Halon-Seven (48 page)

Adding to Dargo’s concern, there was the matter of his predecessor on the assignment, the man who had led the interrogation of Walter Meade. Following the failure of that mission, the man had never been seen again. Dargo was fairly certain Bayer had had the man killed. He had no intention of becoming another casualty of Bayer’s ceaseless ambition.

With little time to prepare, Dargo had made a gamble and contacted Cyrus. It was his hope that together they might improvise a plan to keep Dargo’s team in play and neutralize Nil Bayer once and for all. To Dargo’s satisfaction and relief, it had taken a single fifteen-minute phone call to devise a plan that would fulfill both objectives. Dargo had no idea how Cyrus would make the necessary arrangements within the confines of their aggressive timetable, but thankfully, that was not his problem.

Dargo’s objective was to prevent Bayer from replacing him as head of field operations. The trick would be to present key intelligence and an operational strategy before Bayer could make his agenda known. That way, Bayer would have no reason to be suspicious of the plan or the carefully orchestrated timing.

With a glance at his watch, Dargo realized Bayer was already five minutes late. Like himself, Bayer was normally punctual to a fault. That got him thinking. What else might Bayer do like Dargo? Dargo made a custom of showing up to every meeting early, leaving time for reconnaissance prior to the rendezvous. That was a practice drilled into him thanks to years in the military. It wasn’t a habit Bayer was likely to have developed in civilian life.

As Dargo set the last video processor inside its protective packing crate, he considered the situation. He snapped the lid of the case shut. Was he becoming paranoid in his old age? There was no doubt Bayer was a snake of singular order. Why was he in the United States? Dargo wondered if there might be more going on than he first suspected.

There were three knocks on the sliding glass door at the back of the house. The door immediately slid open, and a man stepped into the room. He was dressed in an expensive black suit and dark glasses. One of Bayer’s bodyguards. He quickly looked Dargo up and down before scanning the rest of the room. Without a word, he marched down the back hallway, only to return moments later, speaking into the cuff of his sleeve as he entered the room.

Nil Bayer stepped through the sliding glass door, accompanied by another bodyguard in a dark suit. The second bodyguard was a virtual duplicate of the first.

“Dargo!” Bayer said warmly. A little too warmly for Dargo’s taste. It was out of character. “It’s good to see you.”

Dargo did his best to smile despite the circumstances. “You as well, Comrade Bayer. I am surprised to see you in United States.”

A grave look crossed Bayer’s face. “Yes,” he said somewhat quietly. “I have business in Los Angeles. An unrelated matter. I do hate to fly, but the matter is most pressing.”

Bayer looked around the nearly vacant room. All of the gear was stowed, the folding tables collapsed and now standing against the wall in the corner.

“I see you are—what is it the Americans say? Pulling up stakes?”

“Da,” Dargo confirmed with a nod. “This is what I wish to discuss. I believe our opportunity has arrived.”

The flash of excitement Dargo saw in Bayer’s eyes appeared genuine. But Bayer said nothing and waited for him to continue.

“My son, Yuri, had recent run-in with Cyrus Cooper in New York. He allowed Cooper to escape, but not before planting surveillance tracker on him. We now know that Cooper has been using Professor Meade’s teleportation system to move around the country. Our tracker relays the feed via satellite. There is delay, but most recent download suggests he has developed concerns for the safety of project data following trouble with Mexican drug cartel and multiple run-ins with my men.”

“So he’s moving the research data?” Bayer asked. “When and where?”

“The exact location is unknown. Yesterday morning he shipped a large container to Fairbanks, Alaska. I believe this container held one of the platform devices. I expect Cooper will use the platform to move the research to newly secured location, somewhere in Alaska.”

“But we don’t know the new location?”

“Nyet,” Dargo confirmed. “We tracked the flight as far as destination in Fairbanks, but I was unable to get a man onboard prior to takeoff. But thanks to bug, we know Cooper has Meade’s files hidden in a warehouse somewhere in Phoenix, Arizona. He will be there at 7:00 pm, local time, to start transfer of files.”

“But you don’t know the exact location of the warehouse?”

“Negative.” Dargo confirmed. “But this will not matter. He does not have a platform on site. He has chartered a small cargo aircraft to Phoenix. He will be taking a device with him. My team will wait for him at airport and follow to the warehouse. Once there, we will put together strategy and capture Cooper, the platform, and all of Professor Meade’s data.”

Watching as Bayer digested the information, Dargo waited to see the man’s reaction. Finally Bayer nodded. There was a hungry gleam in his eyes. “This is the break we’ve been waiting for. Are you sure you’ve enough men for the operation?”

“Absolutely.”

Bayer smiled his reptilian grin. “Good. Then I can finally get my hands on Meade’s Meridian and set the rest of my plans in motion.”

While Dargo didn’t know what the rest of Bayer’s plans might be, he felt his skin crawl with the glint in the man’s eye. Dargo had worked with some shady characters over the course of his career, but none made him more uncomfortable than his own countryman, Nil Bayer.

“I have one stipulation,” Bayer said finally. “I wish to be on site when you capture Cooper and the Meridian technology. I want to make sure everything goes according to plan.”

There it was. Dargo knew Bayer would mess with the plan, and he had desperately hoped the man would not let him down. “Sir, this is not advisable. Such an operation can be extremely dangerous. I cannot guarantee your safety.”

“My safety is not your concern!” Bayer snapped. He wasn’t allowing debate on the matter. “I will have my security detail. Your goal is the retrieval of the Meridian data. That information is your primary objective. The capture of Cyrus Cooper is secondary. If Mister Cooper proves too much of an obstacle, you will eliminate him.”

Dargo felt his teeth grinding in response to his employer’s demands.

Why had he ever accepted this damn job?

“Is that understood?” Bayer demanded.

“Understood,” Dargo stated simply.

Phoenix, Arizona

Saturday, 7:12 pm (8:12 pm Colorado Time)

“A personal question?” Cyrus laughed. “I think we’ve passed the point where you have to worry about asking me personal questions, don’t you?”

Looking up from the box of files she was sorting, Reese smiled. “I’d like to think so,” she said warmly. “But some subjects are more sensitive than others.”

Sliding an industrial-grade tape gun across the top of the box, Cyrus sealed the cardboard file container. Once he was done, he stopped and held her gaze for a moment. He made a show of giving her statement consideration. “Fair enough. I think I know what you’re going to ask, and the answer is, okay. I prefer not to share you, but if you really feel strongly about bringing another woman into our bed, I’m willing to make the sacrifice for you.”

The stunned expression marking Reese’s features made it almost impossible for Cyrus to keep a straight face. Her mouth hung open. He knew he’d caught her completely off guard.

“That’s not— I wasn’t— I’m not—” she stammered. The porcelain white of her cheeks had quickly gone past a blushing shade of pink on their way to red.

He couldn’t contain himself. He burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry,” he said, fighting his own laugh for a breath. “I really couldn’t help it. You seemed so serious!”

It was a few moments before she could meet his eyes. But when she did, he could see that even through her embarrassment, she found the humor in his teasing. “You’re willing to take one for the team?” she asked with a wide grin and a shake of her head. “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind,” she said suggestively.

Cyrus placed the sealed box on a pile and grabbed another. He began folding the top shut. “Okay. Now really, what did you want to ask?”

“Well, it’s funny you went there with the question,” she said with a playful smirk. “Because I wanted to ask about the shelf full of romance novels I saw back at your apartment. ‘Bodice-rippers’, I believe they’re sometimes called?”

His eyebrows shot up, and he felt his stomach drop. “Ah,” he stammered. “I had a lot of books back there. I don’t recall any bodice-rippers. They’re not really my style. I think maybe you’re mistaken.”

He went back to work on the box, pulling the tape gun across the top and sealing its contents tightly. Reese shoved one last folder into the box she was working with before pushing the box across the concrete floor, delivering it to Cyrus.

“Not much room for mistake,” she said quietly, when they were on their knees, face-to-face and surrounded by the stacks of office filing boxes. “When we left your apartment, I grabbed three of them. I thought I might need something to entertain myself. Of course,” she crawled up close to him. Close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from her body. “That was before I knew we’d be able to entertain ourselves,” she whispered.

Cyrus smiled. He liked where this was going.

She winked, then stood up and walked back to the stack of files that marked her work location. “Don’t forget to tape that one shut,” she reminded him. Cyrus looked at her. He didn’t understand. It took a moment for his brain to reengage. Momentarily slack jawed, he looked down at the box she had just delivered. It was his turn to be embarrassed. He hung his head. Ouch. She was a tease. There was no doubt, he had it coming. But he liked how she chose to get even.

He flipped the tabs shut on the box and quickly ran the tape gun over it. Hefting the box, he added it to the growing stack.

The two of them were alone in a large warehouse, located in a secluded industrial park. Cyrus didn’t know the area; he had never even been to Phoenix before this afternoon. Now they were pretending to box ‘top secret’ information before it was teleported to Alaska for safekeeping. Cyrus had only rented the warehouse earlier that afternoon. He’d paid five thousand dollars for 48 hours of uninterrupted access to the building and the surrounding grounds, plus the temporary use of dozens of boxes containing old shipping manifests. It was all stage dressing—all part of a ruse to trap Bayer.

Glancing at his phone, he checked the live feed from the thermal display outside the warehouse. Dargo’s men had taken up positions around the warehouse. They would be ready to move in at any time. As a precaution, Cyrus had set up the thermal imager so he could keep a better eye on the exterior of the warehouse. He didn’t want someone changing the game plan on him at the last minute. While he had confidence that Dargo was playing it straight with him, he would never entirely trust the man. Dargo claimed to no longer harbor ill will for him, but Cyrus still suspected Dargo wouldn’t be too broken up should he accidentally die of acute lead poisoning.

“Well?” Reese asked.

Realizing he’d zoned out for a moment, Cyrus returned his attention to her. “I’m sorry?”

“I said, ‘you don’t strike me as a fan of romance novels.’”

Not knowing whether that was a question, Cyrus countered with a safe reply. “I prefer thrillers or mysteries. Both with a splash of science fiction, if I have the choice. But truth be told, I’ll read just about anything before I’m willing to watch reality TV.”

She smiled. “I have to admit, I was more than a little impressed to find out you wrote the Alastair Rose books. And I was halfway through
Hot Vatican Nights,
when I realized how the romance novels were related to the Alastair Rose books.”

That stopped Cyrus dead in his tracks. She found his thriller novels similar to romance novels? Had he misunderstood? “I’m sorry?”

She responded with a knowing glance. “Absolutely! Certainly nothing alike in content, but there was a remarkable similarity in the writing. It was almost like they’d been written by the same person.”

Setting the tape gun aside, Cyrus sat back on the floor and took the pressure off his knees. “Wait. I don’t understand. Now you’re saying you don’t believe I wrote the Alastair Rose books? You think Phoebe Bloome is Alastair Rose?”

This time Reese broke out laughing. “Ah, no! Nice try. I’m saying you’re Phoebe Bloome!”

“Based on what? Because you think her writing style is similar to mine?”

“You’re just not going to let this go, are you? Fine. I’ll play along. The first clue was the writing style. I’ve read all of the Alastair Rose books, and I know his writing well,” she gave him a sexy wink. “The wording and phrasing used by Phoebe Bloome was strikingly similar. Though, in fairness, Bloome uses a whole pile of flowery words that have never once appeared in an Alastair Rose book. The second clue didn’t strike me until I considered the first clue more carefully. That’s when it occurred to me that you had every Phoebe Bloome book ever written. Even a couple that I’ve never heard of!”

“You’re a fan of Phoebe Bloome too?”

“Stay...on...topic! Fairly odd for you to be such a collector—but not conclusive in and of itself. Not until we get to my third clue.”

“Quite the detective. You should write your own books. What’s your third
clue
?”

“Not one of the Bloome books on your shelf has ever been read. They were all paperbacks. And we both know it’s practically impossible to read a paperback without doing damage to the book’s binding. Add it all up, and you are a collector of the Phoebe Bloome books because you are, in fact, Phoebe Bloome! Just as you are, in fact, Alastair Rose!”

He couldn’t help it. Cyrus found the proud look on her face incredibly exhilarating. She hadn’t solved the crime of the century, but she’d done a respectable job of deducing his shameful secret. That’s when it occurred to him. Unlike the time he’d discovered that Meade and Underwood knew his secret, he really felt no shame in sharing this with Reese. It struck him as odd. He’d always dreaded a day when this came out. In fact, he’d gone to great lengths to hide any link between his pen name and his real name. It was odd that sharing a secret with Reese brought him no discomfort at all.