His men were burying the dead and tending to the survivors even as he retreated to the safety of his own quarters. He pulled out his cell phone, his hands shaking as he pressed the speed dial for the man he was sure had betrayed him. Señor Rasgon would regret this, every day of his miserable life. Nando would exact his pound of flesh and more. And remind the man it was very unhealthy to make an enemy of the great Victor Herrera.
The phone rang four times on the other end before going to voice mail. He swore and snapped the phone shut. He’d wait a few minutes and try again. He knew the phone was set on vibrate, so this would be a warning to the idiot to get himself someplace to talk. But after six tries he still had no success making contact.
Swearing in gutter Spanish, he punched in another number, determined that someone would feel the heat of his anger.
* * * * *
Javier hurried to the side of the hangar to answer his cell phone. He had a very bad feeling about what he was going to hear.
“Stupido!” Nando’s voice exploded through the phone like a bomb. “You miserable little cockroach. You are worthless, you hear me? A piece of garbage.”
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Javier stammered.
Jesu Cristo! Now what?
“If you weren’t my cousin’s son, I’d be feeding you to the fish right now, piece by piece.”
“I don’t understand.” Javier shifted from foot to foot, trying to fight the roiling in his stomach.
“They’re gone, pendejo. The damn hostages are gone.”
Javier wanted to throw up. How could this be? He had heard the men talking, seen them leave.
“I am sorry,” he said, not knowing what else to say.
“Do not think you will rest easy over this one,” Nando told him. “El Jefe would like to see your ass roasted over a slow fire.”
“Please, Nando,” he began.
“You should go to church and pray to the Virgin Mother that you are still breathing when this is over.”
* * * * *
Troy was keeping a sharp eye on the hostages, not fully convinced they shouldn’t get more medical attention for them but they all refused, anxious to get home as quickly as possible. He told Dan that for the trauma they’d been through, they were holding up remarkably well. He figured the big crash would come once they were inside their own homes.
They stopped to pick up the Gulfstream, leaving Rick and Troy to ride back in the helicopter with Ed. He would take the Black Hawk back to their private airfield outside Baltimore. It was midafternoon by the time the rest of them landed in San Antonio. The SUV Mark had driven to the airfield was still where they’d parked it. Dan managed to score a second one from the private terminal manager, at the same time letting him know the plane would be back in the hangar. They transferred everyone to the two vehicles while Mike parked the plane.
Mark had called Anthony Delaware en route, told him they had the hostages and asked him not to tell anyone yet that they were free. He said they’d be bringing them to the Wright building shortly and would he please keep everyone there. He knew they all wanted showers desperately, and something to eat that resembled real food, but needed to wait until they confronted the person who’d set this all in motion.
For the first time Mark and the agent exchanged the information they had. Mark also brought him up to speed on how and why the plan was hatched and who was behind it. Sort of. Delaware grudgingly asked for suggestions.
When Mark told him his plan, he was only too willing to agree. Obviously tamping down any hostility he felt, he said they’d all be waiting in the conference room.
“Anything to save his ass,” Mark told the others.
The hostages had all freshened up on the plane and Dan and Mark had handed out spare clothes they kept in the plane’s bedroom. They even managed to find shorts and a shirt for Lissa.
Mark had hooked up the little printer and printed out everything Andy had sent to them. Then he handed it to Dan, who sat quietly to one side with Eli, in two of the comfortable chairs, reviewing the material. Eli had swallowed some aspirin in the helicopter but refused Troy’s offer of a pain pill.
“I want to be alert when I read what you’ve got,” he said, “and plan what I’m going to say to those bastards.”
Troy tried again to get everyone to the emergency room before they did anything else but the Wrights were determined to confront the people who’d planned this and the man who’d put it together. Eli could barely control his anger.
Mark offered to drop Lissa and Sydney off at their home before going on to Wright International but they refused, insisting they be present when it all went down.
When they walked into Pelley’s conference room, several pairs of eyes stared at them, taking in the tall, grim-looking strangers and the Wrights and Mari in their bruised, battered condition. Dan scanned the table, noticing who looked relieved and who looked shocked, then let Mark take the lead, since he’d been the one dealing with the FBI.
Delaware stood up from his seat at the table and grudgingly held out his hand. “Anthony Delaware,” he said. “Thanks for doing my job for me. Politics, you know.” His voiced was tinged with both bitterness and regret.
“Mark Halloran. And no problem.” He nodded at the group behind him, indicating each in turn. “My partners. Eli Wright and his family and Mari Culhane. Faith Halloran and Mari’s sister, Katherine.”
Delaware shook hands with each of them. “You have to know how glad we are to have you back,” he told the Wright party, “and how badly our hands were tied.”
Eli nodded abruptly. “I do. I’m not blaming anyone. But I’m sure you understand it didn’t make us feel any better realizing we were in a no-win situation as far as the government is concerned. I just thank god for men like the people from the Phoenix Agency.”
Ron Pelley had risen and hurried around to where everyone was standing. “Eli. Sydney. God, I’m so glad—”
“Stow it,” Eli snapped, halting Pelley in mid-sentence. “You’d better sit down.”
”You too,” Delaware said, to Ryan Post and Rand Prescott, who had also half-risen from their seats. “Right now.”
All three men sat, protesting, however.
“What the hell is going on?” Rand Prescott demanded.
“I think we’ll find out very quickly,” Mark told them. He looked at Delaware, who nodded.
“The men from the Phoenix Agency and the FBI discovered the same information almost simultaneously. Lucky for the Wrights and Miss Culhane, they don’t have to answer to government regulations.” He looked at Mike. “It’s really your show.”
Mike stepped forward. “When Katherine Culhane came to me and told me her sister was missing, along with the whole Wright family, I kept hoping it was just a mix-up in travel plans. Obviously it wasn’t. It was a carefully planned kidnapping by Victor Herrera, head of the Sinaloa drug cartel. One of many that have occurred in the past year.” He looked at Mark who took up the story.
“Someone had to have given Herrera the Wrights’ travel information and helped set up the kidnapping. It wasn’t random. Digging through masses of information, we narrowed it down to you three.” He pointed at Pelley, Post and Prescott. “You all had financial troubles you were trying to hide and your cut of the action could get you healthy very fast.”
“Plus,” Mark went on, “you all had ties to Herrera. Post, your spa in Mexico is on the border of the state of Sinaloa. You’re overextended financially and your sister finally turned off the aid faucet, Herrera sniffed you out and he’s been using that spa to smuggle drugs and people into the United States.”
He looked at Pelley. “And you, my friend, have been siphoning money from the company to cover bad investments, some of which you were lured into by Herrera to give him a chokehold on you. How nice for him that you’ve been laundering his money for him as well.”
He let his gaze drift to Prescott.
“And you set them up, Prescott. You were the le
ader in this vicious charade. You gave Herrera the information because you had every detail of this trip. And you did it because the businesses you went into with Eli Wright were funded on your part by drug money, as is a great deal of your corporation. At least that’s the way it looks to us.”
The room was so still a pin dropping would have sounded like an explosion. The men in question looked paler than death and the agents were listening with avid interest.
Dan moved forward, picking up the thread. “We decided to check everyone’s credit card activity for the past year. We didn’t know exactly when this poisonous little plot was hatched but that gave us a starting point. And guess what we discovered?”
“Surprise!” Mark said. “The three of you showed up at a resort in the Bahamas at exactly the same time. An unusual coincidence, don’t you think, for three people who don’t even have contact with each other? It didn’t take much of a leap to recognize a planning party. That’s when we got the idea that all three of you had a hand in this, although one of you was the designated coordinator. We had to find out which one. It will be interesting to see what shows up when we get warrants for everyone’s cell phone activities.”
“We had only one clue to follow,” Mike said. He looked at Delaware, who nodded. “We were able to hack into your computers, all of you and pick up the emails you received. The last one addressed a Señor Rasgon. We could have torn our hair out figuring out that one, until someone in our group—and at the table here—said rasgon is Spanish for rip. A nickname, we assumed, based on initials as many nicknames are. But with three people carrying the same initials—Ronald Ian Pelley, Ryan Isaiah Post and Rand Ivan Prescott. A coincidence that couldn’t happen again in a hundred years.”
Delaware nodded, and when he spoke his voice was tight with irritation and anger. “After all, it’s extremely unlikely, and I emphasize the word extremely, to have three people in the same case, all connected to the principle hostage, who all have the exact same initials.” His gaze travelled across each of their faces. “So we thought to ourselves, is it just a truly unfortunate coincidence? Or is this a carefully planned conspiracy by the three of them, deliberately using a nickname based on initials, to confuse us as much as possible and throw us off the scent?”
“After all,” Dan put in, “every one of you looked equally guilty. And the damn initials were a big sticking point.”
“We needed to devise a plan to ferret out the right person,” Mike added.
Anthony Delaware cleared his throat, drawing attention back to himself.
“I’d like you three men—Pelley, Post and Prescott— to take out your cell phones and put them on the table,” the agent said. “Now,” he snapped, when no one made a move.
With obvious reluctance the three men pulled their phones from their pockets and placed them on the table. Immediately Rand Prescott’s began to vibrate.
“Answer it, Mr. Prescott,” Delaware told him. When the man didn’t move, he said, “Fine. Then I’ll do it.” He reached across the table and grabbed the phone before Prescott could stop him. He waited until the tech standing by had plugged a cord into it and nodded, then flipped it open and put it on speaker.
“Rasgon?” a voice said. “Rip? Damn it, I’ve been calling you for hours. What the hell is going on? Do you have any idea what’s happened down here?”
“I think we all know what’s happened by now,” Delaware said. “Whoever the hell you are, I’d advise you to inform Victor Herrera he’s made some very dangerous enemies. He’d better hurry up and replace those guards who were killed today. And his other setup is down the drain. Oh, one more thing. I took the precaution of having Mr. Pelley record the numbers on the bearer bonds. A notice has gone out internationally that the bonds are counterfeit and should not be redeemed. I think even your back alley money brokers will stay away from this one.”
“Listen,” Prescott began.
Delaware looked at Prescott. “Rip, huh? I should have figured you’d be the one leading the parade here. Big international wheeler dealer.”
“Damn it, Rand,” Eli Wright exploded. “What the hell were you thinking of?”
Prescott’s face paled. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Or who this person is.”
“Rip?” the voice from the phone shouted. “I asked what is happening. You’d better talk to me.”
Delaware swung his gaze to the tech, who nodded his head, then the agent took the phone and pressed “Off”. Again he looked at each of the three men individually.
“You’re all guilty, you know. Prescott maybe a little more so. We’ll let the courts decide the severity of everyone’s penalty, because believe me, prison is just around the corner for everyone.” He nodded to his agents. “I think we need to take these three into custody. Get them downtown to the Justice Building and keep them separated.”
As the agents went to work, Prescott was shouting again, demanding an attorney. Dan and Mark had to forcibly restrain Eli Wright from getting in at least one punch but Sydney got her own licks in. As Ryan was being shoved past her, she reached out and slapped his face as hard as she could.
“I’m only glad our parents aren’t here to see this, you miserable little turd.” Her voice was filled with unsatisfied rage. “I hope you rot in whatever cell they put you in.”
Sydney Wright looked at her brother as two agents dragged him past her. “I’m sickened by you,” she spat at him. “To do this to your own family.”
“Family, huh?” he sneered. “If family had taken better care of me, maybe this never would have happened.”
“Family took care of you long enough,” Eli said, disgust in his voice. “We should have let you hang on your own a long time ago.” He turned his gaze to Ron Pelley, his rage vibrating throughout the room. “I treated you like a friend. More than a business associate. I gave you opportunities a lot of men never get. I trusted you, you bastard.”
He raised his hand as if to hit him but Dan Romeo stepped up to him and placed a hand on his arm. “Don’t lower yourself to his level. He’ll get what he deserves.”
“Whatever it is, it will never be enough to make up for what we went through.” Sydney Wright’s voice was harsh. She stood to the side, holding her daughter.
“I know that,” Dan told them. “But it’s a start. And now I think it’s time for the three of you to get medical attention and then go home. You have a lot of healing to do, psychologically as well as physically.”
When the agents and their prisoners had left and Anthony Delaware had shaken hands with everyone, Mark guided everyone out of the conference room.
“I think we could all use a little down time right now.”
* * * * *
Kat had been reluctant to leave her sister by herself but Mari was firm about what she wanted.
“Honey, right now I want the longest bath in the world, a bottle of wine and a good night’s sleep in clean sheets.” She hugged her sister. “I’ll be okay, honestly. You and Mike get some rest too.” She looked over at Mike, leaning against the wall. “Maybe we could all have breakfast tomorrow?”
“You got it,” he told her. “How about if we pick you up at ten. Is that good for you?”
“Perfect.” She looked back at Kat. “I know you think I shouldn’t be alone right now but honest, sis. I’m going to conk right out. Tomorrow is when I’ll need you.”
Kat left her with great reluctance but she was beginning to come apart too. All the tension of the last few days had her unraveling and she didn’t want to do it in front of Mari.
She was more than willing to let Mike take her to his hotel suite, undress her carefully and stand her under a hot, hot shower. His hands felt so soothing as wordlessly he soaped her body, then shampooed her hair, massaging her scalp and easing away the headache that had been building.
As the shower beat down and rinsed them off, he took her mouth in a kiss so tender it almost brought tears to her eyes.
“I haven’t even thanked
you,” she told him while he was drying her off.
“No thanks necessary.” He kissed her again and grinned. “I always wanted to be someone’s white knight.”
“Well, you’re certainly mine.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Make love to me, Michael. Wipe everything away.”
“Don’t you think you should get some sleep?”
She gave him a tiny smile. “After.”
* * * * *
“Hey, aren’t you ready yet?” Mike rapped on the bathroom door. “Food’s here and everyone’s gonna be arriving any minute.”
“Almost ready,” she called.
“Come on. You look beautiful no matter what.”
Kat smiled and pulled on a pair of shorts and a green blouse, tying the tails of it around her midriff. She slid her feet into sandals, checked her hair once more and opened the door. Mike was standing inches away from her, grinning.
“You look good enough to eat.” His hands bracketed her waist. “In fact, I might do just that.”
“Idiot,” she laughed. “We have company coming. Didn’t you just say they’d be here any minute?”
“Spoilsport. I’ll make you pay for it later.”
“Promises, promises,” she teased, as she eluded him and climbed up onto the deck.
When they’d finally gotten clear of the FBI, the DEA and a few other alphabet agencies, they’d spent the past two weeks tying up loose ends. Except for a brief period, Mike had been with her every minute. Coddling her. Babying her. Making sure she was okay.
She’d tried to object when he insisted on paying off the lease on her condo in Tampa and putting everything in storage temporarily.
“I’m not letting you get away this time,” he kept saying. “I learned my lesson the last time and it was painful, believe me.”
His own condo had never been more than a place to change clothes and looked as if a delivery van had thrown up in it. So for the moment they were staying on his boat docked in Chesapeake Bay, getting ready to leave for a week on the water. Then they’d decide where they were going to live.
Mike hadn’t said the actual words asking her to marry him yet but she was comfortable taking things as they were. After everything she’d gone through, she was happy to just let things happen as they should. He had, however, gotten a commitment from her to join Phoenix’s Psi department, with the details to be worked out.
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