“We’ve got coffee and pastries if you’d like, gentlemen,” I said to the Durant-Breyer clan with a big, fake smile on my face, “the Colombians should be here around eight. I’d encourage you to take a look at the memo Mariana prepared while we wait. Colombian business etiquette is somewhat different than you might be used to.”
Alexander watched me closely during my pronouncement. I could feel his eyes cutting straight through my calm façade into the anxiety churning below. After you watch someone climax over and over on top of you, I bet it’s easy to tell if they’re faking it. I was definitely faking it at that moment.
Nevertheless, I managed to fool the rest of them. The men happily dug into the donuts and started reading the memo obediently. At least they all seemed to be in a good mood. Men are simple creatures. They had donuts, so they were happy. There was still time, I thought to myself as I closed the conference room door and exchanged a nod with my dad, Mariana would be here soon.
I turned away from the conference room and headed back to my office. Sitting down in my fancy, cushy chair to text Mariana again, I jumped when my office phone rang.
“Hello, Mariana?” I answered frantically.
“Um. No, sorry Ms. Clark,” a young male voice answered instead, “this is Kyle at the front desk.”
The butterflies in my stomach turned to lead. Oh god, were the Colombians early? Could this get any worse? Where the hell was Mariana?
“Oh, g-good morning Kyle,” I choked out, trying at a more composed demeanor, “what can I do for you?”
“Good morning. You’ve got some visitors up at reception.”
Shit, shit, shit.
“I see. The Colombians are here early?”
“No ma’am. These visitors are from the FBI.”
21
Alexander
Madison ambushed me on my way back to the conference room from the bathroom, darting out from an empty office and tackling me back into it before slamming the door behind us. Never one to argue with an eager woman, I wrapped my arms around her waist and pinned her to the wall. I kissed her happily, stopping immediately when she did not reciprocate. Now I was just confused.
“Madison?” I asked, looking down into her wide, anxiety-filled eyes, “What’s the matter?”
“The FBI is here,” she hissed, “they want to talk to us both. And Mariana’s missing.”
That was a one-two punch of bad news.
“The FBI is here right now?” I asked her.
“Yes. I put them in my office for now. We can’t let the Colombians see them.”
When I entered Madison’s office a moment later after buying time with the others in the conference room, I had to suppress my irritation at seeing Wallace and McKinney again. Their unattractive suits and ties were the same they had worn to my house the day before, s0 they either slept in them or had multiples—I wasn’t sure which would be sadder. They rose as I entered, both looking tired enough that I began to consider a third option—they hadn’t slept at all.
“Good morning Mr. Durant,” McKinney said with a smile, and extending a polite hand for the obligatory greeting handshake, “we were hoping to get a couple of minutes…”
My death-glare shut him up. The man receded backwards and dropped his hand. He sat down on Madison’s couch as if I’d slapped him, which was vaguely gratifying and something of a relief.
“What the hell are you two doing here right now? The Colombians are arriving in a few minutes and having the FBI sniffing around is going to jeopardize everything. Nothing makes people more nervous than law enforcement. You couldn’t have called?” I directed my questions to Wallace directly, not willing to play any McKinney games today. Thankfully it was Wallace who answered.
“We’ve got intel that you need to hear,” Wallace said coolly, flicking a disapproving glance down at his cowering young partner, “Your Colombian business may not be what it seems.”
Before he was able to elaborate, Madison’s phone rang and startled all four of us. I glanced at my watch as she crossed the room to answer it. It was nine-thirty-five. Mariana Rodriquez’s memo had said the Colombians would arrive fashionably late.
“This is Madison Clark,” Madison answered in a carefully neutral voice. I liked her business voice. It was pleasantly sharp without being rude or sounding bitchy. “Ok. Thanks very much for that, Kyle.” She looked at me as she hung it up, and I already knew what she was going to say.
“We’ll have to deal with this later, Chris,” Madison said to Wallace, “they’re here. Alexander and I need to go greet them right now.”
Chris? Wallace had a first name? He nodded respectfully at Madison who smiled back politely. I disliked their rapport instantly. Usually I’m not the jealous and possessive type, but I really hated Wallace and McKinney. All law enforcement, really. It wasn’t even really even personal with Wallace, just a once bitten, twice shy thing. McKinney was a cunt though.
“Just keep things light and casual for the time being,” Agent Chris Wallace said to Madison, “as soon as you get a second, come back and I’ll fill you in on our research. You’re not in danger for the time being, but there are new considerations.”
Madison nodded, smiling tightly and smoothing her already immaculately smooth hair down with nervous hands.
“Are you ready?” She asked me, looking nervous for a moment before a wave of composure came over her and she put on a professional face. Madison had her game face on. Time to put on mine.
“Estoy listo,” I replied with a confident grin, scraping the bottom of my brain to pull a phrase from my seventh-grade level Spanish. I’m ready.
I wasn’t actually listo. When the Colombians entered the conference room a few minutes later and started greeting us in rapid-fire South American Spanish, our group of painfully white businessmen sorely missed Mariana’s presence. I wasn’t remotely listo to do any of this in Spanish.
Madison translated the formal greetings and many handshakes in Mariana’s absence, and I was impressed to realize that she spoke excellent Spanish. I couldn’t tell if her accent was right, or her grammar was perfect, but it certainly sounded good to me. The Colombians certainly looked impressed. The only foreign language I halfway speak is French, and most of it is the bad grammar and vile insults that I picked up via osmosis at home. Before he got senile, my grandfather was notorious for his foul language. Outside of a whorehouse, my French was probably not usable. Watching Madison effortlessly switching between English and Spanish as she made introductions made me wish I’d paid more attention in my language classes. It also made me want to get her naked. Immediately.
The Colombians sent four people up to Pennsylvania to negotiate. Señor Fernando Meléndez was the genial Chief Executive Officer and Chairman of the Colombian petrochemical giant Propetrolas. Señora Giovanna Radamel was its dignified Chief Operating Officer. Doctora Luisa Muriel was the pretty, young attorney representing Propetrolas. And Doctor Teófilo Gutiérrez was an older attorney and representative from the Colombia’s Ombudsmen’s Office (an independent government watchdog organization to prevent human rights abuse and fraud). All four were introduced individually to each of us in a long ceremony.
Once the formal greetings were completed bilingually, both sides of the room relaxed. The conversation thankfully transitioned to English as well. Frank, Giovanna, Luisa, and Teó quickly proved to be an affable and pleasant group, and not at all hung up on etiquette or protocol. Still, this was the first date of our negotiations, so everyone seemed to be feeling each other out.
“I must apologize that Mariana isn’t here to greet you,” Madison explained once we were all seated and munching on a second round of donuts, “She asked me to extend her sincerest apologies. She had to attend to a personal emergency this morning and I know hopes to join us as soon as she can.”
“I hope she’s well,” Luisa acknowledged with a polite dip of her head that sent her short, curly hair bobbing around her face, “Did you know we went to university together? W
e’re old friends. I tried to text Mariana this morning from the airport that we were running a bit behind but she didn’t reply. Hopefully we’ll see her tonight.”
“Yes, you only just arrived this morning, isn’t that right?” Madison pivoted effortlessly, “How was your flight from Bogota?”
“Oh, it was awful!” Frank interjected loudly before Luisa could reply. She snapped her mouth shut and shot him an indulgent smile. Frank must have been educated in the United States, because he had no discernable accent whatsoever, “Some little teenage shit-bag kicked my seat the entire way. What kind of parent allows their child to do such a thing? I wanted to smack him upside the head. I suppose that’s what we get for flying commercial. Sure, they called it ‘business class’, but I think I would have been more comfortable in the overhead compartment with my briefcase...”
Nothing brings people together like the shared misery of air travel.
22
Madison
By the time lunch rolled around, we were all best friends with the Colombians. They were all extremely charming and easy to like. Frank was hilarious, and Luisa and I were much more similar than I’d imagined. Senator Ellis, of course, never met a rich person from any country that he didn’t want to schmooze with, so he wasn’t hard to please. The man was practically salivating at the prospect of extending his influence in South America. It seemed like even Alexander’s father and the Breyer boys were enjoying their company, although they could have been bullshitting and I wouldn’t know the difference. It also looked like Luisa might have eyes for Nathan. She kept ‘accidentally’ bumping into him and batting her eyes.
No one had so much as mentioned the deal yet. It wouldn’t be appropriate, at least according to Mariana’s memo on etiquette. That was for tomorrow. Today was for getting to know one another and we were all making a concerted effort to do so. Ordinarily I would be enjoying myself, but all I really wanted was to get away from the conference room and back to the FBI. They wouldn’t come here for no reason. They must have big news.
Thankfully, my father and I had planned to take the entire group offsite for lunch and then go golfing at the Waterloo country club. Golfing wasn’t my favorite activity, but as far as relationship building was concerned, there was really no better choice. Under the auspices of other commitments, Alexander and I weaseled out of attending the afternoon activities with the Colombians.
Despite my worries that it might be viewed as rude, we really had no choice but to bow out. With the FBI waiting two doors over with new information on our assassination attempt, Alexander and I really couldn’t spend the afternoon on the golf course. After what felt like forever, the happy, chattering group departed in a small caravan of SUV’s and we were able to get back to the FBI.
My father wanted to stay and talk to the agents with me, but we both knew it was more important for him to stay with the Colombians. His presence was much more important than mine.
“I promise, I’ll fill you in as soon as I can,” I said reassuringly as we hugged goodbye, “I’ll be perfectly safe at the office.”
“Ok Maddie, but don’t go anywhere without your security people. I’ve got the senator’s detail with me and the Colombians, but I don’t think I would survive another close call with you. No unnecessary risks, got it?”
“Ok Dad. Got it.”
My dad would be safer with the Senator than anywhere else, and I knew Mom was safe at home where the grey van was still parked outside, but I was beginning to worry about Mariana. She still hadn’t called or texted. Maybe she was sick? What if the Chacón brothers had gotten her?
Mariana was high on my list of people to talk to the FBI about. Poor Chris and Miles had been waiting patiently for almost four hours. I’d managed to sneak out and bring them donuts at one point, but I still felt guilty for leaving them in there alone for so long. The office didn’t even have good WiFi. They seemed perfectly content to wait, but I still felt rude.
“Ok, we survived!” I announced happily as Alexander and I returned to my office. I felt good about the way things were going so far, despite Mariana’s absence. Chris and Miles looked back at me impassively. “What?” I asked, wondering why they weren’t smiling. They both looked incredibly serious. Alexander had ordered something for all four of us to eat, and I handed out the sandwiches feeling anxious all of a sudden.
“We obviously didn’t want to tell you two seconds before you had to greet them, but one of the Colombians is working for the Chacóns,” Chris said as he unwrapped his pastrami on rye. He shook his head ruefully, “I’m sorry, but you can’t trust any of them.”
“Which one?” Alexander asked immediately, shutting the door behind him and taking over the conversation in an instant. He hadn’t touched his turkey sandwich yet. I got the feeling that he didn’t like the two FBI agents much. They seemed alright to me. A bit uptight, but what did Alexander expect? Feds were always uptight.
“That’s the bigger problem,” Miles answered with a frown, “we don’t know.”
Alexander and I exchanged a worried glance. One of the people we’d just been talking with for the last four hours was a traitor? It seemed impossible. They were all so nice! I took a first, unsure bite of my veggie sandwich.
“How do you know that one of them is working for the Chacón brothers?” Alexander asked Chris, looking incensed that he was not informed immediately. Personally, I wasn’t sure I could have gotten through this morning’s introductions if I’d known that one of those people had tried to kill me Saturday night. The thought of it made me feel ill.
“Surveillance,” Chris answered inscrutably, and Alexander’s unhappy expression deepened. A little furrow had formed between Alexander’s eyes that I’d never seen before. It made me nervous.
“But you’re sure that one of them is working for the Chacón brothers? There’s no doubt?” I asked, wishing it wasn’t true. My dad was out there with them as we spoke.
“We’ve got credible intelligence that someone that sits in the Propetrolas executive offices has been in communication with the Chacóns directly in the last few days. We just don’t know who.”
“Well that excludes Teó at least,” Alexander remarked, and I nodded in agreement a moment later, “he works for the government, not Propetrolas. He mentioned he has an office in downtown Bogota, not in the suburbs where the plant is.”
“Right now, I wouldn’t assume that any of them is clean or trustworthy to be honest,” Chris replied, and for the first time Alexander seemed to agree with something the older FBI agent said. “We have no idea which one of them is involved with the Chacóns. And that’s only half of the equation. Someone else knew enough to get a bomb into your car Saturday night. Someone who was not in that room with you today, unless one of Alexander’s blood relatives has it out for him. The assassination effort seems to be wholly unconnected to the individual within Propetrolas that’s colluding with the Chacóns. This group was still in Bogota two days ago and could have had no idea where you would be Saturday night. Even if they did somehow know, they wouldn’t have been able to do much about it without an agent here.”
“Mariana,” Alexander said, and a moment later I put the dots together for myself. Once he said it, the truth was obvious. It explained everything, including why she’d been ignoring my texts. The moment I mentioned the Chacóns, she’d gone radio silent. I felt a terrible sinking feeling in my stomach. Mariana was behind the car bomb.
“Oh my god, Alexander,” I exclaimed, horrified, “you’re right. It has to be Mariana. She was the only one who knew where we would be. Jesus, she’s my friend. I’ve known for years. Why would she do something like this? She hates organized crime.”
“The other lawyer?” Chris asked, and I nodded, even as Alexander was putting down his food and putting on his jacket. He headed toward the door to my office and I stood to follow.
“Where are you going Alexander?” I asked. Chris and Miles were both trying to get information from me about who Mariana was an
d what part she was playing in the deal. They’d set aside their sandwiches and produced their cute little notebooks again which they consulted as they spoke.
“Mariana works for the same NGO that you do Madison? Lifebuild?” Miles asked.
“This is the woman who set up the deal initially, right?” Chris questioned at the same time.
Both of them seemed to be rapidly reaching the same conclusion that Alexander and I had, but I didn’t have time to walk them through it. They would just have to get there on their own. I waved them off instead, chasing Alexander out the door. He was already halfway down the hall. I followed as quickly as I could.
“Alexander! Where are you going?” I repeated as I chased after him, but my short legs and high heels were no match for his much longer stride. Damn pencil skirts. I toddled along as swiftly as I could with my knees pinned together and balancing on stilettos. The two FBI agents appeared behind me a brief moment later.
“I’m going to Mariana’s hotel right now,” he snapped at all three of us, as if daring us to try and stop him, “She’s in on this and I’m going to figure out how and why. I’m tired of waiting around.”
“Alexander, wait! Please! This is a really bad idea. You have no idea if she’s dangerous. Please wait a second!”
He just kept going, shaking his head at me and wearing a resolute, dangerous look on his face when I managed to catch up to him. I grabbed his arm, but he shook me off. His dark eyes sparkled with an unsettling, bleak expression.
“Madison, stay here with the FBI. I’ll call you as soon as I can. Don’t follow me.” Alexander ordered, as if that was even remotely going to happen. I’m not the type of person to be ordered around by anyone. He really ought to know that by now. I almost laughed in his face but I was too worried about him getting hurt again. He didn’t seem to grasp how stupid and dangerous this idea was.
Bleeding Heart (Scions of Sin Book 1) Page 12
