For His Eyes Only

by T C Archer

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  Cole merged onto the freeway, a few hundred meters behind Lanton’s Mercedes. The blip abruptly veered toward Exit 20.

  “He’s getting off. Exit 20A,” Tom said.

  “Got it,” Cole replied.

  The blip traveled around the cloverleaf and stopped at the crossroad. Cole slowed on the off-ramp.

  “Slower,” Tom said. “He’s stopped at the light.”

  The blip moved.

  “He’s off,” Tom said. “Turning left.”

  “Hang on.” Cole accelerated, then braked hard. “Caught by the light.”

  “He’s turning,” Tom reported. “What’s to the right?”

  Cole leaned forward, looking out the driver’s window. “Stores, a strip mall, branch-bank, a Hooters.” He accelerated around the turn. “I see him. He’s pulled into Best Buy.”

  The blip stopped moving and blinked at a slow rate.

  Jesse exchanged a glance with Tom.

  “I’m pulling into the parking lot across the street,” Cole said. “Hand me the binoculars.”

  Tom pointed under the counter by Jesse’s knees. She found a latched drawer as Cole steered the van right, then left. She found the binoculars along with a third pair of headphones, and two radio headsets. Cole came to a stop and she handed him the binoculars. He trained them out the side window.

  “Do you see him?” she demanded.

  “There’re TV boxes stacked at the front of the store. I can’t see a thing.”

  Ten minutes later, Cole said, “He’s out, and he’s made a purchase.”

  “What kind?” Tom asked.

  “Can’t tell. It’s in a small bag. He’s in his car. He’s opening the bag…it’s a cell phone, looks like one of those pay-as-you-go ones, and a phone card.”

  Anticipation hummed through Jesse. All agents had cell phones and email addresses set up in case of emergency. The fact Lanton was using a prearranged communication meant they had him worried.

  “He’s punching in the card code,” Cole said. “He’s making a call.”

  Tom spun in his seat to face the cell-phone receiver. Putting on the headphones, he flipped the rig on and punched the DUAL band button, then SCAN.

  “Can you get him?” she asked.

  “Maybe, if he stays on the air long enough.” Voices murmured from his headphones like buzzing mosquitoes.

  Two long minutes passed. Tom listened, finger over the button to stop the scan, as one voice after another in as many conversations tuned in and out.

  “He’s ended the call,” Cole reported. “Dialing again.”

  “You have him?” Jesse asked Tom.

  “No.”

  Cole’s cell phone rang. He raised an eyebrow and glanced in the mirror at Jesse. She nodded and he answered.

  “Yeah.” He mouthed the word, Caruthers, then said into the phone, “What did he want?” A pause. “Where is she?” A longer pause. “Fine. When he calls again, tell him you lost her.” Another pause. “Just slow-roll him until I call you.” He ended the call. “Lanton called Caruthers and ordered him to pick you up.”

  “Is he still on the phone?” Tom asked.

  Cole raised the binoculars. “He’s talking again.—he ended the call,” Cole paused. “He’s dialing again…he’s leaving. Wait, he’s tossed the phone onto the seat.”

  Tom took off the headphones. “Damn.”

  Jesse leaned back in her chair. “At least we know he called Caruthers.”

  The blip exited the parking lot, headed back the way it had come.

  “Back to the office?” Jesse said as Cole exited the parking lot.

  Tom nodded. “My bet is he’s headed for the incinerator, then a box lunch at the commissary on the way up to his office.”

  “If he heads back, Tom and I have to high-tail it back to our offices,” Cole said.

  Jesse nodded. Dammit. She wanted to know who he called. Her money was on Morales.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  Jesse glanced at the digital clock on the dash as Cole took the aft seat in the van.

  “Two o’clock," he said. “Time to execute part three.” He dialed Lanton’s number.

  Before Tom left, he had made sure the GPS message buried in the next call would pinpoint their location as outside Lanton’s Georgetown home.

  Lanton picked up on the first ring this time. “What do you want?”

  “You broke our agreement.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You sent your two agents to kill me. I’m here to take back my money.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lanton repeated.

  “Do you recognize the address 3562 Willow?” Cole asked. “Trace the call, I’m there now.”

  Lanton paused. Jesse imagined him catching his breath.

  “Are you threatening my wife?” Lanton demanded. “I’ll send the whole God damn U.S. Army after you.”

  “Haven’t you heard, Senor? I am already dead. Not only do I know where your wife is, I have the proof you sold me classified information. You will meet with me.”

  Another pause, then Lanton’s voice cracked, “Where?”

  “Thirtieth Avenue East, at the former Drake Brazing Company. One hour. Come alone.”

  Lanton cut the line.

  Cole pulled off his headphones. “Go get the minivan while I get into costume. As soon as Tom shows up, we’ll head to the warehouse.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  Jesse strode up to the warehouse door, Cole close behind. A sign riveted to the tin announced Employees Only. Another mission she was flying blind. There hadn’t been time for her to investigate, so she had been forced to trust Tom’s analyses. For the first time, she understood what the team members who depended on her went through. She’d always taken her job seriously, understood their lives depended on her but, until now, she’d never felt what it was like to so completely depend on intel from another human being. She could depend on Tom. Analyze is what he did best.

  She pulled the door open on rusty hinges. Cole brushed past her. She smiled. Maybe there was something to this knight in shining armor bit. When Tom told her she wouldn’t be doing recon, she had looked up to find Cole watching her intently. His going in before her now was his way of letting her know she wasn’t alone.

  Jesse entered, pulling the door shut behind her. Fifteen feet into the room, she stopped beside him and scanned the interior: a large open area, divided by rusty shelves, with a concrete floor stained by chemicals and age. Windows set high in the wall traced an unbroken line along the building’s flanks. Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating dust motes engaged in a silent, lazy dance.

  She approached a squat, rectangular concrete plating tub. The tub, big enough to swallow a mid-sized car, was one in a line of five. Beer cans, fast food containers, and other assorted trash lay at the bottom of the nearest waist-high tub. With its foot-thick concrete sides, the tubs would provide excellent cover if things went bad.

  Despite the fact the 9mm Beretta in her jeans waistband carried blanks, the weight of the weapon gave her a sense of security. She reached inside her shirt to reassure herself the microphone was still taped between her breasts.

  Cole raised a brow and Jesse was surprised to feel warmth creep across her cheeks. She ducked her head, pressed the radio ear-bud and said, “We’re inside. You getting the signal?”

  “Loud and clear,” Tom came back over the radio.

  The delivery truck parked across the street had been a stroke of luck. Tom sat in a surveillance van, nestled out of sight behind the truck.

  Jesse gave Cole an affirmative nod, then replied “Roger.”

  Cole crossed to a row of flat-topped offices built against the far wall. Wide windows, complete with mini-blinds, faced the production floor where she stood. Farther right, industrial-sized boilers lined the wall, next to an oven the size of a three-car garage. In between, sat abandoned steel shelves, thr
ee or more overhead pulleys with dangling chains, and several dirt-crusted workbenches.

  She inspected Cole’s outfit with a critical eye. This time, Lanton would be up close. Even in the muted lighting, Cole looked too tall and too wide in the shoulders to be Perez. The body-armor and special effects blood gear he wore wasn’t helping. If Lanton made any calculations on Perez’s growth in the ten years since the picture, he might wonder.

  “He’s here and he’s alone,” Tom’s voice crackled over the radio.

  Jesse met Cole’s gaze. He seemed to be thinking the same thing she was: Here’s hoping Green Leader isn’t as smart as we think. Or was he remembering being inside her, and wondering if he’d ever get the chance to feel that good again?

  Jesse turned, yanked out her ear-bud, tossed it behind the tub, and faced the door. Seconds later, the door creaked open and Lanton stood in the doorway. He wore the standard dark suit, tie, and white shirt. Jesse laughed silently at sight of the gun held at waist level—a Walther PPK, just like James Bond. She wanted to shout coward! when the barrel trembled as he scanned the interior.

  He paused when his line of sight fell on Cole, then he continued searching until he saw her. Gun leveled on her, he stepped inside, pulling the door closed behind him. How about that? He considered her a bigger threat than Perez.

  “Senor, Lanton,” Cole said. Cole casually pointed his Glock at Lanton. His left hand with the broken fingers rested in the side suit pocket. “Please, lower the weapon. We can talk cordially.”

  Lanton approached to three meters, then halted. “Amadeo Perez, back from the dead. What do you want?”

  Cole gave his head a slow shake. “We had an agreement. Yet, you sent Miss Evans to kill me. You know what I do to people who break promises?”

  Lanton raised his PPK a fraction. The fool thought he was James Bond. Emma Peel wouldn’t be impressed.

  “Miss Evans explained how you sent her to kill me,” Cole said.

  A corner of Lanton’s mouth turned up in a sneer. “She’s lying. She came after you because she thought you killed the girl.”

  “Ah, the girl,” Cole said. A chill tickled Jesse’s spine at the sound of his perfect Spanish accent. “She’s safe, I hope,” he said.

  “None of your business.”

  “You shall issue a formal apology from your government,” Cole said. “I do not kidnap little girls, and will not have my reputation soiled.”

  Jesse wanted to laugh and recoil at the same time. She could imagine Perez making such an insane demand.

  Lanton’s mouth curved into a full sneer. “No. You just enslave them to the drugs you sell.” He turned to Jesse. “How does it feel making a pact with the devil?”

  She shrugged. “It’s a marriage of convenience. After you put me out in the cold, you figured I’d go after Perez. I have no intentions of solving all your problems so easily.”

  “Solve all my problems?” he replied with such vehemence she knew she’d hit home. “You’ve been a thorn in my side far too long.”

  Jesse gave him a nasty smile. “Submissions getting a bit too expensive? Have you saved enough of that bribe money to live without your wife’s support?”

  Disdain flashed in Lanton’s brown eyes. “Don’t be a fool.”

  “Enough,” Cole interrupted. “You will not live to enjoy your private clubs or your wife if you do not return my money.”

  Lanton leveled the PPK on Cole. “You should have stayed dead in Columbia.”

  Jesse riveted her gaze to the gun and saw his finger tighten on the trigger. She dove left as the gun erupted. A deafening shot filled the empty warehouse. Blood erupted from Cole’s chest. Lanton fired again. Another report assaulted her ears as she rolled to her feet.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Cole stumble backward. Glass shattered as he crashed through the office window behind him. Tiny shards of glass pierced her left cheek. Her gut wrenched. She should have pulled her Beretta immediately and shot Cole, not taken a chance Lanton would shoot him. Where had the bullet hit?

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  Jesse dove for Lanton. She grabbed his wrist and twisted. The PPK clattered to the concrete floor. He dropped to his knees, howling with pain.

  “Murderer,” she ground out, and pivoted left, elbow poised for a strike.

  He surprised her by blocking the blow. Jesse side-kicked his jaw, then lunged for the PPK. She rolled and came up kneeling, weapon aimed, finger tight on the trigger.

  Lanton stared up at her.

  “Get up, mother fucker!” she shouted.

  Memory of Green Team lying on the ground like a pile of garbage filled her mind’s eye. He slaughtered them, Martinez—stole the contents of her safety deposit box—and shot Cole! Rage created more chaos. The gun trembled in her grasp. She tightened her trigger finger a hair. Wait! She had to get Lanton to confess. What about Cole? She had to check Cole. But she’d promised—

  Lanton struggled to his knees. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth and he spat out a tooth. No, a crown, she realized when it skittered to a stop in a ray of sunlight between them. Dust motes settled on the prize.

  She took a step backward, peered through the broken window at Cole. He laid in a crumpled heap among glass and tangled window blinds. Blood soaked the front of his white shirt and cream-colored suit coat just under his breastbone. He’d always been a good actor. He must be acting now. Her gaze caught on the Glock lying on the ground where he’d dropped it. All that firepower and no bullets. Jesse rose, backed up, and kicked it through the open office door to where he lay, then motioned at Lanton with the PPK.

  “Get up.”

  He wiped blood from his chin. She tracked his chest with the gun as he reached for the tank lip and pulled himself to his feet. He was probably decked out with enough body armor to survive a jousting match, but that couldn’t stop her from breaking his neck.

  “It’s over,” he said, wiping his chin again.

  Jesse advanced, keeping him covered. Glass crunched under her Keds. Anger echoed in red flashes through her head. She could end this now. Take him out once and for all.

  “Damn right it’s over.” She gripped the PPK in both hands, locked her arms, forefinger tight on the trigger.

  Lanton gave a derisive laugh. “You can’t shoot an unarmed man. That would make you a murderer like Perez.”

  She couldn’t do it. But he couldn’t know that for sure. Jesse rushed forward. His eyes widened. She seized his shirt collar and drove him against the wall, the PPK jammed into the soft flesh beneath his jaw.

  “What if I shoot you and make it look like you and Perez shot each other?”

  “With my own gun?” Lanton glanced down at her waistband.

  “You’re thinking about the Beretta. Go for it.”

  Lanton’s eyes jerked back up to hers. She pulled the Beretta free and shoved it into the other side of his face, while stuffing the PPK into her waistband. A blank would blast a nice burn-hole under his chin. The pain would be excruciating.

  This was one helluva deviation from the plan. She’d promised to get him talking. How long could she let Cole lie there? Tom hadn’t busted up the party yet. He was supposed to wait for her or Cole to give him the go ahead to come in. How far would he let her go?

  Jesse jammed the Beretta into Lanton’s crotch. “You fucked me good. I can make sure you can’t fuck another woman ever again.”

  “Shooting me won’t get you off the hook—or get your sister’s trust fund back,” he said.

  His eyes weren’t dilated anymore. He was one cool son-of-a-bitch.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked. “Call the authorities? So I shot Perez. You’re still a traitor and I won’t be around to clear your record. You need me.”

  She barked a harsh laugh. “Even you can’t give me back my life. I got nothing. I’ve—” She shook her head, feeling like a junkie trying to clear the dope from her brain. “I’m gonna taste your blood when you go.” She leaned into him. “Time to pay
the piper.”

  “Wait!” he shouted. “I can give you the final piece of the puzzle.”

  Jesse stared, nonplussed. “There’s more?”

  He lifted a sleeve to his mouth and dabbed at the blood. “Don’t underestimate me. You know the little girl you’re so concerned about?” he asked.

  “You fucking son-of-a-bitch, I’ll—”

  “She was never missing” he interrupted. “I have proof.” He paused. “She’s my daughter.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  Jesse felt as if she’d been belly-slammed with a club. “Your daughter? But Senator Hamilton—” She stared. It all made sense in a sick, twisted way. Did the Senator know the daughter he thought was his, wasn’t? What would Lanton’s wife think of a senator’s wife as her husband’s mistress? Jesse’s head spun.

  “Don’t you see?” Lanton said. “I couldn’t hurt Maria, any more than you could hurt Amanda.”

  In a flash, Jesse had the Beretta jammed so hard against his temple his cheek crushed against the cement wall. “Don’t you so much as mention my sister, you son-of-a-bitch. I’ll blow your brains from here to kingdom come, then feed what’s left to the dogs.”

  Jesse punched him in the stomach. He crashed to his knees on the hard concrete. He gurgled a groan, a protective arm around his belly. She yanked the Beretta up.

  He threw up a palm. “Wait! You need me.”

  She wanted to laugh. She wanted to laugh from now until doomsday.

  “I—” His voice hitched, “I have the contents of your safety deposit box—and you need me to lift the freeze on your sister’s trust fund.” He struggled to his feet, then collapsed against the wall. “By now, you’ve no doubt falsified new identity documents, but you can never replace the personal items in your safety deposit box.”

  Jesse stared at him impassively. The disc with the secrets Juanita had stolen from Tom. Jesse had been right. He was going crazy trying to figure out what was on the disc. He might return the rest of the papers, but would never return the disk.

  She lifted a shoulder and wiped sweat from her forehead. “What do you want?”

  “A deal. I met Perez here. He was armed, I wasn’t. No one knows I have the Walther. You can say it’s yours. You caught Perez before he fired, and killed him in my defense. The evidence will hold up. I’ll back you on it.”