by Cate Noble
The more Harry questioned Rufin’s claim of being able to re-create and complete Zadovsky’s work, the more it rang true. And if Rufin had created Sugar-Cane and JumpJuice in his “spare time”—what could he do with dedicated resources?
“I brought you soup. And bread.” Harry tugged Rufin to his feet and plopped him in a chair.
“How c-c-can you eat?” Rufin asked.
“After killing someone?” He knew he couldn’t tell Rufin the truth. It had never bothered Harry to kill. He could soft-soap it, by saying it got easier, but that wouldn’t endear him like an outright lie.
“Once I found out Bohdana had made a deal with the Thai government to trade you for her own freedom, I knew she’d stop at nothing,” Harry said. “As cold as it sounds, it was her or us, buddy.”
Rufin picked up a spoon and stirred his soup. “Is that how she got to Thailand? By trading secrets to the Thai agents?”
Harry nodded.
“She told me she’d come here to live with an old girlfriend.” Rufin blew his nose then stirred his soup some more.
“I never met a woman that could be trusted.” Harry opened the container of rice.
“What do you intend to do with me?”
Harry had quickly corrected Rufin’s assumption that he worked for the United States, portraying him-self instead as a high-dollar, freelance mercenary. Not necessarily Rufin’s enemy, but still a threat.
Now, however, Harry wanted to cultivate Rufin’s friendship.
“I was thinking about what you said,” Harry went on. “And I’ve got a deal to propose. You and I could be partners. We’d have to figure out the whole trust thing, because neither of us trusts the other right now. And since I’m not going to make any magnanimous gestures—like free you—our relationship won’t change much in the foreseeable future. But here’s my proposal. I find Taz and get a lab set up. You manufacture SugarCane to help finance our operation until you can get that—what did you call it, Serum 89?—perfected. Then we sell out to the highest bidder, split the profits, and go our separate ways.”
Rufin looked at him, and then back at his soup. “And what guarantee do I h-h-have that you won’t k-k-kill me in the end and keep all the money?”
Harry tore off a chunk of bread. “There’s a couple ways we can work that. You produce serum samples, but keep the recipe. Once it’s sold, we can get half the money up front, split that, and take off in opposite directions. Then you can forward the formula to the buyer, who will then pay the balance to each of us separately. Or something like that. We can work out the details later.”
When Rufin actually took a bite of food, Harry knew he’d won. He’d seen his type time and time again. Pussy.
“But for now I’m still your prisoner?” Rufin said.
Harry nodded. “Trust me. It’s for your own good. I’ll treat you a helluva lot better than the Thai government. Or even the U.S. They’re pretty eager to get ahold of you, too. For all the wrong reasons. Just remember, I’m the only one who will offer you a collaborative deal.”
Harry’s phone vibrated. He read the text message, then sent a quick reply.
“I need to go meet someone. Finish eating.”
“You’re going to l-l-leave me here again?”
“If this deal works out, I won’t be gone long.”
Rufin pushed his food away. “What if you don’t return?”
There was always that chance. In that case, the police would investigate when someone reported the bad smell…
“I’ll be back. Now come on and let me tie you up.”
The exclusive right to market SugarCane had made Minh Tran the number one drug dealer in Southeast Asia.
Jengho Vato, the man Harry was meeting with now was the former number one dealer. That Minh Tran had once worked for Jengho only intensified Jengho’s hatred.
The deal Harry proposed was Jengho’s wet dream. Getting rid of Tran and gaining the exclusive right to SugarCane, in even larger quantities than Tran had access to, was tantalizing.
Naturally Jengho was suspicious. But the majority of his skepticism died when he realized Harry—or Doug Harold—was the associate of the late Dr. Zadovsky that Minh Tran sought. Jengho also knew that Tran’s supply of SugarCane had run drier than usual.
“What’s in it for you, besides the obvious financial gain?” Jengho asked. “If you weren’t happy with your deal with Tran, why not renegotiate with him?”
The unspoken question was the most important. What would stop Harry from selling out Jengho at some point? Just like he was doing to Tran now.
“My former colleague left me holding the bag after taking a large sum of Tran’s money.” Since Zadovsky was dead, Harry could blame him fully. “Quite frankly I don’t feel it fair that I have to shoulder that debt alone. Once Minh Tran is dead, I can move more freely. And you can reclaim your position as top dog. We both win.”
“You speak as if killing Tran is easy. Which I know is not fact. He’s impossible to get close to,” Jengho said.
“I can provide the means for you to get to him. And with the advance you pay me, I can get a lab set up and ready to produce ’Cane in the quantity you desire.”
“But you’re also wanting safe passage out of the country. What guarantee do I have you will return?”
“I will let you hold the scientist who will help me produce the drug. Do not think you can cut me out of the picture, though, because he doesn’t have the secret recipe. I do.” Or I will, Harry thought. As soon as Rufin was securely hidden, Harry would join the hunt for Taz.
“We will dispose of Minh Tran before you get your scientist back,” Jengho said.
“Agreed.”
“Then we have a deal.”
Chapter 25
Sedona, Arizona
September 24
Max decided that using Erin’s cell phone was less risky than being out in the open, using a pay phone. It was also faster. He needed answers now.
Besides if the Agency did have a tracking device on one of their belongings, they’d know where he and Erin were, at least until they dumped everything.
He dialed Dante’s number then put the call on speakerphone so Erin could hear.
Dante answered immediately. “Erin?”
“It’s Max. And I’m going to keep this brief.”
“Listen, buddy, I understand your concern but we need to talk. There have been developments here.”
“Like the accident involving the tan SUV?”
“What accident?” Dante’s voice went from confused to concerned. “Jesus, are you, is Erin, okay?”
Max nodded at Erin, who spoke up. “I’m fine, Dante. So is Max.”
“Good. Is one of you going to explain about this tan SUV?” Dante asked.
“In a minute,” Max said. “First tell me if you’ve had any word on Taz.”
“None pertaining to his whereabouts, but the developments I mentioned involve him. His fingerprints were found in your hospital room, Max. And his DNA on Dr. Winchette’s body. He evaded the security cameras, but his prints were also on a lab cart outside the room. It’s now believed Taz came to your room after you’d left and surprised Dr. Winchette—or vice versa.”
“Damn.” If Max had just stayed at the hospital, would that have been averted?
“Look, Max, come on back. Or let me meet you. I’ll come alone. You call the shots.”
“No offense, but I’m not sure who to trust right now. The tan SUV picked up our trail and the driver was armed. I’ve lost him—temporarily—but I want to know why the Agency’s gunning for me. Especially if I’m no longer a suspect in Winchette’s death?”
Dante swore. “It’s not us, Max. And I might know how to prove it. After I escaped, I learned I had a tracking beacon implanted in my arm. Cat had one, too.”
“Catalina! She was held there?”
“No, but she had her own run-in with Viktor Zadovsky.”
“After the Belarus job?”
“Yes. It’s a l
ong story, Max, but Cat and I are—we’re getting married. We have a son. If she hasn’t already, Erin can fill in a few details, but even she doesn’t know everything.”
Max’s head began to pound. “It’ll have to keep till later. Get back to the tracking beacon.”
“If you have one implanted, you can be tracked by a handheld device. Zadovsky used one to find me, but it’s in pieces in a lab or I would have suggested we use it to find Taz.”
“But Zadovsky’s dead.”
“And whoever inherited his work likely has a tracking device, too. You and Taz are both at risk,” Dante said.
“How do I figure out if I’ve got one of these beacons?”
“Get Erin to check the underside of your upper arm.”
“What would I look for?” Erin asked.
“A small round scar. Large-gauge needle. His might be somewhere else. Thigh. Buttock. The beacon will be hidden in muscle. It’s a blue, rice-sized transmitter. You need to find it, pull it out so they can’t track you,” Dante said.
Erin was already inspecting Max’s arms. “Got it. Small round puncture scar. How do I remove it?”
“You will need a scalpel and forceps. In your case a pocketknife and tweezers will probably be as much as you can get ahold of. You might have to dig for it, and it will hurt like hell, but he’s had worse. Right, Max?”
“If what you’re saying is true—then whoever is tracking me might have already found Taz,” Max said.
“It also means they might know where Harry is.”
Max’s head felt ready to explode, a warning to stop or pay a higher price. “Erin and I will check for this beacon. If I find it, I’ll call you back.”
“One last thing, Max. Cat told me what you did in London. I owe you, big time. Remember that as you weigh who you can trust. I’m here for you.”
Max disconnected the call and looked at Erin. “Feel up to performing a little exploratory surgery?”
“I shouldn’t, but at this point the ‘shouldn’ts’ don’t matter. And I can only imagine how it must feel to know that thing is inside you. If it were me, I’d want it out fast.”
“I don’t want to endanger you further. Whoever drove that SUV could be back on the road already, closing in again. And in case you didn’t notice, he’s armed. I’m not.”
“His car didn’t look in good enough shape to drive. That’s going to buy a little time, Max. Let’s see if what Dante said is true. If we can get that tracker out and destroy it, they can’t follow us.” Erin met his gaze squarely. “You’ll also know you can trust Dante. We can’t keep running like this forever.”
Max slowed. “There’s a small town about five miles east of here. We’ll find a drugstore and get what we need to do my arm and to patch up your feet.”
An hour later, Max pulled into a public boat ramp.
They were about twenty miles outside of Sedona. The place was deserted except for a few parked cars with empty boat trailers attached.
“You sure seem to know your way around here,” Erin said.
“My father lived nearby.” He pointed to a path in the woods. “There are restrooms just over that rise.”
“Let’s go. I’ve got what we need.” Erin held up the bag of stuff he’d purchased at the drugstore.
While he’d driven here, she’d bandaged her feet and slipped on the pair of flip-flops he’d bought. They’d be hell to run in, but better than bare feet.
“No, we’ll do it right here,” Max said. “Once we get the tracker out, I want to plant it. See if someone comes looking for us.” The SUV driver had had enough time to secure another car.
“I thought the point was to get away?”
“The point is to find Taz. If I’ve got a tracking beacon, so does Taz. And if they haven’t found him yet, then I want to get that device they’re using to hunt us.”
“You plan to track Taz with it?”
“Whatever works. I’m focused on the end result—and I’m running out of options.” He pulled his shirt off and braced his right arm where she could access it.
Erin opened the small pocket knife and tweezers he’d purchased and poured alcohol over them.
“This will hurt,” she warned.
“As Dante said, I’ve endured worse.” He caught her gaze. “Thank you for your concern.”
He felt her swab his skin—smelled the alcohol. The memories…
“The scars on your chest. Is that what you meant by ‘endured worse’?”
Max gritted his teeth as she sliced quickly into his arm, straight in, no hesitation. “I believe so.”
When she inserted the tweezers, the headache fled on the edge of pain. A memory sprang forth.
“Taz and I discovered that physical pain, from an injury, overrode the mental anguish from the programming.”
“Hold on. Sorry!” She winced as she probed inside the incision. “The good news is, the bleeding is subsiding.”
“It’s healing. That’s another thing we discovered. We healed fast. We could hurt ourselves, or each other, in order to plan, talk.”
“Got it! I think.” Erin withdrew the tweezers and dropped a small bloody bead on a piece of gauze.
Max studied it while she bandaged his arm. The piece glowed like neon blue. “I know I’ve been gone awhile, but damn, the changes in technology are amazing.” He cleaned the knife and closed it.
Erin looked at the beacon. “You think it still works?”
“We’ll find out. Come on.”
They climbed out of the car. Max hurried around to her side and swept her up in his arms.
“I can walk, Max.”
“This is faster and I know your feet are still sore.” And he liked the feel of her in his arms.
He followed the path between the trees, and then looked around, to get his bearings.
“Did you come here often?” she asked.
“My old man used to come here with one of his girlfriends. Maggie hated me and would encourage my father to leave me here to play while they went out on his boat to get drunk and screw.”
“Was it good they left you behind?”
“Ultimately, yes. More than once they forgot me, which is how I ultimately came to live with Stony. My uncle went to my dad’s one morning to pick me up and Maggie said, ‘Oh, shit, we forgot him again.’”
“How old were you?”
“Eight or nine. And before you say how wrong it was, know that I was thrilled, not having to be around Dad and Maggie when they fought and drank. I was glad they left me behind.”
There was a picnic table near the restroom. Max set Erin down long enough to plant the beacon inside the restroom. Then he scooped her back into his arms and reentered the woods on the other side.
“There’s a spot up here where you can see the road. I used to throw rocks at cars coming in.” At her look, he laughed. “You were obviously better supervised as a kid. We can sit here and see who pulls in.”
“What if no one comes?”
“I’ll hide the tracker here. I can come back for it, but I don’t want it on us.” He looked at the sky. “We’ve only got a few hours of daylight left. Park closes at sundown—so we’ll need to be out by then or they’ll tow the car.”
That was another problem. Whoever followed them knew what they were driving. He’d need to get different wheels eventually. But for now…
“While we’re sitting here, tell me what you know about Dante and Cat,” Max said.
Trying to recall anything about Catalina was particularly painful. He also sensed a heaviness in his chest when he tried. Loss? Had he and Cat been involved?
“Dante felt certain Catalina Dion was somehow responsible for his—your—capture overseas,” Erin said. “But my files indicated that she’d died while Dante was imprisoned. I don’t know the specifics, but ultimately he found her, hiding from the same people pursuing him. She’d borne his son, and was protecting their child.”
“They’d been lovers?” Max frowned.
“Obviously. Not ringing any bells?”
Gigantic, loud warning bells. “Nothing clear. What did Dante mean about London?”
“I have no idea, Max, but—” Erin grew quiet. “I hear a car.”
Max watched as a car came into sight. It was the tan SUV. The crumpled fender had been crow-barred out away from the tire. He knew they were hidden, but still they crouched. “He doesn’t look much worse for the wear.”
The SUV had slowed, but went past. Then the brake lights came on. The driver did a three-point turn and headed back.
“Stay here. Please,” he added.
“I can help.”
“If I have to worry about you, it’ll be a hindrance. I’ll be back before you know it.”
He slipped away, making his way through the trees, avoiding the picnic area and path.
As Max watched, the SUV circled the Taurus before pulling beyond it. The driver looked around, taking in the other cars. Then he seemed to notice the restroom sign. Parking, he climbed out.
Max got a better look at the man’s face. Though he didn’t recognize him, the man had obviously been military. He still had the walk.
The man carried a small device. Was that the tracker? When the man spotted the restroom he hurried up to the side and pressed against the wall. Pulling out his gun, the man inched toward the ladies’ room door.
The bastard figured if Erin was inside, he’d get her first.
Without sound, Max circled and eased up to toward the building from the opposite side.
A hinge creaked as the man opened the ladies’ room door.
Max rushed up behind him, shoving him inside. The man fell and tried to roll away. Max went with him. Keeping a tight grip on the man’s wrist, he slammed it against the concrete floor repeatedly.
The man grunted in pain as bones shattered. The gun slipped out of his grip. Max dived and picked up the gun, fighting the urge to shoot the man.
“Stay down,” Max ordered. “And keep your hands out.”
The man grimaced, as he moved his broken wrist.
