by Taylor Lee
Assuming as casual an air as the one that Dr. Taveras was emitting, Gray smiled at her and asked, “Care to expound on that surprising bit of news, Doc? And while you are at it, you might add how you intend to use your prior relationship with the criminal leader to expedite your mission.”
For the first time, Maya’s expression lost some of it impassivity. Gray almost thought he saw concern in her eyes. He wanted to think that the reason for her momentary unease was that she’d caught his intentional reference to the operation as hers. He glanced at Ian, wondering if his boss had explained to Maya that every operative had the option of refusing to participate in a mission. Neither Jase, Noah nor he—Ian’s top three agents—had ever exercised that option. However, if this operation continued on the same disconcerting track it seemed to be riding, there was a damn good possibility that the oh-so-confident Doctor Taveras might be looking for a new puppy dog to kick to the curb.
Lifting her chin and expelling an audible breath, Maya met his gaze and refused to look away.
“Relationship is too strong a word, Agent Webb. Suffice it to say that I knew Dante Torres when we both were teenagers. Due to some unhappy timing, I had a run-in with the gang that he was part of. It didn’t end well for either of us. When we have more time, I can go into more detail if you wish. What is important for us today is that Torres knew me as the daughter of a wealthy Silicon Valley entrepreneur. Over the years, as I studied men like him, I learned through my research how hard it is to infiltrate the web of a confirmed criminal sociopath. At some point it occurred to me that I personally might be able to do just that.”
“Do what, Maya?” Gray asked.
“Infiltrate the Torres Cartel.”
Gray managed to tamp down his disbelief at her outrageous assertion. He tried to respond civilly, although it was impossible to keep his sarcasm wholly at bay.
“I see. And having concluded that it was possible for you to infiltrate a worldwide illegal drug operation, a single woman with no practical experience either in the military or any other covert entity, you set out to do what precisely, Doctor Taveras? Institute a single-blind research project? A living experiment of sorts? While I can see how that might add to your Curriculum Vitae and your research creds, assuming that you came out of the experiment alive—”
Maya interrupted his mocking challenge.
“I’ll ignore your sarcasm for the moment, Agent Webb. To answer your question, yes, I determined that if anyone could get inside the Torres Cartel that I could. I went to Ian with my proposal and after some discussion he agreed to create a cover for me, and also introduced me to Diamond. At this point, we are quietly letting it be known via underground channels that the former Mia Kobayashi—the name Torres knows me by—had married a Czech national who dabbled in the drug trade. According to my cover, my ‘husband’ Serge Blatnick, managed to build a small-time operation based in the Balkans using his wife’s inheritance. Unfortunately, Serge met an untimely death in a skiing accident before he could get his illegal operation off the ground.”
At the ludicrousness of what she’d casually rattled off, as if the cover wasn’t as absurd as it was, all Gray could do was raise his hands in disbelief. Shaking his head, he asked, “Please don’t stop now, Doctor Taveras, although I’m beginning to see the outlines of a plausible, make that an implausible, mission.”
Maya’s rejoinder was curt, as derisive as his.
“I’m glad that you do, Agent Webb. Both Ian and Diamond told me that you were smart—as well as a smartass.”
Gray snorted at her sarcastic jibe, but didn’t attempt a reply, only raised his hands again and nodded for her to continue.
Holding his gaze, Maya forged ahead.
“At this point, I’m putting out feelers to Torres. We have evidence that he knows that I am trying to reach him. Once we meet, my plan is to convince him that I want to get into the drug trade in earnest and have enough financial wherewithal that I’m worth talking to.”
Gray guffawed. “As a matter of curiosity, how do you see me involved in this research project of yours, Dr. Taveras? And before you answer that impertinent question, I’d like to know if I will get secondary billing when you publish in your academic journals, as a co-author of sorts. Assuming, of course, that either of us survives.”
Maya pressed her lips together in an obvious attempt to control her response to his ridicule. The flush on her cheeks and the heat flashing in her eyes betrayed the effort it took for her to contain her anger. To her credit, she let out an audible breath and said quietly, “We see you as my companion, my bodyguard if you will. Obviously other agents will be involved. Some of them overtly, as part of the team you’ve assembled to guard me, others will be covert.”
Gray leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a long moment trying to digest the inconceivable tale he’d just heard. When he opened his eyes, he ignored Maya’s searching gaze and focused first on Diamond, then on Ian.
“Given that you’re both here, may I conclude that you agreed to this mission?”
Diamond merely rolled her eyes and looked to Ian. In a delaying gesture that Gray had seen Ian exhibit when he wanted to gain time, his boss steepled his fingers under his chin allowing his forefingers to rest against his pursed lips. After a moment he spoke.
“It shouldn’t surprise you, Gray, that Maya, Col. Davis and I have had many discussions, some of them heated, as to the efficacy of this plan. But it is fair to say that both Diamond and I concluded that, as outrageous as it seems, Dr. Taveras’s plan has a better than even chance of succeeding. Given that those are about the odds for most of the missions we undertake, I gave her the go ahead. Clearly, a lot depends on whether you agree to participate.”
Before Gray could begin to phrase a cogent response, Ian focused his attention on Maya.
“Here’s my suggestion, Maya. There was much here to digest. I think Colonel Webb deserves a measure of time to consider our proposal. In addition, I know that you and Diamond are meeting with representatives from the DEA to brief them on our progress. I propose, if it works for everyone, that we reconvene this discussion at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”
Ian rose to his feet, signifying that the meeting was over.
Neither Diamond nor Maya spoke as they gathered their materials and rose in response to Ian’s unspoken order.
Reaching for Diamond’s hand and then guiding Maya by her elbow toward the door, Ian said politely, “I’ll walk you to the courtyard, ladies.”
Casting a quizzical glance at Gray, he said, “How about you, Gray, do you have anything pressing or can you stay for a while?”
Gray arched a brow and said casually, “Thanks for asking, Ian. And yes, I’ll stick around. For a bit. We have a few things to catch up on.”
Inclining his head toward Diamond and Topaz, Gray said, “Thank you, Col. Davis, Doctor Taveras. It’s been… interesting.”
Chapter 3
Gray waited until the door closed behind them, then strode over to the bar. He studied the bottles in the elaborately carved cabinet and noted that it was better stocked with upscale liquors than that at the Palladium, the elite Gentleman’s Club that Ian belonged to. Ian often invited his agents to the swanky club to celebrate a successful mission. Wondering if he’d ever again see the inside of the exclusive club after this fiasco, Gray snorted dismissively. Perusing the heady array of expensive alcohol from distilleries around the world that he’d only read about, Gray reached for a bottle of Bowmore Scotch and took the liberty of opening the expensive liquor.
Ignoring Ian’s famous crystal nosing glasses specifically made for savoring fine scotch whisky, Gray reached for a sturdy tumbler and poured himself a liberal portion of the exotic treasure. He took several larger than usual swallows and relished the burn of the potent alcohol coursing down his throat. It helped to take his mind off the coming tête-a-tête with Ian. Not that he was reluctant to have it, but given the pent up anger ricocheting through him, Gray was confident
the conversation would be a challenging one for him and his boss.
After several minutes, Gray heard Ian’s footsteps on the terrazzo tiled floor in the hallway. Leaning against the bar he waited for his host to enter. Ian closed the door behind him then turned to meet Gray’s gaze. His lip quirking up at the corner, he pointed to Gray’s glass and the open bottle of expensive scotch on the top of the bar.
“Mind if I join you, Gray? That’s one of my favorite single malt scotches.”
Gray shrugged and topped off his glass then headed for the conference table. Sinking into the chair at the head of the table, he said, “Suit yourself, Ian. It’s your booze.”
Ian studied him through narrowed eyes for a long moment, then reached for the bottle of Bowmore. Pouring himself a healthy amount of the famed scotch into one of his special glasses, he carried the bottle and his glass to the table and pulled out the chair across from Gray.
Plunking the bottle on the table between them, Ian nodded at the expensive label. Smiling slightly, he said, “Yes, Grayson, it is my booze, but I’m pleased that you chose it. Twenty-five-year-old Bowmore seems to be a particularly appropriate libation for our upcoming conversation.”
Grayson watched as his colleague sat down and then made his usual production of savoring the expensive scotch. Swirling the amber liquid in the tulip-shaped glass, he inserted his nose into the glass and breathed in deeply. He closed his eyes in satisfaction then after once again swirling the odiferous liquid, Ian took a small sip. Smiling in open pleasure, he raised his glass to Grayson.
“To you, my friend.”
Grayson allowed himself to be impressed at his mentor’s savoir-faire. Ian had to know that Gray was upset and yet, like an English Lord preparing to listen to the grievances of one of his tenants, Ian didn’t allow the tension in the room to curtail his pleasure in the fine scotch. Grayson let his boss take a couple more genteel sips and then put his own glass down with a resounding clunk and leaned forward.
“You want to tell me what the fuck this is all about, Ian?”
Not hiding his anger that was now making it hard for him to be civil, Gray added, “How about a little background, Boss Man?”
Ian sighed then nodded in agreement. “Yes, Grayson, I do owe you an explanation.”
Gray lifted a brow and said caustically, “You think?”
Shaking his head, Gray let his anger flare.
“What the hell is going on, Ian? First you introduce me to my new partner, who, thanks to your getting her the job, is now a member of the LOTN elite squad. On that point, I wonder how the other LOTN agents feel knowing that a woman who never served in the military or on a covert mission was hired by the demanding Diamond—at your behest. I knew you had sway with Col. Davis, Ian, but I never knew you would use your influence to ensure that Diamond made a questionable hire.”
When Ian started to object, Gray held up his hand.
“Please, Ian, give me the courtesy of expressing my strong views before you tell me how misguided I am.”
When Ian gave a consenting nod, Gray didn’t hold back.
“In addition to informing me that I will be partnering with this seemingly unqualified woman, you indicated that not only will we be working together but that she will also be commanding the mission. A mission, moreover, that she apparently designed. Or let’s hope she did, because the operation she blithely described would be laughable if it weren’t so dangerous.”
Gray shook his head and quaffed a large draught of the Bowmore, then huffed a harsh laugh at Ian’s obvious dismay at his “mistreating” the treasured alcohol.
“Sorry, Ian. I don’t care how damned expensive this stuff is, I’m not in a sipping mood.”
Ian shrugged and said mildly, “I trust that it will serve your purpose, Gray, however you choose to drink it.”
Gray snorted. “If part of that purpose is burning the shit out of my throat and allowing me to say all the things that need to be said, then yeah, it’s serving its purpose.”
Gray pinned his boss with a hard glare and reignited his accusing litany.
“You cannot tell me, Ian, that an academic, no matter how smart or informed she is, is qualified to command a dangerous op. Which raises a question. Tell me, am I to refer to my commander as Agent Taveras? Although, since she has never been an agent that might be stretching it. Or does she prefer to be called Dr. Taveras? Or should I just swallow hard and address her as Commander although she’s never been one of those either? Before you answer that, do tell me in which YMCA my Ph.D. commander took her women’s self-defense classes. It would be good to know the range of her skills before I have to rely on them. I can only hope that her ‘training’ included a passing knowledge of firearms. At least enough so that I know she won’t shoot me in the foot by mistake when she draws her gun. That is, if she has one.”
When Gray paused in his diatribe long enough to take another large swallow of the Bowmore, Ian snatched the opportunity to respond.
“I know you’re upset, Gray, and you have a right to be. And, yes, I do owe you an explanation.”
“Yes, Ian, you do. So if you don’t mind, cut the crap. Just lay it out for me. All of it, now.”
Ian nodded and took a thoughtful sip of his drink. “What I’m about to tell you is confidential, Gray. I told Maya that I was unwilling to keep this information from you. Against her objections, I told her there was no way that I would send you into an operation without all of the facts.”
When Gray emitted an impatient growl, Ian held up his hand.
“The problem is that I did agree that Maya could be the one to give you the background information—when she was ready to do so. You need to understand, Gray, that I will be breaking a solemn promise when I tell you what I am about to tell you.”
Gray leapt to his feet, shoving his chair back so hard it crashed to the floor behind him. He pressed both hands on the table and leaned forward, his face mere inches away from Ian’s. His voice was dangerously low.
“So help me God, Ian, cut the crap, now, or I’m leaving and taking the rest of this expensive booze with me.” Sucking in a deep breath, he leaned in closer and added, “I’m going to ask you one more time, Colonel Ross, and then I’m outta here. And frankly, Ian, if I do leave? I don’t know when or if I’ll be back. That said, for the last time: What. The. FUCK. Is. Going. On?”
The cultured man swept a hand across his furrowed brow and groaned.
“That’s a damn good question, Gray. Maybe it’s best to start here.”
Ian rose from his chair, walked over to his desk and took a DVD out of the desk drawer. He inserted it into the disc drive and booted up the computer. Carrying the laptop back to the conference table, he placed the humming machine between them. He waited for a moment then with an audible sign turned the computer screen toward Gray.
Not sure what he was seeing, it took Gray a moment to digest what was on the screen. At first all he saw was the blaring headline of a front page New York Times story. It read:
Daring Police Raid Frees Japanese Tech Billionaire’s Kidnapped Daughter
Staring at the disheveled, dark-haired girl hovering between two uniformed men, Gray realized with a horrified start that the young girl was painfully familiar. Trying to make sense of what he was seeing it took Gray several moments to look away from the girl’s terrified eyes to study the rest of the photographs and read the descriptions beneath them. He focused on the pictures of the handcuffed men the cops were loading into a police van. It didn’t take Gray more than a few seconds to identify the tall young man being dragged to the armored van by two burly SWAT members. It was a younger version of the man he’d studied on the monitors earlier. The copy under the photo identifying him wasn’t necessary. With a foreboding shudder, Gray recognized Dante Torres.
~~~
Speed-reading through the article, and trying not to focus on grim pictures of the dazed young girl, Gray didn’t notice that Ian had left the table until he returned with another bott
le of Bowmore Scotch and stripped off the cap.
“It’s been a long time since I chugged scotch, Gray, but the occasion seems to call for it.”
If it were possible to make light of the moment, Gray might have commented on the fact that Ian had eschewed his crystal nosing glass and was pouring the amber liquor into a tumbler like the one that Gray had commandeered for himself. Without speaking, Gray held up his almost empty glass, which Ian promptly refilled.
When he’d read through the article consuming paragraphs at a time, knowing that he would reread it a hundred times, Gray retrieved his chair from the floor, sat down, and faced his host. As always, his imperturbable boss looked calm, controlled. But in addition to the frown creasing his brow, Gray saw something he’d never seen before in Ian’s eyes. It was pain marbled with grief.
For once Gray’s gift for glibness escaped him. All he could do was to raise his hands in a supplicating gesture and murmur, “What the hell, Ian?”
Ian closed his eyes for a moment then, with a weary sigh, began to speak.
“It’s a complicated story, but I’ll make it as succinct as I can. You may even have read about it, Gray. It was front page international news for weeks.”
Taking a sip of his drink, Ian met Gray’s hard gaze.
“Fifteen years ago, Maya, whose real name is Mia Kobayashi, was kidnapped. She was fourteen years old at the time. Mia’s father was Takima Kobayashi, a young Japanese entrepreneur who hit it big in the tech explosion. Mia, his only child, was a 9th-grade student at a select private school outside of Mountain View. She was a shy, sheltered girl. She was spotted by a gang headed up by a 20-something street thug, Carlos Valiz, a badass if ever there was one. Valiz’s gang, Los Diablos, were small-time drug dealers and thieves who controlled the slum neighborhood bordering Mia’s family estate. Valiz got it in his head to go for the big time and, along with his lieutenant, conceived a plan to kidnap Kobayashi’s daughter.”
Gray interrupted. “Can I assume that Valiz’s lieutenant was…?”
Ian finished the sentence. “Yes, Dante Torres was the second in command. At that point Torres had been in and out of juvie for the usual street gang stuff; B&E’s, dealing, etc. but never anything that came close to kidnapping. In setting out to kidnap her, some of the gang members, in particular Torres, were able to befriend Mia. Even at 17 Torres was a commanding figure, particularly to a young girl who was as sheltered and inexperienced as Mia was. While it was later assumed that the kidnapping was inspired by Valiz, it’s clear that without Torres’ charm offensive, they couldn’t have lured Mia as easily as they did. They held her captive for nearly ten days in a basement hovel within shouting distance of her family home.