed the dashboard and glanced over at the driver’s seat. Was that a hint of a smile on her father’s face? He’d found every hole from here to the airstrip. Lucy refused to acknowledge that his lousy driving was getting to her, so she held the dash and braced her feet on the Hummer’s floor.
Beyond a curt hello, they hadn’t spoken, and the tension in the Hummer had turned into a thick wall that she dared not climb. Why had her mother sent him to pick her up? What was she thinking? Quality father and daughter time? Yeah, right.
She glanced out the window. Up ahead, the Karamara hills looked like a massive python with rolling humps that met plains and river valleys as far as she could see. In the middle of this wide expanse, the mud and grass huts, tin shacks and markets of Jijiga looked like scattered Tinker Toys. Jijiga was a reasonably large city for the region, an aid coordination center for Ethiopia. A city born out of need, where people came to get food and medicine to survive the drought-stricken area.
The rain gods had been kind to the area. The flat plains that were usually clouds of red dust were now verdant. Even a coiffure of green covered the hills. Streams coiled out across the plains. She could see a group of Amhara women washing clothes in a nearby brook.
Silence stretched between them, the tension solidifying by the second. Lucy felt it pulsing against her, drenching the air. When she found it hard to breathe any longer, she said, “It looks like they’ve had rain here.” The weather was a safe subject.
“Your mother says it’s a blessing for the area. The nomads are going back to the countryside to graze their herds. It’ll mean less starvation and people will be able to survive,” he said, his words forced through his lips, uttered with stilted formality. He didn’t glance at Lucy, but stared straight ahead at the road. A muscle twitched in his right cheek.
She had brought up a subject. His turn now. She waited.
Nothing.