“God’s nightgown! What now?”
“We’ve got a mayday on the third copter. It’s gone down.”
“Mother fucking son of a bitch!” Rick swore. He darted into the back room. Adam and Anna followed and found him pacing before the violent images on the monitor screens. “This is my shit-hitting-the-fan moment!”
“A rescue team is on the way. Unfortunately, this blows our covert op.”
Rick rubbed his forehead. “Well, if we’re blown anyway, let’s decide how we’re going to handle Veronique now.”
Anna narrowed her eyes. “Who is Veronique?”
Adam saw her expression and his guffaws burst the tension. “No one you need to worry about.”
Rick keyed some strokes on the computer and brought up the camera in Veronique’s suite at the Lust for Life Resort. “This,” he gestured, “is Veronique. And she is pissed. I don’t even need the sound track to know that.”
They watched as the quintessentially perfect brunette ranted at several men standing haplessly before her. Item after item hit the mirrors in her suite, racking up centuries of bad luck.
“Emm. She does look upset.” Adam agreed. “The trouble is, she’s on alert now. She’ll never leave that damn suite.”
“Well, not unless she’s spooked enough to want to leave the country.”
Anna swirled her drink and watched the strategists at work. Rick glanced her way. “You’ve gotta be worn out, Cupcake, and you don’t need to listen to this. Why don’t you take the third bedroom…” He nodded toward its location. “Get settled, sleep if you can, I’ll come and say goodbye before I leave.”
“Like the last time?”
“I need you to go. Now, please.” It was his Dom voice. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t give him a hard time later.
* * * *
Anna found the lavish bedroom more than a pleasant place to sleep. The view off the balcony enticed her with swaying palm trees, ocean breezes, and an endless parade of revelers. The leather guest-services book next to the phone invited her not only to dine in her suite, but to sample the wines and liquors from their cellars. It urged her to enjoy a shopping spree from the hotel’s smart designer boutiques and take advantage of their spa amenities. While Player sat obediently on the balcony, Anna made some decisions. She picked up the telephone to dial room service.
“Good evening. This is Mr. Hiatt’s suite. I’d like your largest Chateaubriand, rare, with a baked potato, a salad with onions, a bottle of your best Merlot, a bottle of Grand Marnier, and an entire mango and coconut flan.” She paused, then asked. “Do you serve garlic bread? You do? Can you make it with extra garlic and lots of butter? Wonderful!” Anna’s gaze went back to her wallet and she shook her head at her reflection in the mirror. “Just charge it to the room, please!”
Anna kicked off her ballet flats with a vicious toss, watching them fly across the room. She rolled her carryon to the closet. Send me off to my room like a child! I’ll eat and drink you right out of the castle! Anna opened the small suitcase and realized how huge the closet was. It dwarfed her paltry wardrobe. I’ll bet Veronique travels with trunks and trunks of shoes alone!
Anna set her toiletries on the long granite vanity and thought about the raven-haired beauty she saw on the monitor. Even in grainy black and white, she was probably the most beautiful woman Anna had ever seen! She vaguely remembered Veronique’s name mentioned by Rick when he was talking to that President. President of what? She couldn’t remember the context, but in any context, there was absolutely no way she would ever be able to compete with that woman!
She turned and gasped at the jetted tub. It’s the size of a small pool! I could teach Player to swim! Anna resisted the urge to draw a bath in favor of exploring the television channels while she waited for dinner to arrive. She wondered if she could tip the concierge to walk Player? She was still a little unnerved by the robbery. The big dog obviously hadn’t deterred the thief, so she’d just as soon not take him out by herself. Anna stretched out on the chaise and clicked on the television. Everything around her was unnervingly elegant. Rick wants elegant? I can be as elegant as the next girl!
She fell asleep, and when she opened her eyes, she saw Rick standing behind the gracefully draped room service cart, a serving towel over his arm. His expression confused her until she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Oh, great! Now that’s an elegant look! Her hair was matted in an unbecoming lump, her makeup resembled a panda, and drool pooled at the corner of her mouth. Jet lag did not an elegant lady make. She sat up in a rush, hurriedly wiping at the circles under her eyes and finger combing the mat in her hair.
“Room service, Madam.” Rick bowed. “Planning a party?” Anna bit back a grin as he set the table and she tried to make herself presentable. Rick opened the wine and removed the cover from her entrée. He bent within inches of the hefty piece of meat, inhaled and narrowed his eyes at the rare blood. “Who’s the vampire in this room?”
“I like my meat like I like my men, a little bloody.” Omg! I can’t believe I just said that! “Um…most of that meat is for Player.”
He raised an amused brow. “Well, that’s nice of you. I’ll bet he doesn’t get that much Chateaubriand. I’d go easy on the wine on top of jet lag if I were you. We can’t have you heaving over the balcony like a girl-gone-wild at Mardi Gras.”
“I’ve never been to Mardi Gras,” Anna confessed wistfully.
“I can change that.” He grinned charmingly.
Who could resist that grin?
“We’ll put it on our list. Right now, I have to slide out for a while.”
“Are you coming back?” Sudden tears erupted.
“I aim to.” Rick held out his arms. “I’ve got a lot to come back for.”
Anna leapt into his arms and embraced him fiercely. “Please come back to me.” She dotted anxious kisses over his face.
“Don’t worry, Cupcake, I’ve ridden out to many battles. I’ve always returned.”
“Sometime you’ll have to tell me about that.”
“Whenever you want.” He glanced around the room. “Is this room okay? Seems like you found the guest-services book easily enough. Make yourself at home, order whatever you want.”
Adam’s footsteps echoed on the polished wood floors of the living room. “Rick, we’ve got to bug out. Now.”
Rick sheepishly repeated the mime from his video message. Then, at vamp speed, he was gone and she was alone with the closed door reverberating in the quiet space.
“What the hell does that mean?” she yelled at the door.
* * * *
Rick and Adam strategized over what to do about Veronique as they drove back to the private airfield. They could see the fire raging in the distance. Colombian Naval helicopters equipped with enormous buckets ferried ocean water to drop on the flames.
“I hope our rescue was successful.” Rick sighed. “That’s an inferno. With luck, it didn’t get close to any residents.”
“Yeah, the National Police are gonna be pissed. You know they’ll be all over that downed copter looking for the registration.”
“I know,” Rick said with a sly smirk. “Wouldn’t it be terrible if was registered to Veronique?”
Adam took his gaze off the road for a moment to stare. “What are you thinking, Rick?”
“How’s your Spanish?”
“As it happens, I have a talent for languages.”
“That’ll come in handy.”
They pulled into the hangar, and Lieutenant Kulczyk was standing at attention before their vehicle stopped. Rick opened the door and returned his salute. “Your men okay?”
“A couple of minor injuries, Sir. They’ll be fine with a little extra blood.”
“Good.” Rick nodded. “Well, we screwed the pooch on this one, gentleman.”
“Yes, Sir.” Kulczyk looked embarrassed. “It was mechanical failure. We did accomplish the mission, Sir. The factory was leveled.”
Rick looked over at
the rows of packed gear. “What’s their body count?”
Kulczyk nodded. “The vamps working there are dead, along with a handful of civilian drug runners. I think it’s safe to say we’ve broken their back.”
“That’s excellent work, Lieutenant.” Rick acknowledged with a nod. “Now to damage control.”
Adam walked the room’s perimeter scouring for evidence of their presence. “It goes without saying you’ve got to get the remaining copters out of here before the sun comes up. You, your men, and all your gear need to disappear ASAP.”
“Yes, Sir,” Kulczyk agreed. “The remaining copters have already landed in Venezuela. We’re loading the rest of our gear now and we’re wheels up in fifteen, Sir.”
“Before you go, Lieutenant, we need to make some modifications to the registration and flight plans of the choppers,” Rick said.
Kulczyk laughed. “I thought President Koehl told you, Sir?”
Rick shook his head.
“He had every copter, our troop carrier, flight plans, everything, registered under Veronique Moreau’s name, just in case there were questions. He anticipated just such a complication, Sir.”
Adam chuckled.
“That sly old fox.” Rick laughed. “He doesn’t miss a thing.
“Okay, Lieutenant, there’s one more operation we need your assistance with. Get on your secure satellite phone and find us your best hacker and forger. Mr. Lachlan here is about to become a member of the Colombian National Police.” The Lieutenant pulled a tablet from his pack and began a search. Rick continued, “We need a work history on him as Colonel Raul Martinez—commendations, performance reports, the whole show, right down to fingerprints and pictures. Veronique is bound to have him checked out thoroughly.”
“Yes, Sir, I’m sure we can create that.”
“Do any of your men speak Spanish?”
“Well, Sir, as it happens, two are actually from Spain originally. Garcia is from Cuba, and I studied languages at the Academy.”
“Perfect.” Rick rubbed his hands together. “You’re all recruited to the National Police. We need police gear—uniforms, badges, weapons, a couple of their vehicles, the works. Can we count on you for all that?”
“Yes, Sir, once the info on “Colonel Martinez” is in their computers, everything should be easy enough to request.”
Rick grinned. “Here’s the hard part. We need it in two hours at most. You know it won’t take the Colombians long to figure where Veronique is. We have to get to her before the real police show up.”
Adam turned to him. “What about you? Are you going to be the puppet master, pulling the strings from above?”
Rick put his hand over his heart. “You wound me, old man. When have you ever seen me duck a good fight?” He punched playfully at his friend. “I need a news crew.”
“A what?”
“A news crew. Colombia must have the equivalent of Celebrity Tonight or TMI? Let’s get ’em out of bed. I’m about to buy the Lust for Life Resort in the splashiest possible way.” Adam and Kulczyk shook their heads. Rick gestured to Adam. “By the time you’re done scaring the fuck out of Veronique, she’ll know I’m virtually next door. If she doesn’t reach out to me, I’ll prod her.” He stared into the distance, thinking. “Where can we get a gold limo?”
* * * *
As it turned out, rousting the computer hackers out of bed in Geneva was harder than rousting a film production company in Barranquilla. Disgraceful. After all, it was seven in the morning in Geneva. Still, the hackers did a great job putting together an authentic looking resume for Adam and his squad. The film producers couldn’t jump fast enough to supply police uniforms and weaponry. A quick trip to the police motor pool and they were set.
* * * *
Rick watched the drama unfold in Veronique’s suite from his tablet. The jet circled the city, appearing as if he was newly arriving. He had press greeting him and falling in line behind his limo all the way to the resort. They craved splashy spectacles passing as news. For now, Rick ate up Veronique’s attempts to evade speaking with Adam.
* * * *
Rick sat forward, gleefully watching the screen as Veronique finally allowed her men to open the door. Rick wished the sound was more distinct, but lip reading would suffice.
Adam clicked his heels in the epitome of an old-world courtesy bow, and Veronique staggered back at the sheer size of him. If Rick knew her at all, she also appreciated his Nordic good looks.
“Madam Moreau, I am Colonel Raul Martinez of the Colombian National Police.” Adam flashed his fake badge.
“Colonel! You don’t look Colombian.”
“My family moved here in the 1940’s.” He clicked his heels together again. “I’m here to investigate the fires outside town.”
“Yes, Colonel, you know, my factory was the primary target. It’s been burned to the ground.”
“Along with several of your workers,” Adam said pointedly.
“Well, yes, of course the workers…” Veronique murmured in mock concern, and Rick laughed at her predictability. Count on Veronique to consider property before lives.
“This happened under suspicious circumstances, Madam Moreau. Our Fire Inspector tells me accelerants were found.”
“That’s preposterous! My factory employed many locals.”
“Our records show something quite different. In looking into your employees, we notice many of the managers are international, and some of your workers have suspicious ties to the Dias drug cartel.”
“Inaccurate.”
“I don’t think so.” Adam towered over Veronique, invading her personal space to further intimidate. “Can you please explain the helicopters seen flying over your factory in the early morning hours?”
“Why ask me?”
“Perhaps because their I.D. numbers were registered to you.”
Veronique stared at him in horror. Adam snapped his fingers at Kulczyk, who handed him a short stack of pictures.
“This picture,” he threw a blurry police photo onto a table, “is of the helicopter that crashed. It was a miracle it ditched in a pasture and not a more populated area. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I…I…these are lies manufactured by my competitors.”
“And I’m sure you’ll be able to prove that in a Court of Law. Here in Colombia, as I’m sure you know, one is presumed guilty until proven innocent.”
Rick snickered, watching Adam cross his fingers behind his back at the lie. A lot depended on Veronique buying that before she called for an attorney.
“I’m a Haitian citizen!” she sputtered, clearly daunted. “I have powerful friends in Europe.”
“Your powerful friends will not help you now,” Adam drawled. “Arson is a serious crime. You have killed or injured many Colombian citizens, destroyed property—”
“I demand to speak to the Governor!” she interrupted.
“Very well. I would suggest you call one of your powerful friends. I’m happy to wait.” Adam made as if to sit in a nearby chair.
Kulczyk stepped up from behind him, touching an earpiece as if being given information. “Colonel, we have been summoned to confer with the Governor.”
Adam clicked his heels with military precision and bowed stiffly. “It seems I must leave you, Madam Moreau. I urge you not to leave the premises. There will be guards, and I will return, perhaps with the Governor.” He swept grandly from the room, his “guards” following behind him.
Rick rose, ready to land and meet the press. “Great job, guys.”
Chapter 11
Veronique could not fight, so she rushed to take flight. Throwing her jewelry roll and makeup bag into her Louis Vuitton keepall, she wrapped a scarf over her trademark brunette Veronica Lake hairdo and donned her Jackie-O sunglasses. Anything for a disguise! She snuck down the resort’s staff elevator. Her anxious escape was thwarted in the hallway by a sea of press clamoring for entry into a swamped ballroom.
“What the hel
l is this?” Veronique shrieked at the common photographers jostling each other.
“Some hot shot from L.A. just bought the place. Are you somebody?” A squat guy checked his lens setting, anticipating her answer.
Veronique struck a pose and lowered her sunglasses. “Little man, your camera is out of memory, and you need to leave. You didn’t see a soul here.”
The photographer stood for a few seconds, scratched his head and let the camera hang from his neck. Mumbling to himself, he headed for the exit. Veronique stepped into his place at the door and felt her undead heart quake.
Feedback whined from the sound system, and a harried-looking hotel executive stepped forward. “Ladies and Gentleman, may I introduce to you the new owner of this singular resort, Señor Richard Hiatt.”
Veronique watched Rick advance to the podium, his body language boyish and purely American. She always hated the cocky son of a bitch.
“Thank you, Señora Leon, for your gracious welcome to this spectacular resort. The Consort Group International has led North America and Europe in supplying the ultimate in vacation experiences. We look forward to creating the very same quality ambiance here at Lust for Life.” Veronique, head down and pushing through the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, stopped dead at his next words.
“This venture could not have come to fruition without your government’s generosity. Before sunrise, the Governor and I will meet in this very room to sign papers and discuss employment opportunities for entertainers, staff, and suppliers.”
There was appropriate light applause from the audience.
Veronique checked her watch. Will that odious giant of a man return with the Governor? Should I try to bamboozle Rick out of a jet ride to Haiti, or should I try to thrall the Governor? The factory was a total loss; perhaps escape was the better plan. She could regroup safely in Haiti.
Veronique glanced at the three entrances to the ballroom. All were guarded by a member of the National Police. Martinez wasn’t exaggerating—she was being watched. She needed to talk to Rick. She had no choice, so she’d simply charm her way out, using the arrogant prick. With her mind made up, Veronique propelled her way to the front of the podium and made sure Rick noticed her.
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