by DiAnn Mills
“I’ve used those same tactics.”
“We can let you talk to Pedraza. But he won’t be in custody long with the deal his lawyer worked out.”
Vince glared. “You’re really stupid if you think I’d believe that line of bull.”
Grayson smiled. “By the way, did Murford advance you enough to take care of Aaron after you’re gone?”
Vince’s silence confirmed he’d been shorted.
Joe cleared his throat. “You don’t do your son any good dead. You can’t get his medication or clear your name.”
“I want my lawyer.”
Grayson stood. “I’ll make sure he gets a call as soon as his office opens.” He walked to the door and swung his attention to Vince. “Have you considered Murford could take out his vengeance on Aaron? I doubt a ganger cares if it’s Bradshaw senior or junior as long as he collects his due.”
“Are you sure this is the way you want to end your career?” Joe said as though he were talking to an old friend.
“I’m sure.”
“A lawyer won’t stop the charges, but a little truth could go a long way in the sentencing.”
Vince blew out his scorn. He nodded at Grayson. “I told you not to mess with Taryn Young. She’ll get you killed.”
CHAPTER 31
NEW YORK
2:50 A.M. EASTERN, WEDNESDAY
I hear Breckon’s dead. Pedraza and Bradshaw are in custody. Murford got away. That man’s like a cat. Too bad he isn’t as cunning or he wouldn’t have tried to double-cross me. Three months ago I took care of his two slackers to get his attention. He’s an idiot on a short leash. What he doesn’t know is I have an expert hacker working on the problem. We’ll get the info we need and finish this. One way or another.
Bradshaw can only point to Murford. Glad I gave Murford the agent’s name, a loser looking for money.
I tap my chin. . . . What if I play desperate? Helpless? This temporary setback could put that weasel in the palm of my hand.
I dial Murford’s number. He hasn’t answered in the past several hours, but his ego might be ready for an adrenaline boost.
“Hey, are you seething?” Murford laughs, and I want to scratch his eyes out.
I put my kill mode in check. “Not really. You conducted business just as I expected. I’m in trouble with this. Things are spinning out of control without access to the software.”
“I hear the misery. But I know you’re not out of resources.”
“But you can help me. We can work through our differences.”
“Take it somewhere else. I’m right where I need to be.”
I’ll see him suffer for the trouble he’s causing. “Look, you know I wouldn’t be calling if a lot of money wasn’t at stake.”
“And I plan to collect it all.”
“Your greed will get you killed.”
He laughs again, and I hate the sound of it. “I’m covered, Iris,” he says. “This is one time you lose.”
“Don’t think so. You have a private party scheduled for Friday with no hors d’oeuvres.”
“You just want to be the only guest.”
My blood pressure escalates. “I am the only guest. Look, Murford, you don’t have access to Nehemiah. In fact, the old software is running. Neither do you have Taryn Young. Now you might have an idea or two, but you’ve exhausted balloons and party favors. I know your every move, which means your utter failures. Team members killed and arrested. You’re running out of options. So I suggest we work together, and we’ll both make money. I intend to sell Nehemiah, and we’ll make a profit.”
“What’s your plan?”
I’ve hit his hot button. “Lure Young away from the FBI with talk about the kid. She’s senseless when it comes to her. Use it. Have you gotten rid of the brat?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not? She’s costing you time and money. Where is she?” I know the answer, but I want to hear his response.
“Tucked away.”
Right. “I know how to dispose of the body if you can’t stomach it.”
“I have it under control.”
“Look, you nab Young, and I’ll take over the situation from there.”
“Not so fast. I’ll get the info and let you know.”
He deserves a slow death, and I hate his condescending tone. “All right. I’ll wait until I hear from you. How long will it be?”
“Your boss man must be crawling up your rear.”
I consider his comment . . . purposely.
“Your hesitation tells me you’re crying for my help.”
Leapfrog. “I’ll make it worth your trouble.”
I disconnect the call and hope Murford has fallen for my ploy. He knows what our boss can do and has done. A smart man would be scrambling to please.
Time to pull an ace out of the deck. I press in a number.
“Busy?” I say.
His breathless words indicate he’s with a woman. “I am.”
“We have to talk now.”
He curses, but he’ll get over it. A moment later I hear a door shut and running water. “What is it?”
“Follow Murford. See what he’s up to. Understand? Time is running out.”
“I’m busy.”
“Not when I’m paying for the champagne.”
He curses again. “I’ll call when I have something.”
CHAPTER 32
3:35 A.M. WEDNESDAY
While Grayson talked to his SSA and made his report about Vince, Taryn waited in the break room with an escort, an agent who looked like he would rather be anywhere but with her. She refused to go back to the health services unit. Decisions needed to be made, and the process took time.
The hum of the vending machine kept her company. The room had the sterile feel of a hospital—synthetic, without emotion. The agents were far from unfeeling, but she understood the necessity to focus on logic.
She hated the cold, and this room blew air like the dead of winter. She massaged the goose bumps on her arms, all the while craving the power of Tylenol 3. She’d vowed to leave the prescription meds alone until she could finally sleep, her self-imposed deadline, and rely on over-the-counter relief. The thought of getting addicted to painkillers was worse than her concussion and all the other aches.
She sipped on black coffee to warm her up. Caffeine bolted through her veins, and she wanted to get started with the day’s work. She’d sat there too long with nothing to do, determined to prove her worth. . . .
Grayson and Joe entered the room, and her babysitter agent left. Lines formed across both men’s foreheads like X-rays of stress. Grayson normally gave her immediate eye contact, but not this morning. What had he learned that had him consumed?
“What are the new developments?” she said.
“Privileged information.” Grayson poured two cups of coffee.
She understood security measures. “I want to let Murford think I’ll exchange Nehemiah credentials for Zoey, my iPad, and iPhone. I can give him something bogus that will allow him access through several levels and give the perception they are getting somewhere, but ultimately it will destroy the system. Wire me up or whatever you do, and let me help bring him in.”
“You’d be running with big guns when all you have is a water pistol,” Joe said.
“I don’t care. It’s an opportunity to bring these killers to justice.”
Grayson sat across from her at a round table and stared into his coffee while shaking a sugar packet. “Your idea has been discussed. Understand the FBI doesn’t negotiate with terrorists. Neither do we encourage civilians to be put at risk.”
“But I’d be acting alone.”
Grayson frowned. “We can’t support your plan.”
“Does it matter? I could walk out of here, and Murford would show up with reinforcements.” She leaned closer. “I’m right, and you’re not using me to your advantage.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
Joe touched her arm. “Taryn, you and
I talked about this. There’s no guarantee Zoey is alive. The odds are against it.”
His words lit a fuse inside her. “So you’ll take the defensive and hope something comes up? How effective is that when you’re supposed to be the offense?”
“Calm down,” Grayson said as though she were a child.
She stood. “I’m perfectly calm and amazingly logical. If you don’t agree, I’ll go to the SSA. He’d agree my plan is superior.”
“That’s so intelligent.” Grayson’s voice rose. “You pretend to give Murford the info, he’ll kill you. Very simple maneuver. He and his pals win.”
“I’m not sitting by and doing nothing until you tell me this is over!”
Joe waved his arms. “A shouting match between you two won’t solve a thing. We’re learning more by the minute. Hundreds and thousands of agents, as well as specialty forces of Homeland Security, are working every angle of the bombing, the software theft, and Zoey’s kidnapping. Some believe the software and the bombing are connected. Others do not. But in any event, we’re talking about a huge task force. One overzealous woman isn’t going to break this case.”
“You don’t know that for sure.” She sensed something from the two, and she wouldn’t let it rest. “Which one of you is going to tell me what has happened?”
Joe scratched his chin. “Well—”
“Joe, it’s not our—”
“I’m retired, remember? What’s the FBI gonna do? Send me home? Stick me in jail? Taryn steps out of here without our protection, and the first good ole boy who believes in God, the US, and fried alligator will pull the trigger. And the media will paint his face as a hero.”
“I agree. But some info is confidential,” Grayson said.
“What do you know?” Taryn’s pulse escalated. Had they found Zoey and were afraid to tell her? “Who would I tell?”
“Telling someone is not the issue,” Grayson said. “If you aren’t aware of updates, then you can’t be forced to reveal something.”
“If I’m tortured or killed, it would be for Nehemiah.”
“It’s how the information would be secured that bothers me. I’m sure Murford has a fully equipped toolbox.”
She shuddered. “I’m in this mess for the duration. I deserve to know what you’ve learned.”
“According to Pedraza, Murford killed Claire.”
She swallowed the acid rising in her throat. “I suspected it was him,” she said. “He’s capable of anything.”
“Glad we’re on the same page.” Grayson studied her. His clear blue eyes read concern, but was it for protocol or for her? “If you overhear something while in this building, then it stays here with you.”
Learning new information always came at a price. “I want to know everything. Because I intend to help with or without your permission.”
“Arguing with you uses more energy than a firefight. All right. But I don’t approve of any of this.”
“Thank you. I’m not trying to be difficult. I just need to do all I can . . . for all those who’ve died. And I don’t care if I sound dramatic.”
Grayson narrowed his gaze and ran his fingers through his hair. “The FBI took a call from a man who says he wants to talk to Taryn Young. Says he knows where Zoey Levin is being held. Wants to make a deal. Came from a burner phone, and the conversation was short.”
“How do I make it happen?”
“He’s calling back at six.”
The wall clock indicated urgency. “I don’t have much time to think about this.”
“Agents will be listening in, and he’ll know it,” Grayson said.
“Would the man be aware of Vince’s arrest?”
“Depends if he’s attempted to get in touch with Vince. The caller is probably Murford. He doesn’t have the necessary access, and he needs it to pull off a bidding war that’s supposed to happen Friday morning.”
“I’m in.” She followed Grayson and Joe to the operation center and watched the clock for the scheduled time.
At six, agents scurried to set up the call trace.
The phone rang and Grayson handed it to her with a nod. She needed his support.
“This is Taryn Young.”
“Listen to me before you hang up.”
Murford’s voice nearly devastated her. All the things she wanted to say to him would have to wait. “What do you want?”
“I want to make a deal. You want Zoey, and I need access to Nehemiah.”
Her knees shook, and she eased onto a chair. “How do I know she’s alive?”
“I give you my word.”
She clenched her fist. “Your word? Dozens of people are dead and wounded because of your word.”
“I didn’t bomb the terminal. In fact, I was supposed to have been blown up with it.”
“You expect me to believe that? Looked like excellent timing to me.”
“Doesn’t matter. We both have something the other wants.”
“And you expect me to believe you?” she said.
“If you’re not willing to negotiate, we’ll both end up dead along with Zoey.”
“So you’re drowning and want me to throw you a life preserver? Tell me who’s the bomber.”
“Doesn’t matter. They’re powerful, and they have plans.”
She stared at Grayson. Her gaze captured his, and his smile filled her with confidence. “Let’s meet and talk. For breakfast.”
“Alone. I have eyes that will let me know if the FBI follows you.”
She hoped those eyes were Vince’s. “Deal. Tell me when and where.”
CHAPTER 33
7:30 A.M. WEDNESDAY
Grayson fumed over what Taryn planned to do. What made it worse was Joe and the SSA agreed with her ridiculous idea. She’d been hurt enough. How much more could she take?
Intel pouring in from various FBI departments indicated a connect in New York, but the who, why, and where hadn’t been confirmed. Vince had placed four calls to a number in New York, and Pedraza claimed the real boss was located there. Now to run it down.
Would a bomber take out an airport terminal to gain access to a software program? It seemed really far-fetched, but Grayson was vested in the supposition, and the more he investigated the Nehemiah Project, the more he supported it. What had once looked like a ridiculous reason now took a different flight pattern. Although many agents asked themselves the very same questions, the answers weren’t clear yet. What spurred the bomber?
A media source indicated the bomber simply wanted to make a power statement. Grayson didn’t swallow the rationale. He wanted the motivation, and the why would lead them to the who. Iran’s naming of the terrorists spread around the world, which indicated the bomber had feet on the ground here, people who were trained and not necessarily Middle Eastern. The media cried out for retaliation, and the world watched and listened.
For certain, having Murford in custody would mean another step toward more arrests.
A notification from the FIG diverted his attention. Definite confirmation of a bidding war taking place Friday morning at eleven Central time for some highly specialized software. Most of those taking part in it would be hard to trace. But unless Murford had expert hackers, a buy wouldn’t happen. Then he’d have death warrants out for him from all over the world.
Taryn stood before him. Another store run had produced clean clothes, and she wore makeup to cover the nasty bruises. She’d combed her auburn hair over the bandage and looked . . . good. This lady, his lady, had the face of an angel. He offered a smile, but he didn’t feel encouraging. These guys played for keeps. He didn’t want to lose her to a bullet or a ruthless kidnapper.
“Are you wired up?” he said.
The tenderness in her eyes caused his stomach to flip. When had his wild feelings gotten this deep? Put a lid on it, Grayson.
“I’m ready for the rendezvous,” she said. “Wearing a Kevlar vest and everything.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Wish you had a ceramic one t
oo. Have you been briefed on what you’re walking into? This isn’t a movie set. It’s reality. You can back out of this and no one would blame you.”
Taryn touched his arm, and he remembered when she’d recoiled from his touch. “Thank you for the concern, for believing in me when no one else did. For saving my life so many times.” She shuddered. “Do you understand I have to meet with him, not only to help the FBI but to find Zoey and wipe my slate clean of what the rest of the world believes about me?”
He did understand, and once again her determination was one of the things he respected about her. “In your shoes, I’d do the same,” he said. “Be careful. Murford has seen how you can defend yourself, so he’ll be looking for you to try to get the best of him. That’s not your job. Agents will handle apprehending him. Your role is to keep him talking, get him to confess, and exit the restaurant with him so innocent people aren’t hurt. Eyes will be everywhere. Note he’ll probably be in disguise.”
“I know,” she whispered. “And I won’t go with him anywhere unless there’s no other way.”
He forced logic into his words so she wouldn’t see the depth of his growing feelings. “Taryn, there’s always another way. Putting your life in danger is your choice, but setting yourself up to be tortured and killed is another. And we both know he’s capable of murder.”
“I’ll be careful.” A flash of something came and vanished in her eyes. “I . . . I saw Buddy. He didn’t want me to leave him.”
“So he’s a keeper?” The dog maybe, but what did she feel about him?
“Hope so. I should try to find his owner, but I don’t really want to. He’d be a great companion for Bentley.”
“I bet so too.”
She shook her head. “I might have to tear Murford apart myself.”
“Wait until we’re finished with him.”
“Thanks. All I want is five minutes. Can I check my e-mail one more time before I leave?”
He and Taryn were the masters of changing topics when conversation became uncomfortable. But this time his heart overruled logic.
