Tall, Dark and Dangerous Part 1

by Suzanne Brockmann

  “This visit’s been scheduled for months,” Veronica said quietly. “It’s been scheduled since the Ustanzian secretary of press announced Prince Tedric’s American tour. I think we can take one hour from one day to fulfill a promise the prince made.”

  Henri Freder, the Ustanzian ambassador to the United States, shifted in his seat. “Surely Prince Tedric can visit this Saint Mary’s at the end of the tour, after the Alaskan cruise, on his way back home.”

  “That will be too late,” Veronica said.

  “Cruise?” Joe repeated. “If the assassins haven’t been apprehended before the cruise to Alaska is scheduled, there’s no way in hell we’re getting on that loveboat.” He looked around the table. “A cruise ship’s too isolated. It’s a natural target for tangos.”

  He smiled at their blank expressions. “Tangos,” Joe repeated. “T’s. Terrorists. The bad guys with guns.”

  Ah. There was understanding all around.

  “Unless, of course, we’re ready and waiting for ’em,” Joe continued. “And maybe that’s not such a bad idea. Replace the ship’s personnel and passenger list with platoons of SEALs and—”

  “No way,” Laughton said. “FInCOM is handling this. It isn’t some military operation. SEALs have no place in it.”

  “Terrorists are involved,” Joe countered. “SEAL Team Ten has had extensive counterterrorist training. My men are prepared for—”

  “War,” Laughton finished for him. “Your men are prepared and trained for war. This is not a war, Lieutenant.”

  Joe pointed to the cellular phone on the table in front of Laughton. “Then you’d better call the terrorists. Call the Cloud of Death, call up Diosdado. Call him up and tell him that this is not a war. Because he sure as hell thinks it’s one.”

  “Please,” Veronica interjected. “Before we continue, may we all agree to keep Saint Mary’s on the schedule?”

  McKinley frowned down at the papers in front of him. “I see from the previous list that there weren’t going to be any media present at the event at Saint Mary’s.”

  “Not all of the events scheduled were for the benefit of the news cameras, Senator,” Veronica said evenly. She glanced around the table. “Gentlemen. This rescheduling means hours and hours of extra work for all of us. I’m trying my best to cooperate, as I’m sure you are, too. But I happen to know that this appearance at Saint Mary’s was of utmost importance to Prince Tedric.” She widened her eyes innocently. “If necessary, I’ll ring up the prince and ask for his input and—”

  “No need to do that,” Senator McKinley said hastily.

  Getting self-centered Prince Tedric in on this scheduling nightmare was the last thing anyone wanted, Veronica included. His so-called “input” would slow this process down to a crawl. But she was prepared to do whatever she had to do to keep the visit to Saint Mary’s on the schedule.

  McKinley looked around the table. “I think we can keep Saint Mary’s on the list.” There was a murmur of agreement.

  Joe watched Veronica. Her red curls were up in some kind of feminine arrangement on the top of her head. With her delicate features and innocent blue eyes, she looked every inch the demure, cool English lady; and again, Joe was struck by the feeling that her outward appearance was only an act. She wasn’t demure or cool, and if his gut feelings were right, she could probably outmanipulate the entire tableful of them. Hell, she just had. But she’d done it so subtly that no one was even aware they’d been manipulated.

  “About the Alaskan cruise,” Senator McKinley said.

  “That’s not until later in the tour.” Joe leaned back in his chair. “Let’s keep it off the public schedule for now. We don’t want the T’s—terrorists—choosing that opportunity above everything else. We want ’em to strike early on. But still, we can start making arrangements with the SEAL teams, start getting ’em prepped for a potential operation aboard ship.”

  “No SEALs,” Kevin Laughton said tersely.

  Joe gave the FInCOM agent a disbelieving look. “You want high casualties? Is that your goal here?”

  “Of course not—”

  “We’re all on the same team, pal,” Joe said. “We all work for the U.S. Government. Just because I’m Navy and you’re Fink—”

  “No SEALs.” Laughton turned to an aide. “Release this schedule to the news media ASAP, keeping the cruise information off the list.” He stood. “My men will start scouting each of these sites.”

  Joe stood up, too. “You should start right here in this hotel,” he said. “If you’re serious about making the royal suite secure, you’re understaffed. And the sliding door to the balcony in the bedroom doesn’t lock. What kind of security is that?”

  Laughton stared at him. “You’re on the tenth floor.”

  “Terrorists sometimes know how to climb,” Joe said.

  “I can assure you you’re quite safe,” Laughton said.

  “And I can assure you that I’m not. If security stays as is, if Diosdado and his gang decide to come into this hotel to rid the world of Prince Tedric, then I’m as good as dead.”

  “I can understand your concern,” Laughton said. “But—”

  “Then you won’t have any objection to bringing the rest of my Alpha Squad out here,” Joe interrupted. “You’re obviously undermanned, and I’d feel a whole hell of a lot better if—”

  “No,” Laughton said. “Absolutely not. A squad of Navy SEALs? Utter chaos. My men won’t stand for it. I won’t have it.”

  “I’m going to be standing around, wearing a damned shooting target on my chest,” Joe retorted. “I want my own guys nearby, watching my back, plugging the holes in FInCOM’s security net. I can tell you right now, they won’t get in your boys’ way.”

  “No,” Laughton said again. “I’m in charge of security, and I say no. This meeting is adjourned.”

  Joe watched the FInCOM chief leave the room, then glanced up to find Veronica’s eyes on him.

  “I guess we’re going to have to do this the hard way,” he said.

  The man known only as Diosdado looked up from his desk as Salustiano Vargas was shown into the room.

  “Ah, old friend,” Vargas greeted him with relief. “Why did your men not say it was you they were bringing me to see?”

  Diosdado was silent, just looking at the other man as he thoughtfully stroked his beard.

  Vargas threw himself down into a chair across from the desk and casually stretched his legs out in front of him. “It has been too long, no?” he said. “What have you been up to, man?”

  “Not as much as you have, apparently.” Diosdado smiled, but it was a mere shadow of his normally wide, toothy grin.

  Vargas’s own smile was twisted. “Eh, you heard about that, huh?” His smile turned to a scowl. “I would have drilled the bastard through the heart if that damned woman hadn’t pushed him out of the way.”

  Diosdado stood. “You are lucky—very, very lucky—that your bullet missed Tedric Cortere,” he said harshly.

  Vargas stared at him in surprise. “But—”

  “If you had kept in touch, you would have been aware of what I have spent months planning.” Diosdado didn’t raise his voice when he was angry. He lowered it. Right now, it was very, very quiet.

  Vargas opened his mouth to speak, to protest, but he wisely shut it tightly instead.

  “The Cloud of Death intended to take Cortere hostage,” Diosdado said. “Intends,” he corrected himself. “We still intend to take him.” He began to pace—a halting, shuffling process as he dragged his bad leg behind him. “Of course, now that you have intervened, the prince’s security has been strengthened. FInCOM is involved, and my contacts tell me that the U.S. Navy is even playing some part in Cortere’s protection.”

  Vargas stared at him.

  “So what,” Diosdado continued, turning to face Salustiano Vargas, “do you suggest we do to bring this high level of security and protection back to where it was before you fouled things up?”

  Varga
s swallowed, knowing what the other man was going to tell him, and knowing that he wasn’t going to like what he heard.

  “They are all waiting for another assassination attempt,” Diosdado said. “Until they get another assassination attempt, security will be too tight. Do you know what you are going to do, my old friend Salustiano?”

  Vargas knew. He knew, and he didn’t like it. “Diosdado,” he said. “Please. We’re friends. I saved your life—”

  “You will go back,” Diosdado said very, very softly, “and you will make another attempt on the prince’s life. You will fail, and you will be apprehended. Dead or alive—your choice.”

  Vargas sat in silence as Diosdado limped, shuffling, from the room.

  “Tell me what it is about Navy SEALs that makes Kevin Laughton so upset, Your Highness,” Veronica said as she and Joe were delivered safely back to Prince Tedric’s hotel suite. “Why doesn’t he want your Alpha Squad around?”

  “He knows his guys would give him problems if my guys were brought in to do their job,” Joe said. “It’s a slap in the face. It implies I don’t think FInCOM can get the job done.”

  “But obviously, you don’t think they can.”

  Joe shook his head and sat down heavily in one of the plush easy chairs in the royal living room. “I think they’re probably top-notch at mid-level protection,” he said. “But my life’s on the line here, and the bad guys aren’t street punks or crazy people with guns. They’re professionals. Diosdado runs a top-notch military organization. He’s a formidable opponent. He could get through this kind of security without blinking. But he couldn’t get through the Alpha Squad. I know my SEALs are the best of the best. SEAL Team Ten is elite, and the Alpha Squad is made up of the best men in Team Ten. I want them here, even if I have to step on some toes or offend some FInCOM agents. The end result is I stay alive. Are you following me?”

  Veronica nodded, sitting down on the sofa and resting her briefcase on a long wooden coffee table.

  The sofa felt so comfortable, so soft. It would be so easy to let her head fall back and her eyes close….

  “Maybe we should take a break,” Joe said. “You can barely keep your eyes open.”

  “No, there’s so much more you need to learn,” Veronica said. She made herself sit up straight. If he could stay awake, she could, too. “The history of Ustanzia. The names of Ustanzian officials.” She pulled a file from her briefcase and opened it. “I have fifty-seven pictures of people you will come into contact with, Your Highness. I need you to memorize these faces and names, and—Lord, if there were only another way to do this.”

  “Earphone,” Joe said, flipping through the file.

  “Excuse me?”

  He looked up at her. “I wear a concealed earphone,” he said. “And you have a mic. We set up a video camera so that you can see and hear everything I’m doing while you’re some safe distance away—maybe even out in a surveillance truck. When someone comes up to shake my hand, you feed me his name and title and any other pertinent info I might need.” He flipped through the photos and handed them back to Veronica. “Pick out the top ten and I’ll look ’em over. The others I don’t need to know.”

  Veronica fixed him with a look, suddenly feeling extremely awake. What did he mean, the others he didn’t need to know? “All fifty-seven of these people are diplomats Tedric knows quite well. You could run into any one of these people at any time during the course of this tour,” she said. “The original file had over three hundred faces and names.”

  Joe shook his head. “I don’t have time to memorize faces and names,” he said. “With the high-tech equipment we have access to—”

  “You don’t have time?” Veronica repeated, eyebrows lifted. “We’re all running out of time, Lieutenant. It’s my task to prepare you. Let me decide what there is and isn’t time for.”

  Joe leaned forward. “Look, Ronnie, no offense, but I’m used to preparing for an operation at my own speed,” he said. “I appreciate everything you’re trying to do, but in all honesty, the way that Ted walks and talks is the least of my concerns. I’ve got this security thing to straighten out and—”

  “That’s Kevin Laughton’s job,” she interrupted. “Not yours.”

  “But it’s my ass that’s on the line,” he said flatly. “FInCOM’s going to change their security plans, or this operation is not going to happen.”

  Veronica tapped her fingernails on the legal pad she was holding. “And if you don’t look and act enough like Prince Tedric,” she said tartly, “this operation is not going to happen, either.”

  “Get me a tape,” Joe countered. “Get me a videotape and an audiotape of the guy, and I promise you, I swear to you, I will look and act and sound exactly like Ted.”

  Veronica’s teeth were clenched tightly together in annoyance. “Details,” she said tightly. “How will you learn the details? Assuming, of course, that you are able to miraculously transform yourself into European royalty simply by viewing a videotape?”

  “Write ’em down,” Joe said without hesitation. “I retain written information better, anyway.” The telephone rang and he paused briefly, listening while West answered it. “Lieutenant, it’s for you,” the FInCOM agent said.

  Joe reached for the extension. “Yo. Catalanotto here.”

  Yo. The man answered the phone with “Yo” and Veronica was supposed to believe he’d be able to pass himself off as the prince, with little or no instruction from her?

  “Mac,” Joe said into the telephone. It was Admiral Forrest on the other end. “Great. Thanks for calling me back. What’s the word on getting Alpha Squad out here?”

  How did a lieutenant get away with calling an admiral by his first name, anyway? Veronica had heard that Forrest had been a SEAL himself at one time in his long navy career. And from what little she knew about SEALs so far, she suspected they were unconventional in more than just their warfare tactics.

  Joe’s jaw was tight and the muscles in the side of his face were working as he listened to Forrest speak. He swore sharply, not bothering to try to disguise his bad language. As Veronica watched, he rubbed his forehead—the first sign he’d given all day that he was weary.

  “FInCOM has raised hell before,” he said. “That hasn’t stopped us in the past.” There was a pause and he added hotly, “Their security is lax, sir. Damn, you know that as well as I do.” Another pause. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do that.”

  Joe glanced up and into Veronica’s watching eyes. She looked away, suddenly self-conscious about the fact that she was openly eavesdropping. As she shuffled through the file of photographs, she was aware of his gaze still on her.

  “Before you go, sir,” he said into the telephone. “I need another favor. I need audio-and videotapes of Tedric sent to my room ASAP.”

  Veronica looked up at that, and directly into Joe’s eyes. “Thanks, Admiral,” he said and hung up the phone. “He’ll have ’em sent right over,” he said to Veronica as he stood.

  He looked as if he were about to leave, to go somewhere. But she didn’t even get a chance to question him.

  “FInCOM’s having a briefing about the tour locations here in D.C.,” Joe said. “I need to be there.”

  “But—”

  “Why don’t you take a nap?” Joe said. He looked at his watch, and Veronica automatically glanced at hers. It was nearly five o’clock in the evening. “We’ll meet back here at twenty-one hundred hours.”

  Veronica quickly counted on her fingers. Nine o’clock. “No,” she said, standing. “That’s too long. I can give you an hour break, but—”

  “This briefing’s important,” Joe said. “It’ll be over at twenty-hundred, but I’ll need an extra hour.”

  Veronica shook her head in exasperation. “Kevin Laughton doesn’t even want you there,” she said. “You’ll spend the entire time arguing—”

  “Damn straight, I’m going to argue,” Joe said. “If FInCOM insists on assuming the tangos are going to mosey o
n up to the front door and ring the bell before they strike, then I’ve got to be there, arguing to keep the back door protected.”

  Joe was already heading toward the door. West and Freeman scrambled to their feet, following him.

  “Put those details you were talking about in writing,” Joe suggested. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  Veronica all but stamped her foot. “You’re supposed to be working with me,” she said. “You can’t just…leave….”

  But he was gone.

  Veronica threw her pad and pen onto the table in frustration. Time was running out.

  6

  Veronica woke up from her nap at seven-thirty, still exhausted but too worried to sleep. How was Joe going to learn to act like Prince Tedric if he wouldn’t give her any time to properly teach him?

  She’d made lists and more lists of details and information Joe had no way of knowing—things like, the prince was right-handed. That was normally not a problem, except she’d noticed that Joe was a lefty. She’d written down trivial information such as the fact that Tedric always twirled the signet ring he wore on his right hand when he was thinking.

  Veronica got up from the table and started to pace, alternately worried, frustrated and angry with Joe. Who in blazes actually cared what Tedric did with his jewelry? Who, truly, would notice? And why was she making lists of details when basic things such as Tedric’s walk and ramrod-straight posture were being ignored?

  Restless, Veronica pawed through the clothes in her suitcase, searching for a pair of bike shorts and her exercise bra. It was time to try to release some of this nervous energy. She dug down farther and found her favorite tape. Smiling grimly, she crossed to the expensive stereo system built into the wall and put the tape into the tape deck. She pushed Play and music came on. She cranked the volume.

  The tape contained an assorted collection of her favorite songs—loud, fast songs with pulsating beats. It was good music, familiar music, loud music.

  Her sneakers were on the floor of the closet near the bathroom. As Veronica sat on the floor to slip them onto her feet and tie them tightly, she let the music wash over her. Already she felt better.