poison pill in the last post I made about needing information on Mandy. I told them to close the IP server as soon as they posted and lie low since we were taking a big risk to communicate.”
“How were you going to hook up again?” Carlos asked.
“They would watch for me to post an IT article under a specific pseudonym on a board, and the first letter of each sentence would spell the new site for them to post on again in code. It takes a week normally to set that up.”
“Bloody hell,” Rae muttered. “So that’s a dead end.”
“Not necessarily,” Gabrielle corrected, frowning at the top of Rae’s head.
Carlos touched Gabrielle’s chin, drawing her gaze. “What are you saying?”
Gabrielle hesitated. “I know the identities and addresses of my contacts, but I’m not telling Retter.”
TWENTY-FOUR
VESTAVIA LIFTED A file from his desk for the first phase of the Renaissance.
No one country could be a superpower. Not forever.
The only way the United States would ever become manageable was by cracking the infrastructure first to determine the strongest areas within the country, then undermining each of those.
What better way to bait a trap than their insatiable thirst for crude oil?
“You’re sure all four of them are prepared?” he asked Josie, who was lounging on the oversize sofa he’d had the decorator put in his Miami office for late nights.
She stopped thumbing the touch-tone screen on her iPhone and brushed a length of deep-chestnut brown hair behind her shoulder when she lifted her head. Of all the exquisite international art in his south-Florida office, she was by far his finest acquisition.
“The teenagers are a little shaky, but we only need one for sure,” she answered him, tapping her index finger against the iPhone case. “Since the other two are just backup and won’t have to actually do anything, I think we’re fine. And Kathryn still thinks she’s working undercover to protect Evelyn, so she isn’t going to give us any problem.”
“Go on.” Vestavia came around the desk and leaned against the front edge with his arms crossed. He drank in every inch of Josie in her red skirt suit and white, low-cut silk blouse.
“All the teens believe the story we’ve given them. And this”-she lifted a cell phone into view that matched her personal iPhone-“is programmed to send out three different transmissions at the same time.”
Well aware of what made this electronic gadget special, Vestavia smiled. “You’ve done an excellent job, Josephine.”
She preened under his compliment. This woman kicked in doors with a weapon drawn, but she was liquid sugar in his hand.
“This will solidify my position as the one to listen to within the North American Fratelli,” he said. “No one should vote against the next plan I propose after this. It’s annoying to be handcuffed by this ridiculous decision-by- committee the Fratelli use, but we can maneuver around them.”
“We are all so fortunate to have you,” she said in a voice bursting with admiration.
“What did you get out of Turga’s pilot?”
A frown disturbed the smooth lines of her classic beauty. “Everything possible before his heart gave out. The pilot was midtwenties and looked very fit. The medic’s examination prior to interrogation did not pick up a heart murmur. As a side note, the medic has been relieved of duty.” Her gaze hardened. “Permanently. But the pilot did give us the name of the man Turga had captured once he stopped blubbering about his wife and new baby needing him and the baby was sick and on and on. I reminded him that if his wife and baby ended up living under an overpass, they would still be better off than him…unless I ran out of patience and brought them in. That loosened him up. That and a method of skin removal I find very persuasive.” Josie beamed a proud smile. “He said the man Turga captured was Carlos, but never heard a last name or a name for the woman that was Carlos’s girlfriend.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes. That and some very good sketches of Carlos and the woman I’ve inputted into our imaging program. The woman’s sketch is unremarkable, but we’ll know soon if there is a hit on their faces.” She tapped a scarlet fingernail on her lip. “I interrogated him myself.”
No question Turga’s pilot gave up everything.
“I’ll be watching the national news tomorrow morning.” Vestavia opened his arms to her when Josie stood. She glowed, flush with excitement, when she stepped into his embrace. He kissed her deeply. “Too bad you have to catch a plane or I’d lock the office door for a couple hours.”
Her lips curled with a wicked thought. She stretched around him to hit the remote on his desk that locked the door to his office, then reached down to unzip him. “I’ll use the helicopter instead of a cab…if you approve?” The whispered words followed her as she dropped down on her knees.
“Granted.”
This was a woman worthy of an Angeli.
If she wasn’t so competent in the field, he’d bring her inside permanently. Maybe in a couple years. The only time she allowed her feelings to show was around him, such as now, when she raised love-filled eyes to his.
He brushed his hand over her soft hair.
She lowered her head, putting that amazing mouth to immediate use. He gripped the desk behind him.
Truly an angel of mercy.
CARLOS ENDED THE call with Joe and closed his phone. He wiped hair damp from humidity off his forehead and guided Gabrielle along the tree-lined street in Caracas. In another hour it would be dark and they’d have to take off their shades. They’d both opted for short-sleeved T-shirts and jeans to blend in, but he’d rather not have her in Venezuela at all.
She refused to tell anyone else how to locate the informants, which he understood. Joe hadn’t fooled her with his easy agreement. Gabrielle was using every stall tactic she could find to avoid Joe and Interpol, plus she’d made a valid point about her being the only one capable of convincing Ferdinand to talk once they found him. The time line from Linette’s last missive was the “end of this week,” which Joe was taking as Friday, tomorrow-the reason he agreed to let Gabrielle go to Venezuela.
Time was the one nonnegotiable part of this mission.
And this trip was turning into another dead end, which might be literal if they were recognized.
“What did Joe say?” Gabrielle asked in a low voice, eyes moving back and forth nervously.
People were too close to her for Carlos’s comfort, and dark was creeping over the end of another business day here.
“I’ll tell you in a minute.” He led her to a fountain near Plaza Bolivar, where the water would allow them to talk and misting cool air offered a reprieve from the heat.
“Sounds like he guessed right,” Carlos answered once they stood with their back to the fountain so he could watch the streets crowded with rush-hour traffic. “Retter’s last message confirmed the secret meeting in Columbia Friday afternoon will be at the Fuentes estate. Joe is starting to think this meeting might have been orchestrated by a third, unknown party who has plans to do something, like launch an attack on the meeting. If so, that would mean someone is trying to pull the U.S. and South American into a conflict.”
“Who is representing the U.S. at the meeting?”
Carlos kept his eyes peeled for any threat and answered, “Joe was able to confirm both the president and vice president would remain in the U.S. The cabinet is still deciding who to send, but once they do, Joe will know. Retter has a dossier on Amelia so he’s on the lookout for her in case she doesn’t go to the U.S., plus in addition to the heavy security his team will cover the Fuentes home during the meeting to watch for anything unusual.”
“This whole thing is too bizarre,” Gabrielle marveled. “What could be happening with the teenagers? Brainwashing to commit some kind of crime?”
“I don’t know, but experience has taught me to be prepared for the unexpected.”
