He envied how comfortable she looked in the straitlaced attire that matched his. Give him jeans and a T-shirt any day.
"I don't like this." Tee met his gaze with a severe one that missed little. "Feels too easy."
"What do you mean?" Joe surveyed the room, catching sight of his people as he took in each section. Two BAD agents stood within fifteen feet of the three teens. Joe had pointed out four of his people to the SS agent so if something happened and those two moved in to protect the teens, they wouldn't be shot by Dolinski's men.
"Everyone is here. What better way to lure so many powerful people into one spot than by using political hot buttons?" Tee grumbled, thinking out loud more than pointing out the obvious. "Just because the room is full of children doesn't mean it's safe enough to have the president, most of his cabinet, and an alarming number of congressional members present." Tee's cell phone buzzed. She thumbed a key and read a text message, then scowled. "Correction. Both presidential candidates and their running mates. This is a terrorist's wet dream."
Joe pointed out, "But nobody in an intelligence group has noticed any terrorist movement in the past two weeks, no one has entered the U.S., nothing has popped up on anyone's radar but what we've learned at BAD. And the SS swept for bombs." He frowned, thinking. Could they have missed something? "We can't put a hundred percent faith in a damn postcard from some woman no one can vouch for except Gabrielle."
"I know." Two small vertical lines broke the plane of Tee's exotic face, which was part Vietnamese, the tiny change a serious sign of her frustration. "Gotthard is running a breakdown between the list of everyone preregistered and anyone who came through security who was not on that list."
"Slipping in undetected would be hard to engineer."
"Not if that person was SS or another national security agency."
"What are you thinking?" Joe shoved his full attention to Tee now. She had the amazing ability to think not just outside the box, but to reach the outer limits of possibilities.
"We didn't find out until after the viral attacks last year that a DEA agent had been working as a mole."
"Brady. You think he's involved?" Joe asked, trying to follow Tee's thinking, which would be like keeping up with a beam of light at night.
"Not necessarily, but we are the only ones who know about the Fratelli and that he might be involved with them. We should consider everyone a suspect, even the Secret Service."
"Good point."
Hunter walked up to them, his eyes skimming the crowd, then settling on Joe and Tee. "Just got in. Gotthard is here, too. Korbin and Rae are inside the clinic in Switzerland, waiting for word to move. They've located three teens that match the ones we're watching."
Tee angled a perfectly shaped eyebrow the color of coal. "How could there be two sets of the same teens? We checked all the records. There isn't a possibility of a twin or even a sibling of the same sex."
"The tougher question is, which set of teens are the real ones and which set are fake?" Joe glanced at his watch. "We've only got thirty minutes before they address the energy committee. Who do Rae and Korbin have to back them up?" Joe had the best BAD agents available stateside covering this meeting inside and out.
"They have four contractors Retter set up before he disappeared." Hunter thumbed a message on his cell phone as he spoke. "They'll move to apprehend the teens in the clinic on your word." He looked at Joe.
"Not yet. Those teens are safe for the moment. We have to determine what's happening to this trio before we do anything there that might tip off whoever is behind this, whatever the hell this is." Joe would kill for a drop of solid intel right now. Carlos had sent word the teens were definitely in danger and that this meeting was the true target, not the one in South America. He just didn't know what the danger was, only that he believed the meeting in South America was a decoy.
And Carlos might be dead by now. Retter as well, so what the hell was going on in South America, too?
"We can't help Retter and Carlos yet," Tee said softly, reading Joe so easily it always surprised him. "As soon as this meeting is over or we've determined what is going on here, you and I will go after them. For now-" Her gaze shifted to the side, then she frowned. "What is she doing here?"
"Who?" Joe and Hunter asked together, turning their heads in the same direction.
"Silversteen, the DEA agent leading the search for Brady. Why would she be here or even in D.C. right now?"
"I don't know." Joe studied the sleek form of Josie Silversteen slipping through the crowd.
"Let's find out what official capacity she's here under." Tee lifted her cell phone, tiny fingers typing in a blur. Hands that knew how to kill a man in more ways than Joe wanted to count. She paused, typed again, paused, and raised a suspicious gaze to him. "Silversteen is supposed to be on leave today. Her office has her listed as being in Miami."
"Wonder if she knows something she isn't sharing with anyone else?" Joe said quietly. "She has a reputation of not playing well with others."
"Neither do I," Tee muttered, then flashed a wicked look at Joe. "I'm going to find out what she knows. Think you can handle this without me?"
Joe sighed. "I would say be careful, but I'd only mean for you to be careful not to kill her."
Tee patted his cheek. "Flattery will get you a night at the Ryman when we go home." She tugged on the bottom of her jacket as if straightening her armor for battle.
Joe ignored the tease about the building housing his favorite Grand Ole Opry entertainment in Nashville and snagged Tee by the arm. At the flash of anger in her eyes for being detained, he whispered, "Be careful. Really."
His codirector nodded, then moved away, her body moving with liquid grace.
Hunter said, "Everyone's in place. Twenty minutes to go."
"Let's hope this Linette hasn't steered us wrong." Joe scanned the room once more, his gaze settling on the three teens and the Collupy woman. "Are Jake and Jeremy back?"
"Yes, I told them to wait at Reagan Airport. Figured once this was over we were taking our best people to South America."
"That's the plan." Not much of one since Joe doubted they'd get to Carlos and Retter before the agents were killed.
JOSIE FLASHED HER ID at one of the armed security guards overseeing the flood of people and teenagers being checked in and out of today's meeting in the hearing.
"I feel for you guys having to deal with so many physically challenged kids. Has to be a nightmare getting everyone scanned. You deserve bonus pay."
"Like that's going to happen." The closest security guard with a military buzz cut and buff physique to back up that dangerous look allowed a grin. He reviewed her ID and checked her off his list of approved law enforcement, noting the time she exited, then waved her on. "Have a good day."
She smiled, planning on an excellent day. Now that she'd confirmed the three teenagers and Kathryn Collupy were in place, Josie was on her way to a spot close enough to observe but not be affected by the blast. Keying in three phone numbers on her cell phone would trigger detonators for C-4 packed inside long, narrow tubes the teenagers had unknowingly passed through security.
Scientists in Fratelli labs had successfully tested the solid tubes of C-4 in security scanners identical to those here, then integrated the tubes into the prosthetic and wheelchair structures. The detonator had been camouflaged in the prosthetic mechanism and within the wheelchair design.
In less than an hour, the U.S. power structure would be crippled beyond belief. No one had ever considered the possibility of losing the sitting president, vice president, the next four directly in line to the presidency, and the other presidential candidate a week before Tuesday's polling.
This country would turn to number six in the government hierarchy, the secretary of the treasury, a Hispanic man with a spotless record who would be duly shocked by his new position. His opportune trip to Columbia would be called a miracle by some who would believe he was just one lucky bastard. From the ashes of a chao
tic country desperate for a new president, he would show leadership in the interim that would prove him to be the best candidate once elections were resumed.
In spite of a twenty-two-year career in politics spent maneuvering himself into a position where he'd be appointed by the current administration, the man who would step into the president's shoes was truly neither left-wing nor right-wing.
Josie smiled over the brilliant plan for putting a Fratelli in the White House.
TEE SHADOWED JOSIE two blocks from the congressional meeting. Her target entered an office building and passed up the elevator for the stairwell.
At the third floor, Josie went through a doorway to a hall that was very empty for a D.C. office building. Tee made a mental note to have someone research the offices rented along the hallway, but she'd bet every agreement would lead back to the same renter, who would be nonexistent by the time they located an address.
Tee mentally flipped through everything that could be going down. Kidnapping didn't seem likely with so much security onstage. And why would Josie leave the site if she was part of an operation? If Josie wasn't part of something going on here, then why would she lie to her office and show up at an event like this?
Trying to put herself in Josie's shoes, Tee realized the only reason she would be off-site in an operation was if...something was going to happen at the site. Like a bomb.
Tee started texting Joe frantically.
Up ahead, Josie opened a door and vanished inside an office.
JOE READ THE text message from Tee, then stepped back from where he observed the crowd to speak softly into his transmitter, which would reach his entire team. "Tell all three television stations to go to commercial break in five seconds. I don't care how you make it happen." He headed for Dolinski.
NOT EXACTLY THE rescue Carlos had hoped for. Durand lay sprawled, a glassy-eyed stare fixed on his face. Carlos should feel something like remorse, but all he could muster was relief this monster would never harm Gabrielle, Maria, or Eduardo.
Salvatore hadn't moved since stopping in front of where Carlos hung.
"Hola, Salvatore." Carlos didn't deny being Alejandro since lying in a situation like this wouldn't help him. At least Salvatore would probably kill him with another bullet between the eyes instead of torturing him.
"You are the one Helena went to meet the day of the bomb," Salvatore stated.
"Yes. I know you don't believe me, but I never wanted her harmed," Carlos told him, his voice thick.
The door slammed open again. Carlos kept his gaze on Salvatore since he couldn't imagine a bigger threat than the one he was facing.
Retter came into view...wearing more artillery than Rambo. Except Retter was so much taller than Stallone. He had black grease on his face. Arms bulging with roped muscle held a.50-caliber machine gun. Two belts of ammunition crisscrossed over the black tank shirt on his chest. Black cargo pants were ripped and dirty as though he'd crawled through mud. Blood was splattered over him.
He'd never looked better to Carlos.
Salvatore didn't blink an eye. In fact, he ignored Retter.
What the hell was going on? Carlos started to ask Retter when Salvatore spoke.
"I know you didn't kill Helena or try to kill me. Durand tried to convince me the Valencia family set the bomb and that his family suffered from the explosion. When that didn't work, he leaked that you had made the failed attempt on my life. He blamed his nephew's injury that made him a paraplegic on you. We searched Helena's diary for a clue on who had wanted her dead. I was not the only target, but I was warned not to go outside the store."
The pain from the handcuffs cutting into Carlos's wrists was nothing compared to the anguish shafting Salvatore's eyes.
Salvatore lowered his gun. "She wrote about how the two of you believed you could end the war between our families. That might not have convinced me if one of my security men hadn't told me what he heard on his radio. He scanned all channels that day and caught you yelling to your cousin, 'No, Eduardo, don't hurt Helena. Don't do this.' Then he heard your screams at Helena through the radio, telling her to turn and run."
Carlos wanted to say something, but all he could do was try to breathe through his constricted throat.
Retter was searching the room and found the control to the chain hoist, which he engaged to lower Carlos to the floor. He found a pair of bolt cutters and snapped the handcuff links.
"Thanks." Carlos stood, rubbing his wrists around the metal. "Want to tell me what the hell is going on?"
"Salvatore's man captured me," Retter stated as if that were an explanation.
Salvatore scoffed. "Because you let him."
"True." Retter's face split with a smile that turned the heads of women anywhere he went, regardless if he was decked out for a night on the town or wearing dirty fatigues as he was now. "I couldn't pass up a chance to meet with Salvatore. Once I did, I knew he wasn't behind the attacks on the oil minister. I had just explained that I thought someone else was trying to finger him for the attempts on the oil minister's life when he got a call from some guy named-"
"Vestavia," Carlos supplied.
"Yeah, you know him?" Retter asked.
"Sort of. Go on."
"He told Salvatore that Durand was behind the attempts, and if he didn't stop Durand now, Salvatore risked losing his political ties when he got fingered for the assassination. Vestavia also told Salvatore if he wanted to end the assaults on the oil minister, Durand was light on soldiers right now. But Salvatore knew that since he had men watching Anguis, it was no problem to mobilize quickly. So here we are."
So Vestavia sent Salvatore to take down Durand, but probably hadn't planned on Durand having Mirage.
Or the person Durand believed was Mirage.
"So where does that leave us, Salvatore?" Carlos had to know whether Salvatore would still chase revenge after today. "Does the fighting end here?"
"I want the man who killed my Helena" was his reply.
Carlos shook his head. "I swear to you the one responsible forfeited his life that day as well."
Salvatore stared a moment, then nodded. "I have killed the head of the beast. His blood can no longer harm my family."
Carlos brushed both hands over his face and hair, then looked at Retter. "What about the teenagers?"
"What do you mean?" Retter asked. "I haven't talked to anyone. Salvatore said if I got his men inside here and he walked away alive, he'd let me go. You, too, if you lived."
Salvatore told them, "You're both free to go. I owe you for your help."
"You willing to repay that now?" Retter asked.
"How?"
"Cell phones, clothes, money...airplane?"
TEE TURNED THE knob halfway, then shoved the door open, her weapon on Josie. The DEA agent was so focused trying to do something with her cell phone that her weapon was still holstered.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Drop the phone." Tee moved the laser beam on her weapon to the center of Josie's forehead.
Josie calmly lowered her hands and looked down her nose at Tee. "I'm a DEA agent, you fool." Her fingers still tried to press buttons on the phone.
Tee switched the beam to Josie's hand and blew off her thumb. Josie dropped the phone, screaming in pain.
Hunter and Gotthard rushed inside, weapons drawn.
"Cuff her and pat her down." Tee waited as Gotthard bound Josie's bloody hand and bound her wrists with flex cuffs. While he patted her down, Tee lifted Josie's phone, which showed the call would not connect.
That would be because Joe had Secret Service agent Dolinski jam all cellular service in a one-mile radius of the Capitol Building the minute he got Tee's text message. By now, the chambers would be almost cleared of occupants, the first shunted out being the president and his cabinet. Joe would have the three teens and the Collupy woman locked down in an underground holding facility as well.
Hunter contacted Rae and Korbin by sat-phone with authorization to ta
ke the other three teens into protective custody in Switzerland. Within the hour, they'd know who was real and who was not.
"You aren't cops or FBI. You haven't even read me my rights," Josie snarled.
Tee stepped close to Josie. "Here's your right. Open your mouth again and I'm going to pull your tongue over the back of your head." Tee motioned for her agents to move out. "Let's turn her over to the authorities she wants to see."
Outside, Gotthard and Hunter each had a hand wrapped around one of Josie's arms. The DEA agent glared in spite of the shock blanching her face, but never said another word.
Tee followed several steps behind, scanning for anyone who might try to help Josie.
"YOU HAVE THE target in sight?" Vestavia asked, staring out the tenth-floor window of a vacant D.C. office.
"Yes, sir. I'm ready," his sniper confirmed, waiting on the order to shoot. Another second passed. "Fra? Sir?"
Vestavia ventured one more look over the sniper's shoulder. "Take the shot."
The explosion might as well have ripped Vestavia in half. His whole body clinched as he watched Josie's beautiful head shatter like a ripe melon slammed with a sledgehammer.
He wanted to order the death of the Asian woman and the two men with her, but this shooter was a Fratelli sniper. Vestavia couldn't risk the Fras learning of an unnecessary death.
The reigning group of eleven North American Fras had ordered this sanction if Josie ever got caught.
And the removal of Pierre in France. Like his death mattered?
Vestavia had never thought anyone could trip up Josie.
He fought to maintain control, shield how difficult it was to get his breath. His Josie was dead. He would make everyone pay. His heart punched his chest with each painful beat.
Sweet Josie. Gone.
He had to face the Fras and explain what went wrong, but not tonight. Not now while he was so raw.
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.