Not to mention he liked teasing her. But not nearly as much as he liked knowing that there was nothing on underneath that dark blue skirt.
Andre handed him a phone, making him want to curse as it diverted his attention away from the thought of what Syd tasted like.
Andre leaned his head back and shouted at the pilot. "Jake, keep the engines off until I give you the heads-up." He looked back at Steele. "You need to give our friend another buzz. Let him think that you're already in Virginia."
Steele nodded as he pressed the send button. Dillon answered on the second ring.
"Hi, it's Steele."
"I was wondering if you'd changed your mind about that job. I saw on the news last night that there was an escaped convict headed out west. Scary stuff, isn't it?"
He glanced at Syd and for the first time agreed that she'd been right to turn his name over to the media. It did add legitimacy to his story. "The world is a bitch. Hope the poor guy makes it to Pasadena."
"I heard that. It's a long way from Kansas. But, man, with that kind of heat...a guy has to be careful, you know?"
"Yes. Yes, I do. So can you help hook me up with some immediate work?"
"Yeah, but I want you to know that I had to call in all kinds of favors on this. It's not the same as if you were working for me, you know? I'm having to send you over to one of my partners and he doesn't like dealing with new talent. He prefers I train the new recruits and then send them over to him after they have a few years on them. But for you...I'm willing to bend the rules a little. You're not going to be one of those take-and-forget kind of guys, are you?"
"Never."
"Good. My partner, Randy Wallace, owns a security company down in Georgetown called Asset Protection Systems. You ever heard of it?"
"Not really." Steele gave a thumbs up to Andre and Syd to let them know that it was working.
"Well, it's a good company. I told Randy you'd be in about three o'clock this afternoon. Can you make it?"
"Sure."
"Good. He'll be able to interview you in person and see if you're suited to the company. You got something to write the address down with?"
He motioned to Andre's pen that he was holding in his lap. Andre handed it over with a piece of paper.
"I'm ready." Steele wrote the address down as it was given to him. "Thanks, Dillon. I really appreciate this."
"No problem, you just keep your nose clean, kid."
"Don't worry. I fully intend to." Steele hung up the phone and tossed it to Andre. "We've got an appointment with them this afternoon."
"And that is why we needed you," Andre said. He leaned back and smiled in triumph. "Yo, Jake, get us out of here. We got an appointment to keep."
Jake nodded as he started the blades.
Steele watched as Andre and Syd established what looked like a fully operational command center between their seats. It was impressive. They had all kinds of data, such as the schedule for the Uhbukistani president's arrival in America and a record of the son's latest phone calls to America. Hell, they even had a list of the call girls the boy had contacted for his first night in town.
Steele frowned as they reviewed the limo route from the airstrip to the hotel. "Won't they change their plans just in case someone like, say, us, happens to be planning a coup or murder?"
Andre shook his head. "These were encrypted. They'll think they're absolutely safe."
Yeah, and he was three feet tall and green. One thing Steele had learned as a sniper, the brass could and would change plans at a moment's notice for absolutely no reason at all.
Never rely on intelligence unless you wanted to die.
He watched as Andre pulled up a list of stores the Uhbukistani president wanted to visit while he was in town. "Just out of curiosity. Is there any information you guys can't access?"
Syd shook her head. "Not really. But you'll get used to no privacy."
Maybe. "I still say they'll probably change their plans once they arrive."
She looked a bit...well, for lack ofa better word, miffed at his insistence. "If there weren't Secret Service men assigned to him, I might agree. But as you well know the Secret Service doesn't like change. Once a plan is set, they usually go through with it even when they have reports that tell them it might not be a prudent thing to do."
Steele didn't comment.
"Now our biggest concern is what to do with you," Syd said as she read over the reports. "We're going to need you to get us info on how the APS personnel files are set up. We can't find them on anything which says that they are hidden under something we're not thinking of. We need to know who their power assassins are. Anything like that that you can give us."
"And if I can't get it?"
"We'll have a dead president on our hands and a major auction for nuclear weapons."
Andre handed him another pair of sunglasses. "This is your mic and your camera. You can wear them outside and I'll be able see and hear everything you do. I'll be in a van a few blocks over, recording and monitoring everything, while you and Syd drive in. When you go inside the offices, hang the sunglasses on your shirt. I need you to keep your arm away from this." He pointed to the right hinge. "This is the camera, and if it's covered, I'm blind."
Steele examined the sunglasses carefully. He had to give Andre credit, there was no way to detect the camera or mic. They were truly a work of art. "Where's the mic located?"
He showed him the earpiece, but for his life Steele couldn't see anything. "You can't tell anything's there."
Andre gave him a gloating stare. "I know. I designed it myself. No one will ever know you're bugged."
"Ego's not Andre's problem," Syd said with a laugh. "But he saves our butts, so we tolerate him."
Steele nodded. "So when they ask me how I escaped, what do I tell them?"
She handed him a piece of paper with bullet points on it. "The story we fed to the media is that you escaped from a work detail."
"And I made it to D.C. on foot? Man, I'm one hell of an athlete."
Syd rolled her eyes. "You climbed out of the window of a public restroom, and your girlfriend was waiting to pick you up in her car."
He arched a brow at that. "My girlfriend?"
"Sara Whitfield."
He frowned at the unknown name. "Who is that?"
She wagged her eyebrows at him.
"Oh, hell, no."
"Oh, yeah," she said in an offended tone. "For all intents and purposes, I'm your gal. Why do you think I'm wearing a skirt and blouse?"
He cleared his throat on that, which caused her to blush again. He could tell by the look on her face that he hadn't won himself any points with that. In fact, he probably just lost quite a few.
Good going, asshole.
Andre opened a case with a hypodermic needle in it.
Steele went cold. "What's that?"
"A homing device. Once we land, I'm going to inject an RFID chip into you."
He shook his head. "You ain't doing shit unless you can show me a medical degree first."
"It's for your own protection."
"No."
"Steele...," Syd said in a warning tone. "It's an RFID transmitter that will allow us to find you should anything happen. I swear it's safe. Jason had one in him and didn't even know it."
"And I don't know Jason. Where is he now? The morgue?"
She gave him a droll look. "No, he's off on vacation with another agent."
"Um-hmm..."
Andre snapped the case closed. "Fine. When they find the bug in the sunglasses and decide to take you off in the trunk of a car to kill you, don't expect one of us to find you and save you at the last minute."
"You told me it was undetectable."
"Well, as good as I am, I do, on very rare occasions, make mistakes. I would hate for you to be one of them."
So would he.
Andre looked at Syd. "You know, the Army might already have him tagged. Did you check his records?"
"No one has me tag
ged."
Syd scoffed. "That's what Jason said too, and they had to dig the tag out of his butt."
"And I can assure you, that area of my body is most sacred, and nothing is ever going to be buried there."
She rolled her eyes. "Stop being a baby."
"Then you let him inject you."
"He already has." She lifted her arm up to show him a spot next to her elbow.
"I don't see anything there."
"That's the idea. Andre found a new frequency. It can't even be picked up by tracers. The only way for anyone to find it is to have one of ours."
"And if one of your people turns on you, you're all screwed."
She put her arm down. "That'll never happen."
"How do you know?"
"Because we're family. Andre over there is the crazy uncle no one ever listens to."
"Hey!"
She smiled at him. "But we love him anyway."
That sounded like a nice fable that ranked right up there with unicorns and fairies, and Steele knew better than to ever trust in those. "Everyone has a price."
"No," Andre said earnestly. "They don't. You turn on us, and we'll hunt you down and kill you. We're kind of like the Mafia. No one leaves the family. No one. And once you see exactly how easily we trail people, you'll understand why no one in their right mind would ever betray us."
Steele shook his head at them, hoping he could trust in that, but his trust had worn thin a long time ago. He didn't care what they said. People could turn on you in a heartbeat, and he didn't want to be dead because of it.
They could keep their tracers. There was just too much room for error.
And even more for betrayal.
But even so, the two of them continued to prep him on the mission's parameters and on how to penetrate the organization. Little did they know, he was about to enter his own arena. In his world, they were the novices.
Syd was nervous as she drove Steele toward his rendezvous. As an agent, she knew all the things that could go wrong. For all his military training, Steele wasn't a paid liar.
That was her job. And inspite of what Steele thought, she was very good at it.
"You have your story straight, right?" she asked him.
"Yes."
"Okay. How long have we been dating?"
"Fifteen minutes," he said drily.
"Steele!" she snapped, aggravated that he'd play around with something this serious.
He let out an exasperated breath. "I'm not going to forget, Sarah. If there's one thing I know how to do, it's keep my butt low to the ground when it's under fire. I won't forget anything we went over."
"Good." Syd let out her own irritated breath as she edged her way down M Street, only to see that there was nowhere to park near the security company. Damn, she really, truly hated D.C. traffic.
"Just let me out there on the corner."
"No. We'll circle the block and see if someone pulls out." But after the fourth time around, she was beginning to feel like a land shark circling for nonexistent food.
"I'm going to be late," Steele said from between clenched teeth. "And these aren't the kind of people you keep waiting." He pointed to where a green parking sign was. "Park there and wait for me."
She didn't want to, but she realized that she wasn't going to have a choice in this. Even more aggravated, she headed for the public lot and parked.
She turned to face Steele, who was going into a bad situation completely unarmed--and worse, she, unlike Andre, wouldn't even be able to monitor him. "Be careful. Don't do anything stupid."
He grinned at her. "You keep talking like that, and I might actually think you like me."
Before she realized what he was doing, he leaned over and gave her a wickedly hot kiss. "For luck," he said as he pulled away. "Keep my seat warm. I'll be back."
His impression of Arnold didn't do much for her. Unlike the actor in the movie, he wasn't made of invincible steel. He was just a man who hadn't been properly prepared for what he was about to face.
Syd gripped the wheel and forced herself not to follow him. He had to do this alone. If she went anywhere near him, she could very well jeopardize not only the mission, but both of their lives.
"Relax, Syd."
She jumped at Andre's voice in her ear. "Jeez, I forgot you were there. Did you see--"
"Yeah, you kiss pretty good for an agent."
"Shut up, Andre."
His laughter filled her ear from the tiny earbud. But after this, she knew she wouldn't hear anything else from Andre as he taped Steele's conversation. Unlike Andre, she didn't have two-way communication with Steele. Too many receivers might jeopardize his cover. So here she would sit in total silence until he returned...hopefully in one piece.
Steele lowered his head as he passed a couple of uniformed cops. Luckily, they were checking out a Georgetown co-ed across the street. Quickening his steps, he headed straight for the security company.
He pushed open the door to find a long gray counter with three women sitting behind it. Two of the women appeared to be college age while the other was closer to fifty. Dressed neatly and tidily, none of them looked like a front for a company of assassins and mercenaries.
In fact the entire place, much like the BAD offices, looked like a legit company, complete with multiline phones and security brochures. The only thing weird was the number of cameras that were trained on the door and counter.
"Can I help you, shug?" the older lady asked.
"I have an appointment with Randy Wallace for three o'clock."
She pulled a large brown book toward her. "Your name?"
Before he could answer, an intercom buzzed. "It's fine, Agnes. I'm expecting him."
She laughed. "Well, the powers that be have spoken. You are able to get in. Just open the door when you hear the buzzer and walk to the end of the hallway. Mr. Wallace will have an escort waiting to show you to his office."
Even if he hadn't known what Wallace did for a living, he'd be suspicious by now. The man had more security than...
Leavenworth.
Steele opened the door as the secretary buzzed him in and did just as she said. The hallway was narrow and dark, without a single door or window.
When he reached the end of the hallway, the door opened automatically to show him a large, burly man who was frowning at him.
"You packing?" the men asked gruffly.
"Do you see a suitcase?"
That succeeded in making the man reach out to grab him. Steele caught his arm and twisted it behind his back. He forced the man against the door. "I'm not your bitch, boy," he said from between clenched teeth. "You don't grope me without an invitation."
Steele heard the sound of applause. He looked up to see what appeared to be a balcony, where a dark-haired man stood watching them.
"Nice moves," he said in a voice identical to the one that had buzzed Agnes. "Can you sing too?"
"Not on key, but I can fake it."
"Too bad I'm not hiring a comedian, huh?" His face hardened. "Let go of Bruce."
Steele wrenched his arm a bit more, just to make a point, before he released him.
The man on the balcony, whom he assumed was Randy, folded his arms over his chest as he gave him a withering stare. "You know I'm not going to let you up here until I'm sure you don't have on a wire or a weapon, don't you?"
Steele took the sunglasses off his shirt, then pulled it over his head. He turned around for Wallace's inspection. "Obviously, I ain't tapped or tagged."
Randy shook his head. "You're an arrogant sonofabitch, aren't you?"
"Better than a dumb one or a dead one."
If he didn't know better, he'd swear a look of admiration darkened Randy's face. "Put your shirt on and get up here. Bruce will show you the way."
Steele shrugged his shirt back on, then turned toward Bruce. The man looked like the only thing he wanted to show him was the bottom of the Potomac. "Sorry, man. I just don't like to be manhandled."
Bruce growled at him before he led him toward a door on the right.
Steele put the sunglasses back in place before he followed him.
Wallace's offices were plush and well decorated--except for the line of stag heads on the wall. It looked like something out of a bad movie.
The man sat behind an antique mahogany desk with such a high gloss that it was almost blinding. He rubbed it with a chamois cloth. "Nice, isn't it?"
Steele shrugged. Who was he to judge furniture? He'd never paid much attention to it.
"Have you ever heard of feng shui?" Randy asked as he put the cloth away in a top drawer.
"Yeah. It's the 'put the mirror on your door and sleep in the right direction' bullshit."
Randy's face was stone cold and blank. "The Chinese say that you should never, ever buy a used desk unless you know the history of it. They claim that if it belonged to a bad businessman, his karma will befall you." He indicated his desk with a tilt of his head. "This one here belonged to President Kennedy. So what do you think that means?"
Steele shrugged. "I don't know, but if I were you, I wouldn't ride through Dallas in a convertible in November. Bad feng shui."
Wallace laughed at that. He reached to a wooden box on his desk and opened it. "You smoke?"
"Only when I'm on fire."
His face returned to stone. "I don't appreciate your humor, Mr. Steele."
"It's an acquired taste."
Wallace pulled out a Cuban cigar, then reached for a clipper. He didn't speak as he prepped, then lit, the cigar. He blew out the match, then tossed it in the ashtray. "Dillon tells me that he owes you."
Steele nodded grimly.
Wallace tapped the cigar on the ashtray while he narrowed his eyes on him. "I'm going to be honest with you, Steele. I don't like working with people I don't know. And I don't know anything about you. For all I know, you're some limp-wristed pansy with a few swift moves."
Steele was completely unamused by the man's words. "Hmmm, let's see...I cried when Ole Yeller died, but I was young back then. I have a scar on my knee from when Willie Durante knocked my off my bike when I was seven. I beat the shit out of him later, then took his bike and sold it at a pawnshop. Oh, and my favorite color is pink...it's really soothing."
Wallace scowled. "What kind of bullshit is that?"
Steele gave him a bored stare. "Look, there's nothing I'm ever going to tell you about me that's the truth. The more you know about me, the shorter your life span is going to be. All you need to know is that I don't miss. In fact, you don't even need to know exactly how good I really am, because if you ever find out, you're going to be dead."