For His Eyes Only

by T C Archer

  You’re trying to seduce him, she reminded herself through the haze of desire. She took a deep breath and was painfully aware of her nipples’ sudden sensitivity against the dress’s cotton fabric. She shifted, rubbing her breasts against his chest, and allowing him to settle more snugly between her legs. His erection pressed against her thigh.

  Cole lifted his head and looked down at her. “You can’t go off half-cocked.”

  Jesse blinked, her mind stuck on the words half-cocked.

  “I read your file,” he said. “I know what you’re capable of.”

  A chill displaced the warmth in her belly at the possibility that he did in fact know.

  “Perez isn’t the type of man anyone should tangle with on their own,” Cole went on. “You’ll end up dead.” He paused. “Or worse.”

  Her heart beat furiously. Good. He would think she wanted him. Hell, she did.

  “Now,” he said, rolling off her, “I need to do that shopping.”

  He stood, and Jesse stared, disbelieving. His gaze didn’t stray to her breasts or legs.

  “I meant what I said, Jess. I know what you’re capable of.” He glanced around the room. “This hotel room can’t hold you. You’re good. So is my team. Take off, and they’ll follow. Even if you do shake them, where will you get the equipment on this list?” He patted his shirt pocket.

  Her legs suddenly felt like rubber, like they would melt into the bed and she’d be left stranded with nothing but a head sitting on a torso.

  Get some rest,” Cole said. “I’ll be back later.”

  He turned and disappeared around the short wall separating the room from the tiny foyer. A second later, the door opened, then shut.

  Jesse stared at the spot where he’d disappeared. Up until now, she always knew who the bad guy was. But Cole? What was she supposed to do with a man who might not be guilty of nothing worse than trying to bring a traitor to justice?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Jesse squinted against the morning sun and pushed her sunglasses farther up the bridge of her nose. She sipped her coffee. Cole had left the hotel the night before and still hadn’t returned when she’d fallen asleep about two in the morning. A tremor raced through her. His phone call at seven that morning had jarred her from a dream of racing through the Columbian jungle while calling out his name. Hearing his voice had confused her in that first instant.

  “You okay, Jess?” he’d asked.

  Memory of the concern in his voice still nagged her.

  Jesse set the coffee down and glanced through the café doors at the clock on the wall over the bar. One o’clock. He should be arriving any minute.

  She looked back at the street and, as if on cue, an olive green International Harvester approached. Jesse squinted and recognized Cole at the wheel. She pulled a few pesos from her pocket, dropped them on the table, then strode to the curb. He stopped and Jesse glanced through the window into the back of the Harvester at the long aluminum case before she got in.

  Day old stubble gave Cole’s apple pie looks an edge that sent a jolt of desire straight between her legs. His hair lay flat on the left side as if he’d slept in the car, and his long sleeved cotton shirt was rumpled. He looked like a man fresh from the beach after a night of lovemaking.

  Jesse gave him an inquiring look.

  He shifted into drive and said, “Everything is all right.”

  Everything would be all right if she could be certain he believed she was innocent. Heat rocketed through her. Where the hell had that thought come from? From the need to know he saw through Lanton’s smokescreen to the real her, she realized with horror.

  She hooked a thumb under one spaghetti strap of the sundress. “I can’t go traipsing through the jungle dressed like this.”

  He gave his lopsided grin and surprised her by raking his gaze over her body. “Too bad. We’ll stop at your hotel.”

  Fifteen minutes later and a hundred mental replays of the way he’d looked at her, Jesse led Cole up the narrow, worn-out stairs to her hotel room. The Do-Not-Disturb sign still hung on her door at the end of the hall. She pulled the key from the dress pocket and unlocked the door.

  “Wait here,” she said. “The bathroom doesn’t have a door.”

  “No problem,” he replied.

  He leaned against the wall as she entered, then clicked the door shut behind her. An odor of foul water wafted from the bathroom. Jesse grimaced. At least her night at The Dan Carlton had saved her from having to use that bathroom. The double bed appeared undisturbed, as well as the single plastic chair she had placed with one leg covering a cigarette burn in the carpet. Her purse and toilet kit still sat on the cheap dresser where she had left them. She crossed to the dresser, then eased open the toilet kit. Her hairbrush still lay on top, bristles up, at a twenty-five degree angle, the handle pointing to the corner of the room.

  Cole’s men were good enough to search and leave the bed and chair the way she had left them. Few would think anything about seeing a brush askew in the kit. Jesse turned, flipped up the bedcovers, and felt under the mattress’ bottom piping. The cut she had made to the cover was still tucked under. She reached inside and withdrew the cell phone sniffer, a 9mm Beretta, and four clips. She set them beneath the bed out of sight, then heaved the suitcase sitting beside the bed onto the mattress.

  Kicking off her sandals, she shimmied out of the sundress. Jesse glanced at the door. If Cole were going to burst in, now would be the time. Maybe he needed an invitation. She could slip out of the boy shorts and show him what he’d missed yesterday. Who was she kidding? She’d practically thrown herself at him, and he’d reacted as if she was his little sister. Still, that hadn’t been his Colt pressed against her thigh when he lay on top of her.

  Jesse unzipped the suitcase and slipped on a black sports bra and night-camouflage top, then strapped her combat knife to her right calf, and pulled on black fatigue-pants. She checked the breach on her 9mm Beretta, then removed her thigh holster and slammed the Beretta home. After putting on the ops-vest, she stuffed the clips into the outside pockets, slid the Beretta and holster into the left inside pocket, and the sniffer into the right inside pocket. Regret brought the burn of tears. If Cole discovered the truth, he would never forgive her. Jesse sat on the bed and pulled on black-poly socks and rubber-soled combat boots. She would have to live with that risk. Until Lanton was stopped, she couldn’t afford to trust anyone with all her secrets.

  Jesse rose, then scooped up the sundress Cole had bought it for her. The soft fabric made her feel like a woman, but the armor she now wore was safer—especially around Cole. She carefully folded the dress and placed it in the suitcase before closing the top.

  She strode to the door. With a final glance back at the suitcase still sitting on the bed, she opened the door. Cole straightened from the wall.

  She closed the door. “Let’s roll.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Jesse stared through the Harvester’s passenger window as tall buildings gave way to private homes. Soon, civilization yielded to densely foliaged countryside. By two thirty, they’d left all human life behind and were bouncing along a dirt road surrounded by jungle. At Jesse’s direction, Cole abruptly turned off onto another dirt road. He stopped five minutes later and shut down the engine. He had driven a mere twenty-five minutes, yet the road cut through total isolation where no man would dare venture more than five feet off the beaten track. Dense foliage hugged the ruts in the road and tree limbs arched overhead. The air hung so thick even sounds suffered an unnatural attenuation. They were alone.

  “Come on,” Cole said, and left the truck.

  Jesse got out and they met at the rear of the Harvester.

  He opened the door and slid the aluminum case toward him. “I got the camera, binoculars, radios, handgun, and lock picks. I got a few extra items.” He opened the case and removed a box the size of a paperback book with a rocker switch and a two-inch-long rubber antenna.

  “It’s a cell phon
e scrambler. It’ll jam all cell phones in a four hundred meter area. Without a landline, your judge will be out of communication with the outside world.”

  Jesse caught her shock before it reached her expression, and nodded. The damn jammer would disable her sniffer. Leave it to Cole to bring the one piece of equipment that would completely undermine her mission. She’d have to make sure the jammer stayed off.

  Cole pulled out two black headsets consisting of an ear bud with a tiny microphone affixed to a stiff wire. “These are wideband, spread spectrum radios. Impossible to pick up with ordinary receivers.” He affixed one to his ear, then handed her the other. Next he lifted out two ordinary looking analog watches. He gave one to Jesse. “Just push this button.” He motioned for her to listen with the ear bud, then pushed the bottom-most pushbutton on the side of the watch.

  “Fourteen, oh-nine,” a female voice announced.

  “Hold the button down and it ticks off the seconds.” He pulled two pairs of horned rimmed glasses from the case. “These have ultraviolet sensitive lenses with light sources in the frame. The light is invisible to the naked eye, and will let us see in the dark.” He unfolded a pair and handed them to her. “The batteries are rechargeable and last about thirty-minutes. The light turns off automatically when you fold them up.”

  Jesse examined the glasses. “Why not inferred?”

  “Inferred light can be seen by common IR cameras. UV is rarer and less likely to be picked up. We also have this.” Cole pulled out a camera not much larger than her fist. “This is sensitive to UV, just like the glasses, and designed specifically to photograph documents. It’s got Maco lens, auto-focus, UV flash.”

  “Very nice,” Jesse said.

  What would Emma you think of modern technology? Not much. Emma would use her brains. Jesse might have to do the same.

  The sleeve on Cole’s right arm hiked up as he reached forward to lay the camera back in the case and she caught sight of a cigarette burn above his wrist. What he would do if she unbuttoned his shirt to get a look at the rest of those scars?

  *****

  Jesse rose onto her elbows on the spongy ground next to Cole and adjusted her binoculars against the sun’s glare. Their vantage point high atop a thick foliaged hill overlooking Albert Menendez’s mansion gave a clear view of the grounds. The hacienda was a collection of various sized wings, one and two-story stucco sections, each with a hip-roof of terracotta tiles. Wooden beams protruded through the outer walls at the level of floors and eaves. She scanned the covered veranda bordering the far side of a central courtyard that featured an Olympic-sized pool.

  The judge’s young wife sunned herself at the pool’s edge. Sunglasses and a wide brimmed hat shaded her face. The waistband of her black bikini bottom straddled her hipbones, barely touching her flat stomach, and the tiny top hugged a pair of full C-cup breasts. Flesh exposed by the bikini top lay partially hidden by wisps of long, black hair. Her oiled, bronzed body shimmered in the sun.

  Jesse released a slow whistle. “You could fry eggs on that.” She handed Cole the binoculars. “What do you think, are they real?”

  Cole pressed the glasses to his eyes. He gave a low whistle. “I’m no expert, but I’d say it doesn't matter. Who is she?”

  “Yolanda Menendez. Her husband is federal judge Albert Menendez. If my intel is right, he’s in Perez’s pocket. Yolanda turns in at eleven. Menendez waits until she falls asleep, then sneaks to the servants’ quarters and screws the cook, Velda. That’s when we go in.”

  Cole’s gaze riveted onto Jesse. “He’s cheating on her?”

  Jesse shrugged. She had to agree with Cole. “That’s what the report said.”

  Cole’s gaze sharpened and a tremor rippled through Jesse. Was he connecting the intel on Menendez with her Columbian college lover her file was sure to have mentioned?

  “What about Menendez’s security?” Cole finally said.

  “Five guards with automatic weapons make rounds every twenty minutes,” she replied, and tried to ignore the thought that Michael’s slide into the Columbian underworld was the luckiest break she’d had during this nightmare. “They also have guard dogs. Look at the main house, left of the pool. You’ll see a balcony on the second floor. His study is behind the double French doors.”

  Cole looked through the glasses again and shifted slightly left, brushing his arm against Jesse’s shoulder. She resisted the urge to rub back.

  “Those railings are supported by Doric columns topped with an eight-inch thick cap,” he said. “We should be able to grab the columns and climb over. How about the locks?”

  “Lever system. They lock from the inside, but we can get in using a plastic card.”

  “What about electronic security?” he asked.

  “The electric service out here is unreliable, so he didn’t have one installed.”

  “Not even surveillance cameras?”

  “No. He has floodlights under the eaves. My guess is they’ll turn on when there’s an alarm. There’s a search light in the three-story turret at the center of the compound.”

  Cole lowered the glasses and looked at her. “He doesn’t seem concerned about security. You sure he’s in Perez’s pocket?”

  “Perez is the best security system in the world.”

  Cole grunted. “True. We go in when he heads to the maid’s room?”

  Jesse glanced at the sun. “Yeah. It’ll be dark in two hours. But we’ll keep a close watch on the guards, make sure everything’s what it’s supposed to be.”

  “What are we looking for?” Cole asked.

  “Anything that looks like it might connect to Perez: an address, bank statements, phone numbers, internet addresses.”

  Cole lifted the binoculars back to his eyes. Jesse adjusted her position slightly. The airlink sniffer dug into her ribs.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Jesse cursed the full moon. Only shadows were distinguishable within the palm and banyan trees where she and Cole crouched beside the wall outside Menendez’s hacienda. Once they got over the wall it would be a different story. The bright moonlight could prove a huge liability.

  Cole leaned a shoulder against the wall and cupped his hands between his knees. Jesse stepped into his laced fingers and he hoisted her up. She gingerly ran her fingers along the top of the wall until she found two spots devoid of embedded glass shards and pulled herself up. She peered over the wall at the mansion. The light in Menendez’s study glowed through the curtains of double French doors. She scanned the grounds for guards, found the area deserted, then lifted herself onto the wall. Two seconds, Cole had hoisted himself up beside her, and they dropped onto the ground.

  He pointed to his eyes, then pointed to either side of a gnarled banyan tree with a trunk ten feet thick, meaning he’d keep watch from the cover of the tree as she ran ahead. Jesse ran to the right and Cole to the left. She hurried around the tree, crawled under a low palm and halted. Palm trees dotted the grounds. To her left, Cole emerged at the base of a pigmy palm twenty feet away. He opened his hand, palm down, indicating all clear from his vantage point.

  A shadow, then a red ember flared in Jesse’s peripheral vision. She pressed closer to the tree as a man with a machine gun slung over his shoulder ambled along the path that encircled the house. The cigarette he drew on burned red hot at the tip. He might as well be a flashing lighthouse in the darkness. The guard abruptly turned on his heel and strolled back the way he’d come. Once he disappeared around the corner of the house, Jesse turned to Cole and pointed at the mansion.

  He sprinted across the yard, running low from tree to tree. Jesse followed, dodging two palms, then a third, before reaching the south wall of the mansion behind Cole. She sidled between bushes shading the foundation, hugged her back to the wall, then pressed the audio button on her watch. “Twenty-three, fourteen,” the voice said. Another fifteen minutes before Menendez left for his rendezvous with his lover.

  Cole reached into the side pocket of his ops vest, withdrew t
he cell phone scrambler, switched it on, and laid it between the bushes and the house. The light in the study went dark. He exchanged a glance with her, then stepped from the bushes and linked his fingers for another boost up. Within the bushes, Jesse pretended to swat a bug on her ankle and snapped off the cell phone scrambler.

  She squeezed through the bushes, then grasped his shoulder and stepped into his cupped hands. He launched her upward. She was airborne for an instant, then threw both arms around one of the thick columns that supported the balcony railing. She shimmied up the stone baluster, adrenaline pounding through her veins.

  Jesse reached the railing, wrapped her arms around the cold stone, and tapped her feet together. Cole leaped, caught hold of her right ankle, then grabbed her left. She felt the strain in her arm and healing shoulder muscles as she pulled him up with her legs until he reached the bottom lip of the balcony.

  He grabbed the balcony lip. With the sudden release of dead weight, she scrambled over the railing, followed by Cole. They hit the stone balcony noiselessly, paused for a split second, then rushed to opposite corners near the house. Jesse tensed in anticipation of the guard who would be patrolling the section of ground below in three minutes or less.

  Two minutes later, steps sounded to the right. A guard stopped, waited for a few seconds, then returned the way he came. Jesse glanced at Cole. He nodded at the doors. She sidled to the double French doors and tried the handle. Locked. She squatted, and pulled out a stiff plastic card from her front pocket, then worked it between the doors until the latch popped. She stepped inside the study with Cole inches behind.

  Jesse donned the UV glasses. The interior lit up in a blue glow around her. A second later, another glow appeared around Cole. He faced her, two brilliant points of light shined from the temple hinges. She pulled her glasses down her nose and peered over the frame. The room was pitch-black with no sign of visible light from Cole’s glasses.