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 innocence in all this. I didn’t do anything wrong, Carlos, and Joe knows it, but he doesn’t want me to be his problem.”
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.
He clicked on the CD player to cover any low conversation and walked to her. She didn’t turn around. He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed the back of her neck, which was tight with tension. If she weren’t dressed so perfectly, he could have her relaxed in ten minutes. Probably just as well. If he was going to burn that last condom, he didn’t want to rush.
In fact, the next time he peeled her down to bare skin he planned to have a case of condoms on hand.
“I also gave Gotthard a couple new things I found before finishing the installation,” Gabrielle murmured.
Carlos kissed her neck and she shivered. “What else?”
“I”-Gabrielle paused for a sigh-“can’t find Amelia’s itinerary for when she leaves again, so I’m wondering if she’s staying here after all. But I did find where Evelyn and Joshua are scheduled to travel to the U.S. later today with a group of students. Both of their parents are in the U.S. right now, too. Amelia may be going as well, but her schedule hasn’t been listed. Babette said the group of students leaving this afternoon is on a ten-country tour where they will speak to political leaders regarding the fuel crisis’s impact on the physically challenged. The first stop is the U.S., then Brazil. Maybe there’s a tie between the teens going to Brazil and the meeting your people think is happening in South America with the oil minister.”
“We’d have a thread to follow if Amelia’s father was involved in oil drilling or fuel distribution, but he’s in coffee bean production.”
Gabrielle shrugged. “It’s all so bizarre, but I believe in Linette. I have a sick feeling these kids are targeted for something dangerous. Maybe after all these years Linette’s father will have mellowed some and let her mother talk to me.”
“What do you think you’ll find out?” Carlos stared over her shoulder at the quiet hills and trees, wishing he could stop time long enough to enjoy a stroll with her.
Another gentle shrug. “I don’t know,
but maybe something that would shed light on what really happened to Linette. She’s involved on some level with the people behind this, and I believe it’s involuntarily.”
Carlos reserved judgment since he couldn’t place unquestioned faith in someone he’d never met, but Gabrielle’s trust weighed heavily toward convincing him she was right.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling this incredible woman against his chest. Holding her felt so right, so natural, as if they had always been together.
She sighed heavily.
“What?” he asked.
“Italy is just a speed bump, right? Joe will still hand me over to Interpol.”
He closed his eyes, wishing for an answer that would ease her worry, but he wouldn’t lie to her. That would be cruel.
“Maybe not.” That was the best he could offer, for now.
Gabrielle was silent for a long time.
He turned her to face him. “What are you thinking about?”
Worried eyes met his. “It’s silly, but we have to fly to Milano. Roberto lives there. I met him the first time while searching for Linette. He spends the bulk of his time there.”
“Milano is a huge city and we’ll be leaving the airport immediately to go north to Bergamo, but you don’t have to go.”
She hesitated before admitting, “You’re right. He can’t know that I’m there. I doubt any paparazzi even remember what I look like since I’ve been in hiding so many years.”
She answered too quickly to suit Carlos. The idea of being that close to Roberto clearly scared Gabrielle. He closed his eyes for a second, cursing the dog for the fear he’d instilled in her. “I won’t let him near you.”
“Oh, he isn’t the problem,” she scoffed. “Roberto would never risk getting injured, not so much as a scratch that might lower his screen-star value. He would, however, send someone else to do his dirty work.”
“Then you aren’t going.”
She pulled back. “Yes, I am. I’m not worried about me. I don’t want to put you at risk. You won’t know what to watch out for. You don’t even have a gun with you.”
“If that’s all you’re worried about, then don’t.” He trailed a finger along her face. “I’ve faced worse than anyone he could send, and I’m just as dangerous without a gun as with one. He’s an amateur, and besides, he’d have to know you were here or that we’re going to Milano.”
“Good point.” She gave Carlos a wan smile.
His insides were telling him not to take Gabrielle to Bergamo, but he had to find out what the Fratelli were planning.
Last year’s viral attack appeared to have been some sort of test.
What was happening now could be the real thing. But what?
A knock at the door ended the debate. They had to go. Carlos and Gabrielle followed a rigid Pierre and a porter who carried their luggage to the waiting limousine.
LaCrosse stood near the open door to the car. “Please accept our deep appreciation for your expertise and coming to help us, Mademoiselle Tynte Saxe.” He extended an envelope to her.
Gabrielle started to accept the funds, then paused, seeing LaCrosse through adult eyes. She admired him for his dedication to the school and students. She believed he would spend the money as a treat for the students if she requested it.
“I have an idea for how to use this payment,” she said, pulling her hand back. “Keep the money and build a fountain with a sitting area where the students may study outside.”
“That’s very generous of you,” LaCrosse said with warm eyes that had Carlos wondering if this guy was as genuine as Gabrielle believed him to be. “I’ll pass your request along to the Board of Regents.”
“Wouldn’t you rather see that money go to the endowment fund than something so frivolous?” Pierre interjected. His question was purely criticism of her idea, not a suggestion for a better donation vehicle.
LaCrosse slid a controlled glare at Pierre.
Carlos tightened his grip on her computer bag, considering how best to put the sniveling little bastard in his place for insulting her generous idea.
But Gabrielle handled it when she swung a formidable gaze at Pierre. “No, I don’t think the endowment fund needs to be fattened. Those coffers are filled annually by alumni and their families. I think this fabulous school deserves a spectacular fountain and sitting area.” She turned a softer look at LaCrosse. “Please understand that it isn’t a request. I’m entrusting those funds to be spent according to my wish. There is more than enough to complete the project. I’ll expect to see the fountain upon my return.”
Carlos grinned, not giving a damn what any of them thought. He loved watching her in action.
LaCrosse nodded and seemed pleased with her offer. “Of course. When do you plan to return?”
Carlos told LaCrosse and Pierre, “Sharing that information would interfere with keeping her safe. Best thing you can do is get busy building that fountain.” He curled one side of his mouth just to let Pierre know he enjoyed watching the scrawny pip-squeak be denied.
“We need to go,” Carlos told Gabrielle, who climbed into the backseat with him.
LaCrosse shut the door without another word and the car moved forward. Once they were on the open road, the driver received a call, spoke softly, then hung up. His eyes filled the rearview mirror.
“Mademoiselle, I have a message about your flight.”
Carlos hadn’t made flight reservations yet. He didn’t want anyone to have advance knowledge of Gabrielle’s schedule. What the hell was that all about?
“Yes?” Gabrielle asked with polite interest as she lifted a notepad and pen from her purse.
“Your private jet has arrived. The pilot wanted you to know the repairs were completed sooner than he’d expected so you will not have to travel on a commercial airline.”
“Excellent news. Merci.” She smiled until the driver’s eyes disappeared from the mirror, then tapped the pad with her pen to draw Carlos’s gaze down to what she’d written.
I don’t have a pilot or a private jet.
TWENTY-ONE
PARK HERE,” CARLOS told the limousine driver when they reached the airport in Carcassonne. He’d tried texting Korbin and Rae for backup, but had kept getting a busy signal. Were the damn towers down being repaired again?
When the car stopped moving, Carlos added, “Keep the doors locked and stay with Miss Saxe while I do a security check.”
“You think the airplane is a danger?” the driver asked.
“Not necessarily. This is just standard operating procedure.” Carlos reached over and squeezed Gabrielle’s hand to let her know to sit tight. He didn’t like that her skin felt like ice.
“I’ll be fine,” she said in a voice so small he really hated to leave her.
But he’d written instructions on the pad for her to order the driver to leave immediately if anything happened or if he didn’t come all the way back to the car to get her.
If he waved her to the plane, that was a sign to leave.
Carlos got out and strolled over to the lowered steps, waiting for passengers. The engines hummed and the white fuselage of the Learjet gleamed like a polished pearl.
He climbed the steps slowly, wishing he’d had a chance to alert Korbin and Rae or had a weapon in his hand, but anything other than riding to the airport as planned would have caused suspicion he didn’t want to create with the school.
At the door, he stuck his head inside.
Plush and sleek. A corporate fly toy.
He’d just stepped all the way inside to inspect the cabin further when the cockpit door opened. Carlos swung around, prepared to fight.
Jake Malone, one of BAD’s more versatile agents, stood with hands on hips and a grin that split his face from ear to ear. His buzz cut was hidden by a captain’s hat cocked a little to the side. He’d stuffed that wide body into an airline pilot’s dark-coat-and-pants uniform, perfectly outfitted right down to the white shirt and tie.
“Slick ride,
huh?” Jake grinned, just as comfortable wearing official-looking gold bars on the shoulders of his jacket as jeans and sandals.
“What are you doing here?” Carlos was relieved, but annoyed.
“Joe bought some time by letting Interpol think the CIA is investigating Gabrielle, not that he had her in custody. But Interpol issued a warrant early this morning to bring Gabrielle in for questioning. Joe didn’t want to risk her passport photo being recognized, especially with the false name. He figured no one at the school would question Gabrielle having a private jet.”
“Good thinking. She just finished the computer work this morning. Are Korbin and Rae up to speed?”
“Gotthard sent them the message you two were going to Milano next. Korbin had problems with his cell today so he called me via sat-phone to let me know they saw you two leave a half hour ago. He and Rae should just be arriving at the commercial terminal about now.”
“Would have been nice to know this wasn’t someone else waiting for us,” Carlos said, scowling.
“Hey, I got one of Joe’s usual orders a couple hours ago-find a plush private jet, get here before you arrived, and get in touch with you as soon as I had everything lined up. I sent a text. Two out of three isn’t bad. That’s batting over.600.”
“I’ll remember that next time I have to cover your ass in a firefight.”
“When I didn’t get a confirmation back from you, I sent a message through the school. You must have gotten that or you wouldn’t be here. I knew you’d at least come to see who had delivered a jet to you.”
“That’s some screwed-up logic, but it fits, considering the source.” Carlos paused, squinting in thought. “You said us. Who’s your copilot?”
Jake shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”
The door at the back of the cabin opened, revealing a bed. Jeremy Sunn strolled out, looking like a surfer parading as a pilot in his jazzed-up outfit.
He stretched, yawning. Sun-bleached hair curled along the collar of his starched white shirt that glowed against the bronze tan. Carlos had never seen the jean-clad Jeremy in navy slacks or a pressed long-sleeved dress shirt.
Whispered Lies Page 27
