When Passion Lies: A Shadow Keepers Novel (30 page)

“Oh, I don’t know,” Gabriel said. “Forgot to pay a parking ticket. Returned her library books late. Stalked dozens of werewolfs all around the world. Killed one in Zermatt. You know. The usual stuff.”

He kept his eyes on Orion as he spoke, and he saw the way the color drained from the human’s face. The way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. The way five beads of sweat popped out on his upper lip.

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

“Really?” Gabriel stroked his chin. “You said you two were close?”

“Yeah. I mean—yeah. If Caris was involved in something strange, I’d know. And she’s not. Involved in anything strange. Strange or bad.”

“You’re sure?”

Orion nodded vigorously. “Hell, yeah.” He reached
out and grabbed a candy jar in the shape of a hand. “Tootsie Roll?”

Gabriel took one, then stood, cocking his head so that Everil would do the same. “This has been very helpful. It’s always good to be able to put a theory to bed.”

“Right,” Orion said. “Sure. That makes sense. Glad I could help.”

“If we think of anything else, we’ll be in touch.”

“You do that.” He tapped the phone on his desk. “Just feel free to call. No need to come all this way.”

But there had been a need. Gabriel needed to see Orion’s face. Because it had told him everything.

“This is excellent progress,” Koller said, as Gabriel and Everil sat across from him.

They’d gotten one of the Division 6 staff para-daemons to open a wormhole, and while it wasn’t the most pleasant ride back to Switzerland, it had the benefit of being fast.

“Opportunity, access. Planning. You have her in town looking for a man. We can require your PI friend to turn over his records.” Koller shut the file folder. “Gentlemen, I’m impressed.”

“Thank you, sir,” Gabriel said. “Obviously we still have work to do. I particularly want to nail down motive.”

“Of course. Of course. But all that can come after we issue the arrest warrant.”

Gabriel frowned. “I don’t think—”

“What?” Koller leaned forward, the crease above his nose deepening as it always did when he was annoyed.

“I think we’re better off waiting until we have the case. Like you said.”

“We
do
have the case. Motive isn’t an element of the crime. We have more than enough evidence to arrest, and probably enough to convict. I’ll have the warrant issued today. If we don’t move on this, the task force might. And I don’t want a task force stepping in to claim credit for solving a crime in my jurisdiction. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Gabriel said.

“Absolutely, Mr. Koller, sir,” Everil chirped.

“Good. Now you two track our suspect down. I want her in custody within forty-eight hours.”

“How are we—” Everil began, but Gabriel caught his eye and shook his head. He cast a quick glance toward his boss. “Don’t worry. I’ve already figured that one out.”

He’d taken the initiative of putting a trace on her phone already. His intent hadn’t been to use her phone as a tracking device to locate her—he’d been hoping to gather more evidence—but at least they were prepared. In fact, the information would come in contemporaneously to his own PDA and show her GPS coordinates whenever she made a call. Handy stuff, technology. And the shadow world always got the best gadgets first.

She hadn’t made many calls, though. In fact, the only one he’d recorded timed perfectly with one initiated by Orion. But what was especially interesting about that call was the fact that it originated in London—at the exact GPS coordinates of Tiberius’s mansion.

Gabriel wasn’t sure what that meant, but he was absolutely certain that it did mean something. Sooner or later, he’d figure out the details.

They might be arresting her now, but he wasn’t letting up on the investigation. Before this case went to trial, he was determined to know everything there was to know about Caris.

He’d arrest her now because his boss ordered him to. But he wasn’t going to have another Jillian on his hands.

He wouldn’t be able to stand it.

“Has there been any additional chatter?” Tiberius asked, speaking into the headpiece he wore to communicate with his team, a human invention that the shadowers had adopted. Centuries before, they’d used telepathic shadowers to relay information among various members of an assault team. This method was a lot less cumbersome. “Any indication that Lihter knows we’ve got an interception plan?”

Static crackled in his ear. “Nothing,” Slater said. “We’re moving ahead on schedule.”

According to their intelligence sources, Lihter was scheduled to depart the private Viennese airfield at 7
A.M
. Tiberius and his team had been in position for two hours, arriving well before dawn. Now the lookouts were positioned in dark corners inside the hangar. Tiberius and Luke were in the jet itself, having already compelled the human pilot and copilot to cooperate.

The intel suggested that Lihter had chartered a human-operated jet so he could move about without attracting the notice of shadowers. Few shadowers flew on commercial planes. Instead, they chartered private planes operated by other shadowers, ensuring that their unique needs would be satisfied on the flight.

Unfortunately, there had been no word about how many staff would be traveling with Lihter. Tiberius assumed there would be four—front, back, side, side. Presumably
one guard would enter the jet first to check it out. He’d examine the cockpit, find the pilots happy and smiling, then examine the rest of the jet. That would check out fine, too, because Luke and Tiberius would be hiding in the plane’s ventilation system as mist.

There was a risk, of course, that the bodyguards would inject some sort of atomized hematite into the body of the jet, but both Tiberius and Luke considered the risk minimal, particularly since Lihter had discussed his travel plans over an encrypted line that, as far as the weren knew, remained secure.

When the front man had approved the in-jet situation, he’d signal for Lihter to enter. And that was Tiberius’s and Luke’s cue. They’d materialize, moving in immediately for an attack on the front man and Lihter. They were going for a capture, not a kill, and Tiberius anticipated that the assault would be accomplished quickly and cleanly.

Meanwhile, the team in the hangar would move in as well, capturing the backup staff and providing additional support.

Then they’d all celebrate a job well done.

So far, however, things weren’t moving along as planned.

“He should be here by now,” Tiberius said.

“Roger that,” Slater said. “There’s still time to get him on board and in the air by his scheduled departure time. Maybe he’s just stuck in traffic. Wait—hold on. We’ve got a visual.”

“Is it our guy?”

“Looks like it. SUV. Tinted windows. Hired car, so I can’t run the plates.”

“His approach?”

“Straight for the hangar,” Slater said. “Gotta be our guy.”

“Steady. Signal when the team is approaching the jet.”

“Roger.”

Tiberius glanced at Luke, and the two remained silent, waiting for the sound of footfalls on the pull-down staircase—their signal to transform into mist. But there were none.

“Tiberius. We’ve got a problem,” Slater said. “I think you should break cover and get down here.”

“What is it?”

“Hard to say. But it’s not Lihter, that’s for damn sure.”

No, Tiberius had to agree, it certainly wasn’t. The only occupant of the black SUV was a Mr. Alfred Delaney, the very human, very confused CEO of a chain of fast-food restaurants.

Caris
.

He ripped out his cellphone and dialed fast, but he didn’t get an answer. He dialed the two snipers he’d sent with her. No answer there, either.

Trap
. They’d walked into a goddamned trap.

“I’m taking the jet,” he said to Slater, willing himself not to let fear drive him. That was the way of mistakes. Methodical. Calculating.

That’s what would get Caris back.

And his first calculation was to get to Zurich as fast as he possibly could.

“It’s daylight,” Slater said. “That jet’s windows aren’t treated.”

“I’ll keep the shades down,” Tiberius said. “But I’m going. Get a car with tinted glass to meet me in Zurich. Have the tower radio the hangar number.”

“Will do,” Slater said. “And Tiberius? Good luck.”

The parking garage was right in the middle of Zurich, filled with cars and humans and so much motion that Caris could see why they’d picked it to make the switch of a kidnapped girl.

She had the two snipers, Jeph and Carr, crouched one level up, looking through the railing at the parking space below where a small Audi had just pulled in.

They’d come in an SUV designed with specially treated glass to keep out the harmful sunlight. The parking garage was mostly enclosed, so although it was day, they were safe.

The snipers were both in hazmat suits, white and bulky. Hopefully they wouldn’t get caught on the human security camera. Because if they were, Caris was sure someone would call in some sort of terrorist threat.

Caris bent down, trying to get a better angle as the Audi parked. “That’s it,” she said. “One fuzzy die, one little green monster hanging off the mirror.” That had been the signal, at least according to the encrypted conversation Tiberius’s men had decoded. “Driver’s going to get out, drop the key behind the back tire, and get the hell out of there.”

The girl was in the trunk, presumably drugged, because why else would she be so quiet?

As she’d expected, the driver’s-side door opened, and a tattooed werewolf got out. He walked behind the car, then tossed a key down onto the ground. It landed with a
clang
that echoed through the garage.

“I’m going in,” Caris said. “Cover me.”

She moved quickly toward the car, then bent down to
snatch the key. She glanced around, saw nobody, then carefully put the key into the lock.

She turned to Jeph and Carr, now behind her in the shadows, saw the subtle nod of their heads. They were rock-solid in position. If anything jumped out of that trunk to attack her, they’d hopefully be there to take it out. Assuming she couldn’t handle it first.