Encrypted (27 page)

The sly insult did not get past the deacon
,
though. His chest puff
ed out
as he rolled
up
his sleeve, revealing an elaborate weaving of symbols.
Lino
scanned them
,
taking in the minor accomplishments that elevated this man to deacon.
Havar
had recruited a few souls into the Hidden Hand. He helped
create a small-
armed guard, the Hand’s Shield, to protect their most precious resource
.
Yet for all of the symbols dug into his flesh, he had little actual e
xperience fighting
out in the world.

Lino
again lowered his head in well-schooled deference,
and
then tugged his sleeve up. As
Havar
read the symbols st
reaming down
Lino’s
arm to his elbow and back around
,
the deacon’s eyes widened.
He glanced up in
Lino’s
eyes. The question
was
clear.

Was
Lino
friend or foe?
Lino
grinned. If one must ask, the answer usually was foe.

In the end,
H
avar
took a step back, not
bothering to finish the tale written
deeply
in
Lino’s
flesh.

“On the morn
,
we will collect Brother
Loubom
and the Picasso.”

Inclining his head was
Lino’s
only answer. Why waste
the
breath of one such as
Havar
?
Tomorrow they would have the traitor and his muse so that
Lino
could get back to his true task.

That of bringing the world to heel to the Hidden Hand.

* * *

Zach heard the door open
.
The steps were heavy, measured,
and deliberate.
B
y the way the thugs shuffled, the general of their little army had just walked it.

“
Jorge
, I’ll get the smelling salts,” one of the underlings said.

“Don’t bother,” the new man said in a thick Mexican accent
.
“The
gringo
is awake.”

Without warning,
Jorge
punched Zach in the kidney
.
He couldn’t stifle the moan
.
Fingers dug into his hair and jerked his head up to meet his captor’s scarred face.

“Don’t ever try to fool me again,
cabrón
,
”
Jorge
said just before he punched him in the kidney again
.

“I don’t know
who
in the fuck you think you kidnapped, but I’m
FBI
,
” Zach said thr
ough
clenched teeth, not wanting the man to hear the pain in his voice.

“Good for you,”
Jorge
said as he punched him again
.
“I’m C
fucking IA
.
”

Zach’s mind raced
.
Jorge
was lying, obviously
.
But why
?
Why not just admit that he was a drug lord?

“Who is the
Robin Hood hacker
?”
Jorge
asked.

For a moment
,
Zach couldn’t even process the question, which earned him another punch in the kidney
.
The pain didn’t help him process the request any faster
.
Why
did a cocaine distributor care about Ronnie?

“I asked you a question,”
Jorge
reminded him
,
the
threat clear in his voice
.

Until he knew what in the hell was going on, Zach kept his responses to a minimum
.
“Access the files yourself, prick.”

Another punch
.
“When is the last time
that
you spoke with her?”

Angered, Zach looked into the cold eyes of his captor
.
“Again, if you are C fucking IA, then check the El Paso
F
ield
O
ffice’s phone records.”

Another punch,
and
this time
Jorge
put his back into it
.
Zach tried to keep his breathing steady, but the pain took its toll.

“I will ask you one more time,
and
then I will
really
hurt you.” The Mexican leveled his gaze to emphasiz
e
each word
.
“When did you speak with her?”

With equal emphasis, Zach answered
.
“Bite me.”

Jorge
obviously didn’t like the suggestion
,
because he
wailed
on Zach’s sides
.
Still handcuffed, Zach had no recourse but to double over
.
He wasn’t going to give the prick the satisfaction of knowing how badly the beating hurt
.
Finally
,
the punches stopped
,
and the supposed CIA agent tossed something onto the table
.
Zach kept his eyes closed, forcing
Jorge
to grab him by the hair again
.

Opening his lids, Zach found his iPod staring back at him.

Jorge
leaned in close and whispered into his ear
.
“Just because we’ve got brown skin doesn’t mean we don’t know a hidden communications device when we see it.” He released Zach’s hair and straightened over him
.
“We know you talked to her last night
.
We picked up a scrambled signal coming from your home.”

Zach spit out blood
.
“Then why the fuck did
n’t
you ask me?”

“Because we need your help.”

“Help?” Zach said
,
a little too high
-
pitched for an
FBI
agent
.
But the word had startled him
.
Gaining control of his voice, he continued
,
“Yeah, right.” Zach glanced around the small, interrogation-style room
.
“This is how I’d go about securing an
FBI
agent’s assistance.”

Jorge
took this opportunity to use his fists again
.
Zach squeezed his eyes shut and ground his teeth together
during
the beating
.
But he was even more committed to keeping silent
.
He might have been tortured into giving away state secrets, but
to
give up Ronnie
?

Never.

* * *

Quirk struggled with one hand to put the key, an actual stupid, awkward, metal key, into the hotel room’s lock and use his other arm to support Ronnie
.
If she was going to continue to have these little breakdowns
,
she needed to cut back on the Krispy
Kremes
.

Finally the lock gave
,
and he stumbled into the room under the weight of his boss, five thousand dollars
’
worth of fashion, and another twenty pounds of electronics
.
They really needed to hire a
Sherpa
for trips like this
.

“Oh
,
G
od…” Ronnie moaned, forcing Quirk to look up.

No
!
He had forgotten about the arrangements he had made
.
The entire room was awash in romantic candlelight
.
R
ose petals graced the lace bedspread, a red and black teddy hung from the bathroom door, and a large…Well, let’s just say sexual aid
,
lay on the dresser.

“Oh
,
dear,” he apologized. “I was a tad too optimistic.”

Frantically
,
Quirk tried to put away all the reminders of the night Ronnie should have had
.
He looked over his shoulder to find his boss still standing, stunned, in the doorway
.
Sometimes he was just too damn good at his job
.
Way better a job done than Zach tonight.

“Hon, go take a bath,” he encouraged. “It will do you good.”

Ronnie shook her head, not moving from the doorway
.
“I’m fine.”

Quirk guided her into the
bathroom
as he looked her up and down
.
From the streaked mascara to the rumpled dress, Ronnie looked anything but fine
.
“Let’s just say it will do
me
good
.
Now go.”

Almost like a child too sleepy to fight, his boss started to the tub, but Quirk stopped her
.
“Hand it over.”

Ronnie pulled her purse closer to her chest.

“Give it up, woman
.
I’m not joking.”

Still Ronnie clung to the clutch
.
He had to pry her fingers from the clasp
.
“Don’t make me beat your ass at designer trivia for it.”

Reluctantly
,
she pulled out her iPod, but still refused to hand it over.

This was going to be a long night if Ronnie couldn’t bring herself to accept that Zach was a sorry-assed hetero loser
.

“And if Mr. Super
-
Special Agent called,” Quirk asked
,
“
w
hat exactly could he say to make you feel better?”

Ronnie lowered her head
.
She must have known there was nothing, but maybe she needed to be convinced.

“He wasn’t in a horrible car accident.” Still
,
she didn’t respond
.
“His brother didn’t need an emergency liver transplant.” Quirk tugged the communication device from her stiff fingers
.
“And he wasn’t kidnapped by Mexican nationals, so just take a bath already.”

* * *

Jorge
kicked the back of Zach’s knee. “Just tell me when you’d like me to stop,
p
uto
.”

“
Now
would be great,” Zach grunted.

Pointing to the iPod,
Jorge
leaned in
, at
eye level with Zach. “Then tell me how to work it.”

“Oh,” Zach said, “Not if I need to do that.”

Jorge
gave a one
-
two punch to Zach’s already
-
brutalized kidney. “You don’t get it
,
do you,
chollo
?” He gave a third blow. “You’ll tell me
,
or you’ll die.”

Aching, Zach kept his gazed fixed
toward
the one-way mirror in front of him
.
They would get nothing
.
Jorge
must have sensed his defiance
,
because the butt of the gun came down hard into his shoulder
.
Even though it made no sense, it was becoming more and more likely that Zach’s captor was a foreign CIA operative
.
While
Jorge
was fast and loose with the punishment, the Mexican kept it away from Zach’s face
.
He hit areas that induced high levels of pain with minimal external damage
.
Zach’s own country was doing this to him.