Encrypted (32 page)

With one ear
,
he listened to the deacon arguing with the FBI officer.
Another sign of
Havar’s
weakness.
At the first sign that the FBI was not going to cooperate fully and immediately,
Lino
would have
ordered their destruction. They had already spread God’s gift to the four corners of the world. These FBI agents would be stricken within days. Why prolong the time
that
they breathed?

Lino
itched to take action. To purify this office and slit the old man’s thr
oat, but for now the deacon out
ranked him. However
,
with such a poor showing here,
Lino
seriously doubted how long even that would last.

* * *

While the argument
continued
between Deacon
Havar
and the FBI agent, Francois watched the blond acolyte.
To look so very innocent
,
but
to
be filled with such hatred.
Lino
seemed the obedient servant, which he was, only to a most vile master.

Francois knew
Lino’s
callous soul
from experience. No wonder the boy had risen
through
the ranks so quickly. Even as a child, the boy had shown no remorse or regret.
He had been r
aised to be the perfect instrument of the Hidden Hand’s grotesque experiment.

Havar’s
group stood cloaked in priestly black. The crosses hanging from their necks mocked Francois’ faith and the very
C
hurch
that
they pretended to serve. Certainly
,
these emissaries loved the Catholic
C
hurch
.
H
owever,
they wished
it
to regress to the
time of the
Spanish Inquisition.

“Special Agent Danner,” the deacon barked loud enough to draw Francois from his musings.
Havar
must have realized that every head in the office turned his way
,
for his next words were far more measured. “I believe that Interpol made it clear that we were to be given all due consideration.”

Francois watched
, spellbound,
as the
S
pecial
A
gent in
C
harge sat on the corner of the desk. He did not seem agitated or overly impressed by the deacon.

“And you have been. We have agreed to hand over the prisoner despite the fact that the
S
tate of Texas could detain him on breaking and entering
charges
, arson, and
—
”

Deacon
Havar
shoved his chest forward, glaring
—the
look of a man seldom thwarted. “All of which dim in comparison to Francois’ moral crimes.”

“Which is why the
A
ttorney
G
eneral has expedited your extradition request.”

Ah, so that is why the
F
ederal
G
overnment cared for someone as inconsequential as he. Of course
,
the Hidden Hand moved deep within the shadows, orchestrating the events as they saw fit. However
,
they did not seem to count on the resolve of Special Agent in Charge Danner.

The deacon gritted his teeth. “But the painting
—
”

“Is the property of the El Paso Museum of Art
,
which has declined to donate the work to the church
,
”
Danner said.

“But it is damaged beyond repair,”
Havar
said
,
unable to contain his exasperation.

Special Agent in Charge Danner cocked his head to the side. “Which does beg the question
—
why
you
would want it so badly?”

Francois felt a grin form on his otherwise stolid lips. Seldom was the Hidden Hand’s desire kept at bay for even a moment. It was clear that the deacon had to take a moment to regroup. Spinning a plausible reason why the church would want the half-burnt work of a communist painter took some time.

In the end
,
Havar
simply changed the subject. “Fine, then
.
W
e shall depart with Brother
Loubom
.”

Francois tensed. His luck had run out. He doubted very much if he would live long enough to see even the airport once deposited within the deacon’s care.

Danner stood. “As soon as the doctor gets here and give
s
me a medical release
stating
that he is healthy enough to travel, he is all yours.”

“We have a plane to catch.”

“And this guy committed arson, attacked an FBI agent
,
and
then proceeded to cut himself up over the last
twenty-four
hours,” Danner stated
,
indicating Francois. “He’s not going anywhere until I
receive
third
-
party verification
that
he’s mentally stable enough to travel.”

The deacon’s wide face blotched with anger
—a
blazing shade of magenta. A color Picasso himself would have approved
of
. “So, this is your country’s highest level of consideration?”

“Guess so,” Danner said
,
turning to
ward
his office. “Take it or leave it.”

The deacon gathered himself to go. “We shall leave it…for the moment.”

Swiftly
,
Havar
turned his bulk toward the door
,
forcing his entourage to hurry behind him.
All
,
except for
Lino
.
Lino
stayed, glaring into the cell.

Francois did not flinch from his gaze. The boy may be anointed in blood, but Francois had seen more death than any man should bear. Try as he might,
Lino
could not unnerve him.

“
Lino
!” the deacon barked.

The boy’s frown deepened as he finally turned away and strode from the office.

Once the door shut behind them, Francois breathed out. Fortune had granted him a stay of execution.
But a stay only.
He had no doubt
that
the Hidden Hand would be back to collect him.

Until then, all Francois could do was pray
that
God sent him a guardian angel.

CHAPTER 14

Somewhere over Mexico

9:34
a
.
m
.,
MST

Ronnie strained to see past the dusty helicopter window. The rotors beat overhead, drowning out even her thoughts. But she didn’t need to hear her thoughts
,
for she had only one.

Zach.

What if her stunt hadn’t intimidated the CIA? What if they decided to kill Zach
,
rather than releas
e
him? She knew
that
she shouldn’t be thinking about that right now
,
but what else could she think
about
?

“Visual confirmation,” the burly pilot grunted.

The guy must have topped two hundred and fifty pounds
.
He
smelled
as though
he had
drunk
two hundred and fifty gallons of bourbon last night. But his hand was steady on the joystick
,
and damn, he could see f
a
rther than Ronnie could.

She pulled up the binoculars to scan the ramshackle tumble of buildings up ahead
.
Low and squat
,
they hugged the desert
,
and the desert protected them with a heavy covering of sand.

“Fire?” the pilot asked gruffly.

“No!
” Ronnie answered. “Jesus, no.”

The guy chewed on the butt of a long
-
dead cigar. “Your dime.”

She shot a
loo
k
at
Quirk. The question on her face
was
clear.

Where
in
the hell did you get him?

Quirk rolled his eyes as he broke out tech equipment in the back of the helicopter
.
“You do
not
want to know.”

Ronnie tensed her jaw. She loved Quirk beyond all measure
,
but this was Zach’s life they were talking about. Without having to say a word, her assistant
got
the message loud and clear.

“Look,
darlin
’
,” he said while stringing Ethernet cabling between two computers. “You didn’t give me much time to scrape up a combat-ready helicopter pilot.”

“I thought you were getting us some gunmen?” she asked.

Quirk glanced up from what he was doing. “Even in Mexico
,
it’s a little hard at four in the morning to scare up some
discreet
gunmen.
Your
request
,
not mine.”

Chewing her lip, Ronnie wondered if she hadn’t been overly cautious. Would the CIA expect her to commission a helicopter? Would they expect her to storm their castle
?
She was known more for her finesse than her use of firepower.

“You’re still pinging them, right?” she asked.

Quirk rolled his eyes again. Even distracted and traveling in a speeding helicopter, Quirk could put on a cyber attack show. They had to keep the CIA believing that they were trying to
hack
their way out of this problem. So far
,
they made runs at the safe house’s firewalls, tried to cut off the power, and scramble their security measures. Of course
,
none of that had worked, but that was also part of the plan.

Given a few days
,
she and Quirk could have taken the place down from the inside out
.
H
owever
,
Ronnie knew that they did not have a few days. It turned out that
“
in your face
”
hacking actually took days
,
if not months
,
of careful study. Control attacks to monitor how a system reacted
,
then
perform
another calculated breach. The process could be slow and tedious, but that’s how she had earned her
100
p
er
cent success rate. A lot of good it did her now.

If the CIA really did believe
that
she held the key to unlocking a code involving the outbreak of the plague, Zach had a few hours
—
maximum
. They needed quick, decisive action. Not exactly her strong suit.

Ronnie looked over her shoulder at the array of monitors
that
Quirk had set up. That CIA safe house may look like a ghetto from the outside, but scans revealed several gun turrets covered by desert camouflage
,
and even a tank hidden within lead
-
lined walls
.
Heat signatures showed five people in there, but that could have been a grossly low value. With the right amount of heat shielding
,
two dozen
men
could be
in there, all waiting to take them down.

How well prepared were the CIA for an all
-
out assault?

“We
are
bulletproof, right?” she asked. Her nerves
were
getting the better of her.

“I refer you to the lack of Helicopters-R-Us in the general vicinity.”