by Liz Wolfe
Birthdays, school, parties. Please tell me about her. Send a picture if you can.
Zoe’s hand trembled. It wasn’t possible that the woman was writing about her. Was it? No. It couldn’t be. Because that would mean that the woman writing the letter was her mother. Her mother was dead. Zoe quickly scanned the last letter.
You are right, of course. As you have always been. I certainly meant no disrespect to you. I am grateful for your assistance. It is only a mother’s guilt. Please give my darling Zoe a special hug and kiss from her mother, even though she can never know of me.
Zoe flipped the envelope over and read the smeared and faded postmark. It was dated April tenth, seven years prior. Almost a year before Nana Phoebe’s return to Greece. Zoe remembered that she had made the decision to go back to college shortly before that. She looked through the letters again because she simply couldn’t believe that her mother was alive.
But she couldn’t see any other answer. How many nights had she cried herself to sleep, mourning the untimely death of the woman who meant everything to her? How many times had she thought about how different her life would have been if she’d had her mother?
And all these years, she’d had a mother. A mother who had chosen to leave her daughter behind to beraised by her father, the master thief. A father who had made it obvious that he wanted a son to follow in his footsteps. A father who’d had no choice but to settle for a daughter.
The phone rang and Zoe jerked. The letter she held fluttered to the floor when she reached for the phone.
“Hello?”
“You have a fax number?”
Forrester. Talk about lousy timing. She pushed the letters out of her mind. “Yeah, if that’s as good as your technology is.”
“You have a different preference?” he asked.
“Depends on what you want to send me.”
“I have the information you want on the first heist. General location, some pictures.”
“Can you upload them to a secure site?”
“Sure. Hold on a second.”
Zoe could hear the soft tapping of keys on the phone line. “Okay. I’ve uploaded the documents to a secure FTP site. Here’s the ID and password.” He rattled off the information. “You got that?”
“I assume they want an estimate from me about the first job?”
“Hardly. They want a number and a guarantee.”
“Oh, the number I can give them. But, Forrester, you should know, there are no guarantees. Not in this business.”
November 12, Outside Bethesda, Maryland
“Three hundred thousand dollars plus out-of-pocket expenses?”
“You have a problem with that, Ethan?” Zoe held the phone between her ear and shoulder and scrubbed her wet hair with a towel.
“No, of course not. Not with the three hundred thousand. But you’re going to charge these guys that much and then want them to pay for your cab fare?”
“You know, Ethan, there’s a reason you’re not a thief.” Zoe threw the towel on the bed and sank down beside it. “On a job like this, pocket expenses could be anything from a cup of coffee to a demolitions expert. If I didn’t specify that, they’d have pegged me for an amateur.”
“I see.”
“Do you? Maybe you want to take a couple of days and run this by whatever geek crunches your numbers for you?”
“Calm down, Zoe. I was just asking.”
“Speaking of asking, I need a favor from you.” She could almost feel the coldness over the phone, but waited for Ethan to speak.
“A favor?” he asked.
“Nothing big. I need to find someone.”
“Zoe, all you need to find is whatever the Order wants.”
“Ethan, this is important.”
He sighed heavily. “So, who is it? Some guy you were dating?”
“Not exactly.” Her voice wavered a little and she hoped he didn’t hear it. There was silence for so long that she thought maybe he’d hung up.
“I’ll see what I can do. What’s the name?”
“She’d be in her early fifties now. Born in San Giusto in northern Italy. Her hair used to be dark and curly. She speaks Italian, English, German, and French. Her family probably still lives in San Giusto, although it’s possible they won’t know where she is, or even think that she’s alive.”
“Do you have a name?”
“Her maiden name was Mira Romero. I doubt she’s using that now, and I have no idea what name she might have changed to.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Who is she?”
“She’s my mother.”
There was a span of silence before Ethan spoke. “Zoe, your mother died when you were a child.”
“Evidently not,” Zoe said and her voice shook again. “I just received some letters from my great-aunt
Phoebe. She and my mother corresponded for years after her supposed death.”
“Does your father know about this?”
Did he? She couldn’t imagine that he knew his wife was still alive. She remembered how he’d been after her death. Distant, distraught. She didn’t even remember him speaking to her for almost a year. If Nana Phoebe hadn’t been there to care for her, to comfort her, Zoe didn’t know what would have become of her.
“No, I’m sure he doesn’t know.” But Nana Phoebe had known that her mother was alive. Nana Phoebe had lied to her and to her father. At the very least. Knowing Nana Phoebe, she’d probably been instrumental in her mother’s disappearance.
“Zoe, I think we should talk about this. Before we start looking for her.”
“Just find her.”
Another heavy sigh from Ethan. “There’s not enough to go on, Zoe. What was the return address on the letters?”
“There isn’t any. Just an Italian postmark.”
“That could help. Send the letters to me and I’ll see what I can do. But I still think you should wait until this op is finished.”
“I’ll scan the postmarks and send them to you. But, Ethan, I want you to start working on this now. Not later.”
“Fine. I’ll see what I can do. Call me when you have a confirmation on the job.”
“I should hear back from Forrester in a day or two. So, you see what you can come up with by then. You call me with some information and I’ll tell you what’s happening with the Order.” She hung up the phone as Ethan was voicing his objections.
5
November 15, Outside Bethesda, Maryland
“WHAT ABOUT THE DOGS?” ZEKE tossed the photos on the table and leaned back in his chair.
“Shelby said she has a solution for that,” Zoe replied. She picked up the photos and examined them carefully. “Looks like they have four Dobermans. That’s a little worrisome.”
“Worry precipitates failure,” Zeke said. “Plan your work and work your plan.”
“Yeah, I know, Dad.” How many times had she heard that from him? But he was right. Worrying didn’t fix anything. A good, workable plan did.
“How are you going to nail four of them before they alert someone?”
“I’ll have someone with me, so it shouldn’t be a problem.” She spread the photos out so she could get an overview of what the compound looked like.
“What?” Zeke laughed and pulled a chair up to the table. “You’re working with a partner now?”
“Not exactly.” Damn, why did he always make her feel like she had to defend everything she did? “The Triumvirate is insisting that Logan come along for the ride. I thought I might as well put him to use.”
“They don’t trust you. That’s an insult. You shouldn’t put up with that.” Zeke rose and paced across the dining room, his feet silent on the hardwood floor.
“Dad, it’s not insulting. It’s not like this is a regular job. The work I’m doing now is different from just stealing for collectors.”
“Just stealing for collectors? You make it sound like child’s play.” Zeke turned from gazing out the glass-paned French doors.
“It was child’s play for you.” Zoe grinned at him.
“No, it wasn’t. It was a profession. It took talent and skill. And a certain kind of honor.”
“Dad, there’s nothing honorable about stealing.” He started to speak and she held her hand up. She wasn’t in the mood to hear her father’s speech about what he considered honor. “I don’t care who you’re stealing from or why. It’s wrong.”
He turned back to the door. “You’re doing it.”
“Don’t remind me.” Zoe leaned back in the chair and looked at her father’s back. “Although I think stealing for national security mitigates the crime a bit.”
“Are you expecting Ethan or Shelby?” Zeke asked.
“Shelby said she was coming over today.”
“I thought so. The van is here.” Zeke continued watching the van as it rolled up the driveway and pulled around to the back of the house. “Do they really think that fools anyone?”
“It’s procedure, Dad.” Shelby always arrived in a van marked as an electrical company or a plumber or a construction company. If anyone was watching the house on a regular basis, they’d think the place was falling apart. That thought brought her up short. Was the Triumvirate watching the house? Logan had checked out her bank account earlier. What else were they looking at? Standing, she rolled her shoulders and shook off the creepy feeling. She turned at the sound of Agnes’s harsh whisper and grinned.
Agnes hated that Shelby came in through the kitchen door. Visitors were supposed to enter the front door and give her the chance to announce them. Zoe snickered as she watched Agnes arguing with Shelby. Finally Shelby rolled her eyes and stood obediently at the kitchen door while Agnes walked across the spacious dining room to stand before Zeke.
“Miss Parker is here to see you and Miss Zoe.”
“Thank you, Agnes. Please show her in.”
“Zoe. Mr. Alexander.” Shelby nodded, laid an aluminum briefcase on the dining table, and gestured to the young woman who accompanied her. “This is
Robyn Lee. She’ll be briefing Zoe on the tech for this op.”
Zoe nodded to the young woman. She was young and attractive although she didn’t seem to do much to capitalize on her looks. Her thick, dark hair hung straight to just above her shoulders, and her dark eyes were covered by small, thick glasses in black plastic frames.
“Hi, Robyn.” Zoe turned to Shelby. “What kind of tech ops are we talking about?”
“First of all, we’ve got tranquilizers for the dogs.” Robyn set a case on the dining table and unzipped it. “There’s a couple of ways to go with that. We can inject it into meat that you can feed the dogs, but I don’t recommend that. Most guard dogs are trained to not take food from anyone but their handlers. Plus you have the problem of keeping the meat refrigerated. If the meat’s out for too long, it could make the dogs sick and that’s not what we’re after.” Robyn glared at Shelby when she rolled her eyes.
“The best way is to inject the tranquilizer directly into the dog. This can be done from close range with a pistol.” She pulled a pistol from her case and handed it to Zoe. “Don’t worry, it’s not loaded.”
Zoe took the pistol and examined it. There was a space where she assumed the tranquilizer dart was inserted. “What’s the accuracy on this?”
“Good question,” Robyn said. “With the pistol,you need to be fairly close. No more than twenty yards. After that, the accuracy sucks. But we also have this.” She pulled a short rifle from the case. “Accurate up to seventy yards. And it has the advantage of having a scope with night vision.”
“That’s a lot of equipment to carry in.” Zoe hefted the rifle. “Will I need to reload for each shot?”
“No. Another advantage is that the rifle holds six darts. Plus, it’s not like these things are top secret or anything. After you’ve used it, you can just toss it, so you don’t have to carry it around with you.”
“Actually, we’d prefer that you bring the equipment back with you,” Shelby interjected.
“But the best part is this.” Robyn pulled out a small black oblong object that looked like a remote control device. “Just push this button and it emits a sound in a very specific ultrasonic range. It should bring the dogs to their knees.” She shrugged. “I have to tell you that it doesn’t always work. Every dog’s brain is a little different. But it works on most large dogs.”
Great. Hopefully the dogs she would encounter had exactly the right brain waves. “What else?” Zoe asked.
Shelby stepped forward. “We don’t have any way of knowing what the documents look like or what they might contain, so there’s no way to have a dummy ready for you to substitute. You’ll need to photograph the documents as you’re stealing them.”
“That could be tricky. They’re insisting that Logan accompany me. I don’t know how much time I’ll have to do anything.”
“If we don’t know what you’re stealing for the Triumvirate, there’s no point.”
“Yeah, I get that, Shelby. I’m just saying it’s a tight situation and you’d better have some nifty little spy camera for me to use.”
“Oh, I do,” Robyn said and dug in the case again, coming up with a pair of stylish glasses with amber lenses. “These are designed to increase your ability to see in the dark. Not really night vision, but they help by about ten percent. We’ve inserted a camera here.” She pointed to the piece that would rest across the bridge of Zoe’s nose.
Zoe peered closely but couldn’t detect anything unusual. “How do I take the picture?”
“They’re very pressure sensitive. Just pretend to adjust the glasses and you’ll feel a click here.” Robyn indicated the bridge of her nose.
“And just how do I explain the fact that I have night vision glasses?” Zoe asked.
“That’s the beauty of them. These are readily available from catalogs and several online stores.” Robyn grinned at her. “Of course, those don’t come with the camera.” She shoved the equipment into the case and zipped it closed. “Any questions?”
“When do you leave?” Shelby asked.
“I’m meeting Logan Thursday morning at La Guardia. Evidently we have a private jet for the trip to Mexico City.”
“I’ll have the equipment placed in locker one seven nine at the airport in Mexico City.” Shelby handed her a key. “Tell Logan that you had an associate deliver the equipment earlier.”
“Really, Shelby. I could have figured that out for myself.”
“Don’t get your feathers ruffled, Zoe. I’m trying to make sure you don’t make any mistakes that could get you killed. If I tell you stuff you already know, just deal with it.”
“Ethan told me you’d be overprotective.” Zoe tried not to grin at the look of outrage on Shelby’s face and turned to Robyn. “Thanks for all this.”
“There’s one more thing,” Shelby said. “I need you to come to Washington. There’s someone you need to meet.”
“Why didn’t you just bring him with you today?”
“He’s in Walter Reed Medical Center and won’t be able to leave for another week. Can you meet me there tomorrow afternoon?”
“Sure, but who am I meeting? What’s it about?”
“His name is Drake Leatherman, and he’s the only agent who has infiltrated the Order and came back.”
“I see.”
“We’re continuing to watch Montoya’s compound, and I’ll send the latest intel to you Wednesday night.”
“Sure. Up-to-date information is always useful.” Zoe gathered up the photographs and plans she’d been looking at earlier. “Thanks for everything. And Robyn, it was nice meeting you.”
Zoe climbed the marble stairs to her suite. Her stomach rumbled and she remembered that she hadn’t had anything but tea and toast for breakfast. And she’d skipped lunch. But the thought of putting food on top of the cold knot in her stomach was less than appealing. She’d always felt a little tense before a job. But not like this. This was fear, plain and simple. She’d never re
ally been afraid when she did a job. Sure, there was the possibility that she’d get caught, but that only served to sharpen her game. This was different. If she failed this time, there were serious consequences.
Her death not the least of them.
November 17, Outside Bern, Switzerland
Shahid Nassar parked his rented car in a visitor space close to the entrance of the International Research Institute. The glass doors slid open as he approached, and closed behind him.
“William Russell to see Dr. Stubeck,” he said to the uniformed guard. He still wasn’t used to seeing women working in positions like this, but he’d learned to school his features so his surprise or dismay didn’t show. The woman picked up a phone and spoke quietly, then looked at him.
“Take the elevator to the third floor, Mr. Russell. The receptionist will assist you.”
The short security gate swung open, and Shahid walked through and onto a waiting elevator. No doubt the guard was watching a monitor to be sure he went where she’d directed him to go. He stepped off at the third floor and presented himself to the receptionist. Dr. Stubeck arrived in a few minutes.
“Mr. Russell.” The doctor held out his hand, which Shahid shook. “I’m pleased to see you again. I think I have some very good news for you.”
“You mentioned a demonstration?” Shahid followed him down a short hallway and into his office.
“Exactly. We’ve refined the Neurotox virus in a way that I think will impress you.” The doctor waved toward a guest chair and took his own seat behind his desk. “The result will still be disseminated intravascular coagulation, but it will be even faster than we’d originally thought.”
Shahid nodded. “It is most important that the effects be immediate and dramatic.”
“We’ve added a fast-acting neurotoxin. I believe it will accomplish what you’re looking for.”
“When may I see a demonstration?” Shahid asked.
“Right now.” Dr. Stubeck turned on a television set and punched a button on the remote. “This was videotaped last week. We used a total of ten subjects.”