Love On the Run

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  “Well, I’m not taking orders from you anymore,” Giorgio continued. “We do what I want, when I say.” Without warning, Giorgio spun and slammed his fist into the tiny man. He gasped once before his eyes rolled up in his head and his body collapsed on the floor. Cassi couldn’t tell if he still breathed, and with murder clear in Giorgio’s face, she didn’t dare kneel to see.

  The woman stared at Giorgio, hatred fuming in her eyes. Giorgio ignored her and strode to the door by the pad of keys. It opened easily under his touch. The others followed more slowly. Cassi felt an urge to run out of the building since Giorgio wasn’t looking at them, but thoughts of the guards outside made her change her mind.

  “Taggart, where is my gun? Someone seems to have taken it. Give it to me now.”

  A chill ran down Cassi’s spine at the coldness in the woman’s voice. To her surprise, Taggart took the little man’s gun from the table, checked the ammunition, and handed it to the woman. She swept regally through the door behind Giorgio. Cassi, Jared, and Taggart followed.

  The room was a large, empty expanse of wine-colored carpet and white walls, a few wooden panels, nothing more. From its size, the room likely took up nearly half of the building’s bottom floor, probably a mirror image of the church in the other half. With chairs and a pulpit, it would make a good place to hold meetings for a full-sized congregation. Though the light was dim, Cassi could see a metal door at the far end of the room, and a machine that resembled the generator she had at the art gallery in San Diego. Laranda had certainly taken no chances with her treasure.

  Taggart shut the door behind them. Immediately, the dim lights blinked out and music began: a congregation singing “Abide With Me.” Something was different about the hymn, and Cassi realized it was in Portuguese. Had Laranda recorded it from next door?

  The music faded, and a picture appeared at intervals along all four white walls: Laranda’s face. Cassi studied it and glanced surreptitiously at the woman beside them. Now she could see numerous subtle differences. The real Laranda was incredibly beautiful, but she was at least five years older than the imposter, perhaps even ten. Laranda’s face also held an unmistakable cruel streak that was absent in the other woman’s. Whoever the imposter was, she hadn’t lived a lifetime enjoying other people’s suffering as Laranda had. Though she was also a beautiful woman, someone had only manipulated her features to resemble Laranda.

  “Hello, Jared. So we meet again.” The voice came out of hidden speakers, sounding as though it was all around them. “Your being here means everything didn’t go according to my original plan, but I will still have the last laugh.” The image threw back its head and laughed, long and loud. Cassi fought the urge to put her hands over her ears.

  “No doubt you have others with you who are here to make sure you follow my instructions. Now listen carefully, everyone. The vault is at the back of this room. It has been programmed to open using Jared and Cassi’s right thumbprints. If anything else is used or tried, the contents will be destroyed immediately and a poison gas will be ejected into this room. Sorry”—the satin voice didn’t sound sorry—“but it’s a failsafe I felt necessary. Simply follow my directions for the minimum casualties. Jared and Cassi will go into the vault with my double. They will shut it, again using their thumbprints, and I will talk a little bit with them alone. Then the rest of you can come and get your treasure. It’s as simple as that.”

  Cassi looked away from the mesmerizing figure on the wall and saw that Taggart had taken a gas mask from his backpack and held it ready against Laranda’s threat of poison. Did he have more inside for the rest of them?

  “I hope all this is crystal clear,” the image of Laranda continued. She gave a sultry laugh. “If not, you may not live very long. None of you.” The pictures on the wall flickered and vanished, and they were plunged into total darkness. Cassi felt for Jared’s hand. Now would be the time for Taggart to act. They needed to be ready.

  The light gradually increased until they could see again, if dimly. “Well, you heard her,” said Giorgio, pointing his gun at Cassi and Jared.

  “I’m going, too.” The Laranda imposter took a step forward.

  “No,” Giorgio said sharply.

  “I’m Laranda. I must go in, so I can talk with them one last time.”

  Taggart cleared his throat. “Garrettson said her double has to go in, and your uncle said to follow the commands exactly.”

  “Yeah, and we know where she’ll end up,” Giorgio sneered, pointing at the gas masks.

  “You do not.”

  “Shut up. You work for me.” Giorgio’s voice was ugly.

  Taggart smiled. “I work for Nicolas, and frankly, we’re both tired of you acting like a besotted schoolboy. Laranda here is sick of you trying to use her. Aren’t you? Isn’t Giorgio trying to take advantage of you?” Taggart said the words slowly and deliberately.

  Cassi didn’t know what to expect. The woman posing as Laranda stiffened, then she lifted her gun toward Giorgio. “You’re trying to take advantage of me. I won’t have it!”

  Giorgio stared at her. “Anything I expect is because you promised. Do you deny that? But they’re only empty promises, and I’ve figured out why. You are only half the woman she is.” He pointed to the walls, and everyone knew he referred to the real Laranda Garrettson—everyone, it seemed, except the woman holding the gun.

  “You used me.” Her voice was odd and twisted.

  “Put the gun down,” Giorgio said, bringing up his own weapon.

  “No.” The woman made a small movement with her wrist, and Giorgio fired. The loud click of an empty chamber filled the room.

  The woman laughed. “It seems you have no bullets.” She fired, and the shot sounded loud in Cassi’s ears.

  Giorgio grabbed his leg. “Are you crazy? Taggart, stop her!”

  The woman shot him again, this time in the arm. “You won’t hurt me again. Laranda Garrettson will not be taken advantage of.” She fired a third time, but her hand jerked away at the last moment and the bullet ricocheted off the wall.

  “Oh, come on. Can’t you do it right?” In two steps Taggart was near the woman, and he relieved her of the gun. “It’s like this.” He aimed the weapon at the amazed Giorgio.

  “But, you—”

  Taggart fired, and Giorgio fell to the ground and lay still. The woman’s legs gave out suddenly, and she would have fallen if Taggart hadn’t supported her.

  “Was that necessary?” Jared demanded. “You didn’t have to kill him.”

  “He would have killed you.”

  Cassi eyed the man with mistrust. “We could have tied him up.”

  “So he could come after you again? Boy, you two never learn. If you had taken care of Garrettson in the first place, you wouldn’t be here now.”

  “At least it’s over,” Cassi said. “Do you have a phone? Let’s call Fred.”

  “It’s not over yet,” Taggart answered. As if in slow motion, he pointed his gun at Cassi.

  “What do you mean?” Jared’s face turned livid, and Cassi put a hand on his arm to restrain him.

  “I want to see what’s in the vault.”

  “That can wait until the FBI arrives.”

  Taggart chuckled. His blue eyes glinted in the dim light, reminding Cassi of Jared’s, but where Jared’s were clear, Taggart’s held a touch of madness. “Do you know what’s in that vault?” he asked. “Have you any idea of the money and power involved? I’m not letting that go.”

  “You won’t be able to use any of it,” Jared reminded him. “You don’t have the connections.”

  “I have Donelli,” Taggart said.

  “You just killed his nephew.”

  “He doesn’t know that. The gun that killed him doesn’t hold my fingerprints.” For the first time Cassi noticed that Taggart wore tight, skin-colored gloves. “Alas,” Taggart continued. “How was I to know that his own little creation would find a gun on site and use it on her boyfriend?”

  At that th
e woman next to him stirred. “I’m Laranda,” she said. Her head twitched.

  “Get to the vault,” Taggart commanded.

  “No.” Jared stood firm. “This ends here.”

  “Does it?” Taggart grabbed the woman next to him by the neck. “Would you like her to join Giorgio? She really is just an innocent bystander, you know.”

  “I’m Laranda,” the woman insisted. “Let go of me!”

  Taggart did, shoving her at Jared. “One more word and I’ll shoot someone. Don’t test my patience. I’ve been waiting a long time for this treasure.”

  Cassi and Jared’s eyes met. He’s serious, Cassi wanted to say, but she saw that Jared already knew.

  “Open the vault.” Taggart’s eyes glinted dangerously.

  They walked to the vault, and Cassi and Jared put their right thumbs on the small blinking screen embedded in the shiny metal door. There was a low hum, and a message flashed on the screen. Open door. Jared grasped the steering wheel handle with both hands and pulled. The door swung open with apparent ease. They hesitated.

  Cassi knew that walking inside was as sure as walking into death, but Taggart wasn’t giving them any options. They could either die immediately by his gun, or take their chances with Laranda’s vicious plan. Neither promised a happy outcome. The only thing left to do was to hope that somehow Fred would get to them in time.

  “Get inside,” Taggart ordered.

  The Laranda imposter walked inside, swaying as though she really believed she had everything under control. Cassi remembered that she had wanted to go in the vault since she’d heard the real Laranda order her inside. What was she thinking? Was she really a pawn? Or a good actress?

  From the entrance, Cassi could see numerous shapes on wide shelves inside the vault. But the items were draped with off-white cloths.

  “I won’t ask again.” Taggart pointed his gun at Jared’s heart.

  Cassi walked inside, pulling Jared with her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Taggart push the heavy door shut.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  FRED WATCHED THE WHITE VAN leave the house, debating what he should do. Because the van had been parked in the garage, he hadn’t been sure that Cassi and Jared were inside. But the blip on his monitor told him his tracking device was on the move again.

  “Let’s go,” said an insistent voice beside him. It was Sampson—with all the patience of an eleven-year-old. “They’re getting away!”

  He looked at Sampson and wished the boy had accepted the continued hospitality of Alberto’s wife. They had gone home with the Embassy man for the night, leaving the stakeout to their reinforcements, but had been back on duty at five this morning.

  Sampson had refused to stay behind, vowing to run away if Fred didn’t take him along. Fred believed him. What’s more, the boy had credit cards and money to back his every desire—and right now his desire was to rescue Cassi and Jared. Better to keep him in control than to have him blunder into the mobsters’ rented house and be killed. Fred had no doubt that Nicholas Donelli wouldn’t hesitate to take the opportunity.

  In the driver’s seat, Alberto glanced at him, thick eyebrows raised in question. “Do we go?”

  Fred debated. He didn’t know for sure that Cassi and Jared were in the vehicle, despite the tracking device. The mobsters could be using it against him. It might be more prudent to send one of the other cars after it.

  “Come on, Fred,” Sampson pleaded.

  Fred wished he had thought to have the man who talked to Taggart in the bank ask about the transmitter. That way he would know for sure.

  He punched a number into his phone. “I’ll trail the van. You guys keep watching the house. I’ll let you know if I need backup.”

  “All right!” Sampson sat back in his seat and fastened his belt. “Hit it, Alberto.”

  Fred was glad to have Alberto to drive them. While he had driven in New York and downtown San Diego, here the rules were different, and he certainly didn’t have time to be picked up by local police. Alberto hadn’t known much about tailing people, but with a little instruction, he did an adequate job. Besides, with the tracking device they could travel miles back, out of sight.

  The van led them on a long drive to a smaller city with a few large buildings, but not nearly as tall as in Lisbon. “We are near Sintra,” Alberto said.

  “What’s that?” Sampson asked.

  “A place with a big palace. It’s beautiful. You should go there before you leave.”

  “I’ve seen a lot of palaces,” Sampson said. “My mom and I once went . . .” The boy trailed off and pretended to be engrossed by tracking receiver.

  Fred was reminded of how his own father had died of a heart attack when Fred was in his early twenties. His mother had died soon after of breast cancer. But he had learned to go on. So would Sampson.

  Stifling a sigh, Fred surveyed the city around him. There were new buildings and old, all with cobblestone sidewalks and asphalt roads. New meeting the old. He had a sudden desire to see the palace Alberto talked about, to stroll along shady paths and quiet roads. Maybe he did need a vacation. But what would it be like with no one to share the beauties he would discover?

  Brooke.

  Where was she now? What was her involvement in this mess?

  “They’re up ahead.” Alberto parked against the curb, awaiting instructions.

  “I see Cassi,” Sampson said, pointing.

  Fred saw another woman there, too. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought it was Brooke. At least she was the same size and had the same golden-blond hair. Fred also spied Giorgio Donelli and Taggart, the FBI plant, whom he recognized from photographs taken the day before by the cameras in the bank. “This might be a good time to take them. Taggart’s with us, and that only leaves Donelli’s nephew and those three guards.”

  “Plus the man inside,” Alberto pointed out. “And that other lady.”

  “Yeah.” Fred didn’t want to count Brooke with the enemy, but for the time being he would have to. “Obviously, they didn’t think they’d be followed.” He dialed a number on his phone. “I need backup,” he said. “We’ve spotted Cassi and Jared.”

  “They’re there?” came an amazed voice. “But we just saw some people who look an awful lot like them leave in a car.”

  “Then it’s a trick or this is. Have two units follow them and the other two stay at the house. You come here.”

  There was a silence on the other end. “Donelli’s leaving now. In another car. He has suitcases.”

  Fred didn’t like the sound of that. “Stay with him. He’s probably going to the airport. As soon as he’s gone, send a team into the house. After they check it out, send them here.”

  “Will do.” The phone fell silent.

  “What happened?” Sampson asked. “You look mad.”

  “They’re playing games, trying to divide our men.” Fred explained the situation briefly. “Now, are you sure that was Cassi you saw, and not just someone who resembles her?”

  “I’m sure,” Sampson said, but Fred heard a slight hesitation in his voice.

  “Well, I did see Brooke,” Fred added.

  “Brooke?”

  “The woman who looks like Laranda.”

  Sampson sighed. “I hope Cassi and Jared are okay.”

  “We don’t even know for sure that they’re here.”

  “It was them.” Sampson sounded more sure. “I feel it.”

  Fred wished his own gut would speak up, as it sometimes did when he was working like this, but right now, thoughts of Brooke overpowered his normal instincts. There had been something beginning between them, he was sure. Or had she only used him? Fred shook his head to clear it.

  Suddenly four shots rang out, not rapid, but with deliberate pauses in between. Sampson bounced on his seat. “Was that a gun?”

  “Sounded like it. But it could have been a car backfiring.”

  “What if they need us?”

  “Wait a little.” Fred wanted to see if t
he shots brought any reaction from the deserted street or from any of the three- and four-story apartment buildings. Surely there was a small store or two nearby with people who would notice the sound. But there was no reaction at all. Either no one had heard the shots or they hadn’t attached any importance to them.

  The door across the street from the van opened and Taggart walked out. “Strange. He didn’t tell us anything was going on.” Fred’s instincts abruptly began working overtime. As a good agent, Taggart would have managed to be assigned where the real action was taking place. Why hadn’t he phoned in to the FBI as promised? With Nicolas Donelli heading for the airport, Fred doubted there was much time to spare.

  There was, of course, another more sinister possibility. Perhaps Taggart had his own timetable—one that didn’t include the FBI. He wouldn’t be the first man to switch sides after going under cover.

  Taggart talked to the guards and then returned to the building. Fred made an abrupt decision. “Wait here,” he said. “I’m going to have a talk with those guards.”

  “But there’s three of them,” Sampson protested.

  Fred didn’t feel there was much choice. “It’ll be an even bigger surprise.” He glanced at Alberto. “If this goes bad, get him out of here and call for help.”

  Alberto nodded.

  Fred checked the silencer on his gun, his face grim. He didn’t like killing and was grateful he hadn’t done much shooting at live targets since his promotion, but sometimes it became necessary. His mind and body filled with the tingling he recognized from his pre-FBI days as a policeman on the street.

  Abruptly, he remembered the first time he had shot his gun as a rooky cop. After shooting the drug dealer, his guilt had run heavy and deep, despite the fact that he had saved his partner from the man. But that had been a long time ago, before he joined the FBI. He was more hardened now, though far from immune. Tonight, if he lived, sleep would come only with difficultly.

  He strolled up the street casually, noting that the guards’ attention was on the building across the street. So far, so good. There were no passersby to get in the way, only the occasional car. He would take out the man on the far side first, and let off another shot at the nearest before ducking behind a car to take out the last. His hand was steady and sure.