Forsaken by James David Jordan Page B

irresponsible to have any influence over anyone.
    We spent the rest of the dinner chatting about a variety of things, including the next weekend’s International Celebration of Hope in Dallas. It would be his largest event ever and would be telecast around the world. Because the event had been planned for months, I would not be able to have much impact on security. There were a few areas, though, where I could provide security upgrades, even on such short notice. We discussed my ideas as we ate.
    From time to time Elise eyed us from the other end of the table. She frowned through the entire dinner, as if she had been permanently exiled. Her frown particularly deepened whenever Simon said something that made me laugh, which was frequently. He was a witty guy.
    One thing seemed obvious: Elise was likely to create obstacles to my efforts to do my job. Nevertheless, she had made it clear at the auditorium that she would dowhat was best for Simon, no matter what her personal interest—at least, it seemed that way. That impressed me. I was curious to learn more about her. And about her relationship with Simon.
    Of course, that was the last thing that should have been occupying my mind. I was about to learn that, where Simon Mason was involved, there was no time to sweat the small stuff.

CHAPTER

TEN
     
    AFTER DINNER WE MADE our way toward the front of the restaurant. Simon walked in front of me and pulled my suitcase as our group moved single file down the narrow hallway and then wound through several tightly packed tables. Before we reached the front, I turned to him. “Can I take a look at the receipt Hakim gave you?”
    He reached in his coat pocket and handed it to me. “Why do you want that?”
    “I’m going to call and check on the new driver.”
    He stopped. “Now, this is an example of what I was talking about, Taylor. I don’t really think it’s necessary to check out the driver of a reputable limousine servicethat was recommended by the auditorium. That seems like overkill to me.”
    I flipped open my phone. “You talked about cost-benefit a minute ago. I have unlimited minutes on this thing. We can certainly handle the cost of one call.” I held the receipt up to the light and punched in the number.
    While the phone was ringing, we passed the floor-to-ceiling plate-glass window at the front of the restaurant. A single limo—a white, super stretch model with heavily tinted windows—sat at the curb outside. I tapped Simon on the shoulder. “Didn’t you say that you don’t use stretch limos?”
    Just as a voice on the other end of the phone said hello, a light flashed over our heads. The window exploded. A medicine ball of hot air slammed into my chest and knocked me to the floor.
    Outside the shattered window, the mangled hood and roof of the limo cartwheeled from the sky like two huge, wounded birds. They crashed to the sidewalk, side by side, bounced into each other, landed again, and spun several revolutions before nudging together and rocking to a stop in the street. Tires screeched as a taxi swerved to avoid the wreckage. At the curb, flames shot from the limo’s passenger compartment, which was peeled open like a sardine can.
    I reached up, wrapped my arms around Simon’s waist, and sat backward, pulling him to the floor on top of me. To our right a woman screamed. I rolled Simon off me, then crawled beneath the table in front of us. Liftingwith my back, I flipped it onto its side. Plates and glasses crashed to the floor. The tabletop was now between us and the window. I tugged Simon’s arm, and he moved in behind the table. A cloud of acrid smoke drifted in from the street and settled over the room like a dark fog, burning my nose and throat.
    A few feet away Elise stood transfixed, one hand on her forehead. I reached out, wrapped my fingers around her ankle, and jerked. She dropped onto her rear end and let out a high-pitched yelp as if a stranger had just pinched her in an elevator. The sound