Whispered Lies

The emblem at the end glowed red.

“You don’t need that,” Carlos said. “I’ve agreed to tell you everything.”

“This is no to make you talk, Alejandro. You can no longer wear the sign of an Anguis on your body. This will mark you as the traitor you are for all to see when I hang your carcass next to Ferdinand and his son.”

Carlos clenched his teeth tight, preparing to have his skin burned to the bone.

Durand’s radio hissed, then a voice said, “Don Anguis, there is an emergency call for you on the office line.” He handed the branding iron to Julio and lifted the radio, depressing a button when he spoke. “Who is calling?”

“Vestavia. He says he needs to tell you who Mirage is.”

“Forward his call to my cell phone.” Durand handed Julio the iron, then turned to Carlos. “We’ll both know soon if you tell the truth or if your girlfriend dies.”

Had someone discovered Gabrielle was Mirage?

TWENTY-SIX

HELLO, VESTAVIA,” DURAND answered, then fingered the button on his phone to put it on speaker, placing them both on video feed. He preferred to see this man’s face when they spoke.

“I have a lead on Mirage.” Vestavia’s face filled the screen.

“Really? What?”

“We think it’s the man who killed your people in France. The photo Julio finally sent”-Vestavia paused, allowing his a

“How are you sure?” Durand should thank Vestavia for corroborating Alejandro’s claims, but this man was trustworthy as a rattlesnake.

“Took a while, but my people were able to cross-check every flight out of Europe each day after Mandy was taken. Our computers finally narrowed images from security cameras. We know who he is. Carlos Delgado.”

Durand gave Vestavia credit for that, but he still had issues with the man. “That is good. Now, tell me the reason for these kidnappings.”

“We agreed I’d explain tomorrow.” Vestavia sounded testy, but he added, “Mandy served one purpose-to draw Mirage out, which worked. Mirage hasn’t been online since then and he’s clearly on the run. If Mandy could identify any of your men, the authorities would have visited you by now. Have you sent enough men to watch over the meeting in Columbia as we agreed?”

Durand mulled over Vestavia’s evasive answer. The bastard’s information was impressive. “I told you no question me. I agreed to send the men so they are in place.”

“Don’t get upset,” Vestavia chided. “This will all pay off soon. We’ll find Mirage any day now.”

“Do no waste more time.” Durand smiled at Vestavia’s frown on the small monitor of his cell phone. “Mirage is hanging in front of me.”

The silence stretched until Vestavia said, “Send me a picture of this man.”

“I’ll do one better.” Durand turned the phone to face Carlos, whose eyes narrowed, then widened with recognition.

Dios, Carlos knew Vestavia.

Durand flipped the phone back around in time to see Vestavia’s shock when he yelled, “What were you thinking to show him my face, you fool?”

“Take care with your words, Vestavia. You wanted to see Mirage,” Durand warned quietly, danger percolating in his words. The video feed disappeared, leaving the usual “unknown caller” ID in its place, indicating the phone call was still active.

“I want my people to interrogate Mirage, so don’t kill him,” Vestavia ordered.

“Mirage belongs to me,” Durand answered in a tight voice, and silently swore to kill Vestavia with his bare hands one day. “I will do as I please with him. As I told you before, you can have what is left when I am through, but I doubt a headless corpse can talk.” Durand hung up, cursing Vestavia.

Carlos couldn’t believe whose face he’d just seen on that phone display. Vestavia was former DEA agent Robert Brady, a fugitive BAD believed to have been co

The single positive thing to come from that phone call was that Vestavia confirmed what Carlos had told Durand about Gabrielle. He had no reason to go after her.

“They’ve been setting you up,” Carlos started, buying time in case he came up with a brilliant escape plan.

He could dream, right?

“What do you know of Vestavia?” Durand said, waving off Julio and the branding iron. “Put that back in the fire.”

Carlos had at least piqued Durand’s curiosity. “He’s not someone you want to do business with. He uses people, then gets rid of them. Don’t you wonder why he had you kidnap those teenagers who are now in D.C.?”

Durand fell silent for several moments, no doubt wondering how Carlos knew so much. “What do you know of that?”

“Mandy can’t finger your men, so he’s right about her not being a threat.” Carlos didn’t want Durand to have any reason to go after Mandy. She had enough nightmares to work through once she regained consciousness. “The other three are part of an attack he has pla

“What kind of attack?”

Carlos could only feed him bits and pieces for so long before Durand figured out he was stalling for time. “I don’t know exactly what he has in mind. I was only a conduit of information. I sent what I found out on him to people who are trying to protect the teens and the presidential cabinet.”

Durand’s eyebrows lifted. “Just who do you work with?”

“No one. I’m an independent contractor.”

“So who pays you for this information?”

“Lots of people, but there was no way to trace the money back to them so I don’t have any names for you.”

“Why should I believe you?” Durand kept his anger controlled, but the rigid set of his jaw clearly showed that he believed Vestavia had played him.

“Why do you think Vestavia was upset when he saw me? He knows that I know he was behind the viral attack on the U.S. last year”-Carlos paused as that registered in the horrified frowns surrounding him-“and that he plans to make you the scapegoat for this attack. Don’t believe any grand plan he told you would include the Anguis organization. This man is more mercenary than you ever hoped to be.”

Something else came to Carlos while he was playing this hand. “And Salvatore is not going to be happy when he finds out who set him up to be blamed for the hits on your oil minister.”

Durand’s face flared with just enough surprise to confirm what Carlos had guessed. Vestavia probably paid Durand to make missed attempts on the oil minister in a way that placed the blame at Salvatore’s feet. But why “missed” attempts?

“What do you know about Vestavia’s organization?” Durand asked.

Carlos shook his head in disgust. Durand was so power hungry he’d let a dangerous man dupe him.

“I don’t know for sure,” Carlos hedged, unwilling to share anything u

Durand’s face changed colors from a sickly gray to mottled shades of red, but he still answered softly, “You lie.”

“No, I don’t. Check out my story.” Fat chance of Durand’s doing that. Carlos accepted that he’d reached the end of the time he could stall.

“Give me the damn iron,” Durand ordered in a low voice without looking at Julio, who rushed over to the pit and retrieved the iron.

A siren blared through the building.

Radios crackled on the hips of Julio and his men: “We are under attack!” Weapons fired in the background.

Durand’s face turned a deep purplish red. He crossed the room and took the branding iron from Julio’s hand. “Go see what is happening and take the men. It could be someone trying to get Alejandro. Maybe that pig Vestavia.”