Chloe looked back and saw that Madigan had returned with two others. When she saw who they were, she smiled broadly. “And what question would that be?”
Daniel Ash shrugged. “Just if you were in any condition to join us.”
ASH HAD COME to trust Chloe like he trusted no one else. She had been at his side when he saved his kids, had almost permanently sacrificed her leg in the process. If he had to pick only one person to join him on this mission, she was it.
Chloe White was not her original name. That had been Lauren Scott. But after she was captured by the Project on a mission for Matt, the Project had done something to her that erased any memory of her past. In essence, Chloe White was born the day she was rescued.
It hadn’t harmed her intelligence, though, nor robbed her of much of the education she’d picked up before the loss. The personal things were the areas most affected—the people who’d been in her life, her family and friends. They were like strangers to her. As much as she tried, she could remember none of them. Ash couldn’t imagine how that must feel. Somehow, though, she had learned to cope.
Ash and Pax had left the other members of the team at the airport while they drove out to see her. They’d come around the corner of the building just in time to see Chloe knock the other woman to the mat.
“Ash and I need to have a conversation with Chloe,” Pax said to Madigan. “Any quiet place we can talk?”
“You can use the gym. No one’s in there.”
“Thanks.”
Since Chloe was the most familiar with the facility, she led the way.
As soon as they were alone, Ash gave her a hug. “Good to see you.”
“You, too,” she said.
Pax was next. “I could get used to a beautiful woman like you hugging me like this.”
She playfully slapped his shoulder. “Well, don’t. If anyone asks, I’ll be sure to say I’ve never let you within five feet of me.”
Pax looked around, and motioned to some chairs in the free-weights area. “Why don’t we have a seat?”
Once they were settled, Chloe eyed them both. “So, join you doing what?”
Before Ash could say anything, Pax held up a hand. “First, we need you to be straight up with us. How’s the leg?”
She let out a quick laugh and nodded. “I get it. You need to be sure.”
“That we do.”
“I take it this is a mission.”
“We’ll get to that. Now, your leg?”
She got up and lifted her left leg so she was only standing on her right. She then began hopping up and down. “It’s got some permanent pins, and there’s a plate right here.” She leaned down and touched a point on the side of her shin. “Sometimes when I get really tired, I limp, but my limp is faster than most people’s walking pace. Along with everything else Madigan’s been putting me through here, I go on a five-mile run every day, and on weekends Ramona and I go on a ten-mile hike.” She sat back down and looked Pax in the eyes. “The leg is what it is, but it’s never going to stop me.”
“I’m sold,” Ash said.
Pax shook his head. “All you had to do was say it’s fine.”
She glanced at Ash then Pax. “It’s fine.”
“You’re in,” Ash told her. “But only if you want to be.”
“I want to be.”
“Let me finish first.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes. I do.” Ash paused. “Chloe, this isn’t going to be easy. Matt would probably put our chances of success at ten percent.”
“Five,” Pax corrected.
“The point being, I’m not sure how many of us are going to make it back, whether we succeed or not.”
“How many of us are there?” she asked.
“With you, there’ll be eight.”
“Not a lot to start with.”
“No.”
She shrugged. “I’m still in. Better than hanging out here and waiting for the end of the world.”
Pax stood up. “Great. Let’s go get you outfitted in cold-weather gear and get under way.”
“Wait,” she said. “No one said anything about cold weather.”
Seventeen
BUENOS AIRES, ARGENTINA
HECTOR RAMIREZ WAS supposedly out questioning suspects regarding a rash of burglaries at several boutique hotels in the Palermo area. What he was really doing was much more enjoyable.
There was no one who could get him as excited as Gabriella. At least once a week, he would sneak away for a few hours in the afternoon so they could have some time together.
Though Hector was married, he wasn’t cheating on his wife. Gaby was his wife. Even after fifteen years together, she still was the most sensuous woman he’d ever met. While most of his colleagues wanted little to do with their spouses, Hector wanted everything to do with his. Happily for both of them, Gaby felt the same way about him.
They were on the living room couch, Gaby’s body straddling his as she moved in a rhythm all her own. She gave him a devilish smile as she pushed her dark hair behind her ear.
Oh, God, how had he ever gotten so lucky?
As he reached up to caress her breast, his phone rang. Annoyed, he looked over at the coffee table where it lay.
Without slowing at all, Gaby said, “Go ahead.”
“It can wait.”
Up and down she went. “I want you to answer.”
He sneered, knowing the possibility that it might be his boss—the danger of discovery—would turn her on even more.
Careful not to do anything that would throw off what she was doing, he reached over, nabbed the phone, and looked at the screen.
“Who is it?” she asked, her voice hushed.
“I don’t know.” There was no name, and the number was not one he recognized. “I’ll let it go to voice mail.”
“No, go ahead. See who it is.”
She was crazy, this wife of his, and he loved that about her.
He accepted the call and put the phone to his ear. “Ramirez,” he said.
“Uncle Hector? It’s Patricia.”
Immediately, he put his hand over the phone and whispered. “Stop. Stop.”
His wife slowed, but didn’t completely halt.
“Uncle Hector?” his sister’s daughter said again.
“Patricia, how are you? Is everything okay?”
“Patricia?” Gaby whispered, confused. Then her eyes grew wide. “Our niece?”
Hector nodded. Gaby immediately rolled off her husband and sat down beside him.
“I’m…um…okay,” Patricia said.
“You sound like something’s wrong.”
She hesitated for a moment. “Did you get my message yesterday?”
He had, but between the hotel robbery investigation and dinner out with Gaby and their friends, he’d forgotten. “I’m sorry. I was very busy and couldn’t call you back.”
“It’s okay.”
“So what’s going on?”
“I, uh, found something, and showed it to Rodrigo. We both thought maybe we should show you, too.”
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure. We thought it might have something to do with…drugs, maybe.”
Hector sat up. “Drugs? What are you talking about?”
She briefly told him what she had found.
“Where is this?”
“In our old neighborhood. You know, the one we lived in when I was a kid.”
If his niece was right, and the shipping container held drugs, then…good Lord, that could be one of the biggest seizes ever in the city. But if it was drugs, surely no one would have just left it there unwatched. According to Patricia, she’d been there twice already without anyone stopping her. That seemed inconsistent with what he knew about the business.
But he did have to admit that whatever it was, the situation was odd.
“Where can I meet you?”
“I’m using the payphone outside the store outside Cervantes Market. How
about there? Remember? It’s the one we used to get fruit at. It’s close to what I want to show you.
“I know it,” he said. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Okay.”
He hung up. Gaby said, “What’s wrong?”
“Patricia and Rodrigo found something strange.”
“Strange how?”
As he stood up and started pulling on his clothes, he repeated Patricia’s story.
“Drugs,” she said when he finished. “That’s not your area. Maybe you should have someone else check it.”
“I doubt it’s drugs. In fact, it’s probably nothing. Maybe the owner is just using the building for storage.”
She didn’t look convinced.
He leaned down and gave her a kiss. “I’ll be all right.”
“BACK THIS WAY,” Patricia said.
They were at the old abandoned house. Hector didn’t remember it from when he visited his sister’s family in the past, but both Patricia and Rodrigo assured him it had been empty even back then.
His niece and nephew led him into the building, through an open spot near the top of a wall, then a secret hole at the back of a cabinet. They showed him the damaged wall, the container, the roof, and the peculiar box Rodrigo said he thought controlled everything.
It all confirmed what Hector had thought when Patricia told him about the place over the phone—it was odd. Beyond that, he had no answers.
“I’ve been thinking,” Rodrigo said. He gestured at Hector and himself. “Between the two of us, I think we might be able to pry open the top a few inches and look inside.”
Hector aimed the flashlight he’d brought along at the top of the container. The idea of climbing up there did not exactly appeal to him, but he was at least as curious as they were. “Are you sure?”
“When I was up there, there was one part that felt a little loose. So maybe we can.”
Hector ran the beam along the side of the container, looking for an easy place to climb.
“I’ll help you up,” Rodrigo offered. “Then Patricia can help me like she did before.”
“I want to go, too,” she protested.
“You have to stay down here.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m stronger than you.”
She frowned. “Not by much.”
“By enough.”
Hector nodded. “Let’s do it.”
PEREZ ARRIVED IN Buenos Aires just after lunch. Since he had no luggage and was using an Argentinean passport on this trip, he made his way quickly through Customs and was soon sitting in the back of the car driven by the local contact, a man by the name of Victor Flores.
Flores was a real estate agent used by the Project to procure properties in the Argentinean capital. The Project’s cover was that they were representing a Korean company planning an expansion into the city. It was a variation on a ploy they were using in various countries throughout the world. Flores had received a substantial sum for his services, and was more than happy to drive Perez wherever he wanted to go.
In a way, it was a two-for-one deal. Perez’s main reason for coming was to check out one of the IDM units and make sure there were no problems. While he was here, he had been instructed to eliminate Flores, too. It wasn’t a necessary hit. In fact, if Perez hadn’t needed to return, the Project would have left Flores alone. He would be dying in the coming weeks anyway, but since the Project’s regional assassin was in town, Flores and his knowledge of the secured properties was a loose end that might as well be cleaned up.
But first, the IDM.
Flores, after several failed attempts at small talk, drove Perez in silence, first to a hotel where a small leather bag with a suppressor-equipped pistol was waiting in Perez’s room, then to the neighborhood where the property was located.
“This is fine,” Perez said.
“We still have several blocks to go.”
“I said, this is fine.”
Flores pulled the car to the curb.
As Perez opened the door and grabbed his bag, he said, “Wait here.”
It was a beautiful, warm day. In the Southern Hemisphere, it was the end of spring, and in less than a week it would be summer. Perez had a brief thought about the millions of bodies in the city that would be rotting in the heat come January. He was not blind to the fact that he was working directly on making that happen, but it was for the greater good of humanity—the only way the human race would survive. At least he wouldn’t have to experience the decay firsthand. He’d be on a completely different continent by Implementation Day, safely riding out the unfolding disaster in one of the Project’s compounds.
He turned down the dead-end street where the building with the troublesome IDM was located. There were several cars parked along the block, but since there was no one on the street at the moment, he headed all the way back and entered the property.
The IDM had been sealed in the large, front room of the old building. There was, however, a disguised entrance that, with the right code entered into the hidden keypad, allowed Project members inside.
This particular entrance was all the way at the far end. The problem for Perez was that to get there, he had to go around the back of the building. As he walked along the rear area, he spotted fresh footprints in a patch of earth near the wall. He knelt down for a closer look. Two sets at least, and perhaps a third, pointing in the direction he was going.
Probably someone just taking a shortcut through the yard, or a couple teens hiding out from their parents.
He continued on, but as he reached a wall that had a group of bricks missing at the top, he noticed that the footprints simply stopped.
He opened the bag, pulled out the gun and two additional magazines. He stuck the gun in the holster under his arm and the spare mags in his pocket. He climbed the wall and dropped inside.
At first he thought maybe he’d been mistaken. The small room was empty. But then he noticed the door of an old cabinet in the corner hanging open. He pulled it out of the way and looked inside.
Well, look at this.
At the bottom was a hole that led into the sealed-off section of the house.
BOTH HECTOR AND Rodrigo grunted as they tried to pull open one side of the container’s roof doors.
“Wait, wait,” Hector said, releasing his grip.
“We almost had it,” Rodrigo told him.
Hector frowned. They had not almost had it. In fact, while Rodrigo had been right, and there was a spot that was loose, it wasn’t loose enough.
“If we can’t get it to open enough to peek through, then it’s not going to work.”
“Uncle Hector, just one more time. I’m sure we can—”
“No. I don’t want to damage it. There’s no proof that any law has been broken. Except for us being here.”
“You’ve got to think there’s something strange about this,” Rodrigo said.
“Of course I do. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, but I think maybe I should call this in and get some help.” He pointed at his nephew and down at his niece. “You two should go home.”
“Home?” Patricia protested. “I’m the one who found it. I should be here when you open it!”
“I understand that,” Hector said. “But if this is something bad, I don’t want your names on any report. The last thing I want is some drug lord looking for you, understand?”
“I hadn’t thought about that,” Rodrigo said.
Patricia looked like she wanted to say something, but stayed quiet.
“I’m sorry,” Hector said. “But you understand, don’t you?”
Patricia, still silent, seemed to have stopped paying attention to him.
“I promise I’ll tell you exactly what we find. Okay?”
A male voice from somewhere out of Hector’s sight suddenly said, “I’m afraid you’re not going to get that opportunity.”
IT HADN’T BEEN something she’d heard. What had caught her attention was movement, a subtle shift
in the layers of darkness at the far end of the container. At first she thought she was seeing things, but then the outline of a man emerged.
A man holding a gun pointed at her.
“I’m sorry,” Uncle Hector said. “But you understand, don’t you?”
She tried to open her mouth, to warn her uncle and brother, to scream, but all she could do was stare at the gun.
“I promise I’ll tell you exactly what we find. Okay?”
The man with the gun grinned. “I’m afraid you’re not going to get that opportunity.”
His words broke her spell. “He’s got a gun!” Even before she finished yelling, she started running toward the container end closest to her, hoping she could get behind it before the man shot her in the back.
She heard her uncle yell something, but her mind wasn’t registering the words. Her focus was only on finding a place to hide.
Something thudded against the ground behind her. She couldn’t help but look back.
Uncle Hector had jumped off the container and was standing between her and the man with the gun.
“Put it down!” he ordered.
Patricia reached the end and moved partially behind it. “Uncle Hector, please run.”
“I’m a police officer,” Hector said, still looking at the man. “You will toss the gun over here, then you will lie on the floor, your hands on your head.”
For a second it looked like the other man was surprised by Uncle Hector’s words, but then he said, “If anyone’s breaking the law here, it’s you. You don’t own this property. My employers do. You have no right to be here.”
“Your employers are the owners? Then what’s inside this box?”
“Whatever’s in there is not your business.”
“If you move the roof away, and open the top, it looks suspiciously like you are going to release something into the air. Some kind of waste product, is that what it is? Something you’re trying to hide?”
The man cocked his head. “Is that what you think? How interesting.”
If it weren’t for her fear of the gun, Patricia would have rushed out, grabbed the back of her uncle’s shirt, and pulled him to safety. “Please, Uncle Hector. Please come.”
The Project Eden Thrillers Box Set 1: Books 1 - 3 (Sick, Exit 9, & Pale Horse) Page 40
