by Cate Noble
But at this point, Rocco was desperate. He’d try anything that could save Gena.
He called Dante’s cell phone, to let him know he was in the office. Rocco was eager to get a full update from Dante and Travis.
“Yo, bro,” Dante answered on the first ring. “Where are you?”
“Headed for Travis’s office.”
“Detour to basement-level three. We’re in room seven.”
Rocco disconnected and headed for the elevators. Level three held the interrogation rooms. Had they had a break?
Dante and Max were both in room seven. The room was darkened as was customary when an interrogation was under way in the adjacent room.
The men all shook hands as Rocco moved closer to the one-way glass. Travis Franks was on the opposite side, seated at a table. The subject, whom Rocco assumed was an Agency employee since he wore an ID badge, was seated across from Travis, facing the glass window. The subject was sweating profusely, stuttering as he answered questions about his work history.
“Who’s this?” Rocco asked.
“Ian Brown. Works in information technology. Before that he worked in records,” Dante said. “He’s our mole. Travis set up an impromptu sting. We nailed Ian this morning when he checked your log-in records.”
“Was he waiting for me to get here this morning?” Rocco glared at Ian through the glass.
“No. Travis had Cat log on, as you, last night. Travis wondered who else knew that you’d contacted Rey Salvador. His hunch that the leak came from here was dead-on. Someone obviously pried into Rey’s affairs and learned that he’d contacted Clay Waktins.”
“Do we know who Ian was leaking this info to?” Rocco asked.
“Ian claims he doesn’t know the guy’s identity.” Dante held up a hand. “Travis isn’t buying that either. Ian admitted that he’d originally monitored information for Abe Caldwell. Ian said his new handler took over at Abe’s death and basically blackmailed him into continuing.”
Max snorted. “That part was really pathetic. He was whining, ‘It’s not my fault. He made me.’ Right! Made him take shiny gold Krugerrands.”
“How long has this been going on?” Rocco asked.
“It appears Ian’s been accumulating Krugerrands for over three years,” Max said. “Travis had his apartment searched. They found keys to his grandmother’s safe-deposit box. Ian’s on her accounts and had been visiting the bank monthly.”
“As soon as Travis mentioned pulling his grandmother in as an accomplice, Ian grew more cooperative,” Dante added.
Turning back to the window, Rocco watched Travis slide a drawing across the table. An artist’s composite? Ian picked it up and shook his head when Travis asked if he’d ever seen the man.
“What’s with the sketch?” Rocco asked.
“It’s the notorious Mr. Peabody,” Max said.
“Another popular guy.” Rocco knew that Minh Tran had placed a price on Peabody’s head, but other than that, the man was an enigma.
“That’s part of Travis’s other news,” Dante said. “He had Rufin work with an artist to get a composite of the man who kidnapped him and murdered Boh-dana in Bangkok. The composite also matches the description of Zadovsky’s middleman, Mr. Peabody.”
“You got another copy of that sketch?” Rocco asked. “I want to see if the guy rings any of my bells.”
Dante looked around. “There was one here somewhere.”
“I’ll go print another,” Max volunteered. “I want to call Erin and see how Logan is.”
Rocco stopped him. “Glad to hear Erin is safe.”
“Thanks. Gena will be safe soon, too,” Max said.
“Is that something you got a message on?” Rocco pointed to Max’s head.
“No. It’s a promise to a brother.” Max touched his chest over his heart, then slipped out of the room.
“Does Travis think there’s a connection between Ian and Peabody?” Rocco asked.
“That’s where it gets weird,” Dante said. “Travis got some fingerprints from the warehouse where Rufin was held. The prints matched Harry Gambrel’s.”
“What?” The news stunned Rocco. Travis had always suspected that Harry was alive. Was this proof?
Dante shrugged. “Travis’s initial conclusion was that Harry had been held at that same warehouse. But we just got reports on trace evidence taken at Abe Caldwell’s murder scene. Hair was found there matching Harry’s. Bleached blond hair. The man who abducted Rufin was bleached blond, too, and—”
“The man who posed as Clay Watkins is bleached blond.”Jesus. “I need to see that composite now.”
Dante opened his phone and called Max. “He’s on his way.”
“How could Harry’s fingerprints and hair show up in Bangkok and Boston?” Rocco asked. “Somebody’s screwing with us.”
The door opened. Max came in with a copy of the drawing.
Rocco started swearing as soon as he saw the sketch. “I don’t believe this!” He held it up. “This is the fucker who posed as Clay Watkins. This is who has Gena.”
“I’ll text Travis,” Dante said.
Rocco moved to the phone at the desk and called the lab. “Did you get any prints from the clip I dropped off? Yes, I need it ASAP!”
Inside the interrogation room, Travis casually glanced at his cell phone before checking his watch. “I need a minute,” Travis said. Then he stood and moved to the door. The guard let Travis leave.
Ian remained seated in the room and stared nervously at the window. Rocco wanted to go in and beat the idiot to a pulp. Ian was scared, but only for himself. Did he have any idea how many other lives he’d endangered by selling information?
Travis came into the room and greeted Rocco.
“Did these guys bring you up to speed?” Travis asked.
“Yeah.” Rocco held up the composite. “This guy has Gena. He posed as Clay Watkins. I sent the lab the clip of bullets he gave me. The lab got two partials off the casings. They’re running the prints now. If we can get a positive ID—”
Travis cut him off. “Call the lab,” he said to Dante. “Tell them to compare the prints to Harry Gambrel’s first.”
“Harry Gambrel? You think he’s working with Peabody?” Rocco asked.
“I think Harry is Peabody.”
The room went silent at Travis’s words.
Dante’s phone rang. He read the display. “It’s the lab,” he said to Travis. “Hello? Yeah. I’ll let him know.” Dante looked at Rocco, then Travis. “The partial matches Harry’s prints.”
Rocco’s hands shook as he picked up the composite again. “I can’t believe this is Harry.”
“Obviously, he’s had surgery,” Max said. “Damn good, too.”
“He has Gena,” Rocco said. “I hope she doesn’t realize who he is until after I’ve killed him.”
“Can I help?” Dante moved in close. “If this is Harry, he sold Max and me out.”
“The bastard sold all of us out,” Max said.
“We need to lean harder on Ian,” Rocco said. “He has to know something that can help us track them down.”
“We could get Ian to send Harry a message regarding Rufin,” Travis suggested. “Try to lure him out.”
“That’s too obvious,” Rocco said. “Look, Harry claims that all he wants is Rufin’s drug formulas. Tell Ian to send a message that the chips have been retrieved intact, from Taz.”
Chapter Forty
Nuevo Laredo, Mexico
October 7, 5:30 P.M.
Harry knew better than to celebrate too soon. He also knew to expect a trap. Always expect a trap.
When he’d gotten an urgent message from Ian Brown early this morning with news that Taz had been located and the data chips recovered, Harry had been cautious.
But when Harry had called him, Ian had expressed disappointment and apologized. “I contacted you prematurely. I thought they’d bring Dr. Rufin out of hiding to meet Taz. Instead they downloaded the data and will take a copy of it
to Rufin. I’ll keep watching.”
“Can you access the data they downloaded?” Harry had asked.
“That depends on how many layers of security they have it buried under.”
“Check it out,” Harry had said. “I’m willing to pay a lot for a copy.”
It had taken Ian two hours to get back to Harry.
The next time they spoke, Ian had been a nervous wreck. “I found the data, but I’m afraid they’ll know it’s been compromised.”
“How?”
“I logged on with one of Erin Houston’s passwords. She works at the hospital where Taz is. I’ve used her password before to get info for Abe Caldwell. But this time I barely finished downloading when the server kicked me out and wouldn’t let me log in again. Do you know what that means?”
“It may mean nothing,” Harry soothed. “Now did you get a copy or not?”
“Oh, I got it all right. The whole freaking thing. It’s a gold mine. And a death sentence,” Ian had said.
That meant Ian had looked at his copy and realized the value of what he’d stolen. Ian had also realized he couldn’t return to work.
“I have to leave town,” Ian had gone on. “I sabotaged the server so they couldn’t trace it right away, but by tomorrow, I’ll be CIA toast.”
In the end, Harry had convinced Ian to part with the data for a half-million dollars. Which in the big scheme was nothing. In addition to scientific formulas, the data chips had details of Zadovsky’s business transactions. As blackmail, those alone were priceless.
It had taken some persuasion, but Ian had flown to Texas this afternoon on a private charter. He’d crossed the border to Nuevo Laredo an hour ago, expecting to meet with Edguardo tomorrow morning.
But Edguardo was on his way to Ian’s motel now. If the data Ian had was as good as Harry hoped, there was no need for Rocco to get to Rufin. And Gena’s last purpose in life would be to even an old personal score. With Rocco.
Harry wished he could have snapped a photograph of the look on her face last night when she had realized who he was. He had maneuvered her right in front of the bathroom mirror for the big moment. And for once in her life, Gena had not disappointed Harry. She’d been horrified.
He went into the living room, where Gena was tied to a chair.
“Miss me, honey?” He yanked the tape off her mouth, then cut the ropes at her ankles and wrists.
“I figure you’ve got to pee again,” he said. “And if you’re nice, I’ll feed you.”
She snatched the lapels of her bathrobe together, then rubbed her wrists to restore circulation. “How long do you intend to keep me here?”
Harry grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet before shoving her toward the bathroom. “I haven’t decided yet.”
He leaned against the doorjamb and grinned. Watching was nothing more than a way to humiliate her. If he could have gotten a hard-on for her, he would have taken it a step further and intimidated her sexually.
Except Gena had never turned him on. She’d been a means to an end. A way to torment Rocco.
When she finished in the bathroom, he forcibly marched her to the kitchen and set her down in front of a deli bag.
“Eat,” he said. “You never know when your next meal will be.”
He moved to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. “Are you sure you don’t want one of these?”
“No.” She unwrapped the ham sandwich and inspected it.
“It’s not poisoned or drugged.” Harry slammed a bottle of water in front of her. “I need you coherent when I call lover boy in a little bit.”
Harry had retrieved the phone number Rocco had listed in the newspaper, but he was waiting until Edguardo reported in before calling Rocco. Depending on his report, the stakes could be significantly different.
Gena cast sideways glances at him while she ate her sandwich.
“You still don’t believe it’s me, do you?”
She nodded. “I believe it, even though you don’t look like Harry. What I don’t understand is why you faked your own death.”
“Simple: money. The root of all evil and the source of all power.” Harry took a sip of beer. “My old man beat that into me. He swore the government was out to ruin the poor farmers. When I went to work for the Agency it was a double slap in the face to the old man. I’d left the farm and gone to work for the enemy. Old bastard must have rejoiced when he heard I was dead.”
“He regretted whatever passed between you,” Gena said. “He died calling your name.”
“Bet you got a kick out of that. Of course, since he left it all to you, I suppose you could afford to be nice to him.”
She pushed the sandwich away, half eaten. “People change, Harry. He did.”
“That’s rich coming from you. You’ve changed, too, Gena. But how much of that change was forced on you? After you left me, you went running home to Daddy, expecting him to bail you out. Except your daddy was broke, too. Did you check to see if the boy next door still wanted you? Or were you too drunk to drive?”
“I took responsibility for my drinking when I left you, Harry. I let alcohol control my life and I paid dearly for it.”
“I hate to ruin your illusion, but you weren’t even in control of your own addiction, Gena.” He moved around the kitchen. “Oh, sure, you had a tendency to overdrink to begin with, but that just made you easier to manipulate. I slipped you drugs, Gena. I spiked your gin with grain alcohol. You’d end up so drunk, you couldn’t walk, yet you’d beg me to call Rocco so you could apologize for losing his baby. Then I’d remind you it was your fault. And you’d beg me to punish you, because you thought you’d been careless. But it was an ectopic pregnancy, Gena. You’d have miscarried sooner or later.”
She lost all color. “You’re lying.”
“No, this is too rich to make up. I always wondered if you’d find that out by getting your old medical records, but obviously you didn’t.”
Tears ran down her cheeks. “Why did you do it? I thought you were my friend.”
Harry leaned down to her eye level. “This is more like the Gena I remember. Want me to smack you around and see if you feel better?”
“Go to hell, you bastard.”
Harry snatched her up by the throat. “Keep it up. I think I’m getting turned on.” He shook her as she struggled to breathe. “It was never about you, Gena. You were a way to get back at Rocco. And now we’ve come full circle, because you’re going to be the one to help me bring him down.”
Nuevo Laredo, Mexico
October 7, 7:00 P.M.
Rocco hadn’t expected Ian Brown to agree to Travis’s demands. First, Ian had wanted a deal that included a reduced jail term. Travis had offered to recommend a life sentence.
“Instead of the death penalty? For what I’ve done?” Ian said. “You’re bluffing.”
Travis had proceeded to list the crimes Harry would be charged with, including murder. “And as Harry’s accomplice, you will be tried as an accessory to all these, in addition to treason.”
Then Travis had rattled off a few names of well-known traitors. All had life sentences. “The best deal you can hope for is a better federal prison than Su-perMax. Could you handle twenty-three hours a day in solitary?”
Ian eventually had agreed to cooperate. The messages back and forth with Harry had seemed to take forever, but Travis played the scenario perfectly.
They had rushed to get Ian south of the border only to have Harry tell him to get a room and wait for instruction tomorrow morning.
No one had expected Harry to wait until then, which was why Rocco was hiding in the closet of Ian’s motel room. He and Catalina Dion had posed as tourists and checked into a room shortly before Ian arrived.
Dante, Max, and Travis were scattered nearby in vehicles as they waited and watched.
Rocco’s deadline expired in four and a half hours. Travis felt certain that Harry would make a move on Ian before that deadline was up. Rocco prayed Travis was correct.
> While Rocco waited in the cramped space of the closet, he tried to figure out Harry’s motive. Money was obvious, but it didn’t explain everything. Rocco had decided that Harry was out to get him personally, until Dante and Max mentioned the same thing. After all, Harry had left Dante and Max for dead. Or had he? Had Harry known they were alive and purposely sold them out?
Outside the room Rocco heard a noise.
Ian had the television on which made it harder to hear, but when the noise repeated, Rocco realized what it was. Someone had unlocked the room door.
He peered out the small crack and watched as the door eased open a half inch and then shut when the visitor realized the security chain was in place. Rocco texted an alert to everyone on the team.
Now, someone knocked on the door. Ian muted the television and cautiously approached the door, looking first at the closet as if he expected Rocco to answer.
“Ask who it is,” Rocco whispered into his microphone.
Ian nodded as if forgetting he was wired for sound.
“Who’s there?” Ian called.
“Housekeeping,”afemale voice called. “Clean towels.”
“Tell her you didn’t order any,” Rocco instructed.
“I didn’t ask for towels.”
“These were delivered to the front desk, senor. With a note that you were expecting them,” the woman went on. “I have the note, too.”
Catalina texted Rocco. TWO PEOPLE OUTSIDE DOOR. She had a camera hidden in the hall, so next came a picture.
Rocco recognized the man outside the door as the same one who’d abducted Gena in Sugar Springs. The man who’d driven the black truck.
“Open the door slowly.” Rocco moved into position.
As soon as Ian released the chain, the door flew open and the man strode in, a handgun pointed directly at Ian.