He doesn’t trust me, Xander realized, slowly taking in a deep breath. One wrong move and it could be over for him. All he could do was sway Hawkins to his side and keep her there. She’d shown some understanding so far. But he was walking on thin ice… and it was already cracking.
To stay active, Xander roved his gaze around the room until it landed on a table on the other side. A bag sat on top, its contents placed neatly across the surface. He crossed the room and studied the objects. A large janbiya knife rested on the table next to the box. A string with a pendant made from what looked like bone had been laid next to it. A Glock 17M lay on the right.
Leila had a gun?
“Recognize anything?” Jones asked.
“The knife and pendant I’ve seen before. She got them from a Bedouin who’d helped her when she was stuck in the desert earlier this year. The rest is new to me.”
“Mm-hmm. The police kept the artifact. It was a jar with a lid in the shape of a dog head.”
“A canopic jar. It once held the internal organs of the deceased.”
Sounds from the speakers drew Xander’s attention away from the table. On the large monitor, the door to the interrogation room swung open. He slid into the swivel chair in front of the screen and watched as Hawkins sat across from Leila. His gaze focused on Leila’s face, trying to read her eyes, which were alert. Her brow was tense, stressed. Nothing out of the ordinary, considering the circumstances.
Hawkins started with a brief, vague introduction of herself. Leila eyed the woman across the table warily, lips closed, shoulders straight. Her face remained surprisingly neutral as Hawkins explained the situation, including their suspicions of Soliman.
Xander was certain he would have caught a reaction—eyes widening, a deep breath through her nose—but Leila did nothing. She sat as stiff as a board, not defiant, but not exactly cooperative, either. He’d been able to read her expressions for a long time. Now, all they revealed was the slightest hint of worry at the mention of the London bomb threat. She was working hard to guard her emotions.
She’s not involved. She’s innocent. She shouldn’t be here.
After a few minutes, Leila moved. She put her palms to her face and rubbed her eyes.
A heavy sigh from Hawkins crackled over the speakers.
“Leila, we need your help,” the agent said, her voice soft, pleading, as if the fate of the world relied on Leila. And in a way, it did. Not the world, but thousands of lives could be in danger. “There’s a threat. A real threat. Any information you give us could stop this attack in London. Anything. Please, tell us what you know.”
Leila glowered for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t know anything.”
“All right. Let’s go from there.” Hawkins scooted forward to the edge of her chair. “Could you tell me where you got the artifact? From what I’ve found out about it, it was on display at the Egyptian Museum up until the bombing.”
Leila’s lips thinned.
Hawkins waited a moment. “All right. Could you tell me why you were in Dr. Soliman’s home?”
“Come on, say something,” Xander begged under his breath, but Leila stayed stubbornly silent.
Hawkins let out another sigh and glanced around the room for a moment, then settled her gaze back on Leila. “You’re seen on camera speaking to Soliman as he left the museum grounds. What did he say?”
Leila looked up slowly, her mouth straight. She blinked a few times, then turned her head away from the agent. Thanks to the cameras, Xander could still see her expression. Her eyebrows knitted tightly together, her lips turned downward.
Xander cursed under his breath. Leila wasn’t going to talk, even though she knew something. He could finally see it. Could she be protecting Soliman? Or someone else?
Leila chewed her lip for a moment, then looked up again. “Do I get to make a phone call? Do I get a lawyer?”
Xander sat back in the chair, his chest tightening. Another crack in the ice. How would Hawkins get through to Leila before Jones intervened?
After a few minutes of more non-answers, Hawkins left the interrogation room. Her face was grim when she returned to Jones and Xander. She walked up to the monitors and crossed her arms, her eyes focused on Leila. “I’ll let her stew for an hour, then go back in. She’s probably already exhausted and hungry, not to mention unnerved. How long do you think she’ll hold out?”
Xander stood. He couldn’t stand this anymore. “I’ll talk to her now.” Without waiting for a response, he headed for the door.
“Harrison,” Jones barked, causing Xander to stop mid-step. “Upstairs.”
Xander stood his ground as he kept his voice even. “I want to see her first.”
This warranted an upper lip twitch from Jones. He took a step toward Xander. “You’ll follow orders and wait upstairs, Harrison. You’ll get a chance to talk to her later. We’ll take good care of her.”
“Just like when you took care of the last bloke you interrogated?” It was an image Xander would never forget. While Jones got the information he wanted, the man died of a brain bleed two days later. “You’re deranged. It’s one thing to quickly off a real threat, but torture them? You’ve crossed too many lines already, and I’m not going to keep helping you cover up your barbarities. I’ll inform the foreign secretary if you don’t stop.”
“Harrison, go upstairs.” Jones’s face grew stone-cold. “That’s an order.”
Xander didn’t know what to think. He had to talk to Leila more than anything.
I’m sure she’ll appreciate your loyalty, Jones’s words rung in his ears. Xander had let them slide, but now their full implication was glaring him in the face. Either he could stand by his country or stand by his fiancée.
He had already made his choice.
Desperation pounding in his chest, he turned back to Hawkins, whose eyes darted between the two of them with a look of uncertainty. “She’ll talk to me. She knows what kind of mess she’s in, she’s not stupid.” If he left, he knew he’d come back to find Leila broken, emotionally, physically. She had a lot of explaining to do, but she was probably scared to death. He couldn’t just turn his back on her.
Hawkins watched him sadly. “Jones—”
Jones waved a hand. “Go now,” he growled at Xander, “or I’ll interrogate you.”
Xander balled his hands into fists. “For what?”
“Aiding a terrorist.”
“She’s not a terrorist.” He moved around Jones and took a step toward the door.
