The sniper had broken down his weapon and stood. “Ready?”
Vestavia refused to betray any emotion. He choked down the sick ball of agony in his gut and patted the shooter on his shoulder. “Nice job.”
“Thank you, Fra.”
Vestavia could find only one reason for failure today. There had to be a mole inside the Fratelli organization.
It clearly wasn’t Josie, but he would find out who it was, and that person would pay dearly.
EPILOGUE
CARLOS WALKED INTO Joe’s office atop the Bat Tower in Nashville, ready to hurt people. “Where is she?”
“You mean Gabrielle?” Joe rose from behind his desk. He wore gray slacks and a sky-blue, button-down shirt.
Tee walked in from the door that connected their offices. She had her furry little Pomeranian, Petey, in her arms, snuggled against the cinnamon-red sweater she wore over a dash of black leather skirt. “She’s gone, Carlos. She called when they landed to give us the airport where they arrived and was gone by the time we reached your aunt and cousin. We don’t know where she is either.”
He stared at both of them, wanting to call everyone liars who tried to tell him Gabrielle had vanished into thin air.
“You knew she could do it,” Joe pointed out.
Carlos raked a hand over his head and clutched the back of his neck. “Maybe Gotthard can find her.”
“I don’t think so.” Tee shook her head. “Not from what Gotthard said. He’s impressed by her ability to manipulate anything electronic, and that’s saying something.”
This couldn’t happen. Carlos just wanted a chance to explain to her, to tell her she was free forever from Durand, her ex, everyone. That he hadn’t given her up and hadn’t been using her.
What else could she think after finding out she’d been sleeping with the person she believed killed her mother?
“How’s the burn on your leg?” Joe asked.
“Fine.” Carlos waved it off, trying to figure out how to function now when the only thing that mattered in his world was gone forever.
“We just got in. What’s the scoop?” Korbin asked, walking into the room with Rae on his heels.
Carlos backed out of the way and leaned against the wall so Korbin and Rae could take seats facing Joe’s desk.
The idea of disappearing was starting to sound appealing.
“The teens you two rescued in Switzerland are the real McCoys,” Joe started.
“The clinic had been told all three teens were severely depressed and delusional,” Korbin added for everyone. “They had plenty of documentation that, of course, led nowhere.”
Joe continued. “The teens in D.C. were copies who all thought they had been chosen to play decoys for the real teens, and Collupy believed she’d been employed by the CIA as an escort to watch over Evelyn. All three teens had been homeless or orphans who were involved in bad traffic wrecks in different countries in the last year. When they woke up in the hospital, each one had some physical damage that corresponded to the one on the real teen. They’d all had plastic surgery they were told was necessary as a result of their injuries, then speech and physical therapy.”
Rae leaned forward, appalled. “You mean the Fratelli intentionally injured these kids, even put one in a wheelchair for life, and removed limbs on the others to make duplicates?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what we’ve figured out has happened,” Tee replied. “The teens all confirmed a photo of Josephine Silversteen as the contact person. She told each teen after the surgery that the organization she represented protected children and paid all their medical bills, but her people wanted them to help other children they resembled who were targeted for kidnapping by taking their place for a week. She assured them they’d be protected the entire way, and in return all their hospital and educational expenses would be paid.”
Joe added, “The ability to find abandoned children that matched so close to the teens physically and in speech, and to infiltrate the DEA, proves the Fratelli are an even higher threat than we imagined. Kathryn Collupy was just as innocent. The planning on this was phenomenal since all of them went through surgery, rehab, and voice instruction during the last six months.”
“What’s going to happen to them now?” Rae asked.
“The teens have all been debriefed and are now in the WITSEC,” Joe explained. “They’ve been placed with good families in the program and will receive what they were promised as a minimum. Now we know why Silversteen never caught Brady and why she was killed. They risk leaving no one who can talk.”
“I just finished filling out a report. Brady is known as Vestavia, part of the Fratelli,” Carlos interjected.
Everyone quieted and turned to him.
Carlos shared the phone call Durand received and how he saw Vestavia’s face. He intended to add his connection to Durand in the report, but Retter had stopped him, saying he and Joe were the only two who needed to know that. Retter had refused Carlos’s resignation this morning, telling him Joe wouldn’t accept it until Carlos took some R and R.
They thought he’d stay. Would he? Carlos couldn’t answer that right now.
“So Vestavia knows what I look like,” Carlos finished.
“I don’t think that’s an issue if we don’t put you out somewhere public or high profile,” Tee interjected. “Salvatore burned the Anguis complex to the ground after you left and put out word he killed all the Anguis soldiers, including you.” Tee gave Carlos an assessing look. “We’ll build you a new profile.”
“Right.” Carlos had to get out of here. “Where are my aunt and cousin?”
“The Shepherd Spinal Center in Atlanta.” Tee lifted a small box from Joe’s desk and walked over to Carlos. “This is all the mail that came into Gabrielle’s post office box in Peachtree City.”
Carlos took it, thanked her, and headed for the door.
“Going to take some leave time?” Joe asked.
Carlos couldn’t look him in the eye and lie so he just said, “Yes.”
“When you coming back?” Rae tacked on to Joe’s inquiry.
“Don’t know.” Carlos walked out.
GOTTHARD RUBBED HIS tired eyes and glanced at the third missed call on his cell phone. All three from his wife, who only wanted to bitch him out for still being at work after midnight.
Like she was ever home when he went there? Shopping, girlfriends, and the spa came before a decent meal together.
The only light in this section of the IT offices at BAD came from the glow of multiple computer screens he’d watched for days.
Seven hits popped up next, replies to messages he’d sent out, searching for Linette. Multiple hits had come in constantly, but none with her signature. He clicked through the first five, then stopped on number six, shock paralyzing him.
He read the brief reply again, decoded the signature three more times until he slapped the desk. “Hot damn!”
The coded signature read “Jane of Art.”
Linette had responded.
BAD now had contact with a mole inside the Fratelli.
CARLOS DROVE HIS BMW down the driveway of the safe house in Hiawassee, Georgia. Fall had come and gone without him, speckling the mountains with dried orange, red, and brown. Wind swept discarded leaves in piles along the paved entrance.
All the security systems cleared without a warning light.
