by Mary Buckham
What was it Jayleen had said? Troubles are often self-created and only by identifying them can you eliminate repeated negative patterns. So how did one eliminate Stone?
It was inevitable that he wouldn’t have approved of her means to accomplish her mission, if for no other reason than that she was team leader, but she hadn’t quite expected the extent of his anger. She wasn’t sure why, either. She’d snagged the ledger. Her team had come back in one piece. What more did the man want?
But she wasn’t going to let him win at this point. She’d taken a major step along the path to her dream. Hers and hers alone. Not her father’s, not her mother’s, not her society peers’.
Stone was wrong. Her parents were wrong. She did have something to give, to offer.
She’d lived in that other world already—glitzy, glamorous nothingness—and she wasn’t going back. No matter what Ling Mai said. No matter what Stone or her father wanted. She was here, and here she was going to stay.
When Ling Mai opened the door, Vaughn found her heart pumping fast and furious, primed to fight.
Stone wasn’t going to win. She was. And she’d use every weapon at her disposal to see that it happened.
“Vaughn. Stone.” Ling Mai graciously inclined her head to the pair as if they weren’t standing there breathing fire between them. “Congratulations, Vaughn, on your team’s performance tonight.”
Score one for Vaughn’s side.
But Ling Mai wasn’t finished. “Vaughn, if you don’t mind, would you step outside with your team for a moment? I have something to discuss with Stone.”
That quickly, Vaughn’s fears slammed home.
Ling Mai waited for M.T. to absorb the info she’d just relayed to him. She’d known he wasn’t going to like what she had to impart, and she was right. A clock chimed five o’clock in the main foyer. Neither of them paid any attention to it.
“No way.” Stone stepped forward. “You’re not sending a newbie operative into a setup of this caliber. The minute something goes wrong, it’s suicide.”
“I agree,” said Ling Mai. “It would be too dangerous.”
“So what—”
“Which is why I’m sending you along with her, M.T.”
He shook his head, his lips compressed rigidly together.
“I repeat, it’s suicide, Ling Mai, and you know it.”
“I admit the chances are not high, but only if there is a problem.”
“Yet you’re sending her in anyway.”
“There are not a lot of options here. You and I are both professionals. We know the risks. We must weigh those risks against the greater good.”
“You’ve known her since she was a child.”
He thrust the blade of his words and twisted it. It was what made him one of the best.
“There is no choice,” she repeated.
“There’s always a choice.”
“Not in this case.” She needed him to understand. “This is an opportunity we can’t pass up here, M.T., and there’s always the chance it’s as simple an op as it originally sounds.”
“You know better than that.”
“I know that if we’re going to make this Agency viable, we’ve got to grasp the opportunities that come knocking. Interpol and the CIA have their hands tied on this mission. We don’t. Not only that, we have an asset they do not.”
“Monroe.” His tone sounded as strained as his expression.
“Yes,” Ling Mai repeated. “We have Vaughn. And you.”
“Does she know any of this?”
“I wanted your approval first.”
“You won’t get my approval.” He backed away from the desk. “You have my cooperation, but only because it’s the only chance the deb’s got.”
“Fine. I’ll take it.” She released a sigh and cleared her throat. “You and Vaughn will be First Team.”
“Decoys?”
“Black cover.”
“No fallback.”
“Nothing except your own ingenuity.”
“She has none.”
“You are not giving her enough credit. She almost finished the gauntlet her second week here and managed to break into this office. And tonight—”
“Tonight was pure luck.”
“Luck is not a commodity to sneeze at in this business.”
“Luck will still get her killed in the field.”
“Which is why you’ll be along.”
His smile was laced with bitterness. “I won’t have another’s unnecessary blood on my hands.”
“Then make sure she stays alive.”
“You’re asking for a lot here.”
“Yes. If we have to move on to stage two without you, I give her less than a five percent return rate if things turn dicey. With you, perhaps thirty.”
“You’ll accept a seventy percent failure option?”
“In this case, yes.”
He stepped back and straightened, his eyes no less haunted than they had been moments ago.
“And if I say no?” he asked, his voice quiet and even.
“She goes alone.”
“Does she know you want her dead?”
“On the contrary, M.T., her death is not the issue here. It is whether she retrieves the information we need.”
How many times must she repeat the phrase before it became real?
“For God and country?” His tone rang as cynical as his expression.
“There is no God in this equation. You learned that lesson long ago.”
He did not reply but turned, his back as coldly rigid as his name.
She shook her head. It was as much as she was going to get at this time. She’d have to take what he was willing to give and work with it.
“Please call Vaughn and her team back into the room.”
Vaughn told herself it was lack of sleep unsettling her stomach, but at this rate she was either on her way to a serious ulcer or needed to find a way to deal with one of the drawbacks to her new career—chronic stress.
She glanced around the room, surprised to see another woman present with her original team—another new recruit, known as Mandy. A woman who wore her South American ancestry in the golden sheen of her skin, her thick mane of obsidian hair. Different than Alex, though, but maybe that was the woman’s demeanor. This woman held herself still, watching, as if she were weighing options, and already had her escape route memorized.
Vaughn wondered at the recruit’s presence, but only momentarily. One didn’t focus on the minor when a man like Stone dominated the room, looking no more pleased than when she’d left less than ten minutes ago. Not a good sign.
“Good, we’re all here,” Ling Mai said in greeting.
Vaughn didn’t accept the pleasant tone at face value. She sat up straighter in her chair. How many ops did it take Stone to learn that rigid exterior control? Or was he born with it?
“Before we continue, I’d like to congratulate you all on a job well done in New York this evening. Unbeknownst to the four team members, Mandy was present at the Scarlet Club and her report complements our other intel as to the success of the operation.”
Vaughn caught Alex and Kelly eyeing the other woman. Jayleen gave nothing away; not even her hands moved over her cards. A lesson she must have learned living on the streets.
Ling Mai cleared her throat discreetly and continued. “Mandy will be joining the team on your first official assignment.”
They were going to be trusted with a real operation. No more tests; it was showtime.
Alex’s grin lit up the room while Vaughn kept her own reaction inside, a warm glow and internal high five of pleasure.
Take that, Stone!
“We’re looking at a simple reconnaissance mission,” Ling Mai said. “But do not delude yourself that simple means without risk.”
Vaughn noted the other woman kept her gaze averted from Stone’s. Something was up; it didn’t take a diplomat’s daughter to register the dissension between director and instructor.
But why?
Ling Mai passed a series of files to Jayleen to distribute. She waited until all had them before she spoke. “This is Vladimir Nikolai Aleksandrovich Golumokoff.”
As Vaughn opened her file, the name and the full-face photo registered simultaneously and her heart plummeted. A free fall straight through the Persian carpet bracketing the floor. From the corner of her eye, she caught Stone watching her.
He knew. He was waiting for some reaction from her. Too bad. She’d have to be able to breathe to react and that wasn’t happening.
She glued her gaze to the photo, buying a few precious seconds to find her footing. Maybe there was some mistake? Yeah, like there’d be two Blade Golumokoffs in the world.
Ling Mai’s voice slipped through Vaughn’s shock.
“Mr. Golumokoff is a Russian national now living in Jakarta, Singapore, Lake Como and Belgrade.”
“He’s hot.” Alex whistled, earning a frown from Jayleen.
“He is our target,” Ling Mai continued as if Alex had not interrupted. “He directly controls several highly lucrative international operations dealing in arms, technology brokering and white slavery.”
That didn’t sound like the Blade she remembered. His family, yes, but not Blade.
“At least he’s not gay,” Alex murmured. “The cute ones always are.”
No, Blade was anything but gay, unless one used the old definition of gay—charming, suave and very, very sexy. The tug of a grin pulled at Vaughn until she caught Stone’s glance and automatically suppressed the response.
Ling Mai continued, “In spite of Mr. Golumokoff’s physical attributes—and he is known as a lady’s man—he’s a ruthless adversary. While he lets his entourage do most of his dirty work, rumor has it he’s not opposed to torturing and killing.”
Vaughn ignored the goose bumps crawling down her neck. This did not sound like the Blade she remembered, not at all.
Ling Mai used the term rumor. Meaning unsubstantiated gossip. Blade could be ruthless, no doubt, but a killer? It seemed beyond his freewheeling, fun-loving lifestyle, one that mimicked her own, until just recently. People, a lot of people, had been wrong about her; could the same be said about Blade?
“Does he have something you want?” Kelly asked, getting the group nicely back on track and forestalling any more of Vaughn’s inner questions.
“This is where it becomes complicated.” Ling Mai gave a soft smile, but Vaughn wasn’t fooled. The woman could play down and dirty with the best.
Ling Mai proceeded. “It appears that Golumokoff is setting up an auction at the Brighton Hall resort in Mashobra, India.”
“An auction?” Jayleen’s voice asked incredulously. “You mean like eBay?”
“Yes.” Ling Mai raised her gaze and looked directly at Vaughn. “Only on a different scope. Vaughn, what can you tell us about Mr. Golumokoff’s auctions?”
“Wait.” Jayleen turned in her seat to stare at Vaughn. “You know this guy?”
Ling Mai answered before Vaughn could find enough spit to wet her throat. “Vaughn has a previous acquaintance with Mr. Golumokoff.”
Every gaze swiveled her way, some speculative, one downright hostile. Talk about the hot seat.
“By acquaintance, you mean lover?” Jayleen smirked.
“No. Friend. Of sorts.” That sounded lame, even to Vaughn.
“You sly dog, you.” Alex offered her a wink. “I wish my old boyfriends looked like this guy.”
“But I bet your old boyfriends didn’t have rap sheets,” Jayleen said.
“Wouldn’t count on it.” Alex gave Vaughn a thumbs-up before adding, “So what kind of auction?”
“Blade liked to—”
“Blade?” Leave it to Stone to stop her.
“Yes. No one calls him Vladimir. To his friends, he is simply Blade.”
“Because he likes to use one?” Stone asked.
“No, because it’s a diminutive of Vladimir. His family has called him Blade since childhood.”
“And to his enemies?” He arched one eyebrow.
“I wouldn’t know.”
Ling Mai cleared her throat. “Vaughn, please tell us about Mr. Golumokoff and the auctions.”
“You want to know about Blade personally?”
“Yes.”
“There’s not much to tell. He tends to be superstitious, has an ego the size of Texas and, when he wants to be, he can be quite charming.” Something Stone could learn.
“And the auctions?” Ling Mai smiled.
“What do you want to know?” Vaughn squeezed her hands together, a little like forestalling an ejection from a carnival ride by holding tight the only thing close and stable. Where had this come from? How much did they know?
“You have been friends for some time?” Ling Mai prompted.
“Yes. Though it was always casual.” That was for Jayleen’s benefit. And Stone’s. “And it’s been a few years since our paths have crossed.”
Vaughn found her thoughts casting wildly about. Images of dark-haired, world-weary Blade laughing against a sunset on Bali; the opera in Milan; late-night pints at a London pub near the British Museum. Edgy, cynical, dangerous Blade. So enticing to a much younger Vaughn, but even then she had enough common sense to know that she danced too close to a dangerous flame. He’d always been a friend, though, and at one time a close one. Yes, he might have walked a razor edge between legal and not-so-legal, but Blade was not a criminal. He was simply a man who craved action, excitement and diversion.
“The auctions, Monroe?” Stone’s voice was not neutral like Ling Mai’s.
“He created the auctions as a sort of game. A reason to hold private parties in odd places around the world and the auctions were the carrots dangled before very wealthy, very jaded collectors.”
“What kinds of items were auctioned?” Stone continued to ask the hard questions.
“It depended.”
“On what?” The man’s tone was as granite-edged as his name.
“I don’t know.” The man did know she had nothing to do with setting up the auctions, didn’t he? “On what Blade was able to find to auction. Who he wanted to be present. All sorts of issues.”
“Did he auction stolen goods?”
“I didn’t say that.” Walk carefully; international fencing carried a hefty price tag. “Part of the allure was that these were one-of-a-kind items that would not appear by more traditional means. That was part of the temptation Blade offered. Walking the thin line between legal and not-so-legal.”
“And where did you walk?” Stone’s tone whispered like an icy wind through the room.
Ling Mai raised one hand. “I prefer you to tell us about the types of items you saw auctioned, Vaughn. Do you recall anything in particular?”
“A rare Chinese Han bronze. An oil attributed to Van Gogh and last seen prior to World War Two. A sapphire and ruby necklace said to have been owned by Empress Josephine. Nothing without a provenance.”
“And the buyers?” Ling Mai asked.
“Only first names were used, and sometimes proxies.”
“What’s a proxy?” Alex asked.
“If you couldn’t attend in person, Blade would let a proxy stand in. Since the auctions could last from several days to over a week, timing impacted some buyers. There were kings and politicians who could not be away for that period of time. The same with some other well-known personalities who did not want their faces seen in such a setting.”
“But Blade always knows the attendees, is that correct?” Ling Mai asked.
“Yes. He never allowed anyone in without having them thoroughly vetted beforehand. To him, the auctions were part party, part power trip, part game playing.”
“Meaning?” Alex leaned forward in her chair.
“Collectors of the rare and unusual could be very appreciative to be able to add to their collections. Sort of an ‘I’ll scratch your back if you’ll scratch mine’ attitude. I have no doubt Blade used some of their passions as
weapons of a non-lethal sort down the road. If not overtly, then covertly.”
“And how many auctions did you attend?” Stone asked.
“Two.”
As if he and Ling Mai didn’t already know.
“As a buyer?”
“No. Not all attendees were buyers. Blade liked to flavor the group with a variety of personalities. He said that by making the mix of people eclectic, it stimulated the competitive spirit of the buyers.”
“I just bet it did. And your being related to an ex–U.S. ambassador and current CIA director—how did your boyfriend deal with that?”
“He wasn’t my boyfriend and he was well aware of my father’s career.” She swallowed before continuing, “As I’ve already said, Blade liked dancing along the thin edge of a sword. I was aware my being present at an inappropriate auction could result in a backlash against my father, as Blade was also aware my presence could land him in a lot of trouble if I used my knowledge. But he never put me at risk.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, the auctions I attended were clean. No stolen antiquities, everything aboveboard, if borderline.”
“Not very far aboveboard,” Stone clarified, as if the words were needed.
The man was a cynic. But now wasn’t the time to focus on Stone, not when Ling Mai wielded the power behind the operation. It was time to turn the tables and start asking questions instead of being on the receiving end.
“Is Blade auctioning something in particular you want the team to go after?” Vaughn looked directly at Ling Mai.
The older woman nodded, tapping her closed folder once before answering. “Thus far, Mr. Golumokoff’s auctions have been limited to fine art, ethnographic material and jewels. Nothing very earthshaking, if skimming the edge of the law. But recently we learned of intel that does disturb us.”
And that quickly Vaughn’s pulse trembled into over-drive.
Ling Mai continued, “Rumors are circulating that another auction is coming, the one at Brighton Hall. A very private, very high-stakes auction with a different crowd of attendees from Mr. Golumokoff’s usual auctions.”
“We’re to infiltrate the auction?” Vaughn spoke around the wedge in her throat.
