by Nancy Brophy
Personally, Cezi wanted her father to choose a woman who liked his daughter. In her fantasies she’d picked out Michelle Pfeiffer, sometimes alternating with Meg Ryan. But if he wanted someone who almost looked gypsy, why not Debra Winger?
As dinner ended and the bonfire pit was lit, families took their places on logs and blankets in the large circle that surrounded the fire. Cezi slipped away without anyone noticing.
As she passed the shoreline, large boats formed a semi-circle around the firework platform. Cars, trucker and campers lined the dirt road around the compound. The quiet murmuring of adults and the laughter of children drifted over the electrified fence.
From her front porch, she’d be able to see the fireworks. It wouldn’t be the same as being there, but she wouldn’t be pushed into the pathetic act of dancing so some poor loser could sacrifice himself to marry her.
Her cell phone rang as she reached her door. Despair gripped her, knowing the getaway hadn’t been as clean as she’d hoped. She’d groped for a believable lie, but when she glanced at the caller ID, it was a 202 area code.
“Hello?”
“Have you solved the puzzle?” a male voice said without even so much as a greeting. Who else was as arrogant as her relatives? Agent John Stillwater.
She grinned, despite her resolve to be angry that he’d taken five days to call. “Yes, I have.”
“You’re kidding?”
What a compliment. He doubted her ability.
“Where are they going next?”
He wanted proof? “As usual you want me to spill my info, so you don’t have to do your job.”
A very masculine snort followed. “You want to be a member of the team, but acceptance requires earning a place.” His voice was suave, persuasive.
Not the smarty-pants tone her cousins used.
Well, she knew her stuff. “One of three places. Carlsbad, New Mexico, Bisbee, Arizona or Grant’s Pass, Oregon, but I’ve halfway eliminated New Mexico because they were in Texas so recently.”
“Nice try, but you’re wrong. They struck Wednesday night in Chicago.”
She closed her lips. Not wanting to give away her power by admitting surprise. Chicago? On a Wednesday?
“What was different about it?”
She heard the smile in John’s gravelly voice and knew she’d passed another test. “Picked up two. A ten-year old boy followed by an older girl that could pass as your twin from the back.”
“What does that mean?”
“He’s trying to replace the one who got away.”
Even though he couldn’t see her, she shook her head in refusal. “That couldn’t have been his intention.”
“According to witnesses, he realized his mistake as soon as she faced him and tried to back off. But the girl pursued him to flirt.”
“Fool,” she whispered, unable to suppress her dismay.
“That’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. How did you know something was wrong with him?”
She conjured up Cain’s handsome, flawless face and swallowed in surprise that he continue to have the ability to terrify her.
“Smell. Something was off about his scent.” Not adding that the man had reaked. She’d held her breath, the stench was so strong.
“Interesting. No one else reported an odor.” He pondered that information for a moment before asking, “what computer program did you use to figure out their pattern?”
“Aren’t you just so high-tech? A computer wasn’t necessary. I used a map, push pens, string, sticky notes and common sense.”
He laughed, a full belly laugh that had her grinning in response. “You’re one smart cookie, but you do know you’re a bubble off plumb.”
It was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her and he didn’t mean it. “You’re not exactly the prototype for the Native American movement. I doubt that I’m all that smart, but you obviously want something.”
“I wanted to apologize for not telling you I was leaving.”
A lump swelled in her throat, making it difficult for her to choke out, “It’s okay.” It took her a minute to gather her emotions and press them down. “So what’s the FBPA doing to solve the case?”
“We’re resisting a national alert. We don’t want to scare them into hiding or only pick up the front men. Either way in a couple months, they can be back in business with other alias and MOs.”
“That makes sense.” Cezi sank to the steps of her porch to consider his words.
“These guys are using a private plane and their own car to pick up one woman. Why go to all that expense? We figure the buyers must have access to ready cash and a lot of it. So we’re putting pressure on third-world billionaires to see if it creates a ripple in the plan.” Stillwater took a deep breath. What have you been doing to protect yourself?” His tone had changed. No longer the dispassionate reporter of the facts. A tingle of delight jetted through her.
“More security cameras. No more late nights at the office unless Rolf is with me. That kind of thing.”
“It might make sense for me to locate the team in Armadillo Creek. More middle of the country. And we know Cain will probably reappear.”
More than anything, Cezi wanted to jump for joy and dance around her front yard. As though timed to fit her mood, the first of the fireworks exploded in the sky.
“What was that?” Panic edged his voice.
“Fireworks. Tonight’s the Solstice Festival.”
Her family didn’t want him here. Not only was he gaje, but a Fed. A major panic would ensue, with everyone pointing fingers and screaming ‘marimé’. She was already skirting the edge of disaster. This would seal her fate.
“Stay there.” She spoke reluctantly, hoping he would talk her out of it. “Nothing good will come out your being here.”
“Nothing?” He lowered his voice. Tingles ran down her spine. What a liar she was, but worse what a fool.
Chapter Twenty-One
Mexico
Adam opened the door to his third-floor office. Sunlight streamed in the window, highlighting Herod as he gazed down into the garden.
“What’s happening?” Adam dumped the ledgers on the desk.
“Come, look for yourself.”
Adam rested one hand against the wall and peered through the narrow window. Next to the round concrete water fountain, a wheelbarrow and shovel stood empty, ready for use. Cain opened a side door, balancing a bulky black plastic garbage bag over his left shoulder. Despite the distance and closed window, Adam saw that Cain whistled as he centered the weight into the barrow, then wedged the shovel in to complete the load.
Lifting the wooden handles, he rolled the wheelbarrow over the artistically designed pavers, through the gate and down a dirt path until he disappeared from sight.
“How’d she die?”
“Morphine.” Herod sighed. “She might have lasted another week, but I doubt it. I wanted her out of here before the others returned.”
“Good thinking.” Adam angled his head to see if Cain was visible from a different view. “That moves our schedule up a couple of days. Does he know you did it?”
“No. He was done with her anyway. When he discovered she was dead, he kicked her a few times then walked away. I hope we haven’t unleashed a monster.”
“He’s never created trouble for us before.” Adam returned to the desk, pulled out a stack of invoices and began to enter the figures on a balance sheet.
Herod strode to another window. “What if the other woman’s continues to be a problem?”
“Then we may have to schedule a trip to Armadillo Creek.”
“You’d do that? Rather than getting rid of him?”
Adam raised his gaze from the ledger. Herod peered at him over one shoulder. “I’ve spent the last few days with Eli, going to different bars every night. It’s not that he can’t pick up a woman, but he’s attracted to the wrong type - too experienced, too flashy, too defiant. If we put Eli in charge, it would add weeks to our trai
ning schedule and end up costing us twice as much.”
“You pointed that out to him?”
Pressing his fingertips together, Adam stared at the fireplace. “Have you ever seen Cain work? His technique is flawless. He targets the woman and waits for her to approach him. Once she does, he focuses entirely on her. Eli’s all over the place, a flashing piece of glitter on the far side of the room distracts him. Even when girls figure out Cain’s deception, they cry because he’s gone.”
“So you’d rather keep him than train someone new?” Herod shrugged, turning toward the window again.
“For now.”
Silence reigned while each man considered alternatives. Casually, Adam said, “We’ve paid Cain millions. What’s happened to that money? He’s not the type to invest in stocks or property. Interesting thought, isn’t it?”
Herod chuckled, low and deep in his throat. “I assume no heirs.”
Adam scratched his head. “I met him after he’d been dumped by a girlfriend.
A cruel smile curved Herod’s face. “Any particular reason?”
“M.O.N.E.Y.”
“Unlikely that he’d be in touch with her. Any family?”
“Abandoned young by a meth-head mother, who’s since died, but I doubt if he knows that.”
“You want me to investigate?”
Adam thought for a minute before answering. “Try off-shore accounts first.”
Herod nodded his agreement. “You’ve checked his apartment for clues?”
“Every inch.”
# # #
Washington DC
John was nothing if not thorough. Cezi may not have hit the nail on the head when she chose locations, but at least she saw a pattern. To John, it was worth an area study.
Special Ops operated on procedure. While thinking on your feet was important, it was essential to have systems in place. Disasters happened when someone stumbled into a potential danger zone without thoroughly researching the ground first
D’Sean was sent to Grant’s Pass, Oregon. Dare, Bisbee, Arizona and Twylla, Carlsbad, New Mexico. He didn’t expect anything to come of it, but Cezi had good instincts. It was worth a look-see, particularly since they’d hit Armadillo Creek, Luray and Chicago in one week and nothing since then.
Why not?
# # #
Grant’s Pass, Oregon
“Hello, pretty baby,” Eli crooned, making Cain grind his teeth and check his watch for the fiftieth time. He hated changes. Why couldn’t they just stick with what worked?
Adam’s new plan had them operating in a public arena in broad daylight. The crowded tourist area was packed with families spending the weekend camping. And with families came nubile teenage girls who were bored with their brothers and sisters’ company and had no problem approaching a good-looking guy on crutches with a cast, looking forlorn.
“Stick to the script,” Cain muttered into the mic. “Don’t improvise.” A girlish giggle came though his earphones. Okay, Adam had called this one right. In the past hour he’d heard at least twenty feminine twitters.
Eli ignored his advice. “Sure, honey, you can sign my cast, but only if you sign as close to my heart as possible.”
Considering the fake cast ran from mid-thigh to ankle, Cain doubted the heart was the part of the anatomy Eli wanted the girl’s hand near.
“Oh, yeah, right there, baby girl. Here, let me help you.”
Cain opened his lips to remind Eli to keep it cool when the red light appeared on the control panel. “Eli? You there?” Cursing, Cain ripped off the headset. Either Eli had turned off the earpiece or the equipment had malfunctioned. Cain doubted the latter.
He opened the van’s rear door where he had been stretched out with the laptop on his chest to avoid attracting attention. The screaming started before he’d even closed the door.
Cain burst into a run, unable to even consider the myriad of problems that might create the child’s high-pitched shriek. When he rounded the corner, a crowd had gathered around a young girl, no more than four or five, whose screams were now reduced to wailing sobs. Eli leaned on crutches looking both miserable and helpless.
A harried couple arrived. The mother, an older blonde version of her daughters, dropped to her knees to embrace the wailing child while the father jerked his oldest daughter by the upper arm, pulling her away from Eli. The girl, who couldn’t have been more than sixteen, wore a sheepish look that proclaimed her guilt.
Before the father could dive in with accusations, Cain stepped calmly into the fray. “What’s going on here?” He whirled on Eli. “I told you to wait in the car. Go. Now. We’ll talk about this later.”
Even though Eli had completely screwed up, he was smart enough to play his part to get them out of it. He glanced down, as though chastised and awkwardly maneuvered down the street on his crutches.
Cain would have preferred going with him, but knew his role wasn’t complete. Now he had to convey the image of a concerned parent. “Are you girls okay?”
The youngest girl blubbered and pointed a stubby finger of accusation at her sister. “Bad touch.”
Eli touched her? In public? Cain was going to kill him.
“Bad touch, how?” the father asked, his focus never leaving the older daughter who was now shaking her head in denial.
“It was nothing, dad. Kari didn’t understand what she saw.”
“Where did he touch her, sweetie?” The woman’s voice was low and soothing, but she too was glaring at her older daughter.
Kari shook her head. “Here,” she gestured to the juncture between her legs. “Lori touched him here.”
He should get an academy award for remaining solemn with a touch of shock. Of the two parents he settled on the father as being the most sympathetic.
“I’ll talk to my son.” And then pivoted on his heel not waiting for a reply and headed back to the car.
While he hoped his walk appeared confident and in charge, inwardly he quaked. Adam was not going to take disappointment quietly.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Stillwater stared at the computer screen and tried to focus on the information Ciggy had sent him, but his mind was elsewhere. Dyami, his younger sister died ten years ago on her way to meet him for lunch. Simply put, she’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He never heard the phrase ‘innocent by-stander’ without conjuring a picture of her lying in a pool of her own blood, a victim of a bank robbery gone bad. While her brother, the man who would protect her from harm, sat at a café two blocks away, impatient for her arrival.
The fact he thought of her now made him worry if Cezi was in the same kind of danger. He’d never reach her in time if she had a problem.
Her father said family would protect her, but John knew from personal experience that good intentions never saved anybody.
His phone rang shaking him out of his reminiscing. D’Sean’s photo appeared on the screen. Stillwater slid the bar to answer, but before he could speak, D’Sean’s words came through the earpiece. “The gypsy bitch was right.”
It was a good thing Lassiter wasn’t standing in front of him because the need to punch his partner rode him hard. “Don’t call her that even as a joke.”
A slight pause followed. “Oh, so that’s how it is? Not to worry. I like your girl.”
“Bully for you. How’s she right?” D’Sean was in Grant’s Pass. Cezi could only be right about one thing - the next location. How had she known?
“Not only were the unsubs here, we missed them by minutes and they have a new MO.”
He cursed slightly to himself. “You’re sure it’s them?” Even as the words left his lips he knew D’Sean wouldn’t have called unless he was certain.
“Yeah. Photo ID.”
For a brief moment, John allowed himself hope. This time they’d only missed by minutes. “Tell me everything.”
“I’m sending you the report now, then jumping on a plane. Meet me at nine. We’ll have a late dinner.”
# #
#
Mexico
“So this sixteen-year-old bimbo dragged you into the alley and grabbed junior and the boys with her younger sister watching?” Adam snagged Eli by the collar of his golf shirt, pulled him back against the leather wingback chair and snarled inches from his face.
Cain touched his finger to his upper lip, trying to discreetly wipe away the sweat. Adam pounced on Eli now, but he could just as easily flip on Cain like a rabid dog.
Lurking over Adam’s shoulder, Herod’s smirk broadcast his glee.
“Nah…not ex… exactly.” Eli stuttered, barely managing to choke the words out. Cain had never seen the boy afraid. He might have grinned had he not feared Adam’s reaction more. And even if Adam missed it, Herod would point it out.
Adam raised both bushy eyebrows and bellowed. “You didn’t follow the script. And now we are almost two weeks without a pickup. Do you have any idea what this does to our bottom line?” He slammed his hand on the desk. Cain grudgingly gave Eli some respect when his body didn’t flinch in response to the noise.
Apparently, Adam did too, because he released the boy and headed around the desk to take his seat. “All right. In order to save this month, we’ll have to do the yacht job again. And since I no longer trust you guys not to screw it up, it’s got to be close in case we have to get out in a hurry.” He studied the North American map on the wall. “Ft. Worth, we haven’t been there for a couple of years.” He reached into the top drawer of his desk and pulled out two cell phones, handing them to the men.
