Vision Impossible (18 page)

D
utch was able to shuffle out to the table to sit with us while we talked through our options. Looking at him hurt my heart. His eyes were both still badly swollen and there were some ugly bruises forming, especially on the left side of his face. But the voice that came out of that body was strong and sure. “It looks worse than it feels,” he told me when he caught me staring at him.

“I’m so sorry,” I said again. “I wish I could have been there sooner, but I had to wait for the money.”

“Where’d it come from?” he asked.

I fiddled with some lint on my sweater. “Milo.”

“You gave Grinkov half a million dollars of Milo’s money?” Dutch said, clearly displeased by that idea.

I was quick to shake my head and then I got up and brought over the attaché with one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in it, which I gave to Dutch to inspect. “Milo wired me two hundred thousand, which got me in the door and was enough to start a poker game. I won enough to cover Des Vries’s debts and only lose out on fifty grand.”

Dutch’s face swiveled to Frost. “I’ll reimburse my friend the full two hundred grand, and you guys will reimburse me the missing fifty. You got that?”

“Got it, Agent Rivers,” Frost said tersely. “I’ve already put in for a check. It’ll take a few days, but we’ll make sure you’re reimbursed.”

I got up from the table and retrieved from the freezer one of the ice packs the doctor had left us. Moving over to Dutch, I handed it to him and he laid it gingerly on the side of his face. “Thanks, dollface,” he said.

“They worked you over pretty good,” I said, taking my seat again.

“Most of the damage was done at the office,” Dutch said. “They used a Tazer, then beat the crap outta me. When we got to Grinkov’s, he actually stopped them from killing me, and had me thrown into a locked room until he could decide what to do with me.”

“So he bought the disguise?” Frost asked. “He really thought you were Des Vries?”

“Hook, line, and sinker,” Dutch said. “Of course, I was a bloody, bruised mess by the time he saw me, and now that I think about it, getting roughed up by him may really work to our advantage.”

“How do you figure?” I asked.

“Grinkov’s going to spread the word that he worked me over—it’s the only way to ensure that everyone else pays up on time—and meanwhile, anyone I come into contact with who might personally know Des Vries is going to expect to see a few differences, if only from the bruises.”

“Rivers is right,” Frost said. “We can use this to our advantage. If he meets anyone Des Vries has previously met at the auction—assuming we get in with Boklovich—they’re not going to scrutinize too much why his speech is a little off or why he might not look exactly like the Des Vries they remember. We should move forward and work on connecting with Grinkov again, convince him to get us an introduction to Boklovich.”

“The tricky part is going to be finding a reason why Des Vries would want to bury the hatchet so quickly,” Dutch said. “I mean, if I call him up right away and ask him for the introduction, he’ll probably get suspicious.”

“I could do it,” I offered. “I mean, he had no problem taking my call yesterday.”

Dutch’s jaw bunched and he winced. “No,” he said firmly. “I want you out of it.”

“Maybe she should make the call, Rivers,” Frost said. “She and Grinkov seemed to have some real chemistry there.”

My eyes shot daggers at Frost. “It was an act!” I nearly shouted. (Think I doth protest too much?)

“Well, you’re a great actress,” Frost replied blandly, and my hands curled into fists.

“Hey,” Dutch growled. “She did great last night, Frost. Leave her alone.”

“I
know
she did great last night, Rivers. That’s what I’m saying. She can handle herself, and I think that we should let her make the call. She’s quick on her feet, and she might be able to get us that meeting.”

“No,” Dutch said again, and this time, his tone was deadly serious. “If I know Grinkov’s type, which I do, he’ll want to meet with her again . . . alone. I’m not going to let her go off on her own. She’s too green and she’s been in enough danger already.”

Waves of barely restrained jealousy were pouring off my fiancé, and I knew better than to argue with him. “Okay, Dutch,” I said. “You make the call and set up a meeting. But not today. Today, you need to rest.”

“I’m fine,” he said grouchily.

I squinted at him. There was a line of sweat on his forehead and I moved my hand to his brow. “You’ve got a fever,” I said.

“I’m fine,” he repeated.

I stared at Frost with a look that said, “Dude! Help me out here!” “We can wait a day or two,” he said to Dutch. “I’ve got people monitoring the airwaves, and so far, we haven’t heard any chatter about an auction. The minute we do, however, we’ll need to move on it fast.”

Frost left us after that for a meeting with his team and his superiors to brief them on our game plan. He had let us know that CSIS was going to be in charge of watching the building, but they’d agreed to let him know if any nefarious-looking types approached. He’d added that they would call us with an alert and he and the team wouldn’t be far away. He also promised to be back in a few hours to give us the lowdown on what Dutch should say to Grinkov. In the meantime, I helped my sweetheart get back to bed, and made him comfortable.

He was far more bruised on the left side than he was on the right. “Both of Grinkov’s thugs were right-handed,” he explained when I ran my hand very gently over his swollen cheek.

I leaned in and gave him a soft kiss. “Do you want another pain pill?”

He shook his head. “I’ll brick it out.”

I frowned and thought of an idea. “How about a smoothie?”

Dutch brightened. “We have stuff for a smoothie?”

I’d spotted both frozen blueberries and strawberries in the freezer when I’d gotten Dutch his ice pack. “We do,” I told him, scooting off the bed and discreetly tucking the bottle of pain pills into my sleeve. “You sit tight and I’ll be back in five minutes with one.”

I rummaged around in Des Vries’s pantry and came up with some protein powder, and his fridge revealed a pint of vanilla yogurt. Mixing all the ingredients into the blender, along with one of the pain pills, I pressed the blend button and smiled when the contents turned a pinkish purple.

I carried the glass back into the bedroom, quite proud of myself, and Dutch took a good gulp of it, pronouncing it delicious. “Your cooking’s improving,” he said.

I laughed. For the record, my cooking is so bad the local firemen know me by name.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, waving my hand at him. “Just drink that down, okay?”

Dutch did, and within minutes after he’d finished, his eyes closed and he was fast asleep.

I had moved into the kitchen with the empty glass when I heard the elevator doors open. “Frost?” I called, looking at the clock. He’d been gone only an hour.

No one answered and I felt the hairs on my arms stand up on end.

“Hello?” I said loudly, grabbing a breadboard and holding it high like a baseball bat.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway. I waited for the person to identify himself, shaking slightly and hoping it wasn’t Kozahkov’s assassin coming back to finish off the witnesses.

Around the corner came someone familiar and completely unexpected, holding flowers and offering me a shy sad smile. “Hi,” she said, before spotting the breadboard in my hands. “You gonna hit me with that?”

“What the freak are you doing here?!” I yelled. My heart was pounding in my chest from the implied threat of someone unknown entering the condo.

Rick’s girlfriend held up the flowers. “I heard he’d been roughed up by Grinkov!” she explained, and tears filled her eyes with moisture.

I lowered the breadboard. “How did you get past the doorman?” I demanded. Stupid CIA, couldn’t even keep out a simple dumb blonde!

Mandy held up a set of keys and her key card. “I came up from the garage and used my card,” she said.

I wanted to yell at someone right then—preferably Frost for trusting the CSIS to guard the building while he and his team were out. Send us an alert my aunt Martha. “Mandy,” I said firmly. “You have to leave.”

“But—”

“Now.”

Mandy’s hand went to her mouth and she choked on a sob. “But he needs me!”

“Abs?” I heard Dutch call groggily from the bedroom.

Mandy’s face whipped around at the sound of Dutch’s voice. “Rick!” she cried, and before I could catch her, she darted around the corner and ran down the hallway into the master bedroom.

I tore after her and caught her by the wrist just as she pulled up short in front of the bed, staring in horror at Dutch while he lay propped up on pillows.

His one good eye opened a little more in surprise. “I’m sorry!” I told him. “She had a key card to the elevator and she used it to get in.”

“Who the hell are you?”
Mandy yelled, pointing at Dutch accusingly.

“Mandy,” I snapped, gripping her arm tightly and trying to pull her out of the bedroom. “You need to come with me.”

“Where’s Rick?” she demanded, trying to pull out of my grasp. “You tell me where he is right now or so help me God, I will start screaming bloody murder!”

“Oh, yeah?” I replied. “And who do you think is going to hear you, huh? Des Vries owns this whole building and there’s no one in it but us!”

“Who are you and
where
is my boyfriend?!” she shouted again, slapping me hard on the cheek before launching herself at me, scratching and clawing with her long nails.

I pulled my head back after the slap and tried to duck away from those nails, but she was like a rabid cat. After getting raked on the side of my neck, I shoved her hard to create a little room, then stepped forward and swung for all I was worth.

My fist connected with the side of her cheek, and she went down like a lead balloon.

“Son of a beast!” I hissed, shaking my hand and dancing above her. “Sweet Jesus, that hurt!”

Dutch was attempting to get out of bed and struggling to do so. “You okay?”

I held up my hand. It was already swelling. “No!”

Mandy moaned.

“I think you knocked her out,” Dutch said, looking down at the crumpled form of our houseguest.

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” I told him, feeling zero sympathy for the wretched woman.

“Help me up, would you?” he asked me.

I went to his side and gently lifted while he pushed. I heard him suck in a breath as he clutched his side, but he managed. He then shuffled over to squat down and inspect Mandy. “Hey,” he said, shaking her shoulder a little.

She moaned, but otherwise didn’t respond.

“We need to call Frost,” Dutch said, standing tall again, clearly troubled. “She knew I wasn’t Des Vries right away, even with all the bruises.”

I stared at him in surprise. I hadn’t even thought of that. “You’re right!”

I looked from him to Mandy. “But how could she tell?” I said. “Honey, you barely look human. You could pass for anyone with dark hair and a goatee.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Sorry,” I told him. “But it’s true, cowboy. There must have been something that tipped her off, and we need to know what it is before we set up another meeting with Grinkov. What if he has a chance to get a close look at you and starts noticing some differences?”

Dutch nodded. “Okay. Let’s get her to wake up and interrogate her. Then we’ll call Frost and have him take care of her.”

It took a faceful of ice water to wake Mandy up. And it took a bucket of ice to make the swelling on my hand go down. “You hit me,” she said sullenly, using the towel I’d handed her to mop her face.

“You started it,” I told her meanly, tapping the gun I’d borrowed from Dutch’s holster on the table just to let her know we meant business. I didn’t like Mandy so much after getting raked by her claws and slapped.

“Fuck you,” she said, glaring hard at me.

I guess the feeling was mutual.

“Mandy,” Dutch said from the chair I’d pulled over for him. “Why did you come here today?”

“I heard Rick’d been roughed up by Grinkov,” she told him. “And I wanted to see if he was okay.”

“How’d you hear that?” I asked her. After all, I’d brought Dutch home only the night before.

“Rick’s bookie called me. He said he’d heard that Rick got the shit kicked out of him by Grinkov after being picked up off the street. He wanted to know if Rick was still gonna be able to cover his bets. Where is Rick anyway?”

“He’s safe,” Dutch told her.

She scowled at him doubtfully.

“He is,” I assured her, and she cut me a look too.

“Why should I believe anything you say? You could’ve killed him for all I know!”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “We could have. And we could’ve killed you too, toots, but we haven’t.” Tapping the gun again, I added, “Yet.”