Dangerous Liaisons (23 page)

Jesse glanced at the digital clock on the van’s dash as Cole shifted to the aft seat.

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

Before Tom left, he made sure the GPS message buried in the next call would pinpoint a location 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 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 proof you sold 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.”

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 intel, 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. Analysis is what he did best.

She pulled the door open. Its rusty hinges squealed. 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 entering first was a 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, dirt and age. Windows set high in the wall formed an unbroken line along the building’s flanks. Sunlight illuminated 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 blanks loaded into the 9mm Beretta worn in the waistband of her jeans, the weight of the weapon gave her a sense of security. She reached inside her shirt to reassure herself the microphone was securely taped between her breasts.

Cole raised a brow and Jesse was surprised when warmth crept  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, three 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
.

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 his characteristic 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 its 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. His perfect Spanish accent sent a chill tickle down Jesse’s spine. She’s safe, I hope.”

“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. You put me out in the cold and figured I’d go after Perez. I have no intention 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 flashed 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 Colombia.”

Jesse riveted her gaze to the gun, saw his finger tighten on the trigger, and 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?

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, ambushed Martinez—stole the contents of her safety deposit box—and shot Cole! 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. Dust motes settled on the prize.

She took a step backward and glanced 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 underfoot. Anger sent red flashes through her head.

“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.”

Jesse rushed forward. His eyes widened. She seized his shirt collar and drove him against the vat, the PPK jammed into the soft flesh beneath his jaw.

“I can 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 until she or Cole gave him the go ahead to enter. 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 a known drug lord. 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.”

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 her husband’s high society 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 unforgiving concrete. He gurgled a groan, a protective arm wrapping 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 safe 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.”

Jesse stared at him impassively. The disc with the secrets Juanita had stolen from Tom. Jesse had been right. He was desperate to learn what the disc held. 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.”

Jesse wanted to vomit, but forced an even voice. “Then what?”

“I’ll resign. I have my twenty years. You get your property, money, and never see me again.”

“You expect me to buy that? You’ve gambled away your wife’s money. You need payments from people like Perez to replace your losses. You can’t live on your pension.”

“I can live quite well in Ecuador with what I have.”

“Ecuador?”

“The woman I love has dual citizenship,” he said with pride.

“Love?” she repeated. “You’re—” This was too rich. Robert Lanton was in
love
. She should shoot him just for making her so sick to her stomach. His gaze darkened, but she cut him off with a cool, “FARC will put a price on both our heads.”

He shook his head. “Not me. The Senator.”

Jesse stared. “My God,” she breathed. “He goes down. You get his wife and child, and a whole new life.”

“They’re mine!” he shouted.

“Touchy, touchy.”

“I’ll give you everything you want,” Lanton snapped. “You went to a lot of trouble to make sure your sister remained safe, and whatever’s on that disc must be important or you wouldn’t have kept it under lock and key.”

There it was. She had him running scared. “How do you propose to end this?” she asked.

“A phone call from me will release the trust fund.”

“OIA won’t let me off the hook so easily,” she said. “You made sure of that when you framed me for the murder of those five men—not to mention selling secrets of national security.”

“Perez is dead,” Lanton replied. “There’s an abundance of evidence to prove you didn’t sell out Green Team, which will absolve you of any charges of selling top secret. I can make sure the information surfaces.”

Jesse bit her lip. Goddamit to hell, he was cagey. He still hadn’t admitted getting Green Team slaughtered. If he double crossed her and got her arrested, he could say he made promises under duress. She needed a confession.

Just a few more minutes, Cole. I promise.

“I’m the only person who can clear you,” Lanton said. “Even if I confess to colluding with Perez that doesn’t prove you weren’t my accomplice. No one will believe I pulled this off alone.”

“Morales,” Jesse murmured.

“I can make this end the way it should,” he said. “I’ll get OIA off your back. If you’re worried about Cole Murphy, don’t be, I can deal with him. I put him on your—”

“What did you say?” Jesse demanded.

“I said, I can make this end—”

“No. Murphy. Who—” But she understood. Both files from Juanita and Michael had been on
Cole Smith
. Cole Smith was Green Team Leader and had died in Colombia. Cole Murphy was the man lying on the concrete floor behind her. Disbelief washed over her in a wave of nausea. She’d trusted him. She’d cared.

How could she have been so stupid?

Jesse pointed the Beretta at Lanton. “You’re going to make a fast phone call to release my sister’s money—and hand over my belongings.” At least she could save Tom. He’d put himself on the line for her. “Fuck with me, and I’ll bury you alive—where no one will hear you scream.”

“I agreed—”

“Move,” she hissed.

He started forward and Jesse cast a glance at
Cole Murphy
. He lay just as he had moments ago, right arm sprawled over his head, legs spread. He looked dead. And why not? He was a damned good actor. He had lied to her—and oh, so convincingly made love to her as if he really cared. Her pulse spiked with memory of his hard thrusts deep inside her channel. She tore her gaze from him. She had to get out—and fast.

A moment later, they reached the back door. Jesse stopped Lanton. “How did you alter the transcript of my call?”

“What difference—”

“A show of good faith,” she snapped. “Give me something now or kiss your ass good bye.”

He hesitated, then said, “Morales has some dirt on Gloria Knowles. He made the transcript disappear, and she kept quiet.”

Jesse gave a low laugh. It really came down to who you knew. Gloria had eighteen years with OIA as Head of Communications. She was a fifty-five year old female geek. What the hell could Morales possibly have on her? She probably dated a Colombian mobster’s nephew in college.

Jesse motioned Lanton forward and he opened the door. Rusty hinges squealed. Light poured in as the door swung outward. As he stepped into the sunshine she reached inside her shirt, yanked the wire free, and tossed it aside.

“Nail his ass, Tom,” she silently said, then closed the door behind her.

Lanton’s silver Mercedes sat parked a few feet away.

“Hand over the keys,” she ordered.
“Now.”