“But we don’t know the new location?”
“Nyet,” Dargo confirmed. “We tracked the flight as far as destination in Fairbanks, but I was unable to get a man onboard prior to takeoff. But thanks to bug, we know Cooper has Meade’s files hidden in a warehouse somewhere in Phoenix, Arizona. He will be there at 7:00 pm, local time, to start transfer of files.”
“But you don’t know the exact location of the warehouse?”
“Negative.” Dargo confirmed. “But this will not matter. He does not have a platform on site. He has chartered a small cargo aircraft to Phoenix. He will be taking a device with him. My team will wait for him at airport and follow to the warehouse. Once there, we will put together strategy and capture Cooper, the platform, and all of Professor Meade’s data.”
Watching as Bayer digested the information, Dargo waited to see the man’s reaction. Finally Bayer nodded. There was a hungry gleam in his eyes. “This is the break we’ve been waiting for. Are you sure you’ve enough men for the operation?”
“Absolutely.”
Bayer smiled his reptilian grin. “Good. Then I can finally get my hands on Meade’s Meridian and set the rest of my plans in motion.”
While Dargo didn’t know what the rest of Bayer’s plans might be, he felt his skin crawl with the glint in the man’s eye. Dargo had worked with some shady characters over the course of his career, but none made him more uncomfortable than his own countryman, Nil Bayer.
“I have one stipulation,” Bayer said finally. “I wish to be on site when you capture Cooper and the Meridian technology. I want to make sure everything goes according to plan.”
There it was. Dargo knew Bayer would mess with the plan, and he had desperately hoped the man would not let him down. “Sir, this is not advisable. Such an operation can be extremely dangerous. I cannot guarantee your safety.”
“My safety is not your concern!” Bayer snapped. He wasn’t allowing debate on the matter. “I will have my security detail. Your goal is the retrieval of the Meridian data. That information is your primary objective. The capture of Cyrus Cooper is secondary. If Mister Cooper proves too much of an obstacle, you will eliminate him.”
Dargo felt his teeth grinding in response to his employer’s demands.
Why had he ever accepted this damn job?
“Is that understood?” Bayer demanded.
“Understood,” Dargo stated simply.
Chapter 42
Phoenix, Arizona
Saturday, 7:12 pm (8:12 pm Colorado Time)
“A personal question?” Cyrus laughed. “I think we’ve passed the point where you have to worry about asking me personal questions, don’t you?”
Looking up from the box of files she was sorting, Reese smiled. “I’d like to think so,” she said warmly. “But some subjects are more sensitive than others.”
Sliding an industrial-grade tape gun across the top of the box, Cyrus sealed the cardboard file container. Once he was done, he stopped and held her gaze for a moment. He made a show of giving her statement consideration. “Fair enough. I think I know what you’re going to ask, and the answer is, okay. I prefer not to share you, but if you really feel strongly about bringing another woman into our bed, I’m willing to make the sacrifice for you.”
The stunned expression marking Reese’s features made it almost impossible for Cyrus to keep a straight face. Her mouth hung open. He knew he’d caught her completely off guard.
“That’s not— I wasn’t— I’m not—” she stammered. The porcelain white of her cheeks had quickly gone past a blushing shade of pink on their way to red.
He couldn’t contain himself. He burst out laughing.
“I’m sorry,” he said, fighting his own laugh for a breath. “I really couldn’t help it. You seemed so serious!”
It was a few moments before she could meet his eyes. But when she did, he could see that even through her embarrassment, she found the humor in his teasing. “You’re willing to take one for the team?” she asked with a wide grin and a shake of her head. “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind,” she said suggestively.
Cyrus placed the sealed box on a pile and grabbed another. He began folding the top shut. “Okay. Now really, what did you want to ask?”
“Well, it’s funny you went there with the question,” she said with a playful smirk. “Because I wanted to ask about the shelf full of romance novels I saw back at your apartment. ‘Bodice-rippers’, I believe they’re sometimes called?”
His eyebrows shot up, and he felt his stomach drop. “Ah,” he stammered. “I had a lot of books back there. I don’t recall any bodice-rippers. They’re not really my style. I think maybe you’re mistaken.”
He went back to work on the box, pulling the tape gun across the top and sealing its contents tightly. Reese shoved one last folder into the box she was working with before pushing the box across the concrete floor, delivering it to Cyrus.
“Not much room for mistake,” she said quietly, when they were on their knees, face-to-face and surrounded by the stacks of office filing boxes. “When we left your apartment, I grabbed three of them. I thought I might need something to entertain myself. Of course,” she crawled up close to him. Close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from her body. “That was before I knew we’d be able to entertain ourselves,” she whispered.
Cyrus smiled. He liked where this was going.
She winked, then stood up and walked back to the stack of files that marked her work location. “Don’t forget to tape that one shut,” she reminded him. Cyrus looked at her. He didn’t understand. It took a moment for his brain to reengage. Momentarily slack jawed, he looked down at the box she had just delivered. It was his turn to be embarrassed. He hung his head. Ouch. She was a tease. There was no doubt, he had it coming. But he liked how she chose to get even.
He flipped the tabs shut on the box and quickly ran the tape gun over it. Hefting the box, he added it to the growing stack.
The two of them were alone in a large warehouse, located in a secluded industrial park. Cyrus didn’t know the area; he had never even been to Phoenix before this afternoon. Now they were pretending to box ‘top secret’ information before it was teleported to Alaska for safekeeping. Cyrus had only rented the warehouse earlier that afternoon. He’d paid five thousand dollars for 48 hours of uninterrupted access to the building and the surrounding grounds, plus the temporary use of dozens of boxes containing old shipping manifests. It was all stage dressing—all part of a ruse to trap Bayer.
Glancing at his phone, he checked the live feed from the thermal display outside the warehouse. Dargo’s men had taken up positions around the warehouse. They would be ready to move in at any time. As a precaution, Cyrus had set up the thermal imager so he could keep a better eye on the exterior of the warehouse. He didn’t want someone changing the game plan on him at the last minute. While he had confidence that Dargo was playing it straight with him, he would never entirely trust the man. Dargo claimed to no longer harbor ill will for him, but Cyrus still suspected Dargo wouldn’t be too broken up should he accidentally die of acute lead poisoning.
“Well?” Reese asked.
Realizing he’d zoned out for a moment, Cyrus returned his attention to her. “I’m sorry?”
“I said, ‘you don’t strike me as a fan of romance novels.’”
Not knowing whether that was a question, Cyrus countered with a safe reply. “I prefer thrillers or mysteries. Both with a splash of science fiction, if I have the choice. But truth be told, I’ll read just about anything before I’m willing to watch reality TV.”
She smiled. “I have to admit, I was more than a little impressed to find out you wrote the Alastair Rose books. And I was halfway through Hot Vatican Nights, when I realized how the romance novels were related to the Alastair Rose books.”
That stopped Cyrus dead in his tracks. She found his thriller novels similar to romance novels? Had he misunderstood? “I’m sorry?”
She responded
with a knowing glance. “Absolutely! Certainly nothing alike in content, but there was a remarkable similarity in the writing. It was almost like they’d been written by the same person.”
Setting the tape gun aside, Cyrus sat back on the floor and took the pressure off his knees. “Wait. I don’t understand. Now you’re saying you don’t believe I wrote the Alastair Rose books? You think Phoebe Bloome is Alastair Rose?”
This time Reese broke out laughing. “Ah, no! Nice try. I’m saying you’re Phoebe Bloome!”
“Based on what? Because you think her writing style is similar to mine?”
“You’re just not going to let this go, are you? Fine. I’ll play along. The first clue was the writing style. I’ve read all of the Alastair Rose books, and I know his writing well,” she gave him a sexy wink. “The wording and phrasing used by Phoebe Bloome was strikingly similar. Though, in fairness, Bloome uses a whole pile of flowery words that have never once appeared in an Alastair Rose book. The second clue didn’t strike me until I considered the first clue more carefully. That’s when it occurred to me that you had every Phoebe Bloome book ever written. Even a couple that I’ve never heard of!”
“You’re a fan of Phoebe Bloome too?”
“Stay...on...topic! Fairly odd for you to be such a collector—but not conclusive in and of itself. Not until we get to my third clue.”
“Quite the detective. You should write your own books. What’s your third clue?”
“Not one of the Bloome books on your shelf has ever been read. They were all paperbacks. And we both know it’s practically impossible to read a paperback without doing damage to the book’s binding. Add it all up, and you are a collector of the Phoebe Bloome books because you are, in fact, Phoebe Bloome! Just as you are, in fact, Alastair Rose!”
He couldn’t help it. Cyrus found the proud look on her face incredibly exhilarating. She hadn’t solved the crime of the century, but she’d done a respectable job of deducing his shameful secret. That’s when it occurred to him. Unlike the time he’d discovered that Meade and Underwood knew his secret, he really felt no shame in sharing this with Reese. It struck him as odd. He’d always dreaded a day when this came out. In fact, he’d gone to great lengths to hide any link between his pen name and his real name. It was odd that sharing a secret with Reese brought him no discomfort at all.
“Okay,” he admitted. “You got me.”
At his admission, she looked even more proud of herself.
“I’ll make you a deal,” she suggested. “I’ll keep your sordid secret…if you better acquaint me with Johnny Rock and Abigail Lang’s little trick with the ice cube and the peacock feather?”
Now Cyrus had a proud grin. “It’s a deal!”
His mind spinning at the innuendo, Cyrus was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of creaking wood coming deep from the darkness of the warehouse.
Ah, that would be the signal!
He glanced at the thermal image on his phone’s display. Dargo’s men were still holding position outside the industrial park. And it was nearly 7:30. If things were going according to schedule, they should have had the warehouse surrounded by the time the signal was given. That didn’t seem to be the case. The sound from back in the darkness was his cue; it was time to begin. If he was going to stick to the plan, he needed to investigate the sound. But the signal from the darkness didn’t mesh with the thermal reading of the troop deployment he was receiving on his phone.
Something wasn’t right.
“What was that?” Reese asked, moving smoothly to their script. Dargo would be listening. So would Bayer.
Climbing to his feet, Cyrus dusted himself off. “I don’t know. Wait here while I check it out.”
He thought for a moment. “If I’m not back in two minutes, don’t wait, and don’t come looking for me. Teleport out and don’t come back until you hear from me.”
This was complete play-acting on his part. Not only were the file boxes completely fake, but they didn’t have a functional teleportation platform in the building either.
“Be careful,” she said quietly.
He found sincerity in her voice along with the request. Clearly, she held some uncertainty for Dargo as well. He shot her a quick smile, grabbed his rifle and disappeared into the darkness.
Chapter 43
Phoenix, Arizona
Sunday, 7:24 pm (8:24 pm Colorado Time)
Walking slowly and silently into the darkness of the warehouse, Cyrus listened for any hint of the soldiers he knew to be there. According to the plan, two of Dargo’s men would be lying in wait. But as he moved on, he was unable to find them.
The further he moved from the small work area he and Reese had set up, the murkier the warehouse became. It was a sprawling facility, and they’d engaged the overhead lights only in the section they were using. Still, Cyrus moved on. But with each passing step, an ominous suspicion was taking form, like a three-dimensional image in his mind. Something was wrong. The plan had already gone off the rails. He looked at the thermal readout on his phone. It showed that Dargo’s men were still holding position around the warehouse. Given the time, that was wrong. Turning back, he would double-time the return trip. He needed to retrieve Reese and get the hell out of here.
“I’ve got a bad feeling,” Cyrus said, as he stepped from the shadows cast by the last aisle of shelving. “Grab your stuff, we gotta—”
Cyrus froze in his tracks. A tall man wearing dark battle fatigues stood behind Reese. He had the muzzle of a Colt 1911 pressed against her head.
Two men swept in on Cyrus, one from either side. One relieved him of his rifle, the other took the Springfield from the holster behind his back. Once stripped of his weapons, one of the men pulled Cyrus’s hands behind his back and secured them in flex cuffs. The entire operation took only seconds.
One of the two men beside Cyrus nodded to the man holding the gun on Reese. Cyrus mentally tagged Reese’s captor as the man in charge and filed it away for future reference.
The man at Cyrus’s right pulled out a small, hand-held radio. “Area secure. You can come in,” he stated simply.
A moment later they could hear the squeaking sound of a distant service door. It was nearly thirty seconds before Dargo and four of his men emerged from the darkness, along with Nil Bayer and one of the men from his security detail. Bayer’s security man was dressed in the same BDUs as the men who held Cyrus at gunpoint. This was unusual, because Dargo’s men were dressed in less conspicuous street clothes.
“I don’t understand,” Dargo stated with some irritation. “This was not my assault plan. What is going on here?”
That was when Cyrus realized things had taken a terrible turn. His eyes flashed to Bayer just in time to see the man give a nod to the radio operator beside Cyrus.
“Now,” the man mouthed quietly into his radio.
Simultaneous bursts of gunfire coughed from the shadows of the rafter catwalks high above. The four men that had accompanied Dargo spilled to the floor simultaneously. Dargo moved instantly to raise his assault rifle, but he was stopped cold when he felt the muzzle of a 1911 pressed to his temple. The security guard who had accompanied Bayer held the gun.
Though he now recognized Dargo hadn’t betrayed him, the full weight of Dargo’s loss had yet to grip Cyrus. Blasts of automatic gunfire were heard outside the warehouse. With a physical burst of pain, Cyrus realized the radioman’s transmission was more than the signal to take out Dargo’s men inside the building. It was also the cue to wipe out the exterior and perimeter teams.
The distant gunfire was over as quickly as it had started. Cyrus was seething. It meant nearly two dozen of Dargo’s men were dead. Dargo, for his part, looked like he was ready to remove someone’s head with his bare hands. Cyrus could see Dargo about to make his move just before he made it.
Bayer’s bodyguard must’ve seen it, too. He fired a single shot into the flesh, just above Dargo’s knee, a moment before the massive Russian vented his rage. Blood sp
lashed across the concrete floor—but somehow Dargo managed to remain standing.
In the end, it didn’t matter that he had held his feet. He’d lost his maneuverability and with it, any hope of a successful attack on Bayer. Blood coursed from the bullet wound in his leg. Still the big man stood, never even looking down at the injury. His eyes remained riveted on Bayer. Dargo was clearly gnashing his teeth. The bullet had brought only a brief reprieve. Soon one of them would be dead.
The man beside Cyrus secured his radio and fitted Dargo with a set of flex cuffs. It took two men to muscle Dargo into submission. In that time, Cyrus was afraid the trigger-happy guard might shoot the Russian again. But finally Dargo was cuffed, and the four soldiers seemed to relax as a result. That was interesting. Bayer’s new team was comprised of operators who lacked the professionalism and experience of Dargo and his men. They were mercenaries. As soon as Dargo was restrained, every one of them relaxed and lowered their guard. They considered Dargo no longer a threat because his hands were bound and he’d been relieved of his weapons. It was a good sign. They have no idea who they’re dealing with. Cyrus knew their ticket out of here when he saw it.
Cyrus had a simple plan. He needed to get everyone more relaxed, and ideally, more distracted. And he needed to buy some time in the process. If he could get free, he was sure Dargo could do the same. They would just need to make their move at the same time. There were four armed guards on the ground floor, plus Bayer. That wasn’t much of a problem. It was the two additional guards located in the corners of the catwalk overhead who posed the real threat. Cyrus glanced over his shoulder. Scratch that. There were two additional men in the corners of the raised walkway behind him. Four on the floor and four up above.
Damn.
The soldier who had bound Dargo finally finished, he approached his commanding officer. Cyrus was relieved to see the gun lowered from its position at Reese’s head. Reese’s hands were quickly bound behind her, and she was shoved toward Cyrus. With some relief, she took up a position standing between Cyrus and Dargo. All three now faced Bayer and the mercenary in charge.
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