Dead Ringer (15 page)

And how vulnerable she'd be once she left his sight.

"You've got surveillance set up?" Roper said.

Jack nodded. "An abandoned homesteader shack across the highway. All Angelina has to do is plant the bugs."

"What bugs?" Angelina's upturned face was keen and wary.

"Slap-on electronic transmitters," Mike explained.

"Not the greatest," Jack said apologetically, "but we couldn't get a tech team in there to wire for sound because the house is always manned. We figured slap-ons were better than nothing."

She looked from one face to another, searching beyond the surface to what they all knew. "But?"

Jack and Mike exchanged glances.

"But we don't know they'll transmit from that distance," Finn said bluntly.

Mike shrugged. "We don't know they won't, either. Not until we try."

"And even if the bugs don't work," said Jack, "we still have the phone tap."

"Which isn't going to do her a hell of a lot of good if they've got a gun on her." The acidity in his voice matched the gaze he swept over the men. Didn't they see how crazy this whole thing was? What if something happened to her? He'd never be able to get to her in time. "She can't exactly excuse herself to make a phone call."

She paled at his words; he was scaring her. Good. He wanted her scared. He wanted her absolutely clear about what she was about to get into.

"What about contact with the team?" Roper asked.

"I'll have my cell phone, won't I?"

She looked hopeful and he hated to quash that, but Finn couldn't have her laboring under any illusions. "There's no signal out there, so a cell phone would be useless."

"So... what-are you telling me there's no way to contact you? Come on, you're
the
great and powerful TCF. You must have some high-tech doohickey I can use."

"Not if you're supposed to be little Miss Ladies Auxiliary."

He ignored the uneasy shift from Jack and the uncomfortable twitch from Mike, finally allowing himself to confront those huge green eyes.
Listen good, Angel. Absorb this, understand.

He saw the message get through. She stilled, sharp, quiet. "You're telling me I'm on my own."

A small beat of silence followed, as though everyone was seeing this in a new way.

Roper broke the hush. "Not quite, my dear." He gave Finn a pointed look, and he sucked back a heated reply to obey the unspoken order.

Grabbing the map, he strode to one of the desks and spread it open. "There's an abandoned mine in the foothills of Devil's Teeth."

Angelina rose to follow, peering over Finn's shoulder at a spot on the map half an inch from the house and its outbuildings. Along with the view of the map, she inhaled shaving cream and man, closeness making her knees wobbly. She gripped the edge of the desk. "What about it?"

"You can slip out of the ranch and meet me there. It's not far."

"How are your hiking shoes, Ms. Mercer?" Jack winked at her.

"Fine if you like two-inch heels on them."

Finn scowled, but Roper beamed. "See?" As though that took care of everything. "Then we're ready. Good luck, Miss Mercer." He, took her hands in his and gave them a squeeze. "We're counting on you. I know you won't let us down." He turned to Mike and Jack. "Let's go over the surveillance setup."

Angelina had been dismissed. But before she could feel rejected, Finn was at her elbow. Her heart did an unexpected flip as he spoke low in her ear. "I want to talk to you."

Without giving her an option, he pulled her into the room where she and Smitty had worked on her costumes. When he'd closed the door behind them, he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. Her heart leaped again.

"Are you all right?" His voice was quiet and his face held none of the cold contempt she expected. "Are you sure you want to do this? It isn't too late to back out."

It was the first time he'd touched her in two days, and despite an effort not to let it matter, the feel of his hands sent heat spiraling through her. Warm and strong, the half embrace felt like a refuge and for a crazy second she wanted to slide forward into his arms and complete the circle of safety. Of course, she didn't. She raised her chin and looked him squarely in the eyes.

"I'm not backing out, Sharkman." She slid out of his hold, putting distance between them. "No matter how much you want me to."

A shadow crossed his face, but he didn't argue with her. Instead, he pulled something out of his coat pocket and showed it to her. A pearl-studded circle pin.

What the..
.
?
Eyes narrowing, she tilted her head, curiosity aroused. "The way to a girl's heart
is
through jew-eky. Are you trying to win my heart?"

His lips compressed. "I'm trying to keep you alive." He turned the pin over in his hand. "With the latch closed, the pin gives off an electronic signal that monitors your position. Get into trouble, unhook the latch. You can take it off to change, but relatch it immediately. If the signal stops for more than thirty seconds, I'll know something is wrong."

He pinned the pearl circle onto her sweater, just above her heart, which was suddenly skittering wildly. His ocean gaze flooded over her, drawing her into deep blue water that was warm and inviting, but way over her head. She couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

Then a knuckle scraped the bottom of her chin, and he stepped back. "Be careful," he said softly.

* * *

Monday afternoon, Borian sent Grisha to pick her up in a black Chevy Suburban stenciled with the Eden's Gate logo, a mountain with the sun rising behind it. Behind the wheel, Grisha was like a mountain himself, huge, silent, and menacing.

To keep the fear at bay, she sat in the back and fingered the brooch Finn had given her, reviewing what she'd learned the night before after assuring him she would stay on the job. He' d drummed the route from the ranch to the abandoned mine into her head until she wanted to scream. Now, she could stick Jack's bugs to chairs, desks, or light fixtures without anyone seeing her do it, and could install the filter into the phone jack that would allow them to monitor all calls. Finally he'd told her to look for a small metal container that could hold four kilograms of machined plutonium. And not to open it, because inhaling the radioactive dust was far more dangerous than touching it.

By three in the morning they'd declared her ready, patted her on the back, and told her she'd be outstanding. All except Finn.

She pushed that tiny hurt aside and gazed out the window at the view of emerald scrub and golden hay backed by deep purple mountains in the distance.

As she watched, the jeweled images distorted and changed. Mushroom clouds filled her head, heat so intense it peeled skin off bone, light so bright one look could blind. Finn had told her the amount of plutonium she was looking for wasn't enough to arm a bomb the size of Hiroshima, but it could still do plenty of harm. She'd seen pictures of nuclear bomb survivors. Skeletal children, deformed adults. She swallowed, the price of failure a heavy burden.

Hours after leaving the city, the rolling hills became sharper and taller, hills no longer. On their left they passed a beat-up weathered shack with a dusty pickup and rusted van parked outside, along with a stack of hay bales. The site looked ordinary enough for a mountain ranch and though she didn't see anyone hanging around, it comforted her to know Jack and Mike were there.

Ten yards farther along, the car made a right turn onto a gravel road and stopped at a large metal gate with the rising sun logo embedded in it. Grisha punched a code into a numbered keypad and the gate swung open.

As the car drove through, a barb of excitement and fear sliced through her. Soon she'd See her mother's beloved home. Breathe the air she'd breathed. Meet the woman who was her sister.

And hope to God no one found out.

The road curved until the gate and the country highway behind it disappeared. Beyond the bend, a two-man, armed checkpoint waited. The men, dressed military style in camouflage fatigues, carried machine guns. The sight thrust her into hyper-alertness, the guns a siren screaming in her mind.

One of the guards grabbed a clipboard and poked his head into the driver's side window. She noticed the Eden's Gate logo on his uniform pocket.

"Who you got here?"

Grisha stared straight ahead, his face expressionless. "Guest of Mr. Borian. Angelina Montgomery."

The guard flipped through the paper on the board, and checked something off. He eyed Angelina, his gaze lingering on her chest, then a sly grin spread across his face.

"Mr. Borian have a good time in town?"

Grisha frowned and turned to the guard. She couldn't see the look the large man gave Clipboard, but it quelled the nasty gleam of amusement on his face. His mouth spasmed into a twitchy smile, then he tugged the brim of his cap and backed away.

Check-in done, Grisha put the car in gear and drove off, for once leaving her grateful for his hulking presence. She looked over at his huge mass. The knuckles on the steering wheel were larger than two of her fingers combined.

"Why is the gate locked and guarded by armed men?"

"Mr. Borian, he like it that way." He used the same stiff tone on her that he'd used on the guards. She bit her lip. Clearly Grisha was not going to be much help in the way of information.

The Suburban bounced over a gravel road that soon wound around a crystalline lake. The ranch and outbuildings lay along its banks, scattered among tall mountain firs. She caught glimpses of the structures between the thicket of lofty trees whose greenery only began dozens of feet up. Quickly, she identified stables, barn, and guest house, ticking them off from what she remembered of the map. Then the imposing sight of the expansive ranch house came into view, capturing all her attention.

Encircled by a bilevel wraparound porch, the multistory stone and log home imposed itself on the landscape as though carved out of the Rocky Mountains towering in the distance. Huge beams crisscrossed over the high, arched entry. Windows and glass caught the sun, sparking against her eyes. Rockers and wooden swings dotted the porch, making the facade warm and inviting.

She stared at the house with morbid curiosity. This was where her mother had lived. Laughed. Loved. And somewhere inside, her husband may have hidden a small package that could lead to thousands of deaths.

Grisha braked in front of the house, turned off the ignition, and got out of the car to help her out. As she rose, Victor bounded down the steps, hands outstretched. "You're here at last!" He wore an ascot and tweedy sports coat, a European aristocrat playing at casual. Yet there was nothing casual about the way he pulled her toward him, clasping her fingers to his heart. "I missed you." He shot her a rueful smile. "I've been like a boy all morning waiting for you."

She lowered her gaze, hoping he would take her gesture for shyness. "I... I missed you, too. It seemed to take forever to get here."

Lifting her chin with firm but gentle pressure, he gazed at her with such intensity, she thought he was going to kiss her right there in the middle of the yard. Her heart shuddered and she quickly changed the subject.

"Your home is beautiful."

"Only more so now that you're in it." He smiled and put a sheltering arm around her, guiding her up the steps and inside. Grisha followed with her bags, closing the door behind them. Her stomach iced over. She'd entered the lion's cage and the door had just clanged shut.

Still holding her in his stifling embrace, Borian gave her a squeeze. "Come, let me show you around."

Inside, the vaulted ceiling soared up to massive cross beams, many of which still retained their natural shape and beauty. He'd said her mother had loved the ranch, and Angelina tried to imagine the woman in the photographs here. How many times had she stood where Angelina now stood? The thought overwhelmed her and she craved a moment to herself, a breather while she adjusted to being surrounded by Victor's mountain castle and his world.

And she needed time to plant the bugs she'd been given.

She looked around for her things, now firmly in Grisha's grasp and moving away from her. "Can I see to my bags first? Unpack a little?"

Without giving her request a second's thought, Borian turned her in the opposite direction. "Grisha will take care of your bags. And one of the maids will unpack."

She acquiesced; Carol Borian probably never argued with her husband anyway. But as Victor led her away, she sent a small prayer of thanks that no special equipment was hidden where a careful search might have found it. Mouth dry, she remembered the three bugs taped to the inside of her bra. Unless Victor ordered a body search, they'd stay hidden until she could place them, which clearly wasn't going to be soon.

Impatience fluttered in her chest like too much caffeine.
Take it easy, party girl. You just got here.

She tamped down her edginess and concentrated on the layout, charting the interior as she went. Lofts and open staircases leavened the heavy beamed architecture, but moose heads and bear claws marred the airiness. Everywhere she looked, dead animals stared down at her. How had her mother stomached it? Angelina tried to ignore them, but their lifeless eyes burned into her back as she passed. A shudder ran through her. Would she be up there someday? Would Victor find her out, slice off her head, and mount it over a doorway?

She swallowed and forced herself to smile up at Mm. In a moment he guided her into a sunken, wood-paneled space lined with glass along one wall. The wide window opened to a vista of charcoal mountain and silvery scrub. Wildrlowers bloomed, dotting the view with specks of bright yellow and white. Drawn to the sight, she caught her breath, unable to believe something evil could happen amid such beauty.

"I warned you it would take your breath away." Bo-rian's voice whispered in her ear, sending goose bumps up her arm.

"You were right," she murmured, all at once understanding what had drawn her mother to this place. "The flowers are magnificent."

"Wild English daisies. They were my wife's favorite."