"How can you help me?"
She ignored the humor underlining his question. "You want to know about the murder. I have access to whatever information the NOPD has and I have a good friend in the DEA, I'll share what I find out on the Drake death if you'll help with Marseaux."
"You should leave this case alone."
"We've already had this discussion and you lost it. So do we have a deal?" she asked.
He muttered something that rang of irritation, "I'll let you know, I'm leaving. If you get up before I close the door, I'll lock you in the room."
"You can't do that."
"You sure about that?"
She had no answer.
He hesitated. "One more question?"
"What?" she snapped. If he wanted a sweeter tone he should have shown up with coffee.
"What were you dreaming about when you woke up?"
Her face was on fire. She jerked the sheets up over her gown in a purely feminine reaction.
The door opened and closed so fast she was stunned for a second, then jumped up and ran to open it. The door gave about two inches, then stopped. She could see a string between the door and an umbrella that was crossways of the opening.
Terri yanked once more out of frustration, then returned to her bed to flip on the lamp, which did not turn on. No surprise there. This guy took no chances with exposing his face. She felt for the nightstand and knocked something that bounced on the floor She had a sick feeling was her cell phone. When she found the drawer and opened it, she removed the flashlight she always kept there.
Her cell phone was on the floor with another chip in the plastic. She shined the light on the nightstand, where she found the bulb he'd unscrewed from the lamp and a pair of scissors he'd thoughtfully left behind.
Bastard.
She should be stomping mad, but their relationshipif you call it thatwas so bizarre she just sighed, cut the string to open the door, and headed for the shower.
* * *
"I see no reason for concern just yet," Fra Bacchus argued I again, tired of this phone conversation. He leaned an elbow against his desk, supporting his head with that hand. "We will retrieve the vials this week."
"I'm hearing conflicting reports from your area." Fra Diablo spoke with the authority allowed the superior fra of the twelve reigning fratelli of North and South America.
"Since I'm the only person who should be reporting from this area, I feel it only fair I'm given the source of this conflicting information."
Fra Diablo paused for a few seconds. "Just remember that you will be held accountable for everything in your area. That includes the actions of any discipuls."
Bacchus didn't care one bit for Fra Diablo's sharp tone nor the insinuated threat. "I never forget my responsibilities nor has my loyalty to the fratelli ever wavered." He lowered his tone. "So I would humbly remind you of our oath to each other, which includes uncompromising support. Do I have it or not?"
"Of course you do. I am only saying to make sure your discipuls do not disappoint you… or me. Hold on." He spoke muffled words away from the receiver, then said, "I have another call waiting I have to take. We'll speak more later."
"Go in peace." Bacchus hung up the phone and slapped the desk. Once this operation was completed, successfully, he intended to call a meeting to discuss Vestavia. Bacchus would bet serious money that disrespectful miscreant was behind this dissention.
A tap at the door reminded him he had a meeting. "Come in, child."
Linette opened the door and announced, "Your general is here." She stepped aside to allow Duff to enter his chamber.
Here was a soldier completely faithful to the fratelli. Bacchus was tempted to put Duff on Vestavia's tail, but not even a fra could be absolved of authorizing a fratelli soldier to commit surveillance on a high-ranking member.
Not without proof.
"I haven't found the Drake body and Brady is turning into a bigger pain in the ass by the minute." Duff dropped into the chair facing Bacchus, but his gaze wandered away.
Bacchus should reprimand Duff for his language, but he allowed this general more latitude since his passion for their cause fueled the crude words. "No one could have anticipated the body being stolen."
Duff brightened at the reprieve. "Not even Brady. He's still hunting for the body, too. I don't think he knows whose bullet is in the corpses, another point in our favor."
"Let's hope he doesn't. Keep an eye on Brady, even if it means having to work alongside the cur."
The disgusted sound that came from Duff's throat would have appalled the other fratelli. Bacchus shared his sentiment about the irritating DEA agent. "We all have the occasional undesirable work. Do whatever it takes to stay on top of him and Marseaux. Some may disagree, but I believe Brady is a danger to our order and the master plan."
"I won't let you down." Duff shuffled uncomfortably in the leather chair. "Need to ask you about something else."
"What?"
"That Mitchell woman, who should have died three months ago, is getting in the way. She's the reason the NOPD put four men guarding the container after I was there. Four men they can't afford with short staff I figure they'll cut back to one soon, but if Mitchell interferes again I may have to… deal with her."
Bacchus quelled his first reaction, which was disgust. Duff harbored a sickness when it came to women, blondes in particular. Females as a rule needed guidance and discipline to reach Linette's level of expertise in serving, but this general of the Fratelli de il Sovrano took the punitive action a step too far.
If any of the other eleven fratelli caught wind… Bacchus wouldn't be able to protect him, but Duff hid the evidence well "Tell me you have not committed the sin of indulging the flesh."
"Of course not. I gave you my word not to touch any woman while on this operation, and I haven't."
Bacchus admired the way Duff's gaze never wavered during the blatant lie, but this was not the time to chastise him. He was the only general Bacchus could depend upon to protect him and the order. Fed by a steady diet of unrest across the continents, the fratelli di Sovrano had risen fierce and strong as a newborn phoenix to silently become the multinational fist needed to rule. Young visionaries were drafted into the order, but those whelps required the experience of the equally brilliant fratelli for guidance.
As one of the twelve ruling this continent, Bacchus possessed the ability to employ a certain amount of autonomy on decisions such as now with handling the Mitchell woman.
Allowing Duff to deal with her might be in everyone's best interest, Bacchus needed his general's undivided attention. Worded carefully, Bacchus could insinuate permission for Duff to indulge his nasty pleasure without specifically endorsing the action.
"It is your responsibility to complete this assignment without drawing attention to yourself or the order," Bacchus instructed carefully. "Remember the rules when executing each step of our plan. You have the authority to handle the Mitchell woman if she steps in the way again. Use your best judgment."
Bacchus mentally patted himself on the back for that brilliant piece of direction, which could be construed several ways. He hadn't specifically reminded Duff of the first rule, no unnecessary deaths. He'd leave the choice up to Duff when the time came to deal with the Mitchell woman.
Duff frowned for a moment, then his face brightened. "Don't worry. I know exactly what to do with Mitchell."
* * *
Terri picked up her pace to reach the Acme Oyster House and silently cursed over the ache in her thigh.
But she'd rather do jumping jacks on her bad leg than face Carlos Delgado, the BAD agent Joe had put in charge of this op. Silly to be worried. She hadn't really done anything wrong, but with every step closer to facing him, her conscience taunted her that she'd screwed up last night. Which wasn't a fair judgment at all.
How could she be blamed for this Drake phantom catching her in a towel?
A phantom who drove her pulse out of sight with one kiss.
No harm, no foul. Right?
He shouldn't have done that.
Okay, she shouldn't have allowed him to. Admit the truth. Deep in her psyche she'd justified letting him kiss her with the simple reason that no one would know.
Under the bright glare of daylight she suffered an attack of guilt at every stray glance her way, as if the world knew she'd made a mistake.
Get a grip or Carlos would see through any professional façade she erected for this discussion. She only had to explain in professional terms how she'd escaped a shooter and describe what she'd found in the shipping container.
The key would be not letting eagle-eyed Carlos see how her mystery man had breached her emotional defense.
Terri reached the glass entrance door as it magically swung into the restaurant, followed by a cheerful woman in a black T-shirt and jeans who greeted her. She pointed out the table where a male guest waited for a Ms. Mitchell.
Terri didn't need directions. All she had to do was search for a chair in a corner facing the entire room. Carlos had serious paranoia issues, but it was warranted from what she'd gleaned around BAD. Rumor was some very dangerous people might want to see him dead.
She gritted her teeth to walk without any limp and headed for the table.
Carlos slouched in the chair with a confidence reserved for a man who had no doubt about his prowess with women. He sat upright as she approached. Terri wished he'd remained at ease.
The planes in his face sharpened with the dark gaze beneath a lock of black hair cut at sharp angles. Just as non-conforming as the rest of him.
He reached over and moved a chair out for her. "Want something to drink.?"
"I'll take a Coke."
When the young woman waiting on them had taken their orders and left, Terri jumped in. "So how mad is Joe?"
"You should worry more about Tee than Joe. She'll cut you in half without giving it a second thought, whereas Joe actually has a conscience."
Terri nibbled on her lip, then stopped. She'd signed on with this bunch so that she could find the snake who had screwed her. BAD didn't operate like any other agency she'd ever run across, sidestepping politics and red tape with equal skill. One of the many things that had held great appeal for her after trudging through layers of bureaucracy in the DEA.
But she had to keep in mind that the BAD agents she'd met generally lived up to the acronym. Having no criminal history put her in the minority.
"I can do this job, Carlos."
He tapped his fingers in a rhythmic wave to some silent melody or thought, then sighed. "That's what Joe and Tee think is your biggest flaw as an operative."
She managed not to cringe over the criticism. "What?"
"Trying so hard to convince everyone that you're capable of doing the job." Carlos sat forward. Warm brown eyes took in more than she wanted to share. "If they hadn't thought you were capable, you'd have never gotten an offer or been brought inside this program. Stop wasting your energy and brainpower on something you don't have to prove. They believe in you and I believe in you, but the next time I say you need backup, don't buck me on using a partner."
Terri accepted the mixed blessing and reprimand. Nice to know Carlos, Joe, and Tee had faith in her, but she still hesitated to put another agent in danger by working with her.
Carlos watched her with an assessing gaze, clearly waiting for an acceptable reply.
"I hear you. It's hard not to second-guess myself, considering my history with a partner, but I admit I could have used one last night." There. That hadn't been too difficult.
He nodded, studying her for a couple extra seconds. Would he believe what she said or recognized it as an attempt to pacify him?
"Made any contacts yet?" He leaned back again.
Nervous hairs danced along Terri's arms at a question she'd been dreading worse than a pop quiz back in high school. Her position in the field depended on her ability to network and build underworld relationships. She hadn't found one person willing to talk to her, not after her last contact turned up with his throat cut the day after Conroy died. But neither Carlos nor Joe wanted excuses and both expected results, so she used the only thing she had in hand.
"Yes, I have."
Carlos blinked, surprised.
Her lips curved with a smile a second too soon.
"Really? Who's your new contact?"
Good question. One she couldn't answer. Terri worried the inside of her cheek with her tongue. How would Carlos answer that? She sat up straight, then leaned in. "I swore to him I'd keep his name secret. I'm sure you understand I trust you completely"yeah, right"but I really don't want to risk even breathing his name."
He became very still, staring silently, then his fingers tapped again. "Let's say I understand… for now."
She'd take a reprieve, even if it was temporary.
"What have you got so far?" His sharp gaze flicked right and left, scanning, but she knew he wouldn't miss a word.
"Possibly something, but I don't know if or where it fits with our investigation. There was a guy who got to the container ahead of me, but didn't get to the drugs. He'd opened several bundles and wooden crates. Shouldn't he have known the cocaine was packed inside the metal frame around the generator?"
Carlos narrowed his eyes in thought. His thick-lashed gaze slid to hers. "Could you tell what he did take?"
"From everything I could see, nothing. I think I must have walked up the minute he'd gotten inside. He'd scattered some items, figurines and ornate carpenter tools."
"You said that last night. Do you remember anything else?"
"Not really."
Carlos nodded. "So tell me again exactly how you managed to get away?"
The semester she'd spent in psychology class had taught her body language said more than words in a covert situation. She took a breath and lowered her shoulders, her tone a professional recounting. "An unidentified man showed up and pulled me back a hair before the guy inside the container took a shot at my head."
"Who is this guy? What does he want?"
"I don't know who he is, but he knows our target." She used "target" rather than Marseaux's name in a public venue and hesitated to say more about her new contact. Not until she could figure what this mystery guy was up to and how he was tied to the Drake body stolen from the morgue.
That corpse had vanished so fast no one had even fingerprinted it. All they had in terms of an ID was the visual.
And she'd never forget that handsome face on the corpse.
Carlos folded his arms over his chest. He had an Armani face and a back street attitude. A prime example of the strange breed of men she'd met at BAD.
"Why did he help you?"
Thankfully, the waitress showed up just as Carlos asked that question so he'd hopefully attribute Terri's jump of surprise to the interruption. She took her time sipping the cola, searching for the right answer. There wasn't one.
Terri pushed the glass aside and faced him. "I don't have an answer for you on that, but he's my new informant. He showed up at the right minute and saved my butt. I don't think he's working against us, but I'm not sure who he's involved with." That was the best she could do to help BAD and not jeopardize her phantom.
Her phantom. Wrong mind-set, Mitchell.
"We need to get inside the Drake house."
"I already have," she admitted.
"Without a backup?"
She curled her fist, which was out of view in her lap. Don't sound defensive. "Yes, but nothing happened. Someone had been through the house opening drawers."
"Probably DEA."
"Possibly," was all she'd say rather than completely lie to Carlos. She didn't even know why she felt the need to protect the guy she'd met there, but guessed it had to do with him helping her grandmother last night. That and the mixed-up feelings she had for a man who had saved her from getting killed and stolen a kiss in the dark. "I didn't see anything that would help us. Just a house full of memories."
; Sad ones.
"Keep your ears tuned at the precinct. Someone is helping our target." Carlos crossed his arms, his face a mask of contemplation. Jazz music spilling from overhead speakers did little to ease his tense posture. "No one wants to find out it's a man, or woman, in blue on the target's payroll, but we can't ignore an obvious place to look."
She nodded. "I know, and I've been studying the officers to see if anyone fits the pattern, but nothing so far."
"Someone is stalking the target's men and contacts. We need to find this guy they think is Drake. Whoever he is, he's running a scam for some reason and might know something we don't."
Terri held her tongue. She couldn't share anything yet. Not until she had a solid ID on her contact and had gotten a few answers of her own. "I'm on it."
"Were shorthanded down here with most of the BAD agents in India."
"What are they doing there?"
"You heard about the rural town that virus wiped out?"
"Who hasn't? It's all over the news."
Carlos moved his head closer and kept his voice low. "This is the third similar incident in a little over two years. All identical in how the villages were wiped out with no trail of how the virus got there. Joe thinks someone is testing a biological weapon."
"Those poor people." The idea that someone would kill peaceful men, women, and children in so hideous a way was nauseating. The photos and reports had been more than she could take. Terri had stopped watching several days ago. She couldn't look at another child's body covered in patches of mangy skin, split like an overripe melon, cracked and bleeding. Expert reports indicated the victims had first suffocated as their throats swelled, then the virus literally ate its way out of the bodies, then disappeared when exposed to heat from the high temperatures created by fever.
"If Joe is right, I don't understand what the terrorists are doing," Carlos said. "Why do they continue to test it when the results are identical?"
"Maybe they're changing the technique of introducing the virus and keep looking for the most efficient method."
"Maybe."
Phantom in the Night Page 13