Colby Core (4 page)

Chicago, Sunday, December 27, 7:00 a.m.

Victoria Colby-Camp poured another cup of coffee and held it tightly in both hands. She needed the warmth. The city remained blanketed in snow, but that wasn't the reason she felt chilled to the bone.

Eight hours had passed with no contact from Riley Porter. Levi Stark, another of her investigators, and FBI Special Agent Lee Ross had lost visual contact on Riley before midnight. The tracking devices had been dumped in the parking lot of the rendezvous location.

There had been no word since that revelation.

Victoria had not slept in the same. Finally at six this morning she had joined her son, Jim, here at the office. There was little she could do, other than pray, but just being here made her feel more involved.

Words could not adequately describe the relief Victoria felt at her agency's accomplishment over the holiday weekend. Sixteen children had been
recovered. But the recovery had not stopped this ruthless organization.

She exhaled a heavy breath and moved across the lounge to peer out the window. Daylight had crept across the snow-laden streets, but the sun remained veiled by the heavy clouds. More snow was on the way.

She thought about the file on Tessa Woods the Bureau had provided. The Bureau contacts in Mississippi had insisted on notifying the family. Victoria had considered the move a mistake despite the fact that Von Cassidy, a trusted Colby Agency investigator, had been nearly certain the blonde woman she'd encountered had been Tessa Woods. There was still a chance it wasn't her.

No matter. Julia and Warren Woods, the parents, had already contacted Victoria. The telephone conversation had been emotionally excruciating. Von had agreed to meet with the parents and answer any questions. The parents had flown to Nashville. Von and Trinity Barrett had left their Gatlinburg getaway long enough to make the trip to Nashville. Like Von, the parents were convinced that the blonde woman was indeed their daughter.

Riley Porter's mission was to find a way to bring down the organization and to recover Tessa Woods, as well as any other victims.

Worry twisted in Victoria's chest. She pushed it away and lifted her chin in defiance of the nagging doubts. Riley was highly trained. As a Navy SEAL he
had rescued hostages and colleagues amid far more treacherous conditions. Victoria had complete faith in him.

“Mother.”

A smile lifted the corners of Victoria's lips. Her heart still fluttered when her son called her Mother.

She turned to him. “Any news?”

Jim freshened his coffee, then shook his head. “Not yet. Agent Ross and his team have begun a discreet search. Our man Stark is working on an avenue of his own.”

Levi Stark was another outstanding Colby investigator. If he had a lead of his own, Victoria felt confident it would prove worthwhile.

“Any word from the task force?” she asked, hoping Jim had heard something she hadn't.

He shook his head. “But,” he qualified, “with the number of great and determined minds we have working on this case, I'm certain we'll have a break soon.”

Victoria nodded. The Bureau here in Chicago, in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as in New Orleans, had formed a task force to stop this ruthless ring of bastards.

It couldn't happen fast enough to suit Victoria.

“I saw on your desk calendar that you have an appointment with your doctor next week.”

“Just a routine physical,” Victoria assured her son.
“I'm a few months behind. My doctor isn't too happy with me.” She sipped her coffee. “But I've been a little busy lately.”

Judging by Jim's expression, he wasn't going to let it go quite so lightly. “Keep the appointment. I don't want you ignoring your health.”

A smile widened no matter that she knew he was very serious. “I will keep the appointment. My health is important. I have two beautiful grandchildren who need me.”

Jim's gaze locked with hers. “
I
need you.”

Emotion expanded in Victoria's chest. “Well.” She took a much-needed breath. “How are the negotiations going with your buyer for the Equalizer shop?”

“He's willing to pay above asking price.” Jim shrugged, his expression puzzled.

“You're not happy about that?” Seemed to Victoria that above asking price would be the optimum desirable situation. Particularly in this economy.

“We're this deep into negotiations,” Jim explained, “and he still refuses to reveal his identity. His attorney claims the man just wants to maintain his anonymity. That he's a philanthropist and intends to use the Equalizers as a way to help those in need, particularly those who don't have the financial resources to help themselves.”

Now she understood his unease. “Sounds too good to be true.”

Jim nodded. “You know the adage. Whenever something sounds too good to be true, it usually is.”

Victoria hoped that the idea that Tessa Woods was still alive wasn't too good to be true as well.

New Orleans, 8:25 a.m.

This was going to hurt.

Wrists bound above his head and feet swinging several inches above the concrete floor, Riley braced for the coming pain.

Brooks shoved the paddle against Riley's abdomen. Electricity roared through his body. His muscles convulsed. His teeth clenched.

“You still sticking to your story?” Brooks demanded. “Don't have anything else to share?”

Riley struggled to catch his breath. “I've told you all there is to tell.” His muscles burned. His shoulders throbbed with the effort of supporting his full body weight. His jaws ached from clenching his teeth. “I just want to keep my job and stay out of prison.”

Brooks thrust the paddle at him again.

Riley's body shuddered. Fire seemed to ignite across his skin. His stomach clenched.

“Just kill him and get it over with,” Howard suggested. “This is a waste of time.”

Brooks laughed. “I'm not done yet.” He reached toward Riley once more.

“Wait!” Riley heaved a halting breath. “Wait,” he muttered.

The smile on Brooks's face spread into a spiteful grin. “I thought you might change your mind.”

Riley had held up through more than an hour of physical torture. He could have tolerated more, but the end result would have been the same. Death. These guys had no intention of allowing him to stay alive.

He had nothing to lose by going with Tessa's suggestion. If it was a setup, made no difference. At this point he was dead anyway.

“Renwick was behind the ambush in Alabama,” Riley muttered. The aftereffects of the shock treatments were making his body tremble. “He tipped off the feds. One of the feds passed along the tip to a friend in Chicago.”

“What friend in Chicago?” Howard demanded, skeptical.

Riley lolled his head back long enough to draw in a deep breath, then met the man's gaze. “I don't know. Some P.I. Doesn't matter. It's the feds that's on your back now. Renwick thought they would take down your organization. He was ticked off when the operation failed. He wants to be number one.”

Brooks made a slow circle around Riley. “What do you know about Renwick?”

Riley didn't have a lot to go on. He'd just have to wing it. “I know he wants you and your boss to go down. That's what I know.”

Howard and Brooks blasted the air with expletives, then Howard said, “You think telling us this is going to save your butt?”

Well, so much for that plan. “Do what you gotta do, man,” Riley said, feigning defeat. “I'm telling you that the feds are the least of your problems. Renwick is hell-bent on coming out on top, which means you have to go down.”

“If that bastard knows what's good for him,” Brooks snarled, “he'd better stay in his own territory.”

Riley licked his cracked lips, tasted the blood. His jaw wasn't broken but it had taken another beating. “I think he's planning a takeover of your territory.” That was a shot in the dark. Judging by the fury that claimed both men's faces, he'd hit the target.

“The SOB has a death wish,” Howard growled. He eyed Riley a long moment. “What exactly were Renwick's orders? I can't see him trusting an operation this big to one guy. Especially one like you.”

“My job was to get in,” Riley said. “Get the layout of your headquarters and find out what you had on the schedule for the next couple of weeks.”

“Too bad—” Howard moved in close to Riley “—you failed.”

Riley breathed a chuckle. “Two out of three ain't bad.”

The muzzle of a weapon bored into the soft underside of his chin. “How,” Brooks asked, his voice riddled with anger and scorn, “are you supposed to pass along information? Is there a tracking device?” He sneered. “I know you don't want us to start searching the only logical places.”

Riley definitely wasn't game for a cavity search. “He knows what you lost in the ambush and that I'm in New Orleans to make contact. That's it.”

Howard shook his head at his pal. “He's lying. No way Renwick sent him to us without a tracking device.” He shifted his attention to Riley. “All we have to do is find it.”

“I swear,” Riley urged, “the only tracking device I had was in the heels of my boots. You dumped those last night, with the rest of my clothes, in the parking lot at that bar.”

“Get the Master.”

Howard glared at Brooks. “We can handle this.”

Brooks shook his head. “Get him. Now.”

Howard glared a bit longer at the man who was obviously his superior before following the order. Riley relaxed as best he could considering he hung like a side of beef from the hook in the ceiling.

Tessa had given him an out. What did that mean? Was she truly a captive? Even after all these years? Had she intended to help him? Maybe this whole thing was a sham of some kind. A game she had
initiated. Who knew how warped her mind might be after spending nearly half a dozen years with these sickos.

Brooks crossed his arms and stared at Riley. Riley ignored him. Instead, he focused on what he needed to accomplish his mission. The Master's identity. If no one called or knew his name, then a DNA sample would be necessary—assuming he was in the system. Prints might serve the purpose. Riley needed as much information about the organization's operation as possible. Tessa may or may not have some knowledge of how things worked.

And he needed to get her and any other captives away from here.

Away from the lunatic who called himself the Master.

Footfalls on the stairs drew Riley's attention there.

“Now we'll see how much longer you'll keep breathing,” Brooks warned.

The Master, wearing his high-class designer suit, descended the final step. He studied Riley for a time before moving toward him.

He stopped a few feet away. “Renwick sent you, did he?”

Riley's tension ratcheted a little higher. “Yes.” He infused all the humility and desperation he could summon into the single word.

“How is my old friend Renwick?”

Trick question. “I wouldn't know,” Riley said,
suppressing a grimace. His hands and arms had gone completely numb. “My only contact was with Phipps.” He looked the Master straight in the eyes. “You know, tall, thin guy with red hair. He provided my orders.”

“Which were,” the Master pressed.

“To infiltrate your organization and gather intelligence about your upcoming operations.”

The silence that followed had Riley holding his breath.

“Was that the extent of your orders?” Masters demanded.

“I can't tell you what was said word for word,” Riley confessed. “If there's anything else, I can't call it to mind just now.” He glanced up at his bound hands. “This isn't exactly conducive to brain power.”

“We should just gut 'em,” Howard suggested. “He's a waste of time.”

The Master stared at the much shorter man until he visibly cowered, before shifting his attention back to Riley. “Cut him down.”

Brooks and Howard exchanged a look of surprise. “What're we doing with him?” Brooks wanted to know.

“I haven't decided,” the Master said as he returned to the staircase. He paused before taking the first step. “Feed him and get him properly attired.”

The man in charge climbed the stairs, leaving
Riley in the capable hands of his colleagues. Just his luck.

“This makes no sense,” Howard growled. He glared at Riley. “I think you're bluffing.”

Riley didn't bother arguing with him.

“Cut him down,” Brooks snapped. “That's what the Master said.”

Howard grumbled the entire time but he did as he was told. He climbed onto a stepladder and cut the ropes. Riley attempted to land on his feet but his knees buckled and he crumpled to the floor.

Howard kicked him. “Get up.”

When Riley had gotten to his feet, Howard shoved him toward the stairs. Brooks had already taken that route. As Riley climbed the steps the circulation returned to his arms, but his hands were still tightly bound and totally numb.

At the top of the stairs, Howard pushed him to the left and to another staircase. “Up,” he ordered.

Riley climbed to the second floor. He took in as many of the details as possible in the short time it took to reach the door Howard directed him to. Long corridor, five doors. He hadn't encountered anyone else. Riley wondered where Tessa was. And why she'd decided to help him.

Every action was propelled by a motive. What was hers?

Howard opened the door and shoved him into the room. “Take a shower. You stink.”

Riley held out his bound hands. “Be kind of hard to do.”

Howard pulled out his pocketknife and cut the bindings, then palmed his weapon. “Make one wrong move,” he cautioned, while Riley rubbed at his wrists, “and I will kill you.” Then he slammed the door, leaving Riley alone in the large bathroom.

Serviceable fixtures. Clean enough. He grabbed a towel from the shelf and slung it over the shower curtain rod and turned on the tap. A glance in the mirror confirmed that he had a swollen jaw, black eye and more than one split in his lips. He shook it off, refusing to let the pain steal his focus.

Once the coveralls were off, he kicked them aside and climbed into the shower.

He stood for a while with the warm water washing over his sore face and shoulders. There were no answers for additional questions. Whatever this Master had in mind for him, Riley had given him all he had. All Tessa had given him. But he had bought some time.

In an operation like this, that was the most he could hope for. To survive, minute by minute, hour by hour.

Riley took his time. No need to rush fate.

When the water had turned cold he shut it off and dragged back the curtain. He grabbed the towel and carefully dabbed his face before stepping out onto the cool tile floor.

His gaze locked with blue eyes.

Tessa.

He lowered the towel to cover himself.

She extended a neatly folded stack of clothing, hiking boots on top, toward him. “These are for you.”

It took a second or two for him to regain his voice. “Thank you.” He accepted the clothes.

“When you're dressed,” she said, openly surveying his body, “you're to come to the kitchen.”

“All right.”

Her gaze bumped into his once more. “They'll be waiting there.”

She left the room, closed the door behind her.

Strange. He shook his head and dried his skin. The situation grew more bizarre by the moment. For the first time in his life he could truthfully say he had no idea what to expect next.

The jeans and pullover crewneck shirt fit as if he'd bought them himself. Socks, hiking boots. Boots were a little loose, but not enough to matter. He ran his fingers through his damp hair and reached for the door.

Howard wasn't waiting in the corridor as Riley had expected. Apparently security was tight enough that no one was worried about him taking off or making any problematic moves.

Downstairs, the entry hall was deserted as well. Riley noted the high-tech keypad on the wall next to the front door. Definitely state-of-the-art security. This guy had no reason to worry about him escaping.
Riley wasn't going anywhere until his hosts were ready for him to go.

Preferably not feet first.

Brooks stepped from a room beyond the library-like room they'd used for accessing the basement. Brooks jerked his head toward the door he'd exited, and then turned and walked back into the room.

That was his cue, Riley supposed.

The room where Brooks waited was the kitchen. Large. The usual amenities including an extra-long dining table with seating for twelve.

“Sit,” Howard ordered, hitching his thumb toward the table.

A plate heaped with eggs, bacon and toast waited for him. Riley took the seat and reached first for the steaming cup of coffee.

Howard and Brooks stood near the door and waited without saying a word.

Riley ate. If the food was poisoned he was done for. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until he smelled the bacon. His body reacted to the fuel. Energy reviving his aching muscles.

When he'd finished, he pushed back from the table and stood. “What now?”

“Let's go,” Brooks said.

Riley followed the two back into the corridor and into the book-filled room that lent a distinguished air to what he knew to be a monster's mansion.

The Master sat behind the broad, gleaming desk. “I presume you're feeling a bit more up to par now?”

Riley nodded. “Good to go.”

“Take a seat, Mr. Smith,” the man in charge said.

Riley settled into one of four chairs flanking the desk. Brooks stood behind him, Howard maintained his position near the door.

Master reclined in his leather, tufted chair and studied Riley a moment. “You present somewhat of a dilemma, Mr. Smith.”

“Look,” Riley offered, “I know you have no reason to trust me.” He shrugged. “To be truthful, if I had half a chance I'd be out of here in a heartbeat.” He held up his hands surrender style. “Whatever's going down between you and Renwick—” he shook his head “—I don't really care. I did this for the money.” He locked gazes with the man behind the desk. “But right now, I don't care about the money. Survival will be fine by me. You tell me what I have to do to make that happen, and I'm in.”

The Master braced his elbow on the arm of his chair and tapped his chin with his forefinger. “The man you described, Phipps, has been attempting to infiltrate my family for quite some time. That revelation doesn't surprise me in the least. That he finally succeeded is the surprise.”

Riley analyzed the concept of
family
the man used. “I can't tell you how he managed the feat.” More winging it. “I just contacted the name and number he gave me and I was in.”

“I find that quite incredible,” Master confessed.
“I chose my soldiers very carefully. In twenty years I've never had one betray me.”