Whispered Lies

Right. And he was the Easter Bu

Joe nodded at Gotthard. “Let her boot up.”

When she turned to follow Gotthard downstairs, Carlos said, “Gabrielle?”

She swung back wide-eyed with a look of fear as if she thought something had changed. “What?”

“We’re leaving as soon as you get an invitation from the school.”

Her relief reached out and touched Carlos. She moved as if to take a step toward him and caught herself, making him wonder what had been on her mind. She gri

She hurried from the room before Carlos raised his eyebrows at her last comment. Did Miss Priss even know what the acronym fubar stood for?

Joe lifted his phone, which must have buzzed, and answered it, paused, then muttered something low that sounded like a curse and hung up. “Based on all the information you sent yesterday, we managed to track down the helicopter.”

“You found Turga’s pilot?”

“We caught up with him in South America. He made a fuel stop near Caracas and disappeared while the chopper was being serviced. The station belongs to one of Durand’s legitimate companies, and the pilot’s flight plan indicated Durand’s compound as his last stop. He may be lost to us.”

Carlos drummed his fingers on the counter, thinking. “That doesn’t fit Durand’s MO.”

“Why not?”

“At least it wouldn’t have fit at one time.” Carlos scratched his jaw. Joe and Retter, BAD’s top agent, knew he was Anguis, but not that he was related by blood. Sad to remember more about the ways his family killed people than anything else. “Durand wouldn’t kill or kidnap someone with a trail like that to his compound. He liked everything kept low profile, unless he really wanted to make a statement.” Like bombing the vehicle of a competitor trying to move into his territory. The explosion sixteen years ago took out a van full of female teachers just trying to help South America’s underprivileged.

Durand tried to explain the deaths on the bus as an unintentional accident.

Carlos disagreed, but in the end the teachers were just four more deaths he felt to his soul.

“So you think…?” Joe prompted.

“Whoever took the pilot might have been snatching him away from Durand.” Carlos scratched his chin, thinking.

“Another player in the mix.” The grim set of Joe’s jaw crept into his words.

“I’m betting the Fratelli are involved, maybe payback for losing Mandy, but that almost doesn’t fit either. Why the pilot? Why not have someone shadow Baby Face and grab Gabrielle if they knew about Durand’s plans? I wonder if whoever grabbed the pilot knows that Gabrielle is the informant?”

“Don’t know, but that pilot can finger you and Gabrielle.”

Carlos chewed on that, considering the implications and risks. “Maybe Gabrielle would be safer with someone else.” He’d tried to sound all business, to hide his lack of conviction. The idea of sending her out with anyone else dug under his skin and irritated him more than it should have.

“She won’t be any safer with someone else, but you’re going to be exposed with no immediate backup on-site, but I’d rather have you on this just because of your knowledge of the Anguis.”

“I realize that.” Carlos met Joe’s gaze that shared nothing. Guilt almost pushed him to tell Joe just how well he knew the Anguis, but Joe and Retter knew as much as BAD needed to know. He’d told them years ago about how the Anguis soldiers were tattooed like him.

He just hadn’t explained the significance of the scar.

“The closest we can get anyone to that school is going to be half a kilometer away, which might as well be a continent away if things go to shit.” Joe drummed his fingers on the counter. “I could send Retter, but I had other plans for him.”

Carlos shook his head. “She’d never listen to Retter.” And the idea of Retter alone with her didn’t sit well at all.

“Not listen to him?” Joe smiled in disbelief. He clearly couldn’t imagine anyone denying his top gun and one of the most intimidating agents to come out of BAD. “Retter’s pretty intimidating.”

“That’s why she’d never listen to him,” Carlos explained. “Gabrielle runs hot and cold. One minute she’ll bite your head off and the next she’s terrified. If you snap at her at the wrong time, she’ll just freeze up.” It surprised Carlos that he was begi

“I’ve got orders to cover a media event in a congressional hearing room that’s been on the books for the past five months. Basically, it’s a media blitz for the two presidential parties.” Joe’s long sigh telegraphed how much he hated expending trained agents he desperately needed in less threatened places right now. “We’re going to be stretched thin on manpower. Retter’s pulling together a team to take into Venezuela. I need him to find out who’s attacking their oil minister and fingering the U.S. as the money behind the hits before this oil crisis turns into an international conflict.”

Carlos held up his hand. “I’m on board. We’ll leave as soon as I can get Gabrielle packed and out of here.”

What had Turga’s pilot told Durand about him and Gabrielle? Carlos had to keep her safe, which was going to be a trick if Durand sent his guns after them. One more thing came to mind.

“So you’re going to let her go when we get back from the school?” Carlos was surprised, but glad she’d cut that deal.

Joe started toward the steps, then stopped and lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “I agreed to search for Linette and let her go once we were convinced she wasn’t a criminal. We’ll search for Linette because we would anyhow. But the minute you’re done in France, Gabrielle comes back here. I can’t just wave my hand and declare she’s i

“WHAT DO YOU mean Turga’s pilot is gone?” Durand dropped the file he was reviewing and stared in disbelief. “What happened?”

Julio’s wiry body tensed. He gripped the large envelope in his hands tighter. “His flight plans to Venezuela indicated he would arrive in Caracas today. I had men in place to intercept him, but at his last fuel stop the pilot leaves his helicopter and no returns. Authorities are all over the airport right now. I think he ran from something.”

“Why?” Durand stood behind his desk, scratching the side of his chin.

Julio waved the envelope in exasperation and shook his head. “Have no answer, yet. Maybe he did no go willing. Maybe we learn more when we find the leader of the black-ops team from France.”

“Sí.” Durand studied that a moment, then asked, “What have you got?”

“More photos, better angles on the face of the man who led them, though the lighting was no so good in these.”

Durand took the photos Julio handed him and laid the shots across his desk. The last photo showed a four-person team of three men and a woman. The leader appeared to be Hispanic, raising the hairs along Durand’s arms, but the shot had not been full face.

He fingered the glossy photos, separating them four across. Vague images with the low lighting, but that one in particular made him look twice.

“Do you recognize him?” Julio pointed at one picture.

“Maybe, maybe no. From this angle, his eyes look familiar,” Durand muttered more to himself. Did he know this man? “Show these pictures around. See if someone recognizes him.” The man was definitely familiar, but Durand could not place the face right now. Soon he would have answers.

“Sí.”

“In the meantime, I want the person who dared to betray me and cost my men their lives.” Durand seethed every time he thought of his brother’s death. “We will set a trap and see what we catch.”