Dangerous Liaisons

by Tarah Scott

  She hit the connect button. “Yeah.”

  “He’s on the move. My God, you should see him.”

  Jesse gave Cole a nod and mouthed, he’s moving. “Where to?” she asked Tom.

  “I have him on the surveillance camera leaving his office headed toward the elevator. Hold on, he’s at the elevator.”

  A long pause followed. Jesse’s heart pounded.

  “He’s getting on the elevator,” Tom said.

  “Is he leaving?”

  “One second, I’m watching the lobby camera—there he is. I’ll be right there.” The line went dead.

  Jesse punched the end button. “You drive.”

  Cole ripped off his headphones and rose. He brushed past, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Now we’ll see if he cracks. My bet is, not yet.”

  She gave a perfunctory nod as he slid into the driver’s seat, then turned the key. The van engine kicked over and settled into an idle.

  The radio chortled an incoming transmission. “I’ll be there in two seconds,” Tom said.

  Jesse rose and stepped to the back door. She swung open the door as he rounded the corner of the van and climbed inside.

  He squeezed past her and into the rear seat. “Let’s roll.”

  He spun to face the bank of equipment on the driver’s side. Reaching to the double line of square pushbuttons on the tracing receiver, he punched ON, CurrLoc, Mode3 along the first row. The screen above the buttons snapped on, displaying a city map centered on their current location.

  The mechanical clank of Cole engaging the transmission was all the warning Jesse had before the van rolled forward, then stopped. She scrambled into her seat as the van accelerated in a tight U-turn, throwing her sideways against the armrest.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Tom punched the AUTO and TRACK2 buttons on the bottom row by his keyboard. The map on the screen slewed sideways then stopped, centering on the OIA parking garage. A red blip pulsed in the northwest corner of the block—Lanton’s assigned parking space .

  “Okay, the transponder on his car is working,” Tom said. “Good job, Jesse. Cole, not too close. We can track him within a quarter-mile.”

  “Roger,” Cole replied.

  The dot representing Lanton’s car blinked faster.

  “He’s moving.”

  The blip moved east on Ivy, then turned south on Regan.

  “He’s headed for the freeway,” Jesse said.

  Cole whipped the van around, slamming the gearshift into drive.

  Jesse stared at the map on the screen. “Where the hell is he going?”

  Tom shook his head. “Could be to the bank, his lover…another conspirator.”

  Jesse jerked her head in his direction before she realized it.

  Tom frowned. “What?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  Cole merged onto the freeway, a few hundred meters behind Lanton’s Mercedes. The blip abruptly veered toward Exit 20.

  “He’s getting off. Exit 20A,” Tom said.

  “Got it,” Cole replied.

  The blip traveled around the cloverleaf and stopped at the crossroad. Cole slowed on the off-ramp.

  “Slower,” Tom said. “He’s stopped at the light.”

  The blip moved.

  “He’s off,” Tom said. “Turning left.”

  “Hang on.” Cole accelerated, then braked hard. “Caught by the light.”

  “He’s turning,” Tom reported. “What’s to the right?”

  Cole leaned forward, looking out the driver’s window. “Stores, a strip mall, branch-bank, a Hooters.” The light turned green and he accelerated around the turn. “I see him. He’s pulled into Best Buy.”

  The blip stopped moving and blinked at a slow rate.

  Jesse exchanged a glance with Tom.

  “I’m pulling into the parking lot across the street,” Cole said. “Hand me the binoculars.”

  Tom pointed under the counter by Jesse’s knees. She found a latched drawer as Cole steered the van right, then left. She found the binoculars along with a third pair of headphones, and two radio headsets. Cole came to a stop and she handed him the binoculars. He trained them out the side window.

  “Do you see him?” she demanded.

  “There’re TV boxes stacked at the front of the store. I can’t see a thing.”

  Ten minutes later, Cole said, “He’s out, and he’s made a purchase.”

  “What kind?” Tom asked.

  “Can’t tell. It’s in a small bag. He’s in his car. He’s opening the bag…it’s a cell phone, looks like one of those pay-as-you-go deals, and a phone card.”

  Anticipation hummed through Jesse. All agents had cell phones and email addresses set up in case of emergency. The fact Lanton was using a prearranged communication meant they had him worried.

  “He’s punching in the card code,” Cole said. “He’s making a call.”

  Tom spun in his seat to face the cell-phone receiver. Putting on the headphones, he flipped the rig on and punched the DUAL band button, then SCAN.

  “Can you get him?” she asked.

  “Maybe, if he stays on the air long enough.” Voices murmured from his headphones like buzzing mosquitoes.

  Two long minutes passed. Tom listened, finger over the button to stop the scan, as one voice after another in as many conversations tuned in and out.

  “He’s ended the call,” Cole reported. “Dialing again.”

  “You have him?” Jesse asked Tom.

  “No.”

  Cole’s cell phone rang. He raised an eyebrow and glanced in the mirror at Jesse. She nodded and he answered.

  “Yeah.” He mouthed the word Caruthers then said into the phone, “What did he want?” A pause. “Where is she?” A longer pause. “Fine. When he calls again, tell him you lost her.” Another pause. “Just slow-roll him until I call you.” He ended the call. “Lanton called Caruthers and ordered him to pick you up.”

  “Is he still on the phone?” Tom asked.

  Cole raised the binoculars. “He’s talking again—he ended the call.” Cole paused. “He’s dialing again…he’s leaving. Wait, he’s tossed the phone onto the seat.”

  Tom took off the headphones. “Damn.”

  Jesse leaned back in her chair. “At least we know he called Caruthers.”

  The blip exited the parking lot, headed back the way it had come.

  “Back to the office?” Jesse said as Cole exited the parking lot.

  Tom nodded. “My bet is he’s headed for the incinerator, then a box lunch at the commissary on the way up to his office.”

  “If he heads back, Tom and I have to high-tail it back to our offices,” Cole said.

  Jesse nodded. Dammit. She wanted to know who he called. Her money was on Morales.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Jesse glanced at the digital clock on the van’s dash as Cole shifted to the aft seat.

  “Two o’clock," he said. “Time to execute part three.” He dialed Lanton’s number.

  Before Tom left, he made sure the GPS message buried in the next call would pinpoint a location outside Lanton’s Georgetown home.

  Lanton picked up on the first ring this time. “What do you want?”

  “You broke our agreement.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You sent two agents to kill me. I’m here to take back my money.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lanton repeated.

  “Do you recognize the address 3562 Willow?” Cole asked. “Trace the call, I’m there now.”

  Lanton paused. Jesse imagined him catching his breath.

  “Are you threatening my wife?” Lanton demanded. “I’ll send the whole God damn U.S. Army after you.”

  “Haven’t you heard, Senor? I am already dead. Not only do I know where your wife is, I have proof you sold classified information. You will meet with me.”

  Another pause, then Lanton’s voice cracked, “Wher
e?”

  “Thirtieth Avenue East, at the former Drake Brazing Company. One hour. Come alone.”

  Lanton cut the line.

  Cole pulled off his headphones. “Go get the minivan while I get into costume. As soon as Tom shows up, we’ll head to the warehouse.”

  Chapter Sixty

  Jesse strode up to the warehouse door, Cole close behind. A sign riveted to the tin announced Employees Only. Another mission she was flying blind. There hadn’t been time for her to investigate, so she had been forced to trust Tom’s analyses. For the first time, she understood what the team members who depended on her went through. She’d always taken her job seriously, understood their lives depended on her intel, but, until now, she’d never felt what it was like to so completely depend on intel from another human being. She could depend on Tom. Analysis is what he did best.

  She pulled the door open. Its rusty hinges squealed. Cole brushed past her. She smiled. Maybe there was something to this knight in shining armor bit. When Tom told her she wouldn’t be doing recon, she had looked up to find Cole watching her intently. His entering first was a way of letting her know she wasn’t alone.

  Jesse entered, pulling the door shut behind her. Fifteen feet into the room, she stopped beside him and scanned the interior: a large open area divided by rusty shelves, with a concrete floor stained by chemicals, dirt and age. Windows set high in the wall formed an unbroken line along the building’s flanks. Sunlight illuminated dust motes engaged in a silent, lazy dance.

  She approached a squat, rectangular concrete plating tub. The tub, big enough to swallow a mid-sized car, was one in a line of five. Beer cans, fast food containers, and other assorted trash lay at the bottom of the nearest waist-high tub. With its foot-thick concrete sides, the tubs would provide excellent cover if things went bad.

  Despite the blanks loaded into the 9mm Beretta worn in the waistband of her jeans, the weight of the weapon gave her a sense of security. She reached inside her shirt to reassure herself the microphone was securely taped between her breasts.

  Cole raised a brow and Jesse was surprised when warmth crept across her cheeks. She ducked her head, pressed the radio ear-bud and said, “We’re inside. You getting the signal?”

  “Loud and clear,” Tom came back over the radio.

  The delivery truck parked across the street had been a stroke of luck. Tom sat in a surveillance van, nestled out of sight behind the truck.

  Jesse gave Cole an affirmative nod, then replied, “Roger.”

  Cole crossed to a row of flat-topped offices built against the far wall. Wide windows, complete with mini-blinds, faced the production floor where she stood. Farther right, industrial-sized boilers lined the wall, next to an oven the size of a three-car garage. In between, sat abandoned steel shelves, three or more overhead pulleys with dangling chains, and several dirt-crusted workbenches.

  She inspected Cole’s outfit with a critical eye. This time, Lanton would be up close. Even in the muted lighting, Cole looked too tall and too wide in the shoulders to be Perez. The body-armor and special effects blood gear he wore wasn’t helping. If Lanton made any calculations on Perez’s growth in the ten years since the picture, he might wonder.

  “He’s here and he’s alone,” Tom’s voice crackled over the radio.

  Jesse met Cole’s gaze. He seemed to be thinking the same thing she was: Here’s hoping Green Leader isn’t as smart as we think.

  Jesse turned, yanked out her ear-bud, tossed it behind the tub, and faced the door. Seconds later, the door creaked open and Lanton stood in the doorway. He wore his characteristic dark suit, tie, and white shirt. Jesse laughed silently at sight of the gun held at waist level—a Walther PPK, just like James Bond. She wanted to shout Coward! when the barrel trembled as he scanned the interior.

  He paused when his line of sight fell on Cole, then he continued searching until he saw her. Gun leveled on her, he stepped inside, pulling the door closed behind him. How about that? He considered her a bigger threat than Perez.

  “Senor Lanton,” Cole said. Cole casually pointed his Glock at Lanton. His left hand, with its broken fingers, rested in the side suit pocket. “Please, lower the weapon. We can talk cordially.”

  Lanton approached to three meters, then halted. “Amadeo Perez, back from the dead. What do you want?”

  Cole gave his head a slow shake. “We had an agreement. Yet, you sent Miss Evans to kill me. You know what I do to people who break promises?”

  Lanton raised his PPK a fraction. The fool thought he was James Bond. Emma Peel wouldn’t be impressed.

  “Miss Evans explained how you sent her to kill me,” Cole said.

  A corner of Lanton’s mouth turned up in a sneer. “She’s lying. She came after you because she thought you killed the girl.”

  “Ah, the girl,” Cole said. His perfect Spanish accent sent a chill tickle down Jesse’s spine. She’s safe, I hope.”

  “None of your business.”

  “You shall issue a formal apology from your government,” Cole said. “I do not kidnap little girls, and will not have my reputation soiled.”

  Jesse wanted to laugh and recoil at the same time. She could imagine Perez making such an insane demand.

  Lanton’s mouth curved into a full sneer. “No. You just enslave them to the drugs you sell.” He turned to Jesse. “How does it feel making a pact with the devil?”

  She shrugged. “It’s a marriage of convenience. You put me out in the cold and figured I’d go after Perez. I have no intention of solving all your problems so easily.”

  “Solve all my problems?” he replied with such vehemence she knew she’d hit home. “You’ve been a thorn in my side far too long.”

  Jesse flashed a nasty smile. “Submissions getting a bit too expensive? Have you saved enough of that bribe money to live without your wife’s support?”

  Disdain flashed in Lanton’s brown eyes. “Don’t be a fool.”

  “Enough,” Cole interrupted. “You will not live to enjoy your private clubs or your wife if you do not return my money.”

  Lanton leveled the PPK on Cole. “You should have stayed dead in Colombia.”

  Jesse riveted her gaze to the gun, saw his finger tighten on the trigger, and dove left as the gun erupted. A deafening shot filled the empty warehouse. Blood erupted from Cole’s chest. Lanton fired again. Another report assaulted her ears as she rolled to her feet.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Cole stumble backward. Glass shattered as he crashed through the office window behind him. Tiny shards of glass pierced her left cheek. Her gut wrenched. She should have pulled her Beretta immediately and shot Cole, not taken a chance Lanton would shoot him. Where had the bullet hit?

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Jesse dove for Lanton. She grabbed his wrist and twisted. The PPK clattered to the concrete floor. He dropped to his knees, howling with pain.

  “Murderer,” she ground out, and pivoted left, elbow poised for a strike.

  He surprised her by blocking the blow. Jesse side-kicked his jaw, then lunged for the PPK. She rolled and came up kneeling, weapon aimed, finger tight on the trigger.

  Lanton stared up at her.

  “Get up, mother fucker!” she shouted.

  Memory of Green Team lying on the ground like a pile of garbage filled her mind’s eye. He slaughtered them, ambushed Martinez—stole the contents of her safety deposit box—and shot Cole! The gun trembled in her grasp. She tightened her trigger finger a hair. Wait! She had to get Lanton to confess. What about Cole? She had to check Cole. But she’d promised—

  Lanton struggled to his knees. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth and he spat out a tooth. No, a crown, she realized when it skittered to a stop in a ray of sunlight. Dust motes settled on the prize.

  She took a step backward and glanced through the broken window at Cole. He laid in a crumpled heap among glass and tangled window blinds. Blood soaked the front of his white shirt and cream-colored suit coat just under his brea
stbone. He’d always been a good actor. He must be acting now. Her gaze caught on the Glock lying on the ground where he’d dropped it. All that firepower and no bullets. Jesse rose, backed up, and kicked it through the open office door to where he lay, then motioned at Lanton with the PPK.

  “Get up.”

  He wiped blood from his chin. She tracked his chest with the gun as he reached for the tank lip and pulled himself to his feet. He was probably decked out with enough body armor to survive a jousting match, but that couldn’t stop her from breaking his neck.

  “It’s over,” he said, wiping his chin again.

  Jesse advanced, keeping him covered. Glass crunched underfoot. Anger sent red flashes through her head.

  “Damn right it’s over.” She gripped the PPK in both hands, locked her arms, forefinger tight on the trigger.

  Lanton gave a derisive laugh. “You can’t shoot an unarmed man. That would make you a murderer like Perez.”

  Jesse rushed forward. His eyes widened. She seized his shirt collar and drove him against the vat, the PPK jammed into the soft flesh beneath his jaw.

  “I can shoot you and make it look like you and Perez shot each other.”

  “With my own gun?” Lanton glanced down at her waistband.

  “You’re thinking about the Beretta. Go for it.”

  Lanton’s eyes jerked back up to hers. She pulled the Beretta free and shoved it into the other side of his face, while stuffing the PPK into her waistband. A blank would blast a nice burn-hole under his chin. The pain would be excruciating.

  This was one helluva deviation from the plan. She’d promised to get him talking. How long could she let Cole lie there? Tom hadn’t busted up the party yet. He was supposed to wait until she or Cole gave him the go ahead to enter. How far would he let her go?

  Jesse jammed the Beretta into Lanton’s crotch. “You fucked me good. I can make sure you can’t fuck another woman ever again.”

  “Shooting me won’t get you off the hook—or get your sister’s trust fund back,” he said.

  His eyes weren’t dilated anymore. He was one cool son-of-a-bitch.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked. “Call the authorities? So I shot a known drug lord. You’re still a traitor, and I won’t be around to clear your record. You need me.”