by Jeremy Pack
"You're obviously well-informed," Jason said, shaking his head ruefully.
"I don't like surprises, Jason. Not in the least."
"So what are you going to do, have me roughed up? Killed?"
She laughed. "Please, that's utterly barbaric. I might operate on the fringe, but I'm not a common thug."
"Brunner knows I'm here?"
"Brunner?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in feigned innocence.
"All I want to know is how much of a head start he has. I'll leave quietly, and we'll both go back to our normal lives."
She rose from the desk and threw open the doors to a concealed bar.
Turning to face him, she said, "How about that drink? Glenlivet, is it? Neat?"
Jason glared. He hadn't expected to be found out so quickly.
"Have it your way, then." She closed the cabinet doors and returned to her perch on the desk. Her eyes never left him as she crossed her ankles delicately and lit a cigarette. "I have no loyalty to Brunner. He cheated me out of a very lucrative deal recently. I'm not a woman you can fuck over---at least not without permission---if you hadn't already noticed." She inhaled and shifted position, pointing the cigarette in his direction. "In fact, if he hadn't crossed me, you and I would not be having this conversation right now."
Jason relaxed slightly.
"But if I told you where to find him, and he found out about it, that could put me in a somewhat... precarious position. You understand the dilemma?"
"I promise to keep you completely out of it."
She smiled mirthlessly. "I imagine you would, indeed. I can tell that you're a man of your word. An honest man. In my line of work, I don't meet many like you. Absolutely idealistic and incorruptible. It's another reason I allowed you through. I had to see it firsthand. What girl wouldn't love to discover that unicorns really do exist, after all?"
"What if you just tell me about Brianna James?"
The seductive smile evaporated. "I'm afraid that's out of the question."
"Is she alive?"
Sylvia Hopkins had a damn good poker face. Jason couldn't tell one way or another.
"Has she been harmed in any way?"
"It's important to you. Not just because it is a case. You actually care." These were not questions, though the tone was one of mild surprise. She took another drag on her cigarette. "What if I told you she's alive and safe? That she is living in the lap of luxury and doesn't have a single care? What if I told you that the family she is with is very, very dangerous? That you'd be well out of your league if you started poking around in their affairs?"
He shook his head. "I may no longer be a federal agent, but that doesn't absolve me of an obligation to return her to her rightful home."
"Her paperwork is ironclad. No matter how carefully you make your case, they'll prevail. There are hospital staff who can testify to the painful birth, housekeeping staff who can recount every moment of her short life up to this point, tutors and nannies and neighbors who have all watched her grow from infant to toddler. Of course, next you'll argue that a genetic test would prove it conclusively, but you'd be stunned to discover that her parents are a perfect genetic match when the lab results are returned. Every base is covered."
The lengths to which she had gone stunned him. Securing all of that history wasn't easy or cheap. "You wouldn't go to this much expense for a normal baby deal. What is so special about her?"
Sylvia Hopkins pursed her lips. "I don't know, and I didn't ask. I was given a series of instructions, and I carried them out." She rose from the chair and walked up to him, traced a finger over his jaw. "She's not dead, but you might as well consider her so. Tell your client whatever story you want, but take my advice and convince him she is." She snaked her gloved fingers into his hair, stood on tiptoe, and whispered in his ear, "It's safer for you. Safer for him. Safer for her."
Jason stood stock-still. This woman was a viper. If he made a wrong move, she'd strike.
Warm lips closed about his ear lobe. He suppressed an urge to shrink away from the unwelcome assault. She smelled of expensive perfume and cigarette smoke. It was cloying.
She pulled away, her brows knitting together. Her eyes lingered on his face and narrowed. "You really are queer, aren't you?"
He didn't respond, but he didn't need to. He could see on her face that she already knew.
"Bloody hell." She laughed and flopped into a high-backed velvet chair, the seductress façade falling away like a shed skin. "Well, that just shoots my night to shit."
"I'm not giving up on this."
"Piece of advice: forget about the kid. She's untouchable."
"But Brunner---"
"Is far more connected than he used to be. You have no idea what kind of hornet's nest you're poking." She drew deeply on her cigarette and looked away. "You can leave."
Jason stood perfectly still, glaring at her. Her whole demeanor aroused a deep and fiery loathing. As she continued to shun him, the loathing turned to fury, and he could no longer contain himself. He stomped over to the chair and hauled her roughly to her feet. The cigarette fell from her hand and rolled away on the marble tiling.
Something akin to fear arose on her face as she looked up at him.
"You're hurting me," she said.
His iron grip around her arm tightened, and she whimpered. He pulled her in closer. His face was inches from hers, and he fixed her with a malevolent stare. "So help me God, when I find out what this is all about, you'll pay for your part in it."
"You can't touch me," she protested. The look on her face said she wasn't quite sure.
"You tell me where Brianna James is and I'll give you enough time to run before I drop my file in the bureau chief's lap."
Tears stood out in her eyes. She would likely have bruises on her arm from his strong fingers digging into her tender flesh. She forced a fake, overly confident laugh. "You really think I'd tell you and let you leave here in one piece? I have interests to protect. Right now, you don't know enough to be a threat, but if that changed... well, you'd never make it out of here alive."
"If I don't walk out onto the street in fifteen minutes, completely unharmed, the FBI will be on this place before you have time to ride the elevator to the ground floor."
"You're bluffing. You haven't been anywhere near the FBI. I've had you watched from the minute you stepped off the plane."
"Curt and I have a code we use to pass messages. You're so well-informed, why don't you check his phone records? You'll find he's been in touch with his father since we spoke." It was a fair guess that Curt had called Frank the second they parted company. The affected smugness evaporated on Hopkins's face, and she didn't even bother to hide her rising anxiety. "Why don't we wait it out together and see? Either way, I walk away without a scratch."
She reeled back with her free hand to slap him, and he caught her midswing. "Damn you," she screamed.
"Why don't you have a seat?" He shoved her into the chair and towered over her menacingly. He raised his arm and glanced purposefully at his watch. "Clock's ticking."
"You don't have any idea what you're dealing with, Kingsley."
He smiled. "You're wrong. But it's not me you should worry about.
You're facing a list of federal indictments so long they'll need an archaeologist to cart your ass out of the pen at the end of your term. Cross made sure of that."
Now she looked truly frightened. Her eyes widened, and he could see her gloved hands trembling.
"Cross is dead," she whispered.
"Doesn't matter. I have what I need."
"Brunner has an enormous investment riding on this. His backer is dangerous, much more dangerous than any federal agency."
"Just point me in the right direction. I'll lay down a trail so it looks like I got the information from another source. Tell me where Brunner is."
Her eyes were wild and darted from his face to the elevator. "He's at the Bellagio, goddamn it."
Jason gaped. "He's here? In La
s Vegas?" Hopkins nodded. "You're sure?"
She nodded again, her dismay increasing. He could see her working through plans for a hasty escape. "Yes, I'm sure. He's in a suite at the Bellagio."
"And the girl?"
"I can't," she moaned and brought a fresh cigarette to her lips. She lit it with a trembling hand. "They'll know I put you onto them. If I tell you, I'm a dead woman."
"The name."
Her face was white, and her expression was grim. Sylvia Hopkins wasn't faking it. She was terrified. He glanced at his watch again. Right on schedule, his cell phone rang in his pocket. He withdrew it and thumbed on the speakerphone. "Kingsley."
"It's Lisa."
"Send the files."
"You got it."
"No!" Hopkins leapt out of the chair and clawed at the phone.
"Mariano. The Mariano family has her. It's a temporary arrangement. Brunner called in a favor they owe to someone. I don't know who, and I don't know the details."
"Cancel that file, Lis, but keep your finger on the button. I'm going to need an escape clause."
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
"Standing by," she finally said.
Jason turned to Hopkins. "She's here in Las Vegas too?"
The woman stared back at him. Her lips trembled, and her eyes darted around the room. Who were these people, the Marianos, who could make someone like Sylvia Hopkins so afraid? To Lisa, he said, "Stay on the line with me until this is over."
"You got it."
"Anything sounds funny, hit send. Frank will know what to do."
Sylvia Hopkins was a very different woman than the one who had ridden the elevator to the top floor. "Give me a day. I just need a day to get the hell out of here. Twenty-four hours before you make a move."
Jason winked at her. "I'm a generous guy with a very busy schedule. I'll give you two."
"Now get the fuck out of my penthouse and pray to God I don't change my mind."
"You hear that, Lis?"
"Every word."
"You know what to do if anything happens to me." Jason smiled benevolently at the trembling woman. He had to give her credit---she was holding it together pretty well considering that, for all she knew, her life and her freedom were both in jeopardy. "I know you've got connections---people who can get you some papers. I wouldn't waste any time getting in touch with them. No matter how good they might be, you won't be making a border crossing two days from now unless you plan on swimming the Rio Grande."
She spit at him.
"Time for me to be going."
He turned, strode slowly to the elevator, and rode it to the ground floor. Somewhere along the way, he lost the connection to Lisa, but it was no matter. She didn't have any files to send, anyway. He'd anticipated that there might be some kind of scene with Hopkins and that unless he had an insurance policy, his life could be in danger. He'd prearranged the whole thing before going in. Lisa had agreed, reluctantly, to go along.
As Jason stepped off the elevator, Gunther was waiting for him.
The big man did not make a move to detain him, though he watched him with deadly eyes.
Jason strode past, made his way to the door, and walked out onto the street unmolested. By the time he was headed back to the Strip, his phone was ringing frantically.
"You asshole," Lisa screamed when he finally answered. "Don't ever do that shit to me again. I hate this job."
"Aww, you were worried about me. That's so sweet."
"You're such a dickhead. I should have let that bitch eat you for dinner, you know. I'd be better off without this stress. You're going to give me old lady hair."
"You did great, kiddo."
"I need a vacation."
"Not until this one is done. I still need you on the ground on that end."
"I need a drink."
"Listen, one more thing I need you to do for me. Do a search on the name Mariano. Get me addresses of likely candidates."
"I need a raise."
"Don't push it."
He disconnected.
He looked over his shoulder several times as he walked back to the hotel. His step was light. He had been right. He'd been battling a nagging worry that he'd run into a dead end with Hopkins and that he and Chris would have to start all over. Even worse, he'd feared that Brianna and Michael would turn out to actually be dead. After all he'd done to convince Chris otherwise, having to share that bit of news would be unthinkable. He was grateful he would be spared that fate.
The brass ring was in sight. All he had to do now was make his move on Brunner and Michael, locate the Mariano family, get a couple of pictures of Brianna, and let the federal authorities do the rest.
Something still nagged at the back of his mind, though, something that would not be put down. There were shadow figures at work here, and he had no clue as to who or why. Someone was funding Brunner, maybe several someones. What did Chris have that they wanted? Why did Brunner and Michael think a child could get them to the Heart of the Jungle? What jungle? Where? So much of this still didn't make sense.
If Hopkins could be believed, there were dangerous people playing this deadly game. Brunner had risen infinitely in stature since his days of pilfering statues and organizing illicit deals. The stakes were much higher than he originally thought. Time was running out. He was quickly getting in over his head.
Even if Hopkins quietly disappeared, the countdown had begun the moment they stepped on that plane and fled Seattle. She'd known they were coming. Someone was watching his every move.
He thought about the terror on Hopkins's face as he headed back to his hotel. Whatever was going down was bad. Very, very bad.
Chapter 11
CHRIS had spent the evening hunched against the headboard. With nothing to do but think, he imagined any number of horrible deaths for Jason in the lonely hours that seemed to stretch out to infinity.
Shortly after midnight, he heard the clicking of the lock announcing Jason's return. He flew from the bed. Against all propriety, he rushed across the room and threw himself into Jason's arms. "Oh," he breathed, "thank God you're all right."
Jason seemed taken aback by the uncharacteristic abandon, but his body didn't. He automatically enfolded Chris in a deep embrace. When Chris looked up at him, Jason's expression was one of surprise.
When the outpouring of relief had run its course, Chris pulled back and took a long, lingering look, reassuring himself that all of Jason's limbs were firmly in place and that he was truly safe and whole. Only when he had completed his examination did he finally dare to draw a deep breath.
"Wow, I guess you were worried," Jason said with a grin.
"You were walking into a death trap. What else would I be?"
"Can I go out and come back in? Will you do it again?"
Chris groaned, and then his expression turned serious. "Did you find anything out?"
"Are you hungry?"
"What the hell is it with you and food?" Chris stared at Jason in openmouthed amazement. "You should be the size of a blimp, as much as you worry about eating."
Jason strolled over to the phone and picked it up, ignoring him.
"Because I'm starved. Want a cheeseburger?"
"If you dial room service, I swear I'll break your fingers."
"You're cute when you're feisty." Jason dialed the telephone and grinned over at him in devilish delight. "You're cute all the time, but particularly when the Irish comes out."
Chris glared. If he really could have made good on the finger-breaking promise, he would have. "I hate you."
Jason ordered two cheeseburgers, french fries, and Budweisers, then disconnected. He doffed his jacket, draped it over the chair, and unbuttoned his shirt.
"What are you doing?" Chris asked, ire deepening his voice.
"I can't eat a cheeseburger in this. I'm returning it. I'm a private detective, for Christ's sake. I can't very well afford to keep a seven-hundred-dollar shirt."
What the hell kin
d of game was Jason playing with him? Why was he acting like this? "Are you going to tell me what you found out from Hopkins, or am I going to have to beat it out of you?"
Jason paused in his unbuttoning and made sexy eyes in Chris's direction. "I'll take the beating option, if you don't mind."
This was intolerable. Jason was, as he had originally surmised, an insufferable, self-centered jerk. That was the only explanation for this callous teasing. He had to know Chris was tied in knots with anxiety.
How could he have thought that Jason's insensitivity was just a show?
How could he have imagined he was developing feelings for this coldhearted creep? Tears of helpless frustration welled in his eyes.
The tears seemed to snap Jason out of his teasing mood. His smile evaporated instantly. "I'm sorry, Chris," he said, moving toward him. "I guess I can be a real asshole."
Chris sniffed and turned away. "Finally, the right adjective."
"I really am hungry," he said meekly, pretending to be cute.
"And I'm really tired of this roller coaster you keep me on, Kingsley. I can't handle the stress. I'm strung out as it is."
"I know," Jason said apologetically. He walked over to Chris, turned him around gently, and cupped a hand under his chin. He raised his face and looked deeply into his eyes. "She's alive. She's safe. She's here."
It took a moment for the words to register. When they did, the impact took Chris's breath away. He choked out a sob and buried his face in Jason's chest, weeping uncontrollably. He clung fiercely, his whole being aching to be reunited with his daughter. He'd always known she was still alive. Somehow, he had been certain of it all along.
