Men of Intrgue A Trilogy (94 page)

“You mean they think Frank double crossed them, hid it away for himself, and that Angela can tell them where he put it?”

“Exactly.”

“Oh, my God. Brett, I’m scared.”

“So am I,” he said grimly. He took a pad from his breast pocket and scribbled a number on it. “Here’s a number where you can reach me twenty-four hours a day. Always. If anybody contacts you, or if Angela gets in touch with you, call me immediately.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to find her.” He turned for the door.

Josie grabbed his arm to stop him. “By yourself?”
 

“If necessary.”

“You can’t go alone! Those people are gangsters.”

“I’ll try to get some help from the Bureau first. She wouldn’t be in this fix if it weren’t for my interference, and theirs.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Josie said as he tried to brush her off and leave. “You’ll do something foolish.”

“Let me go, Josie. I’m wasting time here.”

“Promise me you’ll be careful. And call me when you find out something.”

“I can’t promise either of those things, but I’ll do my best for Angela.” He bent swiftly and pressed his lips to the worried woman’s forehead, handing her his copy of Patria’s file. “Save this for her.”

“What is it?”

“The proof of Frank’s guilt. I wanted to show it to her, but I guess she’s in no doubt about that now.” He shook his head at his own stupidity. “It never occurred to me until tonight that they might take her, and it should have.”

“You are not responsible for everything and everybody,” Josie said gently.

“I’m responsible for Angela,” he said simply, and opened the door.

“Be careful,” Josie repeated.

“Keep your cool, Josie,” Devlin flung over his shoulder, and then ran down the steps.

Josie stood at the open door and watched him continue down the street, not stopping for a cab until one passed him and he flagged it down.

Josie clutched the manila folder to her bosom, her face a mask of fear, and then slowly closed the door.

* * * *
 

Angela sat up on the cot, pushing her hair out of her face. She looked around the bare room and realized that this was reality, and not a nightmare. She had hoped for the latter until she knew she was awake.

She had no idea how long she’d been cooped up in this room. She hadn’t seen Philip since their arrival, when he’d been taken off in the opposite direction. They were someplace in the country. The trip from the city had taken several hours, and now that it was morning she could hear birdsong and the noise from small animals. She could see nothing, as the room had one small window which was boarded up and admitted no light or view of the exterior. A guard was positioned directly outside it; she could hear snatches of conversation at times, and saw a glimpse of hair once through a small chink in the wood nailed across the frame.

Another guard was stationed in front of the interior door which led to the rest of the house. She was in a small bedroom in what appeared to be a summer home or cabin of some sort. She knew she was in the woods because during the trip from the car to the house she’d scraped her legs on brambles and bushes.

She’d been questioned several times since her arrival. The procedure was always the same: she was taken from the bedroom into a small parlor, and then seated in a folding chair. A dark haired man with an indeterminate foreign accent would grill her about her uncle’s business, and conclude with a series of questions concerning the missing drugs from the final shipment Frank had handled.

They didn’t seem to believe her when she said that she knew nothing about it, and Angela wondered how long the current practice would continue before they resorted to physical violence.

She wondered if they would finally kill her when they decided that she wasn’t able to help them locate what they wanted. And Philip, who had obviously been taken for the same reason, would probably share her fate.

Angela leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, too drained and hopeless to move. Why hadn’t she listened to Devlin when he tried to tell her what her uncle was? He’d been right, and she’d been too blind and stubborn to admit it.

It was amazing how well she could see her error now. She had had nothing else to think about during her captivity. She knew that her refusal to acknowledge Devlin’s contentions had been born more of her pride and willfulness than of love for her uncle. Devlin had hurt her. She had struck back in the best way possible, by maintaining that his deception had been unwarranted, that he had used her for no reason. Of course she’d believed in her uncle but she had believed in herself more, in her sense of self worth. She was not a toy to be trifled with in order to gain a higher purpose, and she had sought to make Devlin pay for his misrepresentation by rejecting both him and the explanation for his behavior.

And where had this childishness gotten her? To an outpost in the forest, surrounded by her enemies. She might have had Devlin, and safety. Instead she had a tryst with her uncle’s henchmen and paralyzing, numbing fear.

Angela lifted her hair out of her collar and rubbed the back of her neck. If only she could see him once more, hear that steady, comforting voice. She could picture his rugged face: the unusual eyes, the straight nose and hard, uncompromising mouth. She knew the feel of it on hers, and knew that it would be soft and inviting. Oh, what she would give to kiss him again!

She shook her head, as if reprimanding herself. It wouldn’t do to torment herself with these thoughts now. She had to concentrate on staying alive as long as possible.

Though if she were doomed never to see Devlin again, it was hard to say exactly why that was important.

* * * *
 

Devlin entered the paneled conference room, his eyes moving immediately to the gray haired man at the head of the table. Matt Hendley was already seated next to the older man, and Dave Marchetti, another operative who had been working with Hendley and Devlin on the Patria case, stood nearby. They all looked grim.

“All right, Devlin, what’s all this about the Patria girl?” the middle aged man said.

“She’s disappeared, and I have reason to believe that Patria’s men have her,” Devlin replied succinctly.

“And?”

“And I want to take a team out to find her.”

The chief shook his head. “Absolutely not. We got what we wanted. I can’t risk anyone else on this. We need all of you to locate the missing shipment, and you’ve already told Hendley here that she doesn’t know where it is.”

Devlin held on to his temper by a thread. “We involved her in this case. None of this would have happened to her if I hadn’t gone into her house and deceived her to get information on her uncle;.”

“Don’t talk nonsense, man,” the chief said. “She’s been involved in it all along. Patria is her uncle. Something like this was bound to happen to her sooner or later with the company that man keeps.”

“If she is in danger it’s our fault, sir,” Devlin stated through gritted teeth.

His superior waved this contention away. “You’re getting all worked up over nothing, Devlin. She’s probably on vacation or has gone to visit a friend.”
 

“She is not visiting a friend,” Devlin said in a dangerously low tone.

Hendley could see that Devlin was close to the breaking point and interrupted.

“I’ll talk to him, sir,” he said soothingly. “I think he’s just been overworked lately. The Patria case was a tough one.”

Devlin shot Hendley a look that said that he wasn’t going to be talking to him about anything. The chief took Hendley at his word, however, and rose to go.

“Take some time, a few days to rest up before you go after that missing stuff,” he directed Devlin. “You look like you could use it.” He walked to the door, and then paused on his way out.

“The Patria girl doesn’t concern you anymore, Devlin,” he said neutrally. “You concentrate on what you’re getting paid to do.” He opened the door and left the room.

Devlin turned instantly to Hendley and said, “Matt, you and Dave have been on this case from the beginning. You did the legwork, you know Patria’s gang, their methods, their hideouts. I want you to come with me.”

“With you where?” Marchetti asked.

Hendley didn’t ask. He already knew.

“To get Angela, of course,” Devlin replied.

The other two men exchanged glances. Hendley shrugged hopelessly.

“Didn’t you hear the old man?” Marchetti asked incredulously.

“I heard him,” Devlin replied, taking his weapon from his shoulder holster and sliding out the cartridge to check it.

“If you do this on your own, you’re out,” Marchetti said. Hendley, who knew Devlin better, said nothing.

“Did you hear me?” Marchetti went on. “You’ll lose your job.”

Devlin looked at him for the first time since the chief had left the room.

“Do you think I care about the damn job now?” he demanded violently. “Those lowlifes have got my girl. They’ve got Angela!”

Marchetti hesitated.

“I love her, Dave,” Devlin said.

Marchetti looked at Hendley, his brows raised. Well. There was a first time for everything.

Hendley spread his hands.

“Look,” Devlin said, replacing his gun, “I know that you two have families and you have to think of your careers. I’ll understand if you don’t want to get involved. I’ll go alone.”

Hendley stood and put his hand on Devlin’s arm. “You’ll get killed if you go alone, Dev. One man doesn’t stand a chance.”

Devlin eyed his friends speculatively. “Then are you with me?”

Marchetti put his hands on his hips and exhaled loudly.

“Let’s go,” he said.

Devlin favored him with a brief, grateful smile.

“What’s first?” Hendley asked.

“First, I want to get in to see Angela’s uncle.”

* * * *
 

Frank Patria was very carefully guarded. In protective custody because of the known animosity of his former colleagues, he was surrounded by security when Devlin was led into the narrow, bare interrogation room.

It was a miracle that Devlin was there at all. He’d told the district attorney a pack of lies in order to get an interview, and he hoped he would be able to get what he needed out of Patria before his ruse was discovered. He’d pretended to be following up on his superior’s orders to locate the missing drugs, and he wanted to make this interview as quick as possible before anyone determined otherwise.

Patria, wearing prison grays, was seated at the long scarred table in the middle of the room. He looked up at Devlin’s entrance and the younger man examined him.

It was difficult to see any resemblance between Angela’s graceful, long limbed beauty and the squat, barrel chested old man who looked up at him. Patria was bald except for a fringe of gray hair around his pate and had a large, bulbous nose that Angela had certainly not inherited. He examined Devlin with sharp brown eyes full of intelligence.

The two guards took their positions on either side of the door.

“I want to see him alone,” Devlin said quietly.

The guards looked at each other anxiously.

“The other guy searched me and took my weapon out in the hall,” Devlin said. “I’m unarmed and I can’t do any damage. Search me again if you like, but give me a few minutes of privacy with him.”

They still hesitated, uneasy.

“I’d hate to tell Ken Fletcher that you gave me a hard time about this,” Devlin added. Fletcher was the district attorney, and their boss.

That did the trick.

“We’ll be right outside the door,” the first guard said, looking at Devlin.

Devlin nodded.

When the door shut behind the men he confronted Frank Patria.

“I’m Brett Devlin,” he said.

Patria blinked, and then a small, slow smile spread across his face.

“Well,” he said in a deep bass that contrasted oddly
with his gremlin stature, “you’re the boy who put me in this place.”

“That’s right,” Devlin said.

“And sacked my pretty little niece to do it,” Patria added, his eyes glinting maliciously.

Devlin bridled inwardly but kept himself under control.

“Angela is the reason I’m here,” he said. “I need your help.”

Patria stared at him incredulously and then burst out laughing. The door opened a crack and a guard stuck his head in .

“It’s all right,” Devlin said. “We’re just having a little joke.”

The guard looked at Devlin as if he were demented, then shut the door again.

“You’re a funny kid,” Patria said, wiping his eyes. “You’re in the wrong line of work. You should be a comedian.”

“I don’t have time to waste with you. I’m not here to get information on where you stashed the dope. I know that’s what you’ve been told but I’m interested only in Angela.”

Patria’s eyes narrowed. “What about Angela?” he said.