“You’re lucky you’re my favorite cousin. You never mentioned I would be dodging bullets on this caper.”
“I’m your only cousin. Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy yourself.”
“Sì, it’s true.” Naldo was grinning, but when he glanced down at Filip Petrov it was gone. “I should cut that bastard’s tongue out. I am no coward.”
“Forget him.”
Naldo nodded. Then added, “For now.”
Ash and his cousin were the same age. Just over thirty, they had been as close as brothers. Naldo’s parents had been killed in a car accident, and he had come to live with Estabon at age six. They had shared the same bedroom, girlfriends, and when they were older, their passion for excess in all things.
When Ash had called Girona, he hadn’t intended to ask his cousin to join him, but the truth was, there was no one better to watch his back in Budapest.
Naldo removed the chauffeur’s hat and his jet black, straight hair fell around his face. The one obvious difference that had set them apart was his cousin’s prominent Spanish-Portuguese heritage.
Estabon had gone against tradition and married an American beauty with blond hair and blue eyes. Ash’s mother had struggled for acceptance in the Toriago family, and she had passed that same struggle on to her blond-haired, blue-eyed son. Robena had been luckier. She looked more like Naldo’s sister than his.
“They must pay you well to put up with assholes like that one. In Mexico we would have cut his tongue out.”
Ash nodded. “Sì, we would have, but we played by different rules back then.”
“We played by no rules, primo.” Naldo flashed a grin. “What do you think of the shower?”
“What?”
“The shower in my room was made for a party. I could fit six women inside at one time. How about we have a party? Celebrate the old days.”
Ash laughed. “Too bad you don’t know six women.”
“I’ve only been here a day. There is time. Remember when we used to play stack the deck?”
“We were a lot younger.”
“Vigorous bulls, sì. But in such a hurry. We are wiser now, no? I’m told Hungarian women like experienced men who take their time.”
They found the cargo entrance, and Ash instructed Naldo to park the limo in the underground loading zone. Before he stepped out of the car, he said, “Give me your coat and hat.”
Minutes later, wearing the chauffeur’s uniform, Ash entered the delivery entrance. He located the laundry room, took an empty cart and tossed in two dozen towels. Acting like just another delivery worker, he wheeled the cart out to the loading zone and headed for the limo.
With Naldo’s help, he loaded Petrov into the cart, then covered him up with the towels. Before he wheeled Filip back inside, he said to Naldo, “I shouldn’t need you the rest of the day, but stay close.”
“I’ll be in the bar.” Naldo ran his hand through his shaggy hair. “If I can round up that party, want me to give you a call? Or are you going to be too busy with the pretty señorita?”
“You noticed.”
“Of course. You did, too. I saw the way you were looking at her. Maybe you can bring her to the party. You don’t use it, you lose it.”
Ain’t it the truth, Ash thought. He would party with Naldo after he got Stillman off his back—that’s if he could convince his body to go off strike. But right now he needed to stay focused on the job—he had no idea how much time he had to recover the disk.
He pulled the chauffeur’s hat down to shield his eyes, then with Filip hidden under the towels, he wheeled Petrov into the hotel.
Chapter 4
In the intelligence business a set of bull-size balls was an advantage, not a handicap. So it wasn’t Stillman’s arrogance that had pissed off Merrick.
Loyalty was an admirable trait, if that was what had motivated Stillman’s heavy-handed ultimatum. But threatening to destroy Onyxx was unacceptable.
A man’s work—his work—was his life. For sixteen years it was the only thing that had kept him going since Johanna’s death. No one walked into his office, made threats to take that away, then stole one of his seasoned operatives out from under him without a fight.
Merrick picked up the phone and called the one person he knew who would be able to help him dig up the bone pile on Stillman. Peter Briggs had been a member of Merrick’s unit when he’d first come to Onyxx over twenty years ago. Peter had lost his legs on a mission that had gone sour, a mission that had damn near slaughtered their entire unit. Since then his old comrade spent his days in the Green Room keeping watch over the confidential files Onyxx kept under lock and key.
Adolf was sure Peter would be able to find out if Burgess Stillman had any skeletons in his closet.
“Peter, this is Merrick.”
“What do you need?”
“Information on Burgess Stillman. He’s SDECE.”
“Anything in particular you’re looking for?”
“Something he’s shoved under the rug to keep himself looking clean. Hopefully a little dirt. I’d like this kept between us.”
“You all right? You don’t sound like yourself today.”
“I’ve been better. Find me something and it’ll improve my mood.”
“I’ll get right on it.”
When he hung up the phone, Merrick stood and walked to the maps that covered one entire wall in his office. If he was Filip Petrov where would he go? Maybe a better question was, what unfinished business had Yurii left his brother to attend to?
A knock at the door interrupted Merrick’s thoughts.
“Come in.”
To his surprise it was Sly McEwen who stepped inside. Sly had taken an open-ended sabbatical close to a year ago. It was well deserved, but he was glad to see he was back.
“McEwen, I wondered when you were going to start missing us.”
Sly grinned. “Old habits and all. You know how it goes.”
“This place grows on a man. Ready to go back to work?”
“I’m ready.”
“And Eva…did she come with you?”
“No. But she plans to join me in a few weeks.”
“Then things are still good between you two?”
“She’s an amazing woman.”
Sly looked good, well-rested, and best of all, happy. Merrick was glad to see it. Sly deserved some happiness, and Eva deserved a man she could depend on. That would be Sly. He was one of the best he’d ever recruited.
His thoughts returning to the business at hand, he said, “I’m glad you’re back. Perfect timing, in fact.”
“I called Jacy and Bjorn. They updated me on what’s been going on. The team has been busy. I heard Ash is back, too. I read about the hit on Petrov. I assume that was us.”
“A collaboration with Quest. Sit down.” Merrick climbed back behind his desk. “Pierce and Ash did a damn good job on that one. Of course we couldn’t have done it without Quest’s help. I won’t take anything away from Polax and his beauty queens. Casmir Balasi was flawless in Italy.”
Sly sat. “The femme fatale with the attitude. Bjorn mentioned her.”
“Pierce is off on an overdue vacation at the moment, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s not spending it with Balasi.”
“Pierce chasing after a woman? It’s usually the other way around.”
“Careful. Not too long ago you were chasing a woman. As I recall that was new territory for you, too.”
Sly chuckled. “True enough. When a man finds a woman he can’t live without, he’s screwed.”
“If he’s lucky.”
They shared the same grin.
Merrick leaned back in his chair. “Tell me something. How did you know that the corpse we impounded in Greece wasn’t the Chameleon?”
“I didn’t know for sure. It was just a hunch.”
“Well, your hunch was right. We confirmed that the body is Paavo Creon. You might want to call Eva and let her know that. I know she’s anxious to hear the p
articulars about her father. You have access to whatever you need. You can see Briggs about that.”
“Then Paavo never died in that house fire twenty years ago?”
“No. It looks like he was held prisoner all that time by the Chameleon.” Merrick grimaced. “I can’t imagine what he endured all those years. How he was able to survive is beyond me.”
“I think it suited the Chameleon to keep him alive. My take on the man is that he lives to torture his enemies. He can’t do that if they’re dead.”
“You might be right about that. He’s sure been torturing the hell out of me over the years.”
“Now that we know he’s alive, are you going after him again?”
“Definitely. He could still be in Greece, but it’s hard to know where to start looking without a lead. He’s a man who rarely makes a mistake. At the moment, however, I’ve got a new problem on my hands. One that involves Ash Kelly.”
“What’s going on with Ash? When I left he was still struggling over Sully’s death, but I figured if he was back at work he’d made peace with that.”
“He’s put Sully’s death behind him for the most part. I reactivated him a few weeks ago to help out Pierce on the Petrov mission, and he gave us a hundred percent.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“You want the short version, or do you have time for a cup of coffee and some brainstorming?”
“Coffee is my passion. Second to Eva, that is.”
As Merrick retrieved two cups, he asked, “How do you feel about going back into the field for a few weeks?”
“Why were you in prison, Mr. Toriago?”
Ash was standing at the window overlooking the city. He’d gotten Filip Petrov into bed with the help of the slender brunette with the green eyes. Filip had regained consciousness briefly, and was now sleeping as comfortably as could be expected considering a bullet wound.
He turned from the window. “I got caught being a naughty boy.”
She was standing behind the couch in his plush suite. Dressed in loose black sweatpants and a gray T-shirt, she looked a little lost among the heavy brocade drapes and gold walls. The curved white couch was damn near the size of the limo he’d rented.
She had washed the blood off her face and what remained was a half-inch cut on her left cheek and three small scratches on her chin. She’d been lucky. He wondered if she was aware of just how lucky.
Now that he was able to get a better look at her, he could see that she was rip-cord lean. Almost too thin.
“How naughty?”
“How naughty do you want me to be, señorita?”
“Do you always look at a woman that way?”
“What way?”
“Like you’re envisioning her naked.”
“Only the pretty ones.”
She arched her eyebrows over her dramatic eyes. And they were spectacular. The oddest shade of green he’d ever seen.
“I checked to see if there’s another room in the hotel. There will be an opening tomorrow.”
She rounded the couch. The room’s amber lighting captured her trim figure as she slipped behind the bar. She went on a search, disappearing from sight for a moment. When she popped back up, she asked, “Don’t you have anything to drink?”
“What do you want?”
“Something besides water and,” she bent over again, then back up, “tea. You drink tea?”
“I do. I’ll have something sent up. Anything in particular?”
“A nice dry wine and some gin.”
“A party girl.”
She gazed at him from across the bar, her expression giving away nothing. “Don’t get excited. I like things quiet and uncomplicated. When I drink, I usually drink alone.”
“Not with Petrov?”
“With Filip, too.”
“A one-man woman who likes to curl up on the couch.” He sighed. “I should be so lucky.”
She didn’t answer back, simply stared him down, looking him over with the eyes of someone who was sizing up the enemy.
“I would rethink moving out. Someone wants Filip dead.”
“That’s not your problem.”
“That’s right, you know how to handle a gun.”
“Filip recognized your name, but I’m afraid I don’t. Should I?”
“I don’t know why you should. I’m just a businessman.”
“A naughty business man with merchandise to sell. The kind of merchandise that puts a man in prison.”
Ash grinned. “I was young and reckless in the old days. What can I say? I trusted the wrong people.”
“A mistake I don’t plan to make.”
She rounded the bar and sat down on the couch. It made her look like a little girl among the oversized cushions, and he wondered if she was one of those women who starved herself.
“Salavich is a syndicate man. Filip mentioned your father was the head of a cartel.” Her eyes drifted over him again. More sizing up. “What is it? Drugs, or are you in the white slave market? Or perhaps it’s something much bigger?”
Ash had thought he was through digging up the skeletons of his old life, but it had become part of his cover. From production to distribution, Estabon’s business sense had been pure genius and he’d taught his son everything he knew.
Illegal, yes, but it had paid off with staggering wealth. In those days he hadn’t thought about the right or wrong of it. Money to burn. Excess in all things.
It had been a risky business, and it had gained them more enemies than Hitler. But it wasn’t an enemy who had betrayed the Toriago family eight years ago. He was being honest when he told her that he’d trusted the wrong people. In the same way a traitor had betrayed Stillman, there had been a double-cross in play on a drug delivery that had cost the Toriago family everything. And the man responsible had been as close to him as a brother.
“Some women like mystery men. I’m not one of them, Mr. Toriago.”
“And some men like pushy women. If I’m getting the action, and the ride of my life, there isn’t anything better than a pushy woman with good hip action. If you decide you want to play that game, maybe I’ll feel like sharing my life story. But sharing goes two ways.”
“As you said, I’m a one-man woman.”
She didn’t mince words. But being beautiful and direct wasn’t going to keep her alive. She had no idea what kind of danger she was in. She had picked the wrong boyfriend if she wanted to live to a ripe old age.
“If I were you, I’d be more curious about who and why the car you were riding in today was ambushed instead of who and what I am.”
“There could be another explanation for that. Maybe the shooter was after you. Maybe he made a mistake and hit the wrong car. You arrived at Ballvaro only minutes after we did.”
“I have no enemies here.”
“But you don’t deny you have enemies?”
“Who doesn’t? As far as the shooter goes, we’re just going to have to be patient.”
“You think he’ll strike again.”
“Sì. And it will be soon. That’s why you need to stay here.”
“Because you can protect us.”
“Filip is vulnerable at the moment.”
“I can protect him.”
“You and your little gun?”
She shoved her hair away from her face and leaned her head back against the couch and closed her eyes. “All right, Toriago. For now, we’ll stay here.” She opened her eyes. “Happy?”
“I would be happier if you weren’t a one-woman man.” Ash grinned. “You know my name, señorita, but I don’t know yours.”
“Allegra.”
“Well, Allegra, you relax and take a nap, and I’ll be back shortly.”
“Back? Where are you going?”
“Petrov will need sterile bandages and some pain killers. He’s going to have an uncomfortable night. There’s a shop in the lobby.”
She sat up. “I’ll go.”
“Don’t you want to stay cl
ose to Filip? Maybe I’m a liar and while you’re gone I’ll slit his throat.”
“As you said, you’ve gone to a lot of trouble to keep Filip alive. I don’t think you have murder on your mind.” She stood. “Everything we owned was destroyed today in the car explosion. I could use a change of clothes, and a few other things.”
“You can use my toothbrush.”
“I’d prefer my own.”
“Suit yourself.”
She hesitated.
“Is there something else?”
“Money. If you could lend me some, I’ll see that you get it back.”
“That would require trust.”
“I’ll owe you, and I always pay my debts.”
“You already owe me.”
“Then I’ll owe you double?”
“I like the sound of that. Charge whatever you need to my room number, señorita.”
In her French accent she said, “Gracias, Señor Toriago,” then started for the door.
“Allegra?”
She turned. “Yes?”
“You’re not going to run off, are you?”
“One-man woman, remember? What I want is right here.”
Allegra exited the elevator, spied the small shop in the lobby, and entered it. She picked up sterile bandages and pain pills for Filip, then a few necessities—deodorant, two toothbrushes, a hairbrush and comb. A lipstick and compact.
She left the shop and located a men’s clothing store and bought Filip a gray sweater, a pair of jeans, underwear and socks. She noticed a trendy boutique with leather boots and fur coats in one window, and sexy, colorful lingerie in the other. There she bought a pair of jeans for herself and a black turtleneck, an off-the-shoulder white sweater, tall black boots, and a few pairs of underwear.
On the way to the checkout, a cashmere hat and leather belt caught her eye. Tossing them on her pile, she glanced out the window and noticed a man loitering outside the door wearing a long trench coat and hat, the brim pulled low enough to conceal his face.
She touched the cut on her cheek, her thoughts returning to the ambush at Ballvaro. If this was the shooter then Toriago had been right—they were going to be hit again.
She finished making her purchases, wishing she’d taken her gun with her, but she’d left it in the drawer on the nightstand beside Filip’s bed. On her way back to the elevator she pretended to window shop. The mystery man did the same.
Undercover Nightingale Page 5
