by CW Browning
“Ms. Woods,” he greeted her, striding forward and holding out his hand. “I apologize for the wait.”
Alina met him and shook his hand firmly.
“Thank you for seeing me.”
“Thank you for asking,” he said, waving her to a chair. “I'm surprised. You usually just appear in my private study.”
Alina's lips twitched at that.
“This time, I come with all respect,” she told him. “I even left my weapons in the car.”
Frankie nodded and seated himself in the armchair opposite hers.
“So I was told,” he said. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Last week, you offered me a one-time contract,” Alina said slowly. She was relaxed, her legs crossed, but her eyes were sharp and watchful, steady on his face.
“And you've changed your mind?”
“No.” Frankie raised his eyebrows in question and she smiled faintly. “I want to know who it was for.”
Frankie studied her for a long moment in silence before he got up and went over to the side bar to pour himself a drink. He held up a glass decanter with amber liquid to her questioningly and she shook her head.
“I think I've had enough dealings with you now to know when you have something on your mind,” he said, pouring himself a glass. “So what is it?”
“Is this room monitored?”
“It is not.”
“Then I'll trust this to go no further,” she told him, the warning clear in her voice.
Frankie glanced at her, then nodded in agreement.
“You have Stefan Delgado watching Dominic DiBarcoli's office building,” Viper said. “Why?”
Frankie stared at her for a beat, clearly startled, before he recovered and sipped his drink automatically.
“If you know that, you're watching the same building,” he replied smoothly, returning to his seat. “Our interests seem to have collided.”
“So it would seem.”
Frankie studied her over the rim of the glass. Viper met his gaze and, after a few long moments of silence, Frankie sighed and set the glass down on the table at his elbow.
“Dominic has become an issue for me,” he finally told her. “Last year, I brought him in on a business venture. We both did very well. He did a little too well. So I looked into it. Personally.”
“And?” Alina prompted when he paused.
“Dominic DiBarcoli stole from me,” Frankie said, his face darkening. “Me! The balls on that man!”
Alina's lips twitched ever so slightly before being sternly repressed.
“Why didn't you handle it?” she asked softly. “Why come to me?”
“It's delicate,” he replied with a shrug. “His wife is my niece. He's Family, but,” here Frankie held up a long finger for emphasis, “I never liked him. I never trusted him.”
Alina raised an eyebrow.
“Then why bring him in on a business project?”
“He was well-suited for it,” Frankie said with a shrug. “He knew the right people, had the right contacts. Missy asked me to include him, and I took the risk.”
Viper was silent, her eyes unfathomable as they studied him.
“Why is Stefan watching him?” she repeated.
“I've been open with you about my dealings so far,” Frankie told her. “Why are you still asking questions?”
“Because you're not answering it,” Viper replied bluntly. “You take care of all your business in-house, but this time you won't. You ask an outsider. When they decline, you still don't take care of it. Instead, you have your main enforcer babysit. Why?”
Frankie stared at her for a moment, then his lips curved into a reluctant smile.
“I like you,” he told her, picking up his glass again, “and you're from Jersey. You get the way things are done here. I wish you'd come work for me.”
“You've told me that before.”
“And I'll keep telling you,” he retorted without heat, “you and your boyfriend.”
He sipped his drink and set it down again, crossing his legs comfortably.
“This time, this one time, I'll answer your question,” he said. “I do handle my own affairs, especially when they're inside the Family. Missy would be upset, but she'd get over it eventually. The problem is that Dominic knows something...more specifically, someone...and if anyone from the Family touches him, half my operations are at risk.”
Alina's brow cleared in understanding.
“And this...someone...you don't know who they are?”
“If I knew, I wouldn't have this problem,” he answered dryly. “Stefan is making a statement. Dominic knows I can't move, but he also knows I'm watching.”
Viper tapped a finger on the arm of her chair thoughtfully.
“Our interests have, indeed, collided,” she murmured. “You have a problem, and so do I. It seems both our problems would be solved by the same end.”
Frankie's eyebrows soared into his forehead.
“Is that so?”
Viper pursed her lips and thought for a moment, her face impassive, before she looked up.
“What do you know about his lackey, Tito?” she asked softly.
Frankie shrugged.
“He does a lot of driving,” he said readily. “Did some time for manslaughter. Today he spent the whole day at an old junkyard in Toms River.”
Alina raised an eyebrow at that.
“Did he now?” she murmured, amused. “Anything else?”
“He pissed off Stefan,” Frankie offered with a flash of teeth. “That's not easy to do.”
“I have a proposition for you,” Viper said slowly.
“I'm listening.”
“Call Stefan off Dominic, and put him on Tito,” she suggested.
“For what?”
“I want to know where he goes, who he sees, and when. Make sure he doesn't touch him, just observes.”
“And Dominic?”
“Let me handle him.” She held up her hand when Frankie started to open his mouth. “No contract. No money. Just a favor.”
Frankie's brows drew together sharply and he stared hard at her.
“I don't like favors,” he said. “I told you that.”
“That's my offer,” Viper said with a shrug. “Take it or leave it.”
Frankie's mouth opened and closed again in quick succession as he struggled between insult and anger. Viper watched dispassionately, resisting the urge to look at her watch. He had no choice and they both knew it. She was handing him a solution on a platter.
“You'll take care of Dominic?” Frankie repeated. “All I have to do is monitor his driver?”
“Have Stefan relay the information directly to me,” Viper said. “I'll give you a number. He sends texts only. Don't bother trying to trace the number. Anyone you send will come back in a bag.”
“Don't be insulting,” Frankie muttered. “If I wanted to find you, I would have found you already.”
Viper stood up and went over to the desk in the corner. She picked up a pen and scribbled a number on a piece of paper.
“I'm not being insulting,” she said over her shoulder. “I just want to make sure we're on the same page. No misunderstandings.”
She finished writing and turned to walk back, handing him the slip of paper.
“So, I do this thing, you take care of DiBarcoli,” Frankie said, his eyes piercing, “and if you ever need a service...”
“I'll call on you,” Viper finished calmly.
They studied each other, each one weighing the other. Finally, Frankie nodded and stood up, holding out his hand.
Viper took it firmly, wondering briefly what the hell she had just gotten herself into.
“Don't worry,” she said with a quick smile. “I may never need that service, and then you can consider it a freebie.”
“Nothing is ever free,” Frankie retorted. “You’ll send proof?”
“Of course.”
Their eyes met and Viper nodded slightly befor
e turning to leave. She had just reached the door when Frankie stopped her.
“How will I know when it's done?” he asked.
Viper glanced at him and he shivered involuntarily.
“Trust me, you’ll know.”
Stephanie hung up and glanced across the living room to Blake. He was laid back in her recliner, shoes off and ankles crossed, with his laptop open on his lap. He’d made himself right at home in her living room and, for some reason, that made her absurdly happy.
“Food will be here in ten minutes,” she said, laying her cell phone on the coffee table and sitting down on the couch.
Blake looked up from his computer.
“Why is ten minutes the standard Chinese delivery time?” he wondered. “Doesn't matter where you are or where they have to drive to, it's always ten minutes. You live in Alaska? No problem. I'll see you in ten minutes.”
Stephanie laughed.
“They're efficient,” she said with a shrug. “So, are you calmed down enough to tell me what happened with Dominic yet?”
When Blake returned to the car after his meeting with Dominic, he looked thunderous. Before she could ask what happened, he told her curtly that he would discuss it when he calmed down and not a minute before. Stephanie wisely kept quiet on the subject until now, but she couldn't wait anymore. She'd never seen Blake so furious and the curiosity was slowly driving her insane.
“I'm not sure if I should tell you,” Blake said, sending her a searching glance. “You're upset enough already, even though you're doing a very good job of trying to hide it.”
“Ativan,” Stephanie told him with a twisted smile. “I'm not trying to hide anything. I’m just trying to get through the day.”
“Exactly.” Blake closed his laptop and reached for the bottle of water on the floor next to the recliner. “I don't want to upset you anymore.”
“If it’s something to do with John, I'll handle it,” Stephanie said slowly, her gaze steady. “I need to know what happened if I'm going to help you.”
“Yes,” he agreed, sipping his water. “I know. Just keep in mind this can't get personal. Although, I'll admit it's hard, even for me. He's one arrogant son of a bitch.”
“Somehow that doesn't surprise me,” Stephanie murmured.
“It started off amicably enough,” Blake began. “He wanted to know how he could help the FBI, assured me his employees were on the side of the law, yada yada yada. I told him I was just making some inquiries about some of the street racers up here. He stayed calm and collected, answering questions, right up until I mentioned John.”
“You hit a nerve.”
“A big one,” Blake agreed. “He proceeded to try to convince me that John was a dirty agent, involved in some shady dealings with drug runners.”
Stephanie's nostrils flared and her lips tightened, but she remained silent, so he continued.
“He spent the next ten minutes giving me examples of how John used his Firebird to move drugs through Vineland and up to New York, using his badge to ensure cooperation. According to Dominic, John's accident was the result of Karma catching up with someone who abused their position of authority and trust.”
“He's trying to hang the whole thing around John's neck!” Stephanie exclaimed, her eyes flashing. “He's going to blame a dead man who can't defend himself for his own crimes!”
“That's why I left when I did,” Blake said grimly. “It was all I could do not to break his nose right then and there.”
Stephanie got up angrily and started pacing, her face flushed.
“John was already suspended after the accident for street racing,” she said. “If Dominic takes that story to the agency, his reputation will be shredded!”
“I don't think Rob or any of his superiors will believe a word of it,” Blake assured her. “The accusations were flimsy and circumstantial. Dominic thinks he found a convenient scapegoat, but he's wrong. No one will ever buy it.”
“What if they do?” Stephanie demanded, stopping and facing him. “What if someone actually believes it?”
Blake swung his legs down and got up to walk over to her. Taking her hands in his, he squeezed them gently.
“They won't,” he said reassuringly. “Trust me. John will be buried with full honors, as he deserves.”
Stephanie stared at him, drawing strength from his warm eyes and strong clasp.
“Please tell me we can get this guy,” she whispered.
Blake stared down at her for a moment before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a comforting hug.
“We'll get him,” he promised. “We'll link him to the drivers and, through the drivers, to the Cartel. I just need one driver.”
Stephanie rested her head on his strong shoulder briefly, inhaling his cologne and allowing his arms to offer the comfort she so desperately needed. Suddenly, she didn't feel so alone. The aching feeling of emptiness engulfing her since yesterday lessened a bit and she took a deep breath.
“Alina gave us something to help with that,” she said, pulling away reluctantly.
Blake raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“She pulled the GPS chip from Dutch's car,” Stephanie said, turning away and going to her purse. “Assuming that he was friendly with at least one other driver, we should be able to get a meeting spot or something.”
“How did she get the GPS chip?” Blake demanded. “And why?”
“She used it to find the package he was transporting,” she answered, returning to hand him the flash-drive Alina gave her earlier. “The one Dominic has been searching for from the beginning.”
“Viper has it?!” Blake exclaimed. “Why am I just now learning about this?!”
“Because I just learned about it this morning,” Stephanie retorted tiredly, sinking down onto the couch again. “I guess she thought it was need-to-know, and we didn't.”
Blake stared down at her incredulously for a moment, then dropped down beside her.
“We know they were moving bomb parts,” he said after a minute of silence. “What was it that Dutch had?”
“The chemical trigger,” Stephanie answered. “The key to the whole thing.”
Blake sat back, his mind working furiously.
“That explains how Viper knew it was a biological weapon,” he murmured. “It also explains how she could move so fast to work that side of the issue.”
“What are you talking about?” Stephanie asked, looking at him. “How do you know she's working on that?”
“Michael told me last night,” he said with a sigh. “He went to the CDC headquarters in West Virginia to meet with a biochemical engineer there. When the scientist told him it was Ebola, he passed it onto Viper, or at least, I’m assuming he did.”
Stephanie stared at him, her face draining of color.
“EBOLA?!” she half-shrieked. “That’s what this is all about?!”
Blake stared at her.
“Yes. She didn’t tell you?”
“No, she sure as hell did not!” Stephanie fumed. “All she said was that it was a biological attack. She never said what kind! She told me about the supposed Anthrax antidote, but never mentioned Ebola! No wonder she was so adamant about my staying out of it.”
Blake rubbed his neck and shook his head.
“We might as well come clean with each other. How much do you know?”
“Not as much as you, apparently,” Stephanie replied, disgruntled. “Lina located the chemical trigger Dutch stole from Dominic. She took it to her people to analyze, but she doesn't think it will prove to be the actual weapon, or Ebola, apparently.”
“How's that?”
“She thinks the chemicals Dutch stole will detonate like a regular bomb,” Stephanie explained, turning to face him. “She thinks it's the result of the chemical reaction that's the goal.”
“You lost me,” Blake said, shaking his head. “She doesn't think the chemicals are an airborne form of Ebola? Because that's what Mike thinks.”
<
br /> Stephanie shook her head.
“I think she did at one point,” she said slowly, “but she learned something last night that changed her mind. I don't know where she was, she didn't tell me, but now she believes the bombs on their own are harmless. Well, as far as the biological attack goes, anyway. The bombs themselves will cause all the damage concurrent with a regular explosion, but she doesn't think they'll release the... Ebola.”
“Then where does that come in?” Blake demanded.
“Apparently, there's an antidote,” Stephanie told him.
“Yes,” he agreed. “Mike said the metro area hospitals are stockpiling it. Dr. Traeborne gave a sample to Michael to take to...”
Blake's voice trailed off as understanding broke and he stared at Stephanie, stunned.
“What?” she asked.
“The antidote itself is the Ebola!” he exclaimed.
“Yes, that's what she thinks,” Stephanie nodded.
“That's...I hate to say it....but that's brilliant,” Blake said, shaking his head. “Cause widespread panic, make people think they've been exposed to Anthrax, then give them an antidote and send them on their way. If they did manage to make the virus airborne, it would spread to millions in just a few hours.”
“I'm sorry, did you just say it's brilliant?” Stephanie demanded incredulously. “It's psychotic, not brilliant!”
“Well, yeah, but it's also ingenious,” Blake said defensively. “I have to let Mike know. He thinks the threat is in the bomb. He believes the antidote is for the Ebola, not the Ebola itself.”
“Can you call him?”
Blake shook his head.
“It's not safe,” he said grimly. “He thinks someone has ears on his phone.”
“Then how are we going to tell him?” Stephanie asked after a moment of silence.
“I'll think of something,” Blake murmured thoughtfully. “Maybe a coded email...oh my God, did those words really just come out of my mouth?”
Stephanie chuckled despite herself.
“Yes they did,” she said, “and it didn't even seem odd.”
A sudden, loud knock on the door made them both start and Blake got up, motioning her to stay.
“It's the Chinese,” she said, watching as he undid the snap on his holster.
“Always better to be safe,” he retorted, heading to the door. He looked through the peep-hole and took his hand off his weapon. “It's the Chinese,” he announced.