Whispered Lies

“Bien.” A paraplegic since an accident in his teens, Eduardo could use his upper body. He could raise his head and look his uncle in the eyes, but no.

Durand sighed. He’d had the pool built so the boy could be wheeled into it from the far end, but Eduardo refused to go into the water.

“Do you need me to do something for you?” Maria never failed to draw his attention away from Eduardo, ever the protective mama.

As if she thought her own brother was a threat?

“No.” He scratched his chin. “I must speak to Julio.”

“I saw him in his office on our way out.”

Sweat ran inside the open collar of his silk shirt. Durand excused himself with “Until di

Inside the hacienda, he ran into Julio in the two-story hallway, who said, “Were you looking for me, patron?”

“Sí. I have an errand for you.” Durand explained about the dead fish, finishing with “Find that pond keeper Tito and kill him.”

Julio nodded, but before walking away he shared, “The Italian called to say he was on his way and should arrive in the next fifteen minutes.”

Durand dismissed Julio and headed to his office. This meeting would determine if he and Vestavia would remain partners. He’d settled into the leather chair behind his burled-pecan desk and had finished making a call when heavy footsteps approached.

“My associates aren’t happy.” The stocky Italian entered his office on a sweep of anger. A few inches taller than Durand, Vestavia was not a huge man, but he was thick like a bull.

“I expect better ma

“You want better ma

“Please.” Durand pointed at the inlaid-wood humidor on his desk, silently inviting his guest to choose one of the ten most exquisite cigars made in the world.

Instead of answering, Vestavia withdrew an OpusX cigar, ran the premium blend below his nose with the intimacy of smelling a lover. He used Durand’s engraved snipper from the desk, lit the cigar, and took a seat in one of the two liver-colored leather side chairs.

While his guest settled, Durand twirled a stiletto between his fingers. Vestavia should respect his elders. Vestavia could be no more than late thirties. The respect was due.

“We both suffered losses.” Durand pulled his lips tight in a grim smile. This man Vestavia had shared little about the mysterious group he represented. But the money and underworld co

“You assured me you could do this project,” Vestavia countered.

“And you assured me you could locate Mirage.”

Vestavia quieted, his lips not moving until he blew out a stream of smoke. “We did find the informant. We-”

“-may have located the informant, but you do not have him. Excuse me for interrupting, but I believe I know more about the outcome than you do.” Durand placed the stiletto on the desk and selected a custom-rolled cigar from the humidor for himself.

That drew a brief flicker of concern into Vestavia’s gaze that dissipated just as quickly. He puffed, watching Durand with the eyes of a predatory bird patiently waiting for the perfect moment to attack. “Go on.”

“As I understand it, Baby Face found a co

“Who is Turga?”

“An old associate who will unfortunately not see his next birthday. He is what you would call a poacher, who shows up to snatch a prize at the last moment, then auction it to the highest bidder. I understand he was very hard to kill, but he is also dead. His helicopter pilot was the last one to see everyone alive. He told my people that Turga caught a man and woman who escaped Baby Face. This pilot is on his way to meet with me. By tomorrow, I will have an artist’s sketch of the man and woman from his description.”

Vestavia’s face never changed, eyes as flat and cold as the first time Durand had met him. But this man’s vision for the future-or his organization’s vision-was exceptional, a world where the Anguis family would thrive and rule in Venezuela, then all of South America.

If he and Vestavia could reach a point of trust.

“So we have both been disappointed, no?” Durand continued. “As for Mandy, my men did their job. She was delivered to the chalet on time, but a black-ops team ambushed my men. I will find who was behind the attack.”

“Going to be hard to do that with all your men dead.”

“No really. I never send my men in on a new operation without surveillance.”

“What do you mean?”

“I sent Julio, my most trusted soldier, ahead of the team. No one knew he was inside the house. He entered before they arrived and used lipstick cameras that fed to a terminal in the basement where he stayed the entire time.”

Vestavia sat forward, tense. “Why did you send a spy?”

“I am a cautious man.”

“No.” Vestavia moved his head slowly from side to side. “I think you don’t trust me, which I find insulting.”

Durand smiled. “Trust is the question between us, yes? I have not known you long. What kind of leader would I be if I do not assure of a way to make someone pay for ambushing my men?” Durand drew on his cigar and exhaled, sending wavy circles into the air. “Using Julio keeps my men sharp. I tell them things about their missions they think I ca

Vestavia was one of those men who exuded power in silence.

Durand would not be intimidated, not even by a man whose money, contacts, and powerful organization could help him bring the Salvatore family to their knees. He would soon have the throat of that squealing Mirage pig in one fist and Dominic Salvatore’s cojones in his other fist.

But in the meantime, Durand did not want to create an enemy of this Vestavia.

“I provided projects to make you high profile for Mirage,” Vestavia offered in a conciliatory tone Durand knew better than to believe. “Kidnapping Mandy was moved up just to give you more exposure to Mirage since the informant seems to take a particular interest when a female and the Anguis are involved.”

“True, but our deal is not one-sided,” Durand cautioned. “My men have made two successful attempts on our oil minister’s life appear as if the Salvatore family is behind the attacks. Killing the oil minister would be much simpler than pretending to. I do not want the Venezuelan government on my doorstep. I admit I am happy to put Salvatore’s cojones in a vise, but these attacks are very risky. What is the purpose?”

“I don’t explain myself to anyone,” Vestavia warned.

Durand hid the urge to choke this man. To show anger was a sign of weakness. “I only suggest that if I understand your reasoning, I can better support your cause since I have a finger on the Venezuelan pulse.”

Vestavia studied on that a moment before speaking. “My organization was quite pleased with the results so far, but it’s imperative the pressure is kept up. The United States is under scrutiny for their attempt to secretly partner with Venezuelan oil production behind the Venezuelan government’s back.