“Fuck you, asshole,” Jim suddenly hissed, his facade falling away. “You’re wrong. He’d already put me in charge of his operation in Los Angeles, and I was about to be promoted to oversee the whole fucking state.”
“Not a chance in hell would he put someone like you in a position like that,” Scott barked back with a contemptuous sneer, “but it doesn’t matter. He won’t be promoting anyone. You’ll both be sniveling behind bars.”
“You don’t get it,” Jim exclaimed vehemently. “Conchello has more people under his thumb than there are fucking fans at the Super Bowl. People who matter, people who pull strings. Politicians, top cops, powerful lawyers. Be smart. Climb on board the gravy train. I don’t know who you work for, but I can make it happen. It’s either that, or be sliced into little pieces, and I’ll be there to watch.”
“You’re out of your mind,” Scott shot back. “I have everything I need to send you and Conchello down for a long time, a very long time.”
“You’ll be the one going down, asshole. Six feet down in a wooden box.”
“We’re done,” Scott exclaimed, heading for the door, but stopped and turned around. “I forgot to ask,” he lied, “you sent Elizabeth here with a bag full of money. What was that about?”
“Fucking bitch,” Jim grunted. “That was Conchello’s idea. He likes playing games. All kinds of games. He baits traps and catches people, he stalks, he watches, he does all kinds of shit, and when she got away the night of the raid he ordered me to send her here, then told Dan Miller to hunt her down. It was weird though,” he continued, as if talking to himself, “Conchello liked Elizabeth, and he doesn’t like anyone—except that old housekeeper of his.”
“Did he know Elizabeth and Manny were DEA?”
“If he did, it wasn’t from me.”
“Why didn’t you—”
“Tell him?” Jim interrupted. “You really are an idiot. I have someone else working for Conchello, but you won’t catch him either.”
“What’s your point?”
“If I’d shopped them and he found out, what the fuck do you think would happen? The line I walk is as thin as a piece of thread.”
“Correction, walked,” Scott declared. “I already know about that someone else, and that ship has sailed.”
“I don’t believe you, there’s no way in hell. You’ll meet your maker, asshole. No one outsmarts Conchello, no one,” Jim shouted, then suddenly broke into a grin and lowered his voice. “There’s nothing like having the power of life and death. It’s such a rush.”
“The evil psycho finally speaks.”
“Are you fucking her? I bet you are. Yeah, you’d be her type. What’s she like? Is she a squirmer? A squealer? I bet she’s both.”
Though the desire to land his fist in the middle of Jim’s face blasted through him, Scott turned and walked out the door.
* * *
Jim’s admission had shocked Elizabeth to her core. As Scott walked in the small office, she lifted her eyes from the screen and stared up at him.
“Words fail me,” she stammered. “How could I have been so wrong about him—again?”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Psychopaths are masters of deceit and manipulation. They can mimic emotions in a heartbeat, and know how to read people and play to their weaknesses.”
“How were you able to see through his act?”
“Watching the two of you, I was able to study him. I’ve interrogated many just like him, and I’ve learned how to recognize the signs. When we have a minute, I’ll show you.”
“Uh, Scott, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“You have that amazing, high-tech safehouse on your little island, then this small home here on St. Thomas. They’re so different. What’s the deal? Can you tell me, or is it top secret?”
He grinned. “This small home is only used for interrogations. The safehouse is designed to protect high-value targets. They come in from all over the world.”
“What kind of people?”
“Witnesses needing protection, VIPs under threat, that sort of thing. The house keeps them under wraps and out of danger. Sometimes we’ll have an entire family, that’s why it’s so big.”
“Interesting…” she mumbled, “and about what’s happening now. You have Jim and Dan being sent back to California, and David Clark and Ewen MacDonald working with you against Conchello. Do you think you’ll be taking him in soon?”
“Elizabeth, the operation is in full swing. If things continue to fall into place, the answer is yes. I have a plan, and I’m almost ready to share it with you.”
“I can’t wait to hear about it, but you just said the safehouse on the island is for international guests?”
“Yeah.”
“Holy crap,” she breathed, her eyes widening. “You work for the CIA.”
Chapter 20
Scott narrowed his eyes, then slowly nodded his head.
“Guilty as charged.”
“The CIA, wow, I’m impressed,” Elizabeth exclaimed. “So, are you a spy?”
“I’m a Navy SEAL who now works as an agent for the Central Intelligence Agency.”
“That’s really hot,” she breathed, rising to her feet and moving her arms around his neck. “You’re like 007.”
“What’s this obsession you have with James Bond?”
“Are you kidding?” she whispered, pressing herself against him. “There’s nothing sexier than a secret agent or a Navy SEAL, and you’re both.”
“And you, Elizabeth McKay, are insatiable. Get your cute butt into that kitchen and finish making lunch,” he ordered, landing a quick slap on her backside. “I want to leave right after Jim is picked up.”
“Where are we going?”
“Back to the safehouse,” he replied as he bustled her from the room. “I’m meeting Jack there.”
“What about David Clark?”
“I need to bring you up to speed about him and some other things. I’ll tell you everything while you’re—dammit.”
“What?”
“Don’t you hear that? There’s a vehicle coming up the drive.”
“I do now, but only vaguely. Do you need extra sharp hearing to be an agent for the CIA?”
“You need to be extra sharp in many areas to be a SEAL,” he said solemnly as they walked into the kitchen. “The van will stop in front of the house. I’ll close the door to the hall. Stay in here and finish making lunch, and don’t come out.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” she quipped with a grin.
“Hey, Elizabeth, this is serious shit.”
“I was just trying to add a little levity.”
“Fun and games are fine, but when something is happening, or about to happen, it’s all business.”
“Yeah, you’re right, sorry.”
“Stay here,” he repeated. “This won’t take long.”
* * *
A short distance away, handcuffed and in the back of a windowless panel van, Dan Miller seethed with fury. His chances of escape had significantly diminished.
He’d been taken from his cell, led into the station foyer, and handed over to a couple of gruff men. He’d been terrified, until one of them said he was being transported back to Southern California to face charges.
Relief had flooded his body.
But shortly after leaving the station, the van drove up a hill.
They weren’t heading to the airport.
He began to worry.
The vehicle slowed, turned down a bumpy road, then abruptly stopped.
He heard the two men leave.
Seconds ticked by.
His anxiety grew…
The only light came from a small window covered by a steel grid between the back of the van and the cab. Making his way to the doors, he searched in the dim light for a way to open them, but hearing approaching voices, he scrambled away.
The doors opened.
He stared in shock.
The two men who had escorted him
out of the station stood on either side of Jim Parker, the DEA boss running Elizabeth McKay and Manny Delgado. Gaping at Jim as he was bundled inside, Dan waited until the doors were closed before speaking.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Dan muttered.
“So, Dan Miller,” Jim said gruffly. “We finally meet. I’m Jim Parker.”
“I know who you are. I make it my business to keep tabs on the head honchos at the DEA,” Dan exclaimed, “but how do you know me?”
“I keep tabs, as you put it,” Jim grunted with a scowl, “on any cops associated with Conchello.”
“You work for him too?”
“No, the Easter Bunny,” Jim snapped.
“I can’t believe it,” Dan said, shaking his head. “Hey, was it you who tipped him off?”
“About what exactly? I tipped him off about many things.”
“That raid, asshole,” Dan retorted, “what else?”
“Okay, okay! Keep your fucking shirt on and your voice down,” Jim growled angrily.
“Well, was it you?”
“Hell, yeah, it was me.”
“Damn, and I thought I was in deep shit. When we get back you’ll be so far down you’ll choke.”
“I’m not leaving this fucking island,” Jim snarled. “There’s no fucking way.”
“Yeah, well, good luck with that.”
“Our best hope is right now, while we’re being transported,” Jim continued, “though having our hands cuffed behind our back will be a serious hindrance.”
“Hah!” Dan spouted, letting out a strange chortle.
“You think that’s funny?”
“Hell, yeah. Get ready to see the impossible.”
Lifting his long arms up behind him, and dramatizing his bizarre talent with a ghoulish expression, he moved them over his head and lowered them in front of his body. Seeing Jim’s face filled with abject horror, Dan couldn’t stop himself laughing out loud.
“That’s… that’s… impossible…” Jim gasped. “How…?”
“It was nothing, I can do all kinds of shit,” Dan declared proudly. “I wanted to be a professional contortionist and escape artist, but it’s impossible to get gigs and the money is crap. You know what else I’m really good at?”
“I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“Picking locks, any kind of locks.”
“Handcuffs?”
“No sweat. All I need is a paper clip or a—”
“Can’t you move your bones to get out of them?” Jim demanded, cutting him off.
“Uh, no, Jim,” Dan said patiently as if speaking to a child, “that’s physically impossible for anyone.”
“It doesn’t matter. Pay attention. This is what we’re going to do.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” Dan said testily as he lifted his hands to his hair. “I was going to say, give me a paper clip or a bobby pin…”
* * *
Sitting at the kitchen table eating spaghetti covered in meat sauce, Elizabeth tried to stay composed. Though Scott had promised to bring her up to speed, the moment he’d walked in and eyed the plate of pasta on the table, he’d dropped into the chair and proceeded to devour it like a man who hadn’t eaten in days.
“Maybe you should stop for a minute and come up for air,” she finally remarked.
“My body needs the carbs,” he replied between mouthfuls, “and this sauce is great. What did you put in it?”
“Just some chili peppers.”
“Man, it’s good. You can cook for me any time, and I don’t say that to just anyone.”
She laughed. “I’m glad it meets with your approval,” she replied, as he scooped up the last mouthful. “Now will you put me out of my misery? You promised to bring me up to date.”
“Yeah, sorry. Interrogations always make me hungry. Okay, so, Operation Justice—”
“Operation Justice?” she repeated, interrupting him.
“Yeah, that’s what I named it.”
“Oh, my gosh, thank you,” she said gratefully, knowing immediately he’d done it for her.
“It felt right.”
“But wasn’t nabbing Conchello already an active case?”
“Yeah, but I don’t name it as an operation until I’m ready to act on the information. Anyway, Operation Justice is coming to a head. You already know Dan and Jim are on their way back to L.A., and their lives will be nothing but courtrooms and jail cells for years.”
“Yes, and it’s fantastic, but what about David Clark?”
“Brace yourself. David is on our side.”
“Are you sure?” she asked skeptically.
“Jim Parker recruited him for Conchello, but David only went along with it to get as much dirt on them as he possibly could. He put himself at great risk.”
“But how do you know he’s telling the truth?”
“He produced a memory card from his shoe.”
“From his shoe?”
“He’d carved a tiny compartment beneath the inside sole.”
“Incredible…”
“Yeah, so smart. We let him use a laptop and he showed us everything he’s compiled. He has an amazing amount of hard evidence, and he’s secreted away all the money he’s been paid.”
“That’s why Jack was okay about going back to the island with him to scout out the security cameras and booby traps,” Elizabeth murmured. “No wonder you’re ready to pull the trigger.”
“David knows them all, and taking down that encampment won’t be an issue now, but the timing will have to be coordinated with Conchello’s arrest.”
Elizabeth took a breath. “Scott… is that really going to happen?”
“Yes, Elizabeth, it’s really going to happen. That’s why we’re going back to the safehouse. Jack and I will be finalizing the details of the operation with our chief.”
“I can’t quite wrap my head around it,” she murmured, a strange sensation rippling through her. “Can I be involved? Please? I need to be, I really do, and I don’t mean making coffee.”
He smiled. “There will be a place for you.”
“Thank God, though I guess I’m not sounding much like a DEA agent right now.”
“That’s because it’s personal.”
“You’re right,” she admitted, feeling a rush of emotion. “I’ve always managed to keep a professional distance, but the way Manny died changed all that.”
“Don’t dwell on it; dwell on the progress we’ve made.”
“You and Jack, you’ve achieved so much.”
“Elizabeth, if you hadn’t come back, we wouldn’t be where we are. We made leaps and bounds because Dan Miller was exposed, and everything snowballed from there.”
“That man is such a freak. He was called Twister at the mansion. I never saw it, but apparently he can do weird things with his body.”
“Like what?”
“I have no idea,” she replied, scrunching her face. “Just the thought of that man doing anything with his body makes me nauseous.”
“I want to check it out,” Scott said thoughtfully, “but let’s clean up these dishes and get moving. We need to get back to the safehouse.”
* * *
As the van wound down the hill, Dan lay on his back, and using all his strength, he kicked the tiny, grid-covered window.
“Hey, stop, stop,” he shouted, quickly straightening up. “This guy in here with me, there’s something wrong with him.”
“Like what?” one of the men called back as the van slowed.
“I think he’s having a heart attack.”
“We’ll take him to the hospital.”
“But his face is all red, and he’s—fuck—help me. Call an ambulance. Do something.”
The vehicle came to a sharp stop, throwing Dan off balance. Quickly recovering, he grinned down at Jim. Though their wrists were free, and the cuffs were in their pockets, Jim was on his back lying on his hands, and Dan had positioned him kneeling over him with his arms behind him.
; The doors opened.
Both agents had their guns drawn, pointed inside the van.
Dan and Jim didn’t move.
“He’s real bad,” Dan bleated, his face crinkling. “I think he might already be dead.”
“Move all the way back,” one of the agents ordered.
“Sure, sure,” Dan muttered as he shuffled away.
He watched the two men closely.
The opportunity would present itself.
He just had to be patient.
The agent who had ordered him back holstered his weapon and climbed inside.
Still Dan waited.
Crouching down, the man placed his fingers against Jim’s neck.
As Jim suddenly punched him in the nose with his closed fist, Dan bolted through the van and hurled his long body against the armed man outside. Though the guard was able to discharge his gun, his arms had been flailing…
* * *
Scott froze.
He’d been putting a plate in the kitchen cupboard when he’d heard two sharp pops.
They had been distant, but unmistakable.
“Was that what I think it was?” Elizabeth asked breathlessly.
A third shot answered her question.
“I’ve gotta go,” he exclaimed, bolting from the room.
“I’m coming.”
“No, stay here,” he ordered, rushing into the office.
“But if it’s Jim he could come back,” she called, running after him. “I don’t want to face him alone.”
Scott paused. “Fuck, you’re right,” he grunted, grabbing a set of keys from the desk drawer and opening a cupboard.
“And I need a weapon,” she continued as he hastily grabbed his gun belt and strapped it on.
Reaching into the cache of guns, he grabbed a 40-caliber handgun, pushed in a full magazine, and handed it to her with a holster.
“You can put that on in the car,” he declared, racing from the room and leading her out a back door to a waiting Jeep.
“Buckle up tight,” he ordered, climbing behind the wheel as she settled into the passenger seat. “I’ll be taking a short cut.”
Her Very Strict Captain Page 16