Whispered Lies

  "Do you know what-" Gabrielle started to ask what Durand would do to Carlos.

  "Call now and follow his instructions," Maria insisted, her gaze going back to her son. Probably watching for any misstep in loading him onto the sleek, white private jet.

  With her back to the plane as if she and Maria were in a conversation, Gabrielle punched the numbers and lifted the phone to her ear, which was hidden by her hair. "Thank you," she whispered to Maria while she waited on the call to go through.

  "Do not think I am doing this to help you. If not for you, Alejandro would still be safe from Durand."

  Gabrielle didn't know what was harder to handle-that Carlos's being in danger was her fault or realizing she had only a slim hope of helping him. She might be in no better position herself soon. Climbing on Durand's private airplane with his armed guards and his angry sister who clearly blamed her for Carlos's being captured didn't give her any sense of comfort.

  Should she try to make a run for it the minute she finished the call? Would they gun her down at a public airport?

  Maria leaned near. "The guards are coming back."

  A series of clicks sounded in her ear, then the connection was made. "Hello?" she said quickly.

  "Gabrielle? Where are you and Carlos?"

  Somewhere between hell and damnation.

  DURAND ENTERED HIS office. "Let us walk, Alejandro."

  Julio issued orders. One soldier clipped the cable ties. The other guards stayed in place with weapons aimed at Carlos's head as the guard latched a pair of handcuffs on his wrists in front of him.

  "Does Maria know why the granero is guarded?" Carlos asked, not at all surprised Durand wasn't waiting on the call.

  The man who fathered him broke out a smug smile. "She believes the building hides drugs. She is so wrapped up in that boy she sees nothing."

  Carlos stood, then followed him toward the door, but he paused in front of Durand. "At least Maria has a soul and cares about her family."

  "You should talk." Durand's smile disappeared behind a mask of disgust. "Bad enough you fail against Salvatore, but you sneak off in the night and betray your family. I have protected this family alone since then." Durand nodded to the guard and they all filed out of the office, marching through the foyer and out the back door, where the gardens separated the house from the ominous outbuilding.

  One thing Carlos noted-Durand was light on soldiers. Where were his men?

  "We may share blood," Carlos said, shuffling along behind Durand, "but you and I are not family. As for Salvatore, you sent a child to set a bomb. Eduardo didn't really know what he was doing. I stepped in to keep the blood off his hands." The lie had held up all these years and would now die with him, but at least Maria and Eduardo would be safe.

  Durand stopped and turned to Carlos. "No. You left your cousin in pieces I have spent a fortune to put back together. And you allowed Salvatore to know I sent the bomb. If you had no failed, Salvatore would have blamed Valencia for the death of his goddaughter. Instead, those two mongrels united against me. I planned so well, knew that you would be in Cagua that day and would help Eduardo. I just did no plan on you failing me."

  "How could you know I was going into Cagua that day?" Carlos's mind raced back through the years, trying to remember the details. "I told everyone I was going to Maracay."

  "My men tracking Salvatore learned that Helena would accompany her godfather to pick up a package in Cagua." The blank stare on Durand's face was a study in patience.

  Everything from the week Helena died came crashing in on Carlos. He looked away, staring into the distance as he pulled together the events of that day.

  His father started nodding. "Yes, I knew you had been meeting Helena behind my back. She was a distraction for you and an enemy of this family. What were you thinking to get involved with Salvatore's goddaughter?" Durand shifted around and resumed walking to the barn.

  A guard prodded Carlos, who fell into step, sorting through the new information on the bombing.

  Carlos and Helena had believed they could find a way to mend the rift in the families that had been caused by his mother's death. An impossible dream, because Carlos had been too young to realize his father was insane.

  Durand had intended to blame the death on the Valencia family so Salvatore would war with Valencia.

  "You didn't...," Carlos muttered in a deadly tone as it all came together. He snapped his gaze back to Durand, not wanting to believe what was gelling in his mind.

  "What?" Durand glanced over his shoulder. "Kill Helena? Si. Was necessary. Killing Salvatore's favorite goddaughter was key to gaining his support."

  Carlos swallowed back the nausea that shot up his throat. All this time he'd believed if he'd arrived sooner he could have saved her. Even if she'd lived that day, Durand would have found another way to kill her and use her death to his benefit.

  Because she'd been involved with Carlos.

  "You are to blame for Helena's death and the trouble brought upon our family since then," Durand added. "I have built a strong army to protect our family, but we would have been even greater by now had you no failed us all."

  Carlos accepted that his soul was damned beyond redemption when he started envisioning the painful ways he wanted to dismember and kill his own father.

  A guard rushed ahead to open the double doors to the shed that hadn't changed much over the years. The innocent exterior of this two-story building hid soundproof walls and Durand's blackest secrets.

  When Carlos stepped inside, he followed the wide-eyed gazes of the silent guards. Two hideously bloated bodies hung inside a glassed-in box that had frost on the glass. Carlos had heard stories of how the infamous shed had been used after he left home. The hanging bodies accounted for the residual smell of death that no cleaning would remove.

  The guards moved Carlos to where a thick metal hook dangled from a chain attached to the ceiling.

  "Lift his hands," Julio ordered. When the guards complied, Julio caught the hook between the handcuffs and nodded at someone, who engaged a motor, lifting the chain until Carlos's feet barely touched the ground.

  Durand's phone jingled. He answered, then said, "Bien." He pressed a button that put it on speaker. "Here is your call, Alejandro."

  "We are on board and...all is set," Maria said, using the code to let him know Gabrielle made the call. "Vaya con Dios."

  May God go with you.

  Carlos doubted God would want to join him here. "And you."

  "Touching," Durand said, closing the phone. "Now, who is Mirage?"

  "Me." Carlos forced his mind past everything he'd just learned about the past and focused on saving Gabrielle. "Who else would have known as much about the Anguis?"

  Durand asked Julio, "What you think?"

  "Possible." Julio's eyes shifted toward the box with the two bodies. "He would have known how to contact Ferdinand."

  Carlos pushed up on his toes to relieve the strain of his body weight hanging and the handcuffs cutting into his wrists. That confirmed the two dead men were Ferdinand and his son, but they obviously hadn't given up Gabrielle.

  "We'll know the truth soon enough." Durand walked across the room to a bowl-shaped fire pit like the one Carlos had seen on outdoor patios. Heat rose from this one, making him think it was full of hot embers.

  Durand lifted a metal stick and walked back across the room. The end of the rod had a cutout design shaped as a circle with a line across the middle. A branding iron.

  The emblem at the end glowed red.

  "You don't need that," Carlos said. "I've agreed to tell you everything."

  "This is no to make you talk, Alejandro. You can no longer wear the sign of an Anguis on your body. This will mark you as the traitor you are for all to see when I hang your carcass next to Ferdinand and his son."

  Carlos clenched his teeth tight, preparing to have his skin burned to the bone.

  Durand's radio hissed, then a voice said, "Don Anguis, there is an emergency call
for you on the office line." He handed the branding iron to Julio and lifted the radio, depressing a button when he spoke. "Who is calling?"

  "Vestavia. He says he needs to tell you who Mirage is."

  "Forward his call to my cell phone." Durand handed Julio the iron, then turned to Carlos. "We'll both know soon if you tell the truth or if your girlfriend dies."

  Had someone discovered Gabrielle was Mirage?

  TWENTY-SIX

  HELLO, VESTAVIA," DURAND answered, then fingered the button on his phone to put it on speaker, placing them both on video feed. He preferred to see this man's face when they spoke.

  "I have a lead on Mirage." Vestavia's face filled the screen.

  "Really? What?"

  "We think it's the man who killed your people in France. The photo Julio finally sent"-Vestavia paused, allowing his annoyance at Durand's delay to come through-"matches one we've confirmed that Baby Face and Turga were after for one thing."

  "How are you sure?" Durand should thank Vestavia for corroborating Alejandro's claims, but this man was trustworthy as a rattlesnake.

  "Took a while, but my people were able to cross-check every flight out of Europe each day after Mandy was taken. Our computers finally narrowed images from security cameras. We know who he is. Carlos Delgado."

  Durand gave Vestavia credit for that, but he still had issues with the man. "That is good. Now, tell me the reason for these kidnappings."

  "We agreed I'd explain tomorrow." Vestavia sounded testy, but he added, "Mandy served one purpose-to draw Mirage out, which worked. Mirage hasn't been online since then and he's clearly on the run. If Mandy could identify any of your men, the authorities would have visited you by now. Have you sent enough men to watch over the meeting in Columbia as we agreed?"

  Durand mulled over Vestavia's evasive answer. The bastard's information was impressive. "I told you no question me. I agreed to send the men so they are in place."

  "Don't get upset," Vestavia chided. "This will all pay off soon. We'll find Mirage any day now."

  "Do no waste more time." Durand smiled at Vestavia's frown on the small monitor of his cell phone. "Mirage is hanging in front of me."

  The silence stretched until Vestavia said, "Send me a picture of this man."

  "I'll do one better." Durand turned the phone to face Carlos, whose eyes narrowed, then widened with recognition.

  Dios, Carlos knew Vestavia.

  Durand flipped the phone back around in time to see Vestavia's shock when he yelled, "What were you thinking to show him my face, you fool?"

  "Take care with your words, Vestavia. You wanted to see Mirage," Durand warned quietly, danger percolating in his words. The video feed disappeared, leaving the usual "unknown caller" ID in its place, indicating the phone call was still active.

  "I want my people to interrogate Mirage, so don't kill him," Vestavia ordered.

  "Mirage belongs to me," Durand answered in a tight voice, and silently swore to kill Vestavia with his bare hands one day. "I will do as I please with him. As I told you before, you can have what is left when I am through, but I doubt a headless corpse can talk." Durand hung up, cursing Vestavia.

  Carlos couldn't believe whose face he'd just seen on that phone display. Vestavia was former DEA agent Robert Brady, a fugitive BAD believed to have been connected to the viral attacks last year, and possibly the Fratelli. Carlos had just seen confirmation. He had to tell Joe, but doing so would be damned hard considering his predicament.

  The single positive thing to come from that phone call was that Vestavia confirmed what Carlos had told Durand about Gabrielle. He had no reason to go after her.

  "They've been setting you up," Carlos started, buying time in case he came up with a brilliant escape plan.

  He could dream, right?

  "What do you know of Vestavia?" Durand said, waving off Julio and the branding iron. "Put that back in the fire."

  Carlos had at least piqued Durand's curiosity. "He's not someone you want to do business with. He uses people, then gets rid of them. Don't you wonder why he had you kidnap those teenagers who are now in D.C.?"

  Durand fell silent for several moments, no doubt wondering how Carlos knew so much. "What do you know of that?"

  "Mandy can't finger your men, so he's right about her not being a threat." Carlos didn't want Durand to have any reason to go after Mandy. She had enough nightmares to work through once she regained consciousness. "The other three are part of an attack he has planned for D.C."

  "What kind of attack?"

  Carlos could only feed him bits and pieces for so long before Durand figured out he was stalling for time. "I don't know exactly what he has in mind. I was only a conduit of information. I sent what I found out on him to people who are trying to protect the teens and the presidential cabinet."

  Durand's eyebrows lifted. "Just who do you work with?"

  "No one. I'm an independent contractor."

  "So who pays you for this information?"

  "Lots of people, but there was no way to trace the money back to them so I don't have any names for you."

  "Why should I believe you?" Durand kept his anger controlled, but the rigid set of his jaw clearly showed that he believed Vestavia had played him.

  "Why do you think Vestavia was upset when he saw me? He knows that I know he was behind the viral attack on the U.S. last year"-Carlos paused as that registered in the horrified frowns surrounding him-"and that he plans to make you the scapegoat for this attack. Don't believe any grand plan he told you would include the Anguis organization. This man is more mercenary than you ever hoped to be."

  Something else came to Carlos while he was playing this hand. "And Salvatore is not going to be happy when he finds out who set him up to be blamed for the hits on your oil minister."

  Durand's face flared with just enough surprise to confirm what Carlos had guessed. Vestavia probably paid Durand to make missed attempts on the oil minister in a way that placed the blame at Salvatore's feet. But why "missed" attempts?

  "What do you know about Vestavia's organization?" Durand asked.

  Carlos shook his head in disgust. Durand was so power hungry he'd let a dangerous man dupe him.

  "I don't know for sure," Carlos hedged, unwilling to share anything unnecessary about the Fratelli. "But I believe he's part of a highly organized group who have the financial and political capability of wiping you off the face of the earth."

  Durand's face changed colors from a sickly gray to mottled shades of red, but he still answered softly, "You lie."

  "No, I don't. Check out my story." Fat chance of Durand's doing that. Carlos accepted that he'd reached the end of the time he could stall.

  "Give me the damn iron," Durand ordered in a low voice without looking at Julio, who rushed over to the pit and retrieved the iron.

  A siren blared through the building.

  Radios crackled on the hips of Julio and his men: "We are under attack!" Weapons fired in the background.

  Durand's face turned a deep purplish red. He crossed the room and took the branding iron from Julio's hand. "Go see what is happening and take the men. It could be someone trying to get Alejandro. Maybe that pig Vestavia."

  Julio raced past Carlos to the door at his back, yelling orders at his men, who followed.

  Carlos braced for the red-hot iron heading for his chest.

  Durand stepped forward with the casual arrogance of a man who had always been in control.

  When Durand got close, Carlos shoved up on the pads of his feet, grasping the chain in his sweaty hands. He kicked a boot up to knock the branding iron free. The end hit his thigh, frying a strip of skin before the rod hit the ground. He growled at the pain and swung his second boot right behind the first to connect with Durand's chin.

  An explosion outside rocked the building. Carlos lost his grip and dropped hard to the floor, wrenching his wrists. He tried to twist around to see if anyone was coming, but couldn't.

  If Vestavia had sent m
en for him, Carlos had a chance to fight another day.

  Durand stumbled backward, caught his balance, then reached over to his left for the chain hoist control. He hit a button, yanking Carlos off the ground where he couldn't get traction to jump a second time. He lifted the branding iron off the floor and started walking.

  "I was only going to mark you as a traitor, but now I'll let this burn all the way through to your black heart."

  Durand moved forward, the branding iron chest high and coming at Carlos.

  The door behind Carlos blasted open. Durand looked past him, eyes shocked. A gunshot boomed through the room.

  The bullet struck Durand between the eyes, knocking him backward an inch before the iron reached Carlos.

  Carlos sucked a couple fast breaths, then waited as heavy footsteps pounded up to him.

  Dominic Salvatore held a.357 Magnum with the barrel pointed at Carlos's head. "Who are you?" Then his fierce gaze went to the tattoo and scar on Carlos's chest. He frowned, thinking. "Durand's brother died...there are no more family..." Recognition dawned.

  "Alejandro?"

  A LOW BUZZ of conversation filled the hearing room that held an easy hundred people. Awed voices from teenagers on their first visit and adults shielding whispered words percolated the air.

  Joe walked away from Dolinski, the Secret Service agent in charge of operations today, wishing he could tell the president's protective service the truth about his team. Since no one knew BAD existed, the president had personally cleared Joe's team as a private security group hired to watch for a kidnapping attempt on three physically challenged teenagers during their international travels. And Joe would have shared more if they had firm evidence of a threat, more than just a warning sent in a postcard from an unknown woman about teenagers with no history of violence.

  The SS wouldn't believe him if he swore on Bibles.

  The way Joe saw it, the children, the president's cabinet, and esteemed members of Congress were as safe as they could be with the SS and twelve BAD agents in the room including him and Tee. Speaking of his codirector, Tee finished texting a message on her cell phone as he walked up to her. The navy jacket and pants look they'd chosen for this mission had been custom-tailored for her petite size and fit her lethal business image. Straight hair fell to her shoulders in fine strands of sin black.