Smoke and Mirrors (18 page)

With hope, our 21
st
century equipment would be similarly intimidating.

Alasdair had us rigged with facial recognition equipment. If we didn’t recognize our new associate, IT could probably identify him.

We sipped blood red orange juice and waited, chatting about redecorating a portion of De Torres’s villa. At last we were approached by a dark haired, sunglass-wearing man dressed in expensive, but untailored clothes.

“Signor De Torres?”

Brad stood, napkin removed from his lap, and extended a hand. “You are?”

“Antonio. My boss is waiting for me to make certain you’re clean.”

De Torres’s eyes blasted like a flamethrower. “Your boss is a nobody.” Then he casually flicked open his Armani sport coat to reveal the .357. “Either he trusts me or the deal’s off. I don’t have time to fuck around with amateurs.”

I watched another man ooze closer and would have bet my remaining molars that, despite a fairly decent dye job and use of eyeglasses, he was, in fact, Stephen Jones. I’d met him at one of Alberto’s soirees – the one held at Khemia, a chic restaurant serving the best Caprese salads outside of Italy.

“Señor Jones, what a surprise to see you in Rome.”

Still ten or so feet away, he flinched at the sound of my Spanish greeting, shocked that his disguise had failed him. Shuffling closer, he dismissed his bodyguard with a curt remark about learning to do his job better. I wasn’t certain if the bodyguard was in trouble for giving him poor disguise techniques or whether he was remiss for not having had me checked out.

Jones shook Brad’s hand and then leaned down to kiss my extended fingers. “Alexandra, how good to see you again. I’m surprised to find you know Signor De Torres.”

I laughed. “Are you? No matter. Please join us, that is why you came, isn’t it?”

Looking ruffled and uneasy, he sat down nevertheless.

Giovanni sat too, one hand on my crossed knee, the other on his drink. “Pick your poison.”

The spectacles, unfamiliar in their sensation, came off in Jones’s nervous hand. “Umm, ahhh, how about a margarita with extra salt on the side?”

Our waiter heard and headed off into the restaurant’s interior. Meanwhile, Giovanni’s easy conversation calmed our visitor. By the time the margarita was nearly empty, Jones took a deep breath. “As I’m sure you both know, there are only a few of us with the wherewithal to work in Colombia’s export business with minimal disruption. Alberto was one, and now that he’s…passed on... I’m ready to become another.”

De Torres’s face remained unreadable. “Alexandra told me you worked in the oil business.”

I couldn’t tell if he was pleased or not that I had mentioned him, but he nodded. “I’m in charge of the shipping side of BP’s Colombian division. Part of my job is to oversee a fleet of cargo ships that carries Colombian oil to ports all over the globe. It would be simple enough to use these vessels for other cargo. Alberto understood the usefulness of working with me; unfortunately, as you well know, we never got our plans off the ground.”

De Torres looked like a lion watching a zebra. A stupid zebra. “I can see why. He had no trouble exporting to me through a variety of other channels that are still open. Why should I deal with you?”

“Colombia’s dangerous, as you and Alexandra well know.”

Was he mentioning my kidnapping? And if so, why hadn’t he mentioned his own wife’s experience?

Here the salesmen jumped into Jones’s weak flesh. “People like Sanchez come and go as the tides of leadership change. Being a British citizen, I am more immune to these shifting sands. No one pays me much attention, and I run less chance of being caught up in their difficulties.”

“But that’s not true. I know for a fact your wife was kidnapped by the same fiends who took Francesca Sanchez and me. Would you call that immunity?”

Instead of looking frightened by my statement, Jones looked pleased as punch. “That’s how it was supposed to appear to the outside world. Raul Fernandez, the man whose escape gave you all freedom, is not the man he appears.”

“He almost got Alberto’s daughter killed. Just how
do
you think that appears?” I growled, held back by Giovanni’s tightening grip.

Jones gave a bark of a laugh. “I’ve known Fernandez for years. He’s a smarter man than anyone gives him credit for. He plays both sides of the coin equally well. Being leftwing and rightwing has its advantages. He set up my wife’s kidnapping, and Alberto’s
botched kidnapping
, so that he could be freed and no one would ever accuse the three of us of working together. None of you was ever in danger. The fact that Alberto didn’t trust Raul isn’t my fault. And now that he’s gone and Raul is in hiding, I’m in charge of the suppliers. You need me, because otherwise you won’t have anything to buy or sell to your Eastern European friends.”

De Torres had gone very still. “Did your wife know?”

“What she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.”

“You’re a son of a bitch, Jones,” Giovanni said, “But you’ve got bravura, I’ll give you that. If you can make good on your promise, and supply me with the same cargo for Alberto’s price, I’ll work with you. If not, I’ll find another way. Don’t forget you need me more than I need you.”

Jones flushed pink with pleasure. “You can rest assure I’ll make good on my promise. When can we meet again to discuss our trade in more detail?”

“Alexandra and I are going to dinner and a play this evening, but I’d be happy to meet with you later tonight at our hotel. Unfortunately, I need to be in Paris tomorrow.”

They decided on a midnight meeting in the secluded garden adjacent our hotel. Jones wished me a good afternoon and departed alongside his omni-present bodyguard. Brad and I finished our drinks and left the bistro a half-hour later.

By the time dusk settled, the tech team had laid the garden with multiple surveillance devices and coverage at all angles. We had Jones and were going to use him to our advantage.

•   •   •

I ‘went to bed’ when Brad left to meet with Jones. In actuality, I joined Alasdair in his room where we watched the meeting on a laptop and waited until Jones had incriminated himself beyond a shadow of a doubt. Satisfied with the pull, Brad moved to the second phase and offered to take Jones out for a drink.

It was nearly three in the morning when Brad tumbled into bed beside me. I dog-eared my book and tossed it to the floor. Fitting myself against his broad back, I murmured into the thick wavy hair at the base of his corded neck, “How’d it go?”

He yawned and the scent of whisky wafted up. “He’s not nearly smart enough to pull this off alone. I don’t think he knows exactly how the cargo is going to make it through foreign ports without being detected. He keeps telling me he’s got someone he trusts who’s going to take care of it, going to make sure everything runs smoothly.”

“Raul?”

Brad flipped over to face me, brushing his spirit-laden lips against mine. “Yeah.” A few minutes later, he continued, “He’s definitely involved in this, but there’s someone else. Someone who’s pulling strings that make even Raul dance.” He came at me again: his lips parted, his tongue exploring my mouth, his hands restless. “You tired?”

As if.

•   •   •

They lay together, bodies touching from cheek to entwined feet. She had fallen asleep moments afterward, her face, as always, chillingly vulnerable in sleep.

Only C’s direct orders had kept Brad from refusing to let her near an op apart from her London surgery.

‘It’s my decision. She stays.”

Brad had stood in the Colombian clinic, her blood seeped into the cracks of his palms, cursing. ‘But she’s not a fucking field operative.’

‘According to whom?’ C asked, the steel of his conviction crossing continents with ease. ‘Her actions were textbook.’ There was a pause. ‘Now pull it together before you compromise this situation and insult a colleague with your bloody chauvinism.’

Brad had dropped the call, but not the order. C knew that about him and used it to his advantage.

But with growing frequency, Brad wondered how he was going to live with himself – C’s enlightenment be damned – if things turned ugly. Hell, he still couldn’t sleep without being haunted by Sammy’s amber gaze.

Parker turned away from him, leaving his arm free. He kissed the back of her head before sliding from the bed and out onto the small veranda. With luck the night air would clear his murky thoughts.

How far back did Raul’s plan go? Did he set up his original capture? Did he want a reputation as a terrorist who escaped? Did he have Francesca kidnapped knowing it would provoke her father into freeing him?

Or was he captured unwittingly? Did he then reach out with other people’s hands to find someone like Jones who would go along with his wife’s kidnapping if he could profit from it?

And if the later was the case, where did the third person – the Russian – fit in?

Brad knew if they could get Jones to lead them to Raul, it would be the best bet for finding the hidden spoke of the odd wheel. But how?

It seemed Jones could furnish De Torres with illicit cargo without ever needing to work directly with Raul. And Raul could supply Jones from a distance of anonymous safety and still reap monetary benefits without ever resurfacing.

That was unless Giovanni could convince Jones that he’d cut Raul and him out altogether. It could be done if the rest of the crops were located and De Torres made a direct deal with the growers. Maybe then Jones would panic and get Raul to meet with De Torres.

Given that Raul needed De Torres as an importer. It was worth the gamble. And best of all, it left Alex tucked neatly out of harm’s way.

•   •   •

C approved Brad’s plan, and De Torres placed the call. Jones, back in Bogotá, sounded jovial first, then quite grim when he realized De Torres had the upper hand.

“What the bloody hell do you mean you’ve no need of me any more?”

“I didn’t say, ‘I didn’t need you’,” Giovanni soothed, “Just that I don’t need to pay you for anything other than your shipping expenses. You see, I have certain documents in my possession that give me the means to buy directly from the farmers. Don’t take it personally, Jones. I’m a businessman and the bottom line is where I set my sights. If I can lower the price I pay for my product and sell it for the same price, my profit increases.”

Jones understood all too well, and hung up, only to call back an hour later. “I’ve just spoken with a friend about our predicament. He’s as uneasy about your plans as I am. We’re willing to cut a deal.”

De Torres snorted. “You have nothing to cut a deal with. I’ve already spoken to Raul’s younger brother. With Raul in hiding, he’s in charge of EPIC and is more than willing to transfer loyalty for a pay rise. There’s nothing left to talk about, unless you want to lose the money I’m willing to pay you for shipping my cargo. Is that what you want, Jones?”

The sound of muffled swearing came through the tapped line. “No, of course not, it’s just –Raul and I have a vested interest in continuing to work with you. Would you perhaps meet with us and discuss a compromise?”

“You’ve given me no reason to want a compromise. I win my way and lose your way. Tell me, why would that entice me to meet with you?”

Jones’s voice lost its volume. “If I tell you that we have a much wider array of merchandise to offer you, would you be interested?”

“I’m listening.”

“You know the reason Raul was incarcerated in the first place?”

“Of course.”

“Well, he’s sitting on a huge cache as we speak; only he needs the right person to distribute it, understand me?”

De Torres paused. “I have dealt with such things before, but it’s not as easy to move around these days; and as seen by Raul’s confinement, not worth it most of the time.”

Jones was not easily put off. “But this is quite different. He’s got his hands on something everyone wants, and if it can be sold to the right buyer, it’ll make your current salary look like pauper’s pay.”

“Are we talking about a portable x-ray?”

“Maybe.”

De Torres seemed to consider the bait. “If you can set up a meeting with Raul and furnish hard proof of this type of merchandise, I’ll consider leaving our current business arrangement intact as long as I make a sufficient profit from the other. But if there’s anything off about this meeting, I’ll make certain I’m the only one benefiting from our original dealings. Yes?”

Jones sounded pacified. “Yeah, and don’t fret, De Torres, you’ve made the right decision.”

•   •   •

“What is it?” I asked.

“He’s hinting Raul has uranium for sale.” Brad ran a knuckle across his stubble-cloaked chin. “Strange, because Nigel’s Intel never moved beyond the rumor stage. SIS have no knowledge of any uranium being shipped from Russia to Colombia. So if it does exist, why does Raul want to sell it? Our Intel suggested its purpose was to help with his cause, which would mean his men still have control of it. He can’t have taken it with him when he left Colombia.”

“Could it have been Alberto’s? Stolen when he died.” I wondered, mulling over the rather bizarre turn of events.

Brad’s tone was chary. “If Alberto had had it all that time, wouldn’t something have come of it?”

“What about the Chechens?”

“Covered.”

“The Chinese?”

“We’ll have to wait and ask Raul,” he said.

Leaving me to wonder just who ‘we’ meant.

•   •   •

If Jones had been confident that Raul would meet with De Torres to discuss arms dealing, I gathered Raul was under no such illusion. Through enigmatic messages passed back and forth by Jones, SIS were able to ascertain that if Raul really did have uranium for sale, somebody else wanted it back without paying the asking price.

Jones called back sounding rung out. “He’s afraid if he comes out in the open to discuss a deal with you; he’ll be discovered by either Interpol or the guys from whom he stole the uranium. Either way he’ll be in jail or dead, and neither is an option he wants to entertain.”

“What if I could guarantee that he would be safe and that my buyer was legit?”