She didn’t think either man lived there. The place had a generic feel to it, like a vacation home that was rented out.
Clay loosened her gag. “Beer?” He held out the can.
Gena shook her head. “I don’t drink.”
He laughed. “Sorry. I forgot.”
She looked at him.
He forgot?
Edguardo’s phone rang and he stepped out to the garage to answer.
Clay moved to get her a bottle of water. Then he removed the handcuffs. “Drink up. I’ll get you some food shortly.”
When Edguardo came back in, he motioned to Clay. The two men whispered in the far corner. A few minutes later Edguardo left. She heard the muffled sounds of the car starting and the garage door opening.
“He’ll be back in a few,” Clay said. “While he’s gone, you can take a shower. I’ve got a robe you can use until we can get you some clothes.”
“No thanks.”
“Suit yourself. I know I won’t mind seeing you walk around naked and I’m certain Edguardo won’t. In fact, I think he’d kind of like it. Especially if you started mouthing off to him again.”
Gena shook her head. “Fine. Where’s the robe?”
Clay swept his arm toward the hall. “This way. You and I are staying in the master suite.”
“I am not staying in the same room with you.”
“You’d prefer sleeping with Edguardo?” Clay smiled at her head shake. “Didn’t think so.”
He caught her elbow and steered her up the stairs into a spacious bedroom with a king-size bed. The bathroom was adjacent.
“Shower is here.” Clay turned on the faucets and adjusted the water. Then he turned to her. “Strip.”
“Please—” She already knew his reply if she refused.
“Shut up and do it!”
Gena turned away and peeled off her clothes. She’d caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror when they’d first walked in. She was filthy and who knew what kind of vermin had been in the jungle. But compared to the vermin who had kidnapped her—
Her skin flushed red as she stepped beneath the spray and washed herself as quickly as she could. After she rinsed her hair, she looked over her shoulder and saw that Clay continued to watch her.
There was something chilling about the look on his face. She’d expected lust, had worried about sexual assault. But he seemed cold. As if she repulsed him.
It was the way Harry used to look at her.
“Where’s my robe?” she asked.
“In the closet.” He backed away and picked up a towel but didn’t move closer. “We’ll get it after you’re dry.”
Gena bit her lip against the urge to cry. She shut off the water and walked naked to Clay. He unfolded the towel and slowly moved behind her before draping the towel over her shoulders.
“You look upset, Gena,” he drawled. “Does it bother you to be naked in front of a stranger?”
“Of course it does,” she snapped.
“
Tsk, tsk
.” He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his mouth to her ear. “Good thing I’m not a stranger.”
Gena felt nauseated as the tone of Clay’s voice suddenly changed. Now he sounded like Harry. She locked her knees against the urge to faint.
“That’s right.” He laughed. “I’ve seen you naked before, Gena. And honestly, you left me just as cold as my wife as you do now.”
Washington, D.C.
October 7, 8:00 A.M.
Rocco’s flight had landed at Dulles at six that morning.
As promised, Dante had a driver and a new cell phone waiting at the airport. Rocco had instructed the driver to take him straight to his town house.
On the way, Rocco talked with Rey Salvador but was no closer to getting answers about how Gena’s abductors had connected Rey to Rocco. Rey had also promised to expedite evidence handling from the real Clay Watkins’s murder scene. If they could get a lead on the man who had assumed Clay’s identity, perhaps they could figure out where the man was holding Gena.
At his town house, Rocco had quickly showered and changed then got online and placed the personal ad in the
Washington Post
so Gena’s abductor could reach him.
Keep the faith, Gena. I’m coming for you.
The irony that he and Gena had just started to
unravel their past only added to his fury. Rocco would get her back. And the men who had abducted her would deeply regret it.
Rocco reached his office ten minutes before his eight o’clock meeting with Travis and Dante. Once inside the building, he arranged to have some evidence processed. He still had one of the magazine clips with bullets, even though he’d lost the gun. It was a long shot, but if Clay had loaded them, perhaps a fingerprint could be lifted. Or maybe the bullets could be traced to a specific dealer, though that was even less likely.
But at this point, Rocco was desperate. He’d try anything that could save Gena.
He called Dante’s cell phone, to let him know he was in the office. Rocco was eager to get a full update from Dante and Travis.
“Yo, bro,” Dante answered on the first ring. “Where are you?”
“Headed for Travis’s office.”
“Detour to basement-level three. We’re in room seven.”
Rocco disconnected and headed for the elevators. Level three held the interrogation rooms. Had they had a break?
Dante and Max were both in room seven. The room was darkened as was customary when an interrogation was under way in the adjacent room.
The men all shook hands as Rocco moved closer to the one-way glass. Travis Franks was on the opposite side, seated at a table. The subject, whom Rocco assumed was an Agency employee since he wore an ID badge, was seated across from Travis, facing the glass window. The subject was sweating profusely, stuttering as he answered questions about his work history.
“Who’s this?” Rocco asked.
“Ian Brown. Works in information technology. Before that he worked in records,” Dante said. “He’s our mole. Travis set up an impromptu sting. We nailed Ian this morning when he checked your log-in records.”
“Was he waiting for me to get here this morning?” Rocco glared at Ian through the glass.
“No. Travis had Cat log on, as you, last night. Travis wondered who else knew that you’d contacted Rey Salvador. His hunch that the leak came from here was dead-on. Someone obviously pried into Rey’s affairs and learned that he’d contacted Clay Waktins.”
“Do we know who Ian was leaking this info to?” Rocco asked.
“Ian claims he doesn’t know the guy’s identity.” Dante held up a hand. “Travis isn’t buying that either. Ian admitted that he’d originally monitored information for Abe Caldwell. Ian said his new handler took over at Abe’s death and basically blackmailed him into continuing.”
Max snorted. “That part was really pathetic. He was whining, ‘It’s not my fault. He made me.’ Right! Made him take shiny gold Krugerrands.”
“How long has this been going on?” Rocco asked.
“It appears Ian’s been accumulating Krugerrands for over three years,” Max said. “Travis had his apartment searched. They found keys to his grandmother’s safe-deposit box. Ian’s on her accounts and had been visiting the bank monthly.”
“As soon as Travis mentioned pulling his grandmother in as an accomplice, Ian grew more cooperative,” Dante added.
Turning back to the window, Rocco watched Travis
slide a drawing across the table. An artist’s composite? Ian picked it up and shook his head when Travis asked if he’d ever seen the man.
“What’s with the sketch?” Rocco asked.
“It’s the notorious Mr. Peabody,” Max said.
“Another popular guy.” Rocco knew that Minh Tran had placed a price on Peabody’s head, but other than that, the man was an enigma.
“That’s part of Travis’s other news,” Dante said. “He had Rufin work with an artist to get a composite of the man who kidnapped him and murdered Boh-dana in Bangkok. The composite also matches the description of Zadovsky’s middleman, Mr. Peabody.”
“You got another copy of that sketch?” Rocco asked. “I want to see if the guy rings any of my bells.”
Dante looked around. “There was one here somewhere.”
“I’ll go print another,” Max volunteered. “I want to call Erin and see how Logan is.”
Rocco stopped him. “Glad to hear Erin is safe.”
“Thanks. Gena will be safe soon, too,” Max said.
“Is that something you got a message on?” Rocco pointed to Max’s head.
“No. It’s a promise to a brother.” Max touched his chest over his heart, then slipped out of the room.
“Does Travis think there’s a connection between Ian and Peabody?” Rocco asked.
“That’s where it gets weird,” Dante said. “Travis got some fingerprints from the warehouse where Rufin was held. The prints matched Harry Gambrel’s.”
“What?” The news stunned Rocco. Travis had always suspected that Harry was alive. Was this proof?
Dante shrugged. “Travis’s initial conclusion was that Harry had been held at that same warehouse. But
we just got reports on trace evidence taken at Abe Caldwell’s murder scene. Hair was found there matching Harry’s. Bleached blond hair. The man who abducted Rufin was bleached blond, too, and—”
“The man who posed as Clay Watkins is bleached blond.”
Jesus.
“I need to see that composite now.”
Dante opened his phone and called Max. “He’s on his way.”
“How could Harry’s fingerprints and hair show up in Bangkok
and
Boston?” Rocco asked. “Somebody’s screwing with us.”
The door opened. Max came in with a copy of the drawing.
Rocco started swearing as soon as he saw the sketch. “I don’t believe this!” He held it up. “This is the fucker who posed as Clay Watkins. This is who has Gena.”
“I’ll text Travis,” Dante said.
Rocco moved to the phone at the desk and called the lab. “Did you get any prints from the clip I dropped off? Yes, I need it ASAP!”
Inside the interrogation room, Travis casually glanced at his cell phone before checking his watch. “I need a minute,” Travis said. Then he stood and moved to the door. The guard let Travis leave.
Ian remained seated in the room and stared nervously at the window. Rocco wanted to go in and beat the idiot to a pulp. Ian was scared, but only for himself. Did he have any idea how many other lives he’d endangered by selling information?
Travis came into the room and greeted Rocco.
“Did these guys bring you up to speed?” Travis asked.
“Yeah.” Rocco held up the composite. “This guy has Gena. He posed as Clay Watkins. I sent the lab
the clip of bullets he gave me. The lab got two partials off the casings. They’re running the prints now. If we can get a positive ID—”
Travis cut him off. “Call the lab,” he said to Dante. “Tell them to compare the prints to Harry Gambrel’s first.”
“Harry Gambrel? You think he’s working with Peabody?” Rocco asked.
“I think Harry
is
Peabody.”
The room went silent at Travis’s words.
Dante’s phone rang. He read the display. “It’s the lab,” he said to Travis. “Hello? Yeah. I’ll let him know.” Dante looked at Rocco, then Travis. “The partial matches Harry’s prints.”
Rocco’s hands shook as he picked up the composite again. “I can’t believe this is Harry.”
“Obviously, he’s had surgery,” Max said. “Damn good, too.”
“He has Gena,” Rocco said. “I hope she doesn’t realize who he is until after I’ve killed him.”
“Can I help?” Dante moved in close. “If this is Harry, he sold Max and me out.”
“The bastard sold all of us out,” Max said.
“We need to lean harder on Ian,” Rocco said. “He has to know something that can help us track them down.”
“We could get Ian to send Harry a message regarding Rufin,” Travis suggested. “Try to lure him out.”
“That’s too obvious,” Rocco said. “Look, Harry claims that all he wants is Rufin’s drug formulas. Tell Ian to send a message that the chips have been retrieved intact, from Taz.”
Nuevo Laredo, Mexico
October 7, 5:30 P.M.
Harry knew better than to celebrate too soon. He also knew to expect a trap.
Always expect a trap.
When he’d gotten an urgent message from Ian Brown early this morning with news that Taz had been located and the data chips recovered, Harry had been cautious.
But when Harry had called him, Ian had expressed disappointment and apologized. “I contacted you prematurely. I thought they’d bring Dr. Rufin out of hiding to meet Taz. Instead they downloaded the data and will take a copy of it to Rufin. I’ll keep watching.”
“Can you access the data they downloaded?” Harry had asked.
“That depends on how many layers of security they have it buried under.”
“Check it out,” Harry had said. “I’m willing to pay a lot for a copy.”
It had taken Ian two hours to get back to Harry.
The next time they spoke, Ian had been a nervous wreck. “I found the data, but I’m afraid they’ll know it’s been compromised.”
“How?”
“I logged on with one of Erin Houston’s passwords. She works at the hospital where Taz is. I’ve used her password before to get info for Abe Caldwell. But this time I barely finished downloading when the server kicked me out and wouldn’t let me log in again. Do you know what that means?”
“It may mean nothing,” Harry soothed. “Now did you get a copy or not?”
“Oh, I got it all right. The whole freaking thing. It’s a gold mine. And a death sentence,” Ian had said.
That meant Ian had looked at his copy and realized the value of what he’d stolen. Ian had also realized he couldn’t return to work.
“I have to leave town,” Ian had gone on. “I sabotaged the server so they couldn’t trace it right away, but by tomorrow, I’ll be CIA toast.”
In the end, Harry had convinced Ian to part with the data for a half-million dollars. Which in the big scheme was nothing. In addition to scientific formulas, the data chips had details of Zadovsky’s business transactions. As blackmail, those alone were priceless.
It had taken some persuasion, but Ian had flown to Texas this afternoon on a private charter. He’d crossed the border to Nuevo Laredo an hour ago, expecting to meet with Edguardo tomorrow morning.
But Edguardo was on his way to Ian’s motel now. If the data Ian had was as good as Harry hoped, there was no need for Rocco to get to Rufin. And Gena’s
last purpose in life would be to even an old personal score. With Rocco.