Blonde Ops (30 page)

He looked away. “Too long to let you ruin it now. And I'm not going to explain myself to you.”

I sneered at him. “Well, congratulations! Your cover's been blown for good. Even if you get away, the whole world will know who you are. The U.S. and Italy will slap all your pictures on the most-wanted list!” I yelled. “Good luck trying to hide now!” My voice sounded shrill even in my own ears.

“I know,” he mused regretfully. “But none of that matters. I have only one important thing I need to do.”

I couldn't imagine planning something like this years in advance, then having to give up my life and identity forever.

“Is this about your brother?” I said. Maybe catching him off guard would get him to spill some details.

He didn't seem to acknowledge my question, but for a fraction of a second his lips twitched. Then he was all business again, motioning for Ortiz and Luca to move on. He wasn't giving that up, not here, not now. He might tell me other things if I worked on him.

“The biker at the Pantheon,” I said, looking at Luca. “It was him! He wasn't going for Mrs. Jennings, he was going for you. But he almost took you out!”

Taj inclined his head at the gunman. “We passed a message.”

“I didn't see you give him anything,” said Sophie, “and I was looking right at you.”

“Me too,” added Kevin.

I narrowed my eyes in disbelief. “I didn't see anything.”

“A few hand signals were enough. A wave, two fingers held up, a sweep of my arm indicated the time and place for the next move.”

I stared at him, incredulous. “You told him all that by waving arms and fingers?”

Taj sighed, exasperated. “Come on, Bec, haven't you learned not to leave evidence? A note can be found if it's not destroyed. I don't leave anything behind that I don't mind others finding. Not on paper—and never electronically. E-mail and electronic searches can be traced, even if it's erased.
You
of all people should know that.”

“Yes,” I grumbled. The misadventure with Dean Harding seemed a lifetime ago, but it was going to haunt me forever.

“I had Ortiz put an antenna in your room and wear one on her to trace your movements and online activity. When she borrowed your phone, she planted a bug. I knew where you went, what you did, who you talked to.” He chuckled. “Nice handle, Cap'nCrunch.”

He got me there. He really was a master. I felt the blood rush to my face.

“But what about people—they can be evidence too,” I insisted a little desperately.

Taj looked at Ortiz and Luca. “True. You can't eliminate all risk from a situation, but you can do your best to minimize it—involve as few co-conspirators as possible, pay them outrageously well, and have something on them to guarantee their continued loyalty.”

I never would have thought not to trust Ortiz.

“Some things I had to do myself.” He moved his fingers like he was rubbing something between them.

I gasped. “Mrs. Jennings's cape! When you touched it,
you
stuck the GPS on it!”

Taj's gaze settled on me. “Very good.”

“You were going to take her there, at St. Peter's,” I said, dumbfounded. On holy ground, in front of the Secret Service, tourists, the Swiss Guards, schoolchildren. It was so bold I could hardly believe it.

But something had gone wrong.

“I try to plan for all contingencies, but we couldn't account for her taking the cape off—and still less for it being stolen. Ortiz had the tracker. When it started beeping like crazy, she assumed that my friend here had taken Mrs. Jennings, and tried to send the other agents on a wild-goose chase. We followed the signal, and when we found the cape, Mrs. Jennings obviously wasn't with it. That light-fingered punk messed up everything.”

I turned to Ortiz. “Why? Why do you help him?”

“Is it money?” Kevin asked with a sneer. And here I thought Kev was Mr. Materialism—but I guess even he had moral limits when it came to treason and kidnapping.

Ortiz didn't answer, only pressed her lips into a hard, thin line.

“Don't be too hard on her,” Taj said. “Ten million dollars buys a lot of loyalty.”

In the right place outside the U.S., Ortiz would be set for life like a rock star with that kind of money. Kevin cursed at her as he struggled against the ties, making them tighter.

“Stop jiggling or you'll cut off your circulation!” I snapped.

My mind ran through possible scenarios. It looked like Taj meant to trap us here and then disappear with Mrs. Jennings. If they were going to kill us, they would have done it already, not waste time tying us up. Taj might not have wanted to hurt anyone, but I wasn't anxious to see what he'd do if he became desperate. I thought about what happened to Parker. Did she just get in the way or figure out Ortiz was involved?

Wait.

Ortiz would have known all about Mrs. Jennings's schedule, so Parker wouldn't have been mistaken for the First Lady. Taj wanted Theresa Jennings, obviously—but he also must have wanted Parker out of the way. She was CIA. It would have been very risky having her in control. Get rid of Parker … and Serena was next in line. It made sense that she would fill in on such short notice; no one could have expected Candace to show up and take over.

“Is Serena part of this?” I asked, desperate to know that I'd figured it out. “She bought the cables to access the car's computer. She put them on her expense report.”

“Stupid woman.” Taj shook his head, a look of disgust on his face. “When you get out of here, make sure you tell Candace that Serena was more than willing to help us remove Parker Phillips as editor in chief of
Edge
so that she could replace her.” He chuckled. “She had no idea that Parker was an operative, or what the ultimate plan was.”

“This would have been a whole lot easier with Serena in charge of the magazine,” said Ortiz. “She was manageable. But then Candace Worthington showed up.” She turned to me. “And of course, let's not forget our Juliet. Nothing slows you down, not even being sideswiped on the way to the hospital.”

Luca's lips twisted up wickedly. “It was just a little scare. I could have done worse.”

Taj shrugged. “We still achieved our objective.”

Taj, Ortiz, Serena … all scum. One good thought occurred to me, though. I didn't see Dante here. That could mean either he wasn't involved, which I fervently hoped, or he was somewhere else, maybe waiting with a getaway car. The whole “I can't stand to look at you” posturing between Taj and Dante could have been an act. At this point I didn't think I could trust anyone.

“You don't have to do this,
Agent
Ortiz,” Mrs. Jennings said from her corner. I guessed she was trying to remind Ortiz she was sworn to protect and defend, but I didn't think Ortiz was about to have a change of heart, throw her life in with ours, and miss out on all that cash.

“It's not too late to make things right.”

She didn't plead, but seemed to speak with real concern for Ortiz, as if she understood why the agent would take money to help Taj, for whatever he was trying to accomplish. Ortiz's eyes flickered, then she took her gaze to Taj.

He crouched down next to Mrs. Jennings. “Ortiz will do as she's ordered. She's too well paid not to. And there's no going back for any of us now.” He frowned. “Tell me, Mrs. Jennings, why your government doesn't pay whatever it must to ensure that those closest to you and your husband remain loyal?”

“Some things should transcend money,” said Mrs. Jennings. There was no desperation in her voice, only sad disappointment.

“We all have to make choices. Ortiz knew what she was doing,” said Taj, rising and dusting off his pants.

Ortiz and who else? There was still one unexplained factor. The Man. Was Taj just not telling me about him? Was that his plan B? Not wanting to inadvertently give away any info, I kept my mouth shut. Last time I rushed into action I was hopping down the wrong rabbit hole, and this tea party wasn't so pleasant. The Man fit in here somewhere.

“Come.” Taj helped Mrs. Jennings gently to her feet. Before he took her away, I had to let her know that the scuff marks from her shoes helped us track her, so that she could do it again.

“Did you have to be so rough, dragging her? Look what you did to her shoes! They're so scuffed, they're ruined!”

Taj looked almost offended. “If they're ruined, it's her own fault for fighting us. And look at yours. Not in the best condition either, and you weren't dragged.”

I gave him a fierce glare. “They're not meant for running through sewers or climbing mile-long stone staircases.”

“We do what we must.” He turned his attention back to the First Lady. “This doesn't have to be painful, Mrs. Jennings. Don't make us drag you again. I might be forced to ask my associate”—he inclined his head at Luca—“to take the fight out of you. A little knock to the head and we'll carry you out of Italy. Either way, you're coming with us. And that warning goes for being quiet too. One scream…” The threat hung there, unmistakably clear.

He beckoned to Luca, who took his place next to Mrs. Jennings so he could shepherd her out of the room. She cooperated.

“Be careful,” she called without looking back. “Thank you for all your help and concern. Don't worry, I'll be all right.”

“Of course you will, Mrs. Jennings,” Taj said. “We really don't want to harm anyone, as long as no one does anything stupid.”

Kevin snorted and Sophie kicked him. Good for her. The last thing we needed was to make kidnappers with guns angry.

Taj came over to me and crouched down. I shrank away, but he bent closer, forcing me to listen to him as he whispered in my ear.

“I'm sorry, Bec—at least, for doing this to you.” Gone was his arrogant, self-assured façade. He almost sounded truly regretful.

All part of the act,
I told myself. Prison alone wasn't enough—and he was going there, for a long time, no matter what I had to do. Plans to expose him on the World Wide Web flashed through my mind.
Yes, I'm working on that now too. It's my mission. After I get out of here.

I played it cool. “I find that hard to believe when I'm zip-tied to an iron railing and left to rot.”

“Once we're safely out of the country, I'll tell someone where to find all of you. And it's okay to scream. The bakery's empty until early morning and all this stone deadens any sound.”

“How thoughtful.” While Kevin and I sent death glares, Sophie blanched from fear.

With a gentle finger stroke on my cheek, he said, “I really am sorry.” He stood. Taking a last, lingering look at me, he said, “You're pretty, even when you're mad.”

Mad, Taj? I was beyond being mad. “Hell hath no fury” didn't even
begin
to describe how mad I was.

 

TRICKS AND TIPS FOR
THE EDGE-Y GIRL

Silly girl! Plastic anything—jewelry, shoes, and bags (except for a waterproof beach tote)—is for kids. Go for grown-up leather, silver, and gold.

28

“This is great. Just great,” Kevin muttered when we all heard the distant slam of the door that led into the alley. He banged his head against the railing in frustration.

“It could be worse.” I said.

“A
lot
worse.” Sophie sniffed. “We could be dead.”

She was right. We were still alive, and that meant we had a chance to escape and help Mrs. Jennings. Kevin wrestled in his ties, shaking the iron screen. I thought I heard the cracking of plaster.

“That's not helping,” I snapped. “Do you want this thing to come crashing down on us? Every time you move, you make the zip ties tighter. These things are hard enough to get out of,” I said.

Sophie's laugh was desperate; she was on the edge. “What are you, some kind of a ninja? What type of boarding school did you go to?”

“Probably juvie,” Kevin said not so under his breath.

I shot him an evil look. “Well, my education is going to be worth more here than your extensive knowledge of fine Italian leather.”

Sophie looked tearfully hopeful. “Can you really get us out?”

I felt a little smug. “I can.”

“This I'd like to see,” said Kevin. “Whatever you're going to do, make it quick. They could decide to come back. Not leave any witnesses…”

I gulped. Taj said he didn't want to hurt anyone, but I'd be an idiot if I believed him. Parker got hurt. Plus, he hadn't said anything about Ortiz or Luca. Mentally, I shook myself.
Focus!
I'd tensed up when my ties had been put on, knowing how to gain a few more millimeters of slack, all that I needed to work my way out.

“Hold still and don't ask any questions. I have to concentrate. And don't
move
!” I ran my fingertips along the railing. It was old and rusty with rough edges. Very cautiously, I rubbed the plastic band against the edges, up and down, as high and low as I could manage. Unfortunately, Luca bound us with thicker ties, the kind used for bundling electrical cords, not the nice skinny ones our gardener used to trellis the roses.

“Are you done yet?” Kevin whispered.

“Shut up and let me concentrate,” I growled. “Work on your own ties. Rub them against the rough edges of the railing, but try not to pull on them or you'll make them tighter.”

Snap!

I was free!

Scrambling to my feet, I dug in my pocket for my phone.

“What are you doing?” Kevin screamed. “Get us out first!”

“Trying to reach Candace.”

I stopped. If I used my phone, Taj or Ortiz would know we were free because of the spy app she'd downloaded. And I couldn't take a chance that she hadn't done the same with Kevin's and Sophie's phones. I couldn't tell Candace anything until I could use a phone I was sure Taj hadn't touched.