Bad Attitude

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Her heart pounded even faster. "Is their information in there?"

  He shook his head. "Nothing is in there. It's specially coded so that whenever Wallace has a hit he wants me to make, I either come here to pick up a flash card or he e-mails me the files that only this computer can read. I open the files and get my target."

  Syd cursed in frustration. "This leaves us no better off than when we started."

  "You? I'm worse off. When this started, I didn't have a bullet and knife wound."

  She cringed at his reminder. "I know. I'm sorry." She sighed. They'd been trumped once more by the bad guys. "He's not assigning you anyone to show you the ropes or anything, is he?"

  He shook his head. "I've already been initiated. But..."

  "But what?"

  "I'm thinking that all files are sent from Wallace's office. From his own personal computer."

  She understood where he was going. "We can break in after he leaves tonight and steal it."

  "No."

  Frustrated, she glared at him. "What do you mean no?"

  "Asshole has a laptop. It sits on his desk on a stand. I'm sure it goes wherever he goes. He's a particularly OCD sonofabitch."

  "Then what do you propose we do?"

  A slow grin spread across his face. "We watch him, and when we have our chance, we steal it straight out of his hands."

  "I don't know. I think I have an even better idea."

  "What?"

  She answered him with a wide grin.

  Fifteen

  S yd and Steele drove around the block and parked in the public lot again. Steele headed out onto the street to keep Wallace's office under surveillance while she contacted Andre.

  What Wallace didn't know was that Steele had picked up a couple of toys from Jack before they'd left his bunker. Steele's intent had been to tag Wallace, but the paranoid bastard hadn't allowed him close enough to plant the bug on his body.

  Failing that, Steele had placed a small, innocuous mic in the cushion of the chair he'd sat in. Now, with Jack's PDA and its receiver, Steele was able to listen in to what Wallace was doing.

  At the moment, though, the prick wasn't saying anything much. At least ten minutes went by before Steele finally heard the intercom buzz.

  "You have a phone call on line one, Mr. Wallace. It's from President Kaskamanov."

  President? Steele frowned at Agnes's words. She meant the kid, right?

  Steele pressed the earpiece in deeper and turned up the volume so as not to miss anything.

  He heard Wallace pick up the phone. "Hello, Mr. President. It's good to hear from you. Yes, yes, we have everything arranged. I have my best contractor for your case. Stalin has been briefed and will be standing by to ensure your safety. Yes, sir. Very good. The wire transfer for the balance is to take place within three hours after our services are rendered. Yes, sir. We'll see you in two days. Have a nice flight."

  Steele stood there as he listened to Wallace hang up the phone. Then everything was quiet again.

  Now that was just sick--the company was telling the president that they were going to protect him while they were secretly taking money from the son to kill him? He had to give them credit. It took balls to give the president the name of the man who had most likely been assigned to kill him.

  But at least now they had a name to search out--Stalin, which was most likely an alias. All they needed was to cross-reference it with whatever files Wallace used to keep track of his contract workers, and they'd have their sniper.

  Steele turned the volume down as Syd rejoined him, beaming like a cat that had gotten locked in an aviary.

  "What?" he asked.

  "We don't have to tail him."

  He arched a brow at that. "How so?"

  "Give Andre twenty minutes."

  "And?"

  She pulled out a stick of gum and slowly unwrapped it before she put it in her mouth and chewed it like a happy schoolgirl with a crush. "You'll see. C'mon." She indicated a building across the street, with a small cafe on the bottom floor. "Let's go get us a good seat for this." She offered him some gum, but he declined.

  "Syd? What's up with this?"

  She didn't respond as she headed for the restaurant.

  "Syd!"

  He had to give her credit, the woman could keep a secret, and it was starting to piss him off. He followed her into the restaurant, where she grabbed a table by the window that looked out onto the APS offices outside.

  No matter what he tried, she refused to answer any of his questions about what they were waiting for. It was extremely annoying to be around someone who could remain so tight-lipped.

  But his aggravation ended a short time later, when he saw a plain black sedan with government plates pull up. A few seconds later, it was followed by several squad cars and a black van that blocked the street.

  Steele choked on his coffee as he saw Carlos and Andre get out of the sedan. Dressed in black suits and dark sunglasses, they reminded him of Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones in the movie MIB. Both of them were also dressed in black FBI windbreakers.

  The two of them walked side-by-side in federal agent formation, looking tough as they entered the building while directing the police into action.

  He turned the volume up on the PDA to listen in.

  It took several minutes before he heard Wallace let loose a string of expletives. "What is this?" he demanded.

  It was Carlos who answered in a deadpan voice. "Here's your warrant, Mr. Wallace. It appears that several members of your staff were arrested this morning in a pornography sting." He tsked. "We have traced their IP's and have learned that they were using many of the computers here in this office for illegal purposes."

  "Bullshit! Bullshit! Bullshit!" There was no way to miss the belligerent anger in Wallace's tone. "That has nothing to do with me!"

  Andre spoke next. "Yes, sir, it does. We're here to pull all the computers from your offices as evidence in our case."

  "Your people have been very naughty, Mr. Wallace," Carlos said in a thick Spanish accent. Then his voice leveled out to his normal cadence, which only held a tiny trace of his accent. "We're from the FBI and your computers are being seized even as we speak. Oh, and let us not forget this one here--"

  "Don't you dare touch it!"

  "We're the FBI, Mr. Wallace," Andre chimed in. "We dare anything. Your staff has been under surveillance for the last six months, and now all of them are busted."

  "Eeh!" Carlos snapped. "Step away from the laptop, Mr. Wallace. That is now property of the U.S. government."

  "This is bullshit! No one has touched my laptop but me."

  Andre tsked. "If it's in this office, they had access to it, which means it comes with us. But don't worry. Here's your receipt. The address is on the back. If there's nothing on it pertaining to our case, you'll be able to pick it up once we're through with it. Otherwise, we'll see you in court."

  "I'm calling my attorney."

  "You do that, Mr. Wallace," Andre said in a low, lethal tone.

  "Don't touch that!"

  "We're the government, Mr. Wallace. You can't stop us. Have a nice day, sir."

  More expletives followed at such an ear-splitting level that Steele had to pull the earpiece out to keep from losing his hearing. He looked over at Syd, who was still grinning ear to ear.

  "You people are sick."

  She laughed evilly. "Aren't we, though? You gotta love Carlos and Andre. Now you know what Andre did in the FBI. He's good, isn't he?"

  "And what if Wallace calls the FBI?"

  "They won't tell him anything. He has a case number on the paperwork and warrant that will route him to Tee in Nashville, who gives the runaround so good that by the time you hang up, you forgot why you called."

  She tossed a few dollars on the table for the waitress. "C'mon, it's rendezvous time."

  Steele took one last sip of his coffee before he got up and followed her to the car. She drove him over to the Mall in front of the old Smiths
onian building, where he saw Andre and Carlos eating a hot dog while sitting on a bench. Carlos had ditched his tie and coat and wore his white shirt with the collar unbuttoned and the hem untucked.

  Andre still looked impeccable sans the FBI windbreaker.

  They parked the car, then went over to them.

  "Hot dog?" Carlos offered as they drew near.

  "Computer," Syd said without hesitation.

  Carlos took a sip of his soda. "You didn't say please."

  "Please, Carlos, let me have the computer."

  "Simon didn't say--"

  Andre let out a disgusted breath. "Oh, for God's sake, give her the damn computer, boy."

  Carlos was completely unruffled. "You need to learn to zen, Andre. Ohm...ohm..."

  "I'm going to ohm your ass. Now hand it over."

  "Impatient gringos." He reached down between his legs and opened the briefcase between his feet. He pulled out Wallace's laptop. "We also seized the secretary's hard drive and the payroll computer."

  Steele shook his head. "You do realize you just stole computers from a man who kills people for a living, right?"

  Carlos swallowed a bite of his chili dog. "Let him take a number. Believe me, I have much better men than him wanting me dead."

  Syd pushed Carlos over so that she could sit down as she booted up the laptop. After a few seconds, she cursed. "It's password-encrypted."

  Steele gave her a droll stare. "You think?"

  She glared up at Steele before she handed it off to Andre. "Get us in."

  "No problem. Give me a few minutes in the van." Andre crumpled up his hot-dog wrapper, then got up and headed for the black van across the street.

  "So when did you get in?" Syd asked Carlos.

  He wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Joe sent me in yesterday after Steele was shot. He thought you guys might need a little backup."

  Syd smiled, and a weird jealous twinge went through Steele. "Well, we're glad to have you."

  Carlos gave her a wicked grin. "And I'd be glad to be had by you, Syd."

  Steele had to force himself not to leap at Carlos's throat.

  "Careful, Carlos," Syd said. "You'll be limping."

  "Ah, don't tease me, Syd. I dream of being so frisky with you that it leaves me limping afterward."

  Syd frogged his arm.

  "Ow!" Carlos said as he rubbed his biceps, "Anyone ever tell you you hit like a man?"

  "Just Hunter."

  Carlos slid farther down the bench, away from her.

  Syd looked up, and he must have had a grim expression on his face, because she immediately frowned at him. Steele didn't say anything for fear it might end in his choking Carlos.

  Or shooting him.

  At any rate, he was hoping the man would choke on his chili dog.

  After a few minutes, the horn beeped from the van. The three of them headed across the street and climbed into the back.

  "Well?" Syd asked.

  Andre sighed. "I'm not sure how much we can use. Gotta give the man credit, he is paranoid. Everything is key-coded. No e-mails are kept, but I know his server info, so I've already called Marc, who is doing a scan of outgoing mail for that service. It'll probably take a few hours, or even a couple of days."

  Syd shook her head. "We don't have a couple of days, Andre."

  "It's the best I can do, Syd."

  Syd leaned her head back as she felt completely defeated. She was beyond frustrated and tired. Every time they took a step forward, it seemed like they took ten back.

  "We'll get them," Steele assured her.

  "How?"

  "Have faith."

  "No offense," she scoffed, "but I'm all out."

  Steele gave her a wickedly charming smile. "Well, that's because you're not thinking right."

  Now that offended her. "How so?"

  "Pretend for a minute that you are the owner of a ring of assassins and mercenaries. The government just came in and swiped your computer. What would you be doing right now?"

  "Freaking out," Carlos said as he moved over toward one of the panels. "You'd be contacting your people like a mother-fucker, trying to warn them."

  Steele nodded.

  He was right. Syd watched as Carlos started running a trace on Wallace's phones while Steele pulled the PDA out of his pocket and listened.

  But as they listened to the telephone calls, Syd's hope quickly dwindled again. Wallace used so much doublespeak and so many vague references that he might as well be speaking ancient Greek.

  Time dragged by as they listened to phone call after phone call without much progress.

  "Stalin? This is Wallace. Our security data has been a bit compromised."

  "This is it, Carlos," Steele said, poking him on the shoulder. "Trace it and record it."

  Carlos frowned at him.

  "Trust me."

  Carlos did as he said. But Syd was with Carlos. What on earth made Steele think that this was the right call?

  Steele took his earpiece out as Carlos turned the speaker up inside the van for them to listen to the whole conversation.

  "What do you mean, compromised?" The voice was thick and deep, and tinged with a southern drawl. There was some kind of distortion on it, probably to make it sound a few octaves deeper. But with a little cleanup, Andre might be able to decipher it for a voice match.

  Syd watched as Steele's face turned to stone.

  "Don't panic," Wallace said. "I doubt they can find anything. I'm not that stupid."

  "Everyone's that stupid, Wallace. Mission is compromised, breached, and over."

  "No! Listen, I don't have time to assign another contractor to the case. Finish it, and I'll give you a twenty-thousand-dollar bonus."

  "I don't know--"

  "C'mon, Stalin. We need you on this one."

  "Fifty thousand."

  Steele's eyes narrowed even more.

  "Fuck you," Wallace snarled. He paused briefly before he added, "Twenty-five."

  "Fifty-five thousand."

  Wallace growled low in his throat. "You're supposed to go the other way in negotiations, dickhead."

  "Sixty thousand," the distorted voice insisted.

  "Fifty."

  There was silence.

  "You still there?" Wallace asked.

  "As I said, fifty, wired to my usual account after I complete the assignment."

  "Deal." Wallace hung up.

  Syd looked up at Steele. "Now what makes you think that that is the right call? With the exception of the bonus, it sounds like everything else we've heard."

  "I overheard a conversation in Wallace's office earlier. It's the right person."

  "What conversation?"

  Steele didn't feel like answering that question at the moment. He was feeling ill at what he'd just heard.

  He couldn't believe it. He just couldn't.

  "What time was the conversation?" Andre asked. "We can pull it out of the recordings."

  Steele shook his head. "You don't need to."

  Syd opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off. "I know who they've hired."

  "This is great!" she said, her eyes filled with joy.

  Funny, he didn't feel that way. He was actually sick to his stomach.

  Unaware of his turmoil, Syd continued making plans. "All we have to do now is keep an eye on this guy, and when the time comes, we arrest him."

  "It's not that simple, Syd," Steele said, his throat tight.

  "Of course it is."

  "No, it's not."

  Nonplussed, she frowned at him.

  "Did you ever study Russian history in school?" he asked her.

  "Of course."

  "Do you remember what the name Stalin means?"

  Her frown deepened. "Why is that important?"

  "It means 'steel,' " Carlos said.

  Steele nodded slowly. "Yeah. That contractor on the phone...he's my father."

  Sixteen

  S yd felt her jaw drop as Steele headed for the door and left the
van. She glanced to Carlos, who whistled low.

  "Man, that's harsh," he said quietly.

  Andre nodded. He looked up at Syd. "I think we should replace Steele. I don't see how he can complete the mission when he's this emotionally involved."

  She agreed. Emotions and their kind of work had no place together. In fact, to tangle the two was most often a death sentence.

  Her heart heavy for Steele, she left the van to follow him.

  He was steadily making his way across the lawn, toward the natural science portion of the Smith. She quickened her steps to catch up to him.

  "Josh?" she said, pulling him to a stop. "You okay?"

  A tic started in his jaw as he stood there. Instead of looking at her, he was looking at the museum. "You know, my dad brought me here when I was thirteen. All I wanted was to look at the dinosaur bones, but he dragged me up the hill to the Vietnam War memorial and showed me the name of his older brother, who'd died over there."

  He looked at her, and those dark eyes scorched her with their pain. "He made me read every single name on that wall and told me that God, country, and duty were all that mattered in life. You do your duty, and you never betray your honor. To break that code dishonors every name on the monument, and it spits in their faces and on their memories. God damn it, Syd, how could he do this now? How could that man become a contract killer?"

  Syd ached for him as she pulled him into her arms and held him. "Maybe it wasn't him."

  His arms held her close as he lay his head on her shoulder. "I know the sound of his voice, Syd. Even when it's distorted. He's my father. It was him. Those were his words. It was his cadence and method. He always loved Stalin and the man's methods. If he had to choose a code name, that would be it."

  She squeezed him tight, wanting to ease the agony she heard in his voice. But she didn't know how. Honestly, she didn't think anything could ever ease the pain of this moment. Dear Lord, how would she feel if she were in his shoes?

  "Don't worry, Josh. It's over for you. We'll take it from here."

  He shook his head as he pulled back to stare down at her. "No. God. Country. Duty. I signed on for this, and I will see it through."

  "But--"

  "Not buts, Syd. You can't arrest him until he makes his move on the president."

  "You can tell us how to catch him."

  "No," he said emphatically. "I want to see this through."

  "Are you sure?"

  He nodded. "Don't worry. I'm your ace in the hole. There's no one on this planet who knows that man better than me. I know every tactic, every move."

  She supposed he did. And that broke her heart. But in that moment, she gained a respect for him unlike anything she'd ever had for any other person.