Whispered Lies

“Don’t do this, Carlos.” She backed up a step. “Do you really believe he’s going to let me go free?”

No, worse. Unless Carlos came up with something to negotiate with-and right now they had squat-Joe was going to hand her over to Interpol, the International Criminal Police Organization supported by over 180 countries and located in France. Only the United Nations was more powerful.

“I’ll take your silence to mean you either don’t believe him or can’t tell me.” She walked away, then turned around, disappointment pouring off her. “Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

She was killing him. “You’ve done a great job, but-” He had a duty. That had never sounded so cold in his head.

“Then don’t take me out of the picture to sit somewhere waiting for God knows how long until someone decides my fate. I don’t believe Joe is going to release me.” Her voice went up a notch with her fear.

“Interpol does want to meet with you.” Carlos painted that less threatening than the truth-Interpol had no tolerance for electronic criminals and could turn a simple interrogation into a five-year investigation with all their bureaucratic red tape.

“You’re going to give me over to them?” The disbelief in Gabrielle’s voice slashed through him right behind the look of betrayal in her eyes. “If they find any proof of what I’ve done and consider it criminal, I’ll go to prison and my father will be destroyed. They would never allow him to remain in his position.”

Carlos wanted to lock her away somewhere safe, but not in someone else’s custody.

“I-” His cell phone dinged with an incoming text message. Carlos unclipped it, read the message, then closed the phone and looked at Gabrielle. “Gotthard wants us to pull up a message from the data vault marked urgent.”

She didn’t ask why, just rushed into the bedroom to where her laptop sat on the lace doily covering the top of the dresser. Carlos followed, waiting until she booted up and accessed the storage site to read behind her.

Gotthard’s message read:

Another assassination attempt was made on the oil minister in Venezuela. Everything points to the Salvatore family, but Retter found the shooter, who had been killed execution-style.

Carlos frowned. “If anything, Dominic Salvatore prefers to be Switzerland when it comes to political battles or conflict with the government. He has people inside the government to do his bidding. Why would he attack the ministry?”

“I don’t know.” Gabrielle scrolled the message.

Rumors continue to surface that the US and Venezuela are trying to form a partnership for oil production. Retter says the word behind closed doors in South America is that Venezuela is going to pull out of the deal, because they think the US is behind the attacks on the oil minister and a possible coup attempt to overthrow the government. The oil minister believes his country is being used in a political war with our presidential elections coming in another week. OPEC isn’t any happier and has walked away from discussions with US representatives. If Venezuela can prove the US is behind the attacks, OPEC will be forced to make a show of support to appease their members.

Carlos drew a deep breath and let it out. “The Fratelli has to be behind this.”

“What do they hope to gain?” Gabrielle asked.

“I don’t know. The concern is if OPEC gets pushed in a corner, they might do something that would have a catastrophic effect on the U.S. economy. Analysts speculate something like the crash last year to the power of ten, especially if this turns into an international conflict. The viral attacks orchestrated by the Fratelli last year affected other countries, just like this fuel situation does. My guess would be whatever they’re up to is much larger than just sending the U.S. into chaos, bad as that would be.”

Gabrielle rubbed her arms and glanced over her shoulder at Carlos. “Do you realize how large an operation they have to be if they are behind all this?”

“Yes, and the scary part is I’m betting our estimate is not even close.”

She scrolled the next part into view.

Retter thinks there’s a meeting of some sort being organized in either Columbia or Venezuela to cool tempers, but Joe can’t find out who from Washington would go as the liaison from the US.

Carlos searched mentally for possible choices. “The obvious liaison would be someone in good standing with all parties who has a stake in the partnership succeeding. Petroleum refinery and distribution groups come to mind first. Could be someone from the State Department or the president’s cabinet.”

Evelyn’s last personal assistant disappeared two days after she quit-looks suspicious. Joe sent a local person to canvas Linette’s family home, but they couldn’t get past the housekeeper. He wants any information Gabrielle has on Linette’s family that will help. He’ll discuss Gabrielle’s status when she returns.

Gabrielle scrolled down, but that was the end. When she turned to look at Carlos, her bright blue eyes teemed with a thought. “If Joe wants information on Linette’s family, take me to Bergamo.”

“That’s probably not what he had in mind,” Carlos started.

“The minute I return, I lose any chance of proving my i

It just never got any easier. Carlos was torn between doing the job he’d sworn to do and keeping her safe from everyone. Was there any value in going to see Linette’s parents? He doubted it, but he didn’t want to take her back yet either.

“Post a message for Gotthard to tell Joe you’ve convinced me we might find out something by going to see Linette’s parents in Bergamo, and if Joe agrees, I’ll be in touch after we land in Milano.”

She leaped into his arms, kissing his cheek. “Merci!”

“Don’t thank me until we hear from Joe.” Carlos hugged her close, hoping this wasn’t a mistake he’d regret. Joe would probably agree. Durand still had a bounty on her head, and no one had found the pilot that could identify them.

She pulled out of his arms and swung around, typing with lightning keystrokes. He packed his bag while she stared at the laptop for several minutes, then hit a couple keys quickly and closed it down.

When she finished and turned to him, trust was written so clearly in her eyes, his first, last, and only thought was to protect her. “Gotthard said Joe approved the trip.”

He’d get a text from Joe soon, confirming that.

Carlos lifted his hand to brush his fingers across her cheek. “You call LaCrosse and tell him you’re done. Get him to send a car. We’ll deal with tickets at the airport.”

“Okay.” She rushed out to the living room where he heard her dialing and her soft voice giving LaCrosse the good news.

He hated exposing her further, but a group with an agenda that would rival that of the worst terrorist was threatening everyone’s safety. BAD and America needed Gabrielle for any hope of uncovering the Fratelli’s plan.

Once that was done, he’d find a way to free her even if it meant never seeing her again.

She entered the bedroom and headed for the closet as he passed her on his way to retrieve his observation camera. When he had everything back to the original condition, Carlos walked into the bedroom.

The bed was made. Her packed suitcase sat next to his duffel bag, the open closet empty and the bathroom neat as a pin. He should have been surprised by how quickly she’d packed, but he wasn’t.

Gabrielle stood in front of the window, staring out, her quiet profile sad and distant.

She’d lived in hiding for the last ten years. Not the pampered life of most women with her position and money. She had a strong core he’d only found in the agents he’d worked with at BAD. Gabrielle hadn’t been trained to do this type of work, but she was gutsy and determined to do her part.