“When’d you get a pilot’s license?” Carlos asked.
Jeremy lifted his diver wristwatch into view and shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe an hour ago, depending on which time zone we’re in right now.” He flashed a bright grin.
Oh, hell, no. Carlos rubbed his forehead where a throb had started, then glared at Jake.
“I said you didn’t want to know,” Jake reminded him.
“I’ll get Gabrielle and you get ready to fly us out of here as fast as you can,” Carlos told Jake, then turned to Jeremy. “And you, don’t push a button or touch a knob, not even in the bathroom.”
Jeremy raised his hands in surrender. “I’m just here for decoration.” He turned around and headed for the sofa facing two cushy-looking side chairs.
Carlos stopped him with, “I don’t think so. We need someone to carry bags for Miss Saxe.”
“Your arm broke?” Jeremy spouted off.
“No, mine’s just fine. Yours may end up snapped if you don’t get over here and act like someone employed by a woman who is heir to a fortune.”
Jeremy scowled, but got to his feet and stormed past Carlos, who started to jerk him back inside to clarify his role.
But the minute Jeremy’s feet hit the steps going down, the guy turned like a chameleon, marching ahead of Carlos with military-straight posture. That was saying something since Carlos knew Jeremy had never been near the military and they wouldn’t have taken the surf hound with Jeremy’s prison record.
At the car, Carlos tapped for the driver to open the locks, then he helped Gabrielle to her feet. She took in everything going on in silence.
Jeremy removed the bags from the car and stepped around to face Gabrielle. “Nice to have you back on board, Miss Saxe.”
“Merci. Nice to meet you, too.” She glanced at Carlos, but kept up the charade while he closed the trunk.
When Carlos stepped back around the limousine, Jeremy was saying, “I’m at your service, day…or night.”
The minute the limo pulled away, Carlos leaned close and said, “Don’t even think about acting on what I see in your eyes if you want to return home with all your parts in working order.” Then Carlos told Gabrielle, “This is Jeremy, one of our people who you will not see again after we land.”
“Nice to meet you, Gabrielle.” Jeremy smirked and carried the bags to the airplane.
Gabrielle laughed. “He’s sweet.”
“No, he’s not sweet.” Carlos wanted to wring his neck. “Jeremy is just as dangerous as every other operative in this group, maybe more so since we never know what he’s going to do. Joe must have been desperate for a copilot to send him.”
“So he’s a pilot, too?”
The admiration in her voice hiked Carlos’s irritation another notch. “No, he’s not a pilot. Jeremy is as much use in that cockpit as a blow-up doll. Actually, that’s not fair since the blow-up doll could be used as an air bag.”
At the top of the steps, Jake had the door to the cockpit open. Carlos introduced Gabrielle to Jake, saying, “He’s the only real pilot on board.”
“So you don’t need a copilot?” Gabrielle sounded worried.
“No way.”
Her shoulders relaxed.
“I’ve got autopilot for when I need to grab some shut-eye.”
“What?” She stabbed that question at Carlos.
“Much as I hate to admit it in front of him since we barely have room for his ego in the cockpit as it is, he’s the one pilot you want flying in any situation.”
Jake gave her a Southern-fried grin. “Yes, ma’am. Don’t worry about a thing. We’ll be landing in Milano in time for lunch.”
Carlos led her into the cabin, considering how Interpol’s international APB had thrown a new kink into the plans. BAD played by their own rules, and Interpol had no idea whom they were dealing with.
He sent a silent thanks to Joe for the quick plan he’d created to shield Gabrielle’s identity for now, but that wouldn’t last.
VESTAVIA PACED THE marble floor of the hallway between the kitchen and living room of his Miami condominium. At four in the morning this was a damn lonely place without Josie.
His cell phone rang. Vestavia glared at the sound, anticipating a call from that arrogant prick in South America. He had to find Mirage before Durand did. But when he checked the caller ID, it was his contact at the École d’Ascension, telling him that Saxe woman had finished converting their computer programs to the new system.
“She finished the software conversion this quickly?” Vestavia was both glad and suspicious.
“Oui. She and her bodyguard just left.”
“Where are they headed?”
“To Carcassonne airport, but they aren’t taking a commercial flight as we’d assumed since she arrived that way. We received a call that her private jet had just been released from repairs and was waiting on them at the airport.”
“I want their destination,” Vestavia demanded.
“Not a problem. I have a cousin who is an air traffic controller. They are going to Milano, but I have no idea what their final destination will be.”
“That’s good enough,” Vestavia assured him, then considered the next move. “Your IT team is satisfied they understand the program and don’t need her again?”
“Absolutely. She left them an online instructional guide to troubleshoot anything that came up and default plans for if they had to reinstall any part.”
“Okay, I can live with that.”
A sound of relief hushed through the lines. “I’m so glad. I was worried her access to the computers presented a problem.”
“No. Carry on and keep me informed, Pierre.”
“Of course, Fra.”
Vestavia closed his cell phone on the way to the silver leather sofa in his living room. He sat down heavily and flipped open the file on his glass coffee table. Everything on Gabrielle Saxe anyone wanted to know was in there, including the one person who could tidy up for him.
He hadn’t survived this long by being careless. Allowing someone with her level of computer expertise access to the school records could be harmless, or not. He had too much depending on the successful movement of those teens to risk allowing one computer geek to walk around free who might have access to those files.
The school was only one ripe hunting ground in hundreds they’d found for D-ange-ruese connections, but Vestavia hated to lose a valuable resource.
If the Saxe woman could program all that, she could infiltrate the program for someone else, voluntarily or involuntarily. He couldn’t risk that.
Sifting through the file on the Saxe woman, he stopped at the page with a list of every significant person she’d associated with since entering and leaving the school. Saxe had become a recluse after she’d almost died from two suspicious accidents. The authorities would have figured out who was behind the accidents if she’d reported them, but she’d never said a word in complaint or about the life insurance policies.
Given a chance, her ex-husband would finish the job.
Vestavia smiled. He was all about giving a person a chance.
“SO DOES LINETTE’S family own much property?” Carlos split his attention between Gabrielle’s nervousness and guiding their rental car along the winding roads that had started to climb once they left Bergamo. She’d been so silent, speaking only to give directions.
“They have a hilltop home and land that covers probably a thousand acres.” Gabrielle stared out the window where the scenery had changed over the past couple miles from a lush valley to rocky outcroppings. “Most people do not own so much land, but this estate has been in her father’s family since the sixteenth century.”
Gabrielle fiddled with the small gold locket that appeared as old as her friend’s family home. She had laughed off her worry about being recognized by anyone as some misplaced vanity.
He thought she’d brought up a valid concern, one he’d passed on to Rae by cell phone while Gabrielle had freshened up in a re
staurant ladies’ room after landing. Now he had more to worry about than Gabrielle trying to take flight.
Carlos had kept a close eye on her the whole trip, but he felt pretty certain she wouldn’t stray far from him now that he knew her sister Babette was at the school. Otherwise, Gabrielle would try to escape the first chance she had. He’d do the same in her shoes, but she wouldn’t risk BAD using her sister as leverage.
What Gabrielle didn’t know was that Carlos hadn’t said a word about Babette to anyone at BAD.
“Sure you remember how to get there?” he joked. “We haven’t seen another car since that last turn twenty minutes ago.”
“That’s because we’ve been on Tassone property most of that time.” Gabrielle studied the landscape for a moment, then said, “Linette used to tell me how isolated she felt up there. She was fairly athletic, good at running and climbing since that was the only way she could meet other children to play games with.”
“She must have been lonely to make the trek up and down these hills,” Carlos muttered. “What about the Tynte home? Has it been owned by one family just as long?”
The smile left Gabrielle’s eyes first. “Yes, my mother was the last Tynte heir before me.”
Was. He let her ride quietly for a few minutes, then asked, “What happened to your mother?”
“She was killed…in an accident. I was eleven.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to open a wound.” He’d lost his biological mother the day he was born even though she really didn’t die for another ten years, so Carlos couldn’t relate to Gabrielle’s loss of a mother.
If anything happened to his aunt Maria, yes.
“No, it’s fine,” Gabrielle said. “I just don’t think on it often.”
When she didn’t say more, he went for a change in subject to something he felt she could expound on. “You seem to have solid resources in South America.” He glanced over when her fingers curled tight. “I’m not asking for your contacts, Gabrielle. I’d just like to hear what else you know about the Anguis. Anything you could tell me about Durand and his men could be helpful on this mission.”
Her hand relaxed and she chewed on one corner of her lip. “I hate to say this in a way that sounds flattering, but Durand’s really good at what he does. He expects one hundred percent loyalty from his people.”
“You know what any of his men look like?” The road he followed climbed through stunning vistas. Wide blue sky backdropped each outer curve of switchbacks up the mountain.
“Durand marks his men.”
“How?” Carlos gripped the steering wheel tightly.
“With a tattoo…on their chest.”
His heartbeat thumped faster. “What kind of tattoo?”
“I don’t know, just that it’s on their chest. My contacts either don’t know or are afraid to tell me that much.”
He exhaled slowly, relieved to finally have that answer. “Lots of men have tattoos on their chest…even me.”
“Really? What does yours look like?”
“Snake and dagger. Had it done when I was really young,” he said dismissively. “What made you research the Anguis the first time?”
“Nothing in particular.”
She’d answered too quickly. Gabrielle was hiding something, but pushing her more right now would be a bad tactical move that might make her cautious about discussing more with him.
He slowed as they approached two short walls on each side of a drive made of yellow and white rocks. Naked vines spiderwebbed across the barriers. Weeds grew thick in front of the walls and sprouted between the stones of the drive.
“That’s the formal entrance to the property.” Her eyes lit with anticipation, then dimmed. “Linette said her father was anal about keeping the landscape perfect to the point she had to spend her Saturdays doing gardening.”
Carlos drove through the entrance, proceeding slowly as Gabrielle pointed out the trees lining the drive as umbrella pines. The impressive three-story structure with pale gray stone walls and a terra-cotta roof had been tucked into the hillside for so many years the house appeared to be part of the terrain. The afternoon sun cast deep shadows beneath an arched walkway hugging one side of the house.
But again, the lack of maintenance in weathered shutters and rusting wrought iron along the gabled windows and the balconies didn’t fit with Gabrielle’s recollection of Linette’s anal father.
Gabrielle had fallen silent again.
Carlos parked next to a tiered fountain of cherubs pouring water from one vase to another, but no water flowed through this fountain. Invasive vines crept along the statue. He circled the car and helped Gabrielle out.
When they reached the top of the decaying stone steps, he lifted the heavy, unpolished doorknocker shaped as a lion’s head and banged three times.
Gabrielle told herself to focus on the mission and not the disturbing condition of the property. But worry over Linette’s father kept cramping her thoughts.
The door opened to a short dumpling of a woman with more gray than black hair and a plump face that had aged well for being around sixty. “Bon giorno. Come stai?”
“Parla inglese?” Gabrielle asked, requesting English to be spoken.
“Sí. I know pretty good English.”
“You are?” Gabrielle prompted.
“Housekeeper.”
That couldn’t be right, but Gabrielle moved ahead. “I’m looking for the Tassone family.”
“Signore Tassone and his wife traveling.”
“Really? Where did they go? I’d like to contact them.” Gabrielle tried to imagine Linette’s parents spending a nickel to travel far since her friend had often bemoaned her father’s overly frugal attitude.
“They cruise Mediterranean. Signore Tassone gave strict orders. No bother him.”
“Do you know when they’ll return?” Gabrielle glanced past the woman, but saw little in the dark room behind the half-open door.
“Who know?” The housekeeper kept her gaze averted and shrugged. “Sometimes few weeks, sometimes few months. Just left this week.”
Carlos took Gabrielle’s arm. “Okay, we better hit the road if we want to get back to the airport in time for that flight.”
“Yes, let’s go. Grazie,” Gabrielle told the woman, then turned to leave.
“Signora? What your name?”
Gabrielle stopped, and as she turned to answer the woman, Carlos grabbed her hand and squeezed. She understood his message not to share her name.
“My mama was Madame Gervais. She met Signora Tassone on a cruise and asked me to stop by when I came to Milano, but Mama died six months ago. I just wanted to tell the signora hello and that Mama enjoyed their conversations. Grazie. Bon giorno.”
Carlos had the car in gear and was driving away from the house when he said, “So what’s going on?”
“Linette’s father was very tight with the family purse. Her mother rarely came to visit Linette because she got motion sick when she rode in cars for a long time, airsick on airplanes, and was too afraid of the water to cruise. I don’t know who that woman was at the house, but she does not know the Tassone family.”
Carlos slowed as they passed through the entrance and started back down the drive that would take over a half hour to get off the mountain. He didn’t like this one way up and one way down, but that might just be a case of paranoia over having Gabrielle with him and no backup nearby.
“Linette’s father would never have given up that home,” Gabrielle added, wringing her hands together, then stopped and looked up at Carlos. “Linette said once when she asked her father if they could move to a new house, he told her the only way he was leaving his home was in a wooden box. Do you think they are dead?” she whispered.
“I don’t know.” He drove on, creeping slowly around a tight turn that leveled out for a kilometer.
She took in the tense muscles in his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, but I’ll feel better once we reach the main roads. Ra
e and Korbin should have a place scouted out for us to stay tonight in Milano. We’ll give Gotthard this information and see what he can track down.”
Gabrielle sat back and thought about Linette’s parents, searching for a logical reason they would have changed so much.
Carlos maneuvered the car through a tight right-hand turn around a wall of rock and bushes hanging close to the road that blocked any view through the curve. On the other side was another long stretch of road with dips in the hills bordering the right side and a sheer drop-off for several hundred feet down the left.
A compact, red Italian sports car had spun out, blocking the road farther down. The driver’s door was wide-open and a man slumped over the wheel.
Slowing down, Carlos parked four car lengths away.
“It looks like the driver is hurt.” Gabrielle started to reach for the door handle.
“Don’t get out of the car.” Carlos opened his door and stepped out.
“Give me your cell phone. We need an ambulance.” Gabrielle extended an open palm to him for the phone.
She realized why he hesitated. If he left her the phone and walked away, she could call someone to help her escape. To hand over his phone would show a trust in her she doubted this man allowed any person.
He didn’t move to lift the phone from the clip on his belt.
Gabrielle lowered her hand, hurt more than she wanted to admit by his lack of faith.
“Here.” Carlos snatched up the phone and keyed a button, then flipped it to her. She caught the phone in midair, shocked and heartened by the trust he’d shown her.
“It’s ready to dial,” he said, and walked away.
She pressed the emergency number that went through, but the minute the operator answered she lost the call. Gabrielle checked the connection. No cell tower.
How could she lose a tower without moving?
One of the great mysteries of cell phones.
She grumbled and reached around for her laptop out of habit before she got out of the car. She could use her blouse to make a bandage since it was warm enough to just wear the silk top she had on with her linen pants.
When she glanced ahead again, Carlos was almost to the car.
Whispered Lies Page 28