by Odell, Terry
Elle forced her mind to think rationally. Steve wanted to capture Aguilar’s phone number. But surely Aguilar knew enough about cell phones to know the numbers would be stored.
Aguilar’s phone chimed, and he smiled. Elle realized she was holding her breath and exhaled slowly.
“It seems to be working,” Aguilar said.
“Receiving, anyway. Let’s make sure it will send. Can you reply?”
Aguilar tapped at the screen, and moments later, Bill’s phone buzzed. Aguilar checked the display and smiled again. “You seem to have been successful.”
Steve flashed his cocky grin. “You wanted the best, you got the best. How about trying voice this time?”
Aguilar punched something on Bill’s phone. Seconds later, his own phone rang. He pressed a button to accept the call. When he ended it, he didn’t hand the phone to Steve. Instead, he fussed with the display, and Elle could only assume he was deleting the call history.
When he seemed satisfied he’d done whatever he’d set out to do, Aguilar handed Bill’s phone to Steve. Okay, Aguilar did know about storing numbers. Was Steve’s plan foiled? Did everything depend on Steve getting the numbers from Aguilar’s phone?
Relax. You’re creating things to worry about. Steve seems to know what he’s doing. Trust him.
“Are we finished?” Aguilar said.
Elle almost snorted at the we. As if Aguilar had anything to do with Steve fixing the phones.
“Not yet,” Steve said. “And here’s where I could use your help. You can do your part from the comfort of your quarters. I assume you have the phone numbers of everyone who works for you.”
“Of course,” Aguilar tapped his phone. “Once the phone works. They are all inside.”
Elle studied Steve’s face. If Aguilar’s actions had wonked up his plan, Steve didn’t show it. Instead, he smiled. “Excellent. The next phase is another series of tests. I need you to text or call as many of your contacts as you can. If there are holes in the system, I need to know about them. Meanwhile, I’ll keep working here.”
Steve walked toward the door. With only a slight hesitation, Aguilar followed. “Very well, Senór Brand. And what should I say to my people?”
“Nothing special. Let them know you’re testing the system. And, if you don’t mind, have them call you back to make sure the phones are working both ways. I know it will take a little longer that way—”
Aguilar waved a hand. “This will not be an issue. I will see to it.” He paused at the door. “And if there are problems?”
“Try again. Three times, please. Ten minutes apart, so things can reset. Make a note of which numbers aren’t working. We’re running now, but this is still early on. Not sure my fixes are permanent yet. The more people we can get into the system, the more reliable my tests will be.”
Aguilar put a hand on the doorknob. His eyes raked Elle from head to toe. “I will be seeing you, Senórita Grisham.” A shudder ran through her. She stepped closer to Steve. His presence gave her more comfort than she was willing to admit.
Steve took a stance between her and Aguilar, as if shielding her from the man’s creep factor. Placing a hand on her arm to still her, Steve leaned forward and spoke to Aguilar in a near-whisper. “Sir, I know it’s not my place, but is there a way you could lose my baby-sitter? He’s kind of… well, I don’t like the way he looks at my fiancé.” He paused. “Of course, if you want to send someone else, I understand, but frankly, I don’t need the help. I think I’ve shown you I’m competent.”
Aguilar glanced from Steve to Bill, and then to Elle, who tried to look nervous. Which wasn’t much of a stretch. All she had to do was think of the way Aguilar’s eyes had raked her body.
Aguilar pursed his lips. “It would be more sensible on my part to remove your fiancé, I would think.”
God, please no.
Elle spoke up, keeping her voice low, making it harder for Aguilar to judge the emotion behind her words—or the lack thereof, since Bill hadn’t come close to coming on to her. “Sweetheart, it’s all right. I don’t mind, really. I’d rather stay here.” She gazed at Aguilar, blinked her eyes and tried for more subservience than seduction. “If that’s all right with you.”
Steve pulled Elle around and draped his arm around her waist. “I do work better when I can see her.”
“My man stays,” Aguilar said. “But I will speak to him.”
“Please, no,” Elle said, adding a bit of urgency to her tone. “My fiancé is overreacting.” She smiled at Steve, drew a fingertip along his jaw. “He can be possessive. I’m sure you understand.”
Aguilar chuckled. “If you were mine, I would be possessive as well.” The way he said it sent a chill through Elle’s bones. The if came across more as a when.
“Then let’s get to it,” Steve said. “Time’s a wasting. And our host has calls to make. The sooner, the better.”
Aguilar gestured with the phone. “I am, as you say it, on it.” He left, his boots clunking on the floor as he walked away.
Steve went back to the computer. Bill sat in his chair, arms across his chest. Elle, suddenly thirsty, ambled to the cart for a soda. A jolt of caffeine might not be the best for her nerves, but she had a feeling she’d need to stay awake tonight.
She lifted a can from the ice, then crouched to get a glass from the bottom shelf. Tucked between the two extra cases of soda was the corner of a piece of paper. She eased it out, turning her back so Bill couldn’t see.
Slowly, carefully, she unfolded it.
Chapter 16
Jinx tried sending mental messages to Bill. Pay no attention to the man at the computer. Don’t you need a trip to the head?
Bill seemed content to sit in his chair, staring into space. If he wouldn’t leave, zoning out would be almost as good. Jinx examined the program again. No glitches. Damn, he hated waiting on other people. Aguilar should be making his calls now, shouldn’t he? Meanwhile, Jinx used Bill’s phone, which was only slightly more sophisticated than the basic models the others were assigned, and texted Fozzie.
Done on my end. Sitrep?
He muted the phone and put it in his pocket. Not much he could do now but wait, and hope the next phase of Fozzie’s plan went through. Elle was hunched over in her chair. Was she all right?
The phone vibrated, and he jerked. His heart thumped as he read the screen.
All set. Go. Now.
Jinx gathered the phones Bill had brought and put them into the tote, keeping Bill’s for himself. He shoved away from the desk and crossed the room to where Bill was sitting. He seemed off in his own world again, and Jinx hoped it was a happy place this time.
“Bill?”
No response. Wasn’t there a rule about not waking a sleepwalker? Did Bill’s state fall into the same category? He threw a questioning glance in Elle’s direction. She shrugged, but her eyes seemed to be saying she needed to talk to him. Maybe she was sending Get out of here vibes to Bill, too.
Jinx shuffled his feet and repeated Bill’s name, slightly louder. Bill blinked a few times, and seemed to drift back onto the planet.
“Huh?”
Jinx extended the tote. “Do you think you can return these to their rightful owners? Have them make a call—whoever they usually get in touch with? The more tests, the better.”
If Bill connected this task with what Jinx had already told Aguilar, there was no reading it in his expression. Maybe Bill had forgotten he was supposed to be keeping an eye on what Jinx was doing.
Or was it all an act? Would Aguilar have someone as spacey as Bill working for him in an important capacity? Or had Bill flummoxed Aguilar and didn’t really have the cell phone chops? Or, as Jinx presumed, Aguilar was totally out of the loop when it came to understanding the functioning of his network. He’d certainly bought Jinx’s song and dance about what he’d been doing to test the phones.
“Sure,” Bill said. He took the tote and addressed Elle. “You want to come along? You can see our quarters, maybe
meet a few people.”
Elle’s head tilted, her brows lifted.
Forcing a calm he didn’t feel, Jinx shook his head and stepped to her side. “Maybe another time. Tonight, I want her with me.”
“Okay,” Bill said. “How long should this trip take?”
Back on earth again. “No rush. I’ll be running diagnostics for the next hour or so. Nothing to do but wait.”
Bill gave a mock salute. “Got it.”
As soon as Bill closed the door behind him, Elle grabbed Jinx’s arm. “This was between the cases of soda. I think it’s from Diego.” She handed him a folded piece of paper.
“Sweetheart, we have to leave. Now.” He shoved the paper in his pocket and took Elle’s wrist.
“But—”
“You can tell me when we’re out of here.” He popped the SD card out of the computer, snapped it into the St. Christopher’s medal and slipped it over his neck.
“But Trish—”
“Later. Our window of opportunity is limited. We’ll talk about Trish then.”
He tugged her out the door and down the corridor past the restrooms.
“What are you doing? Those are locked. I already tried. And they’re electronic locks, so I can’t pick them.”
Jinx pushed on the handle and yanked the door open. “Inside. And be quiet.”
Elle tried to pull away, but there was no time. He didn’t like going all cave man on her, but once they were out of here, he could explain. He snapped on the penlight he’d found in Bill’s desk and cast its narrow beam around the room. Boxes. Lots of boxes. But enough space between the shoulder-high stacks to maneuver. He pushed Elle ahead of him. “Go.”
Inside, he got his bearings. “This way.” He took the lead, half dragging Elle to a spot near the center of the room where the boxes were only three high. “Help me move these.” He stuck the penlight between his teeth, grabbed the top carton and dragged it across the floor, shoving it against the door.
Elle, bless her, had gone with the flow and was wresting the second box from the stack. “What’s in these?” she asked.
He took the light out of his mouth. “Damned if I know. Getting them out of the way is all I care about.” Jinx took the box from her, handed her the penlight. “You hold the light. It’s cramped quarters in here.”
“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing?” Elle voice carried more than a hint of irritation.
“Getting out. And hurrying.” Jinx set the second carton beside the first. When he turned to get the next box, Elle had it ready.
“These aren’t very heavy,” she said. “According to the box, this one’s toilet paper.”
“Unless you’re in desperate need of some, we don’t have time to confirm.”
When he had the top two boxes from each stack moved, he bent and shoved the first of the two remaining cartons out of his way. Moment of truth. Had Zeke and Fozzie’s information been right?
Elle seemed to understand, and she pushed the second box along the floor.
“Light,” he said, pointing to the area they’d uncovered. She played the beam along the floor, unveiling a rectangular seam.
“Bingo,” he said.
“A trap door?”
“None other.”
“How does it open? Where does it go?” Elle asked.
“Working on it. Out.”
Elle seemed to follow his answers, and as efficient as any scrub nurse during an operation, gave him light where he needed it. He ran his fingers along the seam. Found hinges set flush with the floor. But no handle on the opposite side. All he knew was there was an underground passage that ended—or started—in this room.
“It can’t only open from the other side,” Elle said, as if she read his thoughts. She walked along the passageway created by the spaces between the boxes, retracing a route to the door. She shone the light between the boxes and the wall.
“If you’re hunting for a light switch, I don’t think that’s smart. Light might show under the door.”
“Nope. Something better.” The light bounced along the floor as she returned. “This was hanging inside the door.”
Jinx saw what she carried. “No time now, but I owe you one hell of a kiss.” Too dark to see, but he knew she’d be blushing.
He grabbed the kind of suction cup apparatus people used to carry large sheets of glass and affixed it to the door. “Cross your fingers it’s not locked on the other side.”
“And there are stairs. Or a rope ladder. Nothing like being stuck with a broken ankle.” Elle trained the light on the door.
Jinx hoisted. The door lifted with a hushed squeak. Elle stepped close to the opening and focused the beam downward. Steep wooden steps with a handrail on one side disappeared into the darkness. The penlight’s reach faded away about halfway down.
“Down you go,” he said to Elle. He extended the light. She didn’t hesitate, he had to give her credit, although she refused the flash. She turned around and backed into the void. He gave her a brief head start before following.
“Hope you’re not claustrophobic,” he said, “because I’m closing the door.”
It slammed above him, although it wasn’t any darker. He thought of Fozzie, who was claustrophobic. Better us than him. Jinx went down forward, holding the rail with one hand, the penlight with the other. He reminded himself he was an ass man as Elle’s cleavage presented itself as she descended. But her tits weren’t bad. Seven out of ten. Maybe an eight.
He’d counted seventeen steps when his light found the bottom.
Elle peered below her legs and saw dirt and small stones beneath her. She navigated the final steps to the ground and turned, trying to get a sense of where she was.
Underground. Duh.
Steve—no, now he was definitely Jinx—jumped the last few feet and took her hand.
“Now what?” she asked. “And why do I get the feeling I’m in an Indiana Jones movie? You’ve got on long pants, and I’m wearing—this.” She gestured to her sundress and sandals. At least they weren’t stilettos, but even the low heels made walking on uneven ground precarious. Jinx wore sandals, but they were sturdy leather.
“Could be worse,” he said. “Be glad we’re in the tropics and not in Antarctica.”
He waved the light back and forth, painting the ground and walls with the feeble beam of the flashlight. They were definitely in a tunnel, and it stretched far beyond the reach of the light.
Elle’s heart thumped. In the darkness, every sound, every movement, every touch, sent her cop instincts into the red zone.
Jinx moved forward, still holding her hand. “Now, we’d better get moving or we’ll miss our ride.”
“Ride? We have a ride?” Right. Jinx had said he had backup. Was he waiting at the end of wherever they were going with a Jeep? Better yet, an armored tank.
“At least Indy had torches, not a lame penlight,” Elle muttered as she stumbled over an uneven spot on the path. She forced her mind away from the potential dangers. Someone could be behind them. Or in front of them. Maybe jaguars used this tunnel. Jinx’s hand on her arm steadied her. “Are you sure there’s a way out at the end of this tunnel? Maybe it’s a priest hole—a hiding place, not an escape route.”
“If it was a hiding place, it would be much smaller. I’m saying odds are ten-to-one it’s an escape route.”
“Is this where I say, ‘Never tell me the odds?’” Elle said, hardly able to believe she was making small talk about movies. She almost laughed. If she was with her cop buddies, they’d be telling raunchy jokes. Anything to make light of an ugly situation.
“Wrong movie,” Jinx said.
“Harrison Ford is Harrison Ford. Who cares if he’s Indiana Jones or Han Solo.”
“So, you’re an equal opportunity Ford fan?” he asked.
“Pretty much. You?”
“My nephew’s got me into all things Trek. Have to keep up if I want to converse with him—so he thinks I’m cool—at least a little bit.” They wa
lked in silence for several minutes.
“Tell me something,” Jinx said. “You mentioned picking locks. Can you really do it?”
“As a cop, I get to hang with unsavory sorts from time to time. I’ve gleaned a few things. But it’s not as easy as on television.”
If Jinx thought small talk was going to keep her from asking questions, he was sadly mistaken. “I’m waiting for answers,” she said. “A lot of answers.”
The tunnel veered to the right, but there wasn’t a fork, so they kept going. The path straightened. “Ask away,” Jinx said.
“Easy question first. How did you unlock the storage room door?”
“With my expert computer skills.”
“Go on.”
He sighed. “I told you I was a computer geek at Blackthorne. My contact here is a communications and surveillance expert. He and my colleague back home—another geek, almost as good as me—worked their magic and I tapped into Aguilar’s security system. It’s amazing what you can do with computerized locks if you know what you’re doing.”
“And you know what you’re doing, obviously.”
“Sweetheart, I’m the best.”
“Stop calling me Sweetheart,” she said. They were up to their armpits in trouble, and the last thing she needed was to be distracted by endearments—and what they made her think about. Words whispered in a soft bed with thousand-thread-count sheets. Candles. Champagne. Chocolate.
Stop! Sure he’s sexy, but you’ve known him what—a day? Trish. Trish. Trish.
“And you found this escape route how?” she went on, shoving her mind where it belonged.
“That’s Fozzie’s doing. I told you he was a surveillance expert. He’s got a magic touch. I’m guessing he used sonar. Or maybe he and Zeke—the Blackthorne number two geek I told you about—hacked… um… tapped into blueprints. Even out here, you have to file for building permits is my guess. Given I was trying to stay off Aguilar’s radar, I had to let Zeke and Fozzie have all the fun.”
“Yeah, I’m sure they file blueprints for secret escape routes.”
