Whispered Lies

When she looked forward again, the three men had stopped in front of her and Carlos. The brute with the gun said, “We are here to escort you to the Anguis estate.”

“WE’VE LOST CONTACT with Carlos,” Tee told Gotthard and Hunter over the videoconference line she’d set up in a hotel suite she and Joe were using as a mission headquarters in D.C. Gotthard and Hunter were in Joe’s office that overlooked downtown Nashville from the AT amp;T building dubbed the Bat Tower by locals due to the two points sticking up at the top floor like the ears on Batman’s mask.

“Retter, too.” On one side of the monitor, Gotthard rubbed bloodshot eyes. He probably hadn’t slept all night.

“Retter? His team is supposed to be staked around the Fuentes home.” Tee tapped a long, dark purple fingernail against the i

What the hell was going on in South America?

Hunter appeared next to Gotthard, leaning against a wall in his usual indifferent pose. “Retter got word of someone willing to sell intel on Salvatore’s operation. He told his team to stick with the meeting at the Fuentes estate while he checked it out in person.”

Tee flattened her hand, tapping each finger up and down in succession. Retter was their best gun, the one she and Joe sent into any situation without questioning the percentage of success. What had Retter gotten himself into? “What do we have on these teens?”

Hunter answered, “Mandy has come out of her coma and her prognosis is good, but has no idea why she was grabbed. The only interesting piece our people got from her was that she claims she did not abandon Amelia, but that Amelia abandoned her to meet someone in Germany, so they separated at the airport.”

Tee interrupted, “Amelia is here in D.C. on the multinational field trip with about sixty students, including Evelyn and Joshua, that were confirmed as being at school yesterday in France. All part of the media circus in a congressional hearing room today.” In just a few hours.

“What kind of threat could the kids be?” Hunter asked.

“None of the teens are particularly athletic or have ever been difficult or dangerous.” Tee shook her head and shoved her long hair past her shoulder. “Hell, they’re model students.”

“Hard to ignore a warning-,” Gotthard pointed out, indicating the postcards from Linette.

“But,” Hunter interrupted, “let’s not forget we’re working with information supplied by an unknown woman involved with the Fratelli who no one but Gabrielle has met.”

“He’s right,” Tee agreed, though it didn’t stop her from believing this Linette might be as real as Gabrielle claimed. “We’ve got a full contingent of BAD agents along with me and Joe attending the event to watch both political parties and the kids. Between us and the Secret Service everyone in that building is as safe as can be expected.”

Tee didn’t miss Gotthard’s scowl at Hunter’s attempt to discredit the information from Linette. Just as exceptional a computer terror as he was a dangerous operative, Gotthard hadn’t backed off trying to find this mysterious woman online since Gabrielle had explained the code she and Linette used.

Linette was the only intel they’d had on the Fratelli so far, but they had to proceed with caution when it came to this unconfirmed information.

Tee moved ahead. “I’m with Retter in thinking the teens are a diversion to draw attention away from the meeting at the Fuentes compound tomorrow, but we can’t dismiss the threat to them. Once this dog and pony show is over, we’ll send everyone we have tonight to find Carlos, Gabrielle, and Retter.”

Gotthard was scratching his jaw, something Tee had figured out long ago meant their burly agent was mentally crunching on something. “What’s up, Gotthard?”

“Just playing devil’s advocate. What if Gabrielle was better than any of us realized and she’s set up Carlos? Maybe even Retter?”

Tee didn’t hesitate. “If any of my people are harmed because of her, I don’t give a damn if she’s a princess or a ditchdigger or what Interpol wants. She’ll never see the light of day again.”

CARLOS STARED THROUGH the open door to the desk in Durand’s office. That room hadn’t changed since Carlos had lived here. Same heavy, hand-carved desk shipped in from South Africa he’d helped three other boys carry inside when it arrived. The inside of the hacienda had changed some with new, more exotic decorations.

He had perfect recall of the layout and could find his way around the entire compound blindfolded.

The downside was that he wouldn’t get the chance to put that knowledge to any use.

This was not going to be some happy family reunion. His father never forgave a slight, especially by blood.

Carlos tugged on the cable ties holding him to the chair, but Durand’s men had put four of the thick black plastic straps on each arm, securing him to a chair bolted to the wall. This was a holding room for “interviews” with Durand. The soft leather seat and polished metal ladder-back chair didn’t appear quite so daunting to get out of upon first glance.

He might have had a chance if his legs weren’t just as well anchored.

Gabrielle sat in an identical chair to the side of him, trussed up equally as securely. She kept turning her head to stare at him, as if she waited for him to save the day.

He’d promised to keep her safe.

She was now a prisoner of the one person she feared above all others.

The door leading from Durand’s office to a hallway opened and closed with a snap.

“What is going on?” Durand’s voice demanded from the next room. He walked past the gap where the door was partially open with a cell phone in hand, paying no attention to Carlos and Gabrielle, waiting in the dimly lit room.

No one had recognized Carlos, so far, and Durand didn’t know-yet-he’d captured Mirage, but that would soon change.

From what Carlos had figured out on the ride here, his father must have grabbed Ferdinand and his son, then stationed an Anguis soldier to watch the pawnshop with orders to pick up anyone who seemed overly curious. No one would have anticipated the Mirage, an electronic informant, coming out in the open to make physical contact with a resource.

If not for BAD, she wouldn’t have been here.

Carlos had given Gabrielle three hours, tops, to search for her contacts, thinking they’d get in and out without drawing attention.

But Durand had surprised even him.

“I lost men taking those kids for you,” Durand said in a quiet voice, the one that was meant to raise the hairs on a man’s arm. “It is my business when you put my family at risk. What are those kids doing in the United States? On television?”

Durand continued just as quietly, more so. “If you ca

Silence filled the gap, then Durand replied in a low voice that belonged to the demon he was, “I know about the meeting with Fuentes because I make everything that happens down here my business.” Pause. “Why can you no explain now? What happens tomorrow at noon?” A long pause followed. “I will give you until then, but you owe me, Vestavia. You have not handed over Mirage yet.”

Vestavia? Could that be Durand’s co

Carlos could tell Durand had closed his phone. The click of a lighter sounded, then cigar smoke billowed past the opening. The pungent scent of high-grade tobacco rolled into the room, where Carlos finally put things together from Durand’s conversation.

With so much negative press going on with the fuel crisis and presidential election only days away, everyone would show up for the dog and pony show at the Capitol this afternoon. A staggering list of political power would be present.

What better place to attack with so much of the world focused on South America right now?