“And now for the loose ends,” Betty said, sitting forward.
Vaughn’s heart sank, and he could feel Chloe tense up beside him as Betty opened a folder in front of her. She examined its contents over the top of her glasses, then sat back.
“Emilio Moreno is still at large,” she said. “And Ms. Toscana is denying that he exists. We have photographic proof that there is a man out there who looks like he may be related to the Toscana family, but nothing else. The president himself is not talking.”
“I don’t believe it,” Vaughn said. “So he’s just disappeared? We have nothing to go on to find him?”
“Precisely,” Betty replied. “Dominic Rizzio, your original prime suspect, has been cleared of all charges.”
Vaughn and Chloe exchanged a look, and Vaughn felt his stomach hollow out. “I don’t understand. We saw him attempting to purchase weapons on the black market.”
“Yes, and his story checked out,” Betty told him. She sifted through a few papers and found the one she was looking for. “He was purchasing weapons to arm the president’s men. The money was released to him by Mr. Ricco Padua, the head of domestic security.”
“But the president didn’t say—”
“The president didn’t know about the money or the planned transaction,” Betty told him. “Apparently Mr. Rizzio was as shocked as you were when he found out his fellow bodyguards were members of La Rappresaglia.”
Vaughn thought back to his interrogation of Dominic—his paling when he saw the photographs of the men they’d captured. So he hadn’t been upset because they had caught his cohorts, he had been upset because his friends had turned out to be traitors.
Vaughn rubbed his forehead between his thumb and fingers. Apparently he wasn’t going to stop feeling like a moron anytime soon. He was going to just keep feeling worse and worse.
“What about the woman? The one from the weapons deal,” Chloe put in. “She thought Dominic was La Rappresaglia, too.”
“Yes, but we don’t know who she was or who sent her,” Betty pointed out. “Whoever she was, she was misled. Dominic is clean.”
Vaughn took a deep breath, processing what he’d heard. That young woman had come to stop Dominic from buying weapons to protect his president. Had she known she was stopping one of the good guys, or had she somehow been tricked into thinking she was stopping one of the bad guys? Guess I’ll never know.
There was a knock at the door, and Barry and Elena walked in, each in their uniform black turtlenecks and slick ponytails. “Sorry to interrupt, but I thought you might want to see this,” Barry said.
He walked over to the television at the front of the room and turned it on, flipping quickly through the channels until he came to one of the news stations. Vaughn’s heart skipped a beat the moment he saw the scene on the large screen. Marianna was standing behind a low wooden table in a jam-packed courtroom. The camera work was shaky, and the little red icon in the corner read LIVE.
“What is this?” Chloe asked.
“She’s being arraigned today,” Elena explained, taking a seat next to Betty.
Vaughn stared at Marianna’s face, defiant and composed, her chin lifted, her eyes steady. The judge read the charges against her in Italian, and English subtitles scrolled across the bottom of the screen.
“You have been accused of treason, of an attempt to assassinate the president of Italy, of conspiracy to commit murder, of grand theft and destruction of public property. Ms. Toscana, how do you plead to these charges?”
Flashbulbs popped all around Marianna, filling the otherwise still and silent room. Vaughn found himself holding his breath, his eyes trained on the small girl in the center off all that humanity.
“Colpevole,” came the answer.
Vaughn went numb. A collective gasp went up from the crowd, followed by the scraping of chairs and murmurs of surprised conversation. One word scrolled across the bottom of the screen: GUILTY.
Everyone in the room turned to look at Vaughn. He avoided their gazes by staring down at the table, trying not to dwell on anything that had happened over the past week. If he thought about it, if he thought about her, he might very well crack.
“Well, that’s enough of that,” Chloe said, grabbing the remote and muting the TV.
“Yes, I agree,” Betty said. “I think it’s time for the good news, don’t you?”
Vaughn’s ears perked up at her words, and Barry joined them all at the table. Betty’s mouth twitched at the corners as she looked at the four of them.
“You should know that the Italian government has sent a letter of commendation to the White House listing all of your names and thanking you for bringing Marianna Toscana to justice,” Betty told them. “Our esteemed director is coming down here this afternoon to congratulate you all himself.”
Vaughn caught the gleeful grin between Barry and Elena and saw Chloe shift in her seat as she tried not to react in kind. Vaughn forced a smile. He was, as always, happy to be recognized for a job well done, but this particular victory was bittersweet.
He watched the silent television as Marianna was flanked by military police and her hands cuffed behind her back. He watched as she was led off past a crowd of jeering citizens, finally ducking her head away from their shouts. Vaughn’s heart was suddenly impossibly heavy.
Marianna Toscana had been right that night back at the Plaza. She was the bad guy. And Vaughn had brought her to justice. He had done his job.
But Vaughn knew that he had also learned a very important lesson. Romance and the spy game did not mix. It was too complicated, too dangerous, too heartbreaking. If there was one thing he knew for sure in the convoluted, confused mess of his mind at that moment, it was this: Michael Vaughn would never fall for a woman on the job again.
Never.
DON’T MISS ANY OF THE
OFFICIAL ALIAS BOOKS
FROM BANTAM BOOKS!
ALIAS: DECLASSIFIED
THE OFFICIAL COMPANION
THE PREQUEL SERIES
RECRUITED
A SECRET LIFE
DISAPPEARED
SISTER SPY
THE PURSUIT/A MICHAEL VAUGHN NOVEL
CLOSE QUARTERS/A MICHAEL VAUGHN NOVEL
AND COMING SOON
FATHER FIGURE
Alias: Close Quarters/A Michael Vaughn Novel
A Bantam Book / September 2003
Text copyright © 2003 by Touchstone Television
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