with phobias-just answer their questions?”
“He did. They thought he was holding out on them, but he wasn’t. He tried to tell them about his research, but they were interested in something else that his company was rumored to be developing. Believe me, if he’d known about it, he would have given them every detail. But he says the rumors were just that. Rumors. Or maybe it was another company doing it. There were dozens of little research groups in the rain forest in those days, looking for million-dollar cures.”
“Poor guy.”
“They’d bring him back to the cage convulsing with fear. It was chilling. They used electrodes on him, and whips, but it didn’t take them long to realize all they had to do was come near him and his brain exploded with images ten times worse than anything they could imagine doing to him.”
“Do you remember what the other project was? The one in the rumors?”
Ortega nodded. “They called it Night Arrow. Something that made arrows fly straighter, according to Carerra’s men. Not a product you’d ever need,” he added admiringly.
She smiled. “Not much call for that in modern warfare anyway, is there?”
“Right. Unless they could apply it to bullets or torpedoes or whatever. It always sounded like a pipe dream to me. And to Kell. Benito Carerra claimed there were legends of warriors who anointed their arrows with certain magical potions that made them superior or invincible, but aside from the numerous poisons available down there, most potions were just religious concoctions designed to give confidence to the warrior and create fear in the enemy.”
“So they kept torturing the poor guy.”
“It was brutal. Carerra was such an asshole. I mean, torturing me was one thing. I came after him. But anyone could see Kell was harmless.”
“You didn’t just come after him, you used his wife to do it.”
“So he was the victim?” Ortega laughed. “I guess that makes sense from your point of view. You probably wanted to torture me yourself after what I did to you.”
“Which was basically the same thing you did to Mrs. Carerra. What was her name? Angelina?”
“It was hardly the same,” Ortega protested.
“Really? You slept with her to advance an objective. Sound familiar? Anyway,” she said with a sigh, “back to Kell. Everyone assumes he’s useful to the Brigade because of his phobia research. Do you agree?”
Ortega nodded. “Our military has spent decades-and millions-trying to find ways to inhibit fear in a soldier. To promote fight-over-flight as a response. They’ve had success, but the results are always short-lived and the side- effects fairly extreme. Kell probably found something safer or more effective.”
“And he would rather sell it to the Brigade because he hates the United States?”
Ortega nodded again. “He’s a fairly gentle guy, but if they convinced him they found a way to take down the U.S. and big business-his two enemies-that would definitely motivate him. He used to rant about that kind of thing when we were imprisoned together. Revenge fantasies masquerading as political theory. Poor guy,” he added sadly. Then he asked Miranda, “Any other questions?”
“Just one.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “You’re the founder of SPIN. The original spinner who taught Kristie everything she knows.”
“What’s your point?”
“You said she has enough information already to figure out who the Brigadier is. So? Doesn’t that mean you could do it, too? Do you have any theories? Any leads you can give us?”
“I never said she had enough information to figure it out,” he corrected her. “Just enough to plan an op to infiltrate the group. Not through Kell-he’s too suspicious and way too bitter to trust anyone-”
“Anyone but you.”
“Kell’s grateful, but not stupid. He knows I was with the CIA. If I showed up at his place wanting to have a beer and talk about old times, he’d know I was investigating the Brigade.” He arched an eyebrow. “As I was saying, Kristie can develop a strategy. She has all the information I have, plus she knows which top-notch agents with the right expertise are available, what their skills are, and who the other three Brigade members are. All she has to do is sit in her cubicle and work her magic.”
“I agree.”
He stared. “You do?”
“Yes. You’d be a huge help to her, but she can do it alone. And you’re right. Kell’s not stupid. The whole idea of your contacting him was a bad one, which means Kristie really was just using it as a way of luring you back.” She scrambled to her feet. “Thanks, Ortega. I’ll show myself out.”
“Wait! You promised to have a meal with me.”
“I did not.”
He gave her a disarming smile. “We’ll spear a couple of fresh trout in my stream and cook them over an open fire. Then we’ll do the breathing routine again.” Standing, he stepped close to her and murmured, “You’ll like it, Miranda. And I think I can get you there faster this time, now that we’re in synch.”
This time, there was no mistaking the sexual undercurrent to his words. And strangely enough, she was responding. She really wanted to get there faster this time!
He was manipulating her again. Only this time, she could handle it, thanks in part to the calm, centered feeling his relaxation routine had given her. In fact, she might just be able to do a little reverse manipulation.
So she suggested sweetly, “You catch the fish. I’ll practice the routine alone. I’ll feel less self-conscious that way. Then we’ll have that meal. And then, I’ve really got to go. I want to fly out at a decent hour.”
As always, Ortega backed off quickly. “Good plan. I’ll just change and get my spear.”
She watched him go into the cabin, returning in just a few moments in cut-off jeans and a muscle shirt. As she had suspected, his body was one gorgeous muscle after another, lean and tanned and irresistible.
Just look away, she counseled herself, amused that sex was lurking so stubbornly at the edges of her mind. She definitely needed to do the breathing routine again if she had any hope of maintaining balance with Ortega looking so good.
She turned her attention to the metronome, winding it gently, then setting it on the bench, while her host lifted his spear off its hook on the side of the cabin and disappeared into the trees toward the sound of the stream, calling over his shoulder, “Don’t think. Just breathe.”
“Okay,” she called back, but her mind wasn’t on the metronome. It was on the cabin. This was her chance to take a look around without Ortega knowing about it. She didn’t know what she hoped to find, but she knew Ortega was a man of many secrets. Many lives. Many lies.
What would it hurt to just double-check that equipment, to make sure it was just a security system, Internet access and satellite television, as he had implied, and not some sort of espionage game being run under the pretense of retreating from the world?
She scooped up the empty water bottles from the bench to use as an excuse if he came back and found her in the house. Then she slipped through the back door and into the living room to examine the high-tech equipment.
Chapter 4
She was almost disappointed to find that Ortega had apparently been telling her the truth. His computer and video equipment, while ultrasophisticated, was not anything a wealthy or connected civilian couldn’t get their hands on. Did that mean her host was just what he claimed to be: a good guy with a tendency to go wrong, but not really bad deep inside?
Miranda wasn’t quite ready to conclude that yet, so she took a moment to glance at his books, tapes and DVDs, just in case a suspicious theme presented itself. She found instead a very eclectic and engrossing collection- just the sort of items one might expect to find on a spinner’s shelves.
She was just about to admit defeat when she saw an empty tape container in front of the VCR.
Let’s see what you’re watching these days, she told her host as she picked up the box and read the provocative label: Surveillance Video.
