“Back to the postcard.” Carlos ignored her question and pinned Gabrielle with a no-nonsense stare. “Why did it take you so long to send the first message?”
What had made her think his eyes had ever been a warm brown earlier? Mr. Nice had evaporated. The black look Carlos gave her boiled with the fury of a midnight storm on the sea.
Things had been going good. What had riled him?
“I received the card two days ago, or maybe it’s three by now…I have no idea what time it is.” Gabrielle swiped loose hair off her face. “Anyhow, my friend had no way to find me other than sending the card to my father’s home in Versailles. He has my mail forwarded to my address in London that then sends it to a mail center in Peachtree City. That’s why it took so long to get to me. My friend was careful, addressing it only to Gabrielle with no last name. That way if the card was intercepted with the ‘gibberish,’ as you put it, most people would assume Gabrielle was someone on my father’s staff. My friend did not include a return address so I have no idea where to find her.”
Gotthard asked, “Why didn’t you tell us about the Anguis trying to kidnap Mandy when you sent the first message? If we’d known sooner, we probably could have caught them before they reached France.”
“I didn’t know the Anguis were the kidnappers when I sent the first message,” Gabrielle answered carefully. She couldn’t share her South American contacts on the Anguis family with any of these people, no matter what they threatened. Innocent Venezuelans only trying to help her rid the world of the Anguis murderers would be in jeopardy.
“You didn’t answer his question,” Carlos pressed.
“Because all I knew from the card was that Mandy would be kidnapped in South America.” Gabrielle chose her words carefully. “I didn’t find out that Anguis was behind the kidnapping until I did some research with resources in South America. And please don’t ask who because I don’t have their names, we contact each other electronically through an elaborate system.” Fairly close to the truth.
Carlos tapped fingers against his upper arm. No expression as if he contemplated how to squeeze more out of her.
Gabrielle ran her fingers into her hair, knocking her twisted bob loose. The plastic clamp bounced on the floor. Long strands tumbled across her shoulders when she squatted down to pick up the clasp and shove it into her pants pocket.
“I’m not some kind of trained personnel like the rest of you,” Gabrielle muttered, trying to figure out what would get through to this stubborn lot. “If you want me to admit I’m intimidated by all of you, fine, I admit it. I don’t know who you are or what you want, but you’re obviously the ones who helped Mandy, so I’m going to go out on a limb and say I believe you’re working with the right side of the law. In exchange, I wish you’d show me the same courtesy. If I prove to you the text on the card is in code, will you believe I’m trying to be honest with you and I’m not a threat to the United States?”
She kept her gaze on the table, refusing to meet eyes watching her like silent predators ready for the kill.
The postcard from Linette slid onto the table surface into her view guided by Carlos’s fingers.
A tiny victory. Gabrielle was not ready to sing hallelujah, but this was a start. Her chest muscles relaxed with the quick shot of relief.
Gabrielle explained, “My friend and I wrote the code first in ancient Latin. We then reversed the sequential alignment, deleting the first letter of the first word, the second letter of the second word, and so on through five words when there were an appropriate number of letters. We changed the code halfway through to Italian. Numbers corresponded to days of the week and colors-”
“Are you serious?” Gotthard stared at her in either disbelief or amazement.
Gabrielle prayed it wasn’t lack of belief or she’d never get out of this place. “Yes, I am serious. I’ll read off the code and interpret each word so you can follow the translation.”
A noise came out of Hunter that was a cross between a snort of derision and a chuckle that said This should be good.
Gabrielle’s burst of confidence pushed her to lean forward so she could look around Rae and speak to Hunter. She smiled first. “If you can’t keep up, take notes.”
Hunter mirrored her smile with a confident one of his own and said in a gentleman’s voice, “If you fail to prove it’s a bona fide code, you’ll be headed for a cell buried so deep in our containment facility you’ll never see daylight again.”
Gabrielle swallowed her cockiness at that.
She hadn’t used the complicated code in a long time. Carlos and his team-had to be a team-clearly had access to extensive equipment. Anyone capable of deciphering a code would not accept her version if she made one mistake in the convoluted steps she and Linette had created just for the purpose of making it impossible to break.
She leaned back in her seat, studied the words, then went for it, reading slowly, stopping to answer questions from Gotthard, Rae, and Korbin, then moving along. She hit a rhythm on the second line, feeling comfortable.
At least she was fine until she caught Carlos staring at her with a warm appraising gaze. Gabrielle lost her place.
Everyone glanced up at her verbal stumble.
“Pardon me,” she said. “I’ll start the last sentence over.” She gritted her teeth over the flush of heat that rushed through her, then didn’t pause until she’d finished.
“Assessment?” Carlos issued that order to the room.
“It’s a code,” Rae answered.
“I’m sold.” Korbin winked at Gabrielle, the scoundrel.
“One hell of a code,” Gotthard muttered, admiration flooding his words.
Everyone turned to Hunter, who arched a beautiful male eyebrow and said, “I stand corrected. Impressive.”
Gabrielle released a pent-up breath, ready to relax until Carlos asked her, “What did your friend mean by ‘I am bound by the fratelli’?”
“I don’t know,” she replied quickly.
Gotthard stopped typing and became stone still, along with the rest of the room.
“Fratelli is Italian for ‘brotherhood,’ but that’s not a code, for heaven’s sake,” Gabrielle added.
“You’re sure you don’t know anything more?” A lock of black hair fingered Carlos’s smooth brow now drawn tight with lines of question.
He still didn’t believe she was telling the truth.
“Really, that’s it.” Gabrielle wondered at the grim faces. What exactly was this fratelli?
“How are the Anguis tied to all of this?” Korbin asked.
“What do you mean?” Gabrielle wanted a more specific question before she said much about them. She glanced at Carlos, who seemed to have pulled back inside himself.
He was a study of ruthless control.
She sensed more than saw the entire room focus expectant gazes on Carlos, who leaned the palms of his hands on the table inches away from her.
Those perfectly formed lips parted when he said, “Don’t. Be. Coy. You have no allies in this room at the moment. Our team just risked their lives on a tip from you without even knowing who you were or if they were walking into a trap. If you hope to leave here, then you need to be more forthcoming.”
She jerked back as if slapped by the deadly tone.
No one had talked to her in that way, threatening her outright, since her miserable excuse for an ex-husband had played her like a fool. She’d spent too many nights alone, frustrated over having no life and no family because of the ax both her ex and Durand Anguis dangled over her head. All that frustration rolled into one large knot of anger.
She slapped a hand on the table, then fisted her fingers. “I’ve been very damned forthcoming. I’ve risked my life to help put away criminals. What do I know about the Anguis? They’re a bunch of murdering bastards driven by money and power. Why hasn’t your organization done anything about them?”
Carlos stood away from the table. A muscle in his neck pulsed. He stared at her for a long moment, then his chest expanded with a slow breath. That tight control hid whatever he was thinking.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet, but demanding. “Give me the name of the person who sent you the
