Dial (4 page)

“Congratulations,” the stranger said in smooth, perfect English. “I see you've found me.”

“Bingo,” Caylin whispered.

“This mission is getting weirder by the second,” Theresa whispered to Caylin. “Where are we
going
?”

The supposed informant was leading Theresa, Caylin, and Jo through a maze of hallways and tiny, hidden staircases. Apparently El Centro was constructed like a giant labyrinth.

Caylin shook her head. “I have no idea where she's taking us—I just hope there aren't any men with guns waiting for us at our destination.”

At last the young woman stopped in front of a door. She began to usher the Spy Girls into a large, circular office that overlooked El Centro's large dance floor three stories below.

“Quickly,” she ordered, grabbing Caylin's arm and pulling her inside the room.

Caylin raised her eyebrows at her fellow Bondettes as they watched their host dart around the spacious office. The young woman was gorgeous, but her olive-skinned face was lined with worry as she stared out the window, scanning the club.

“Is the place bugged?” Theresa whispered nervously.

The so-called informant was looking under the telephone and between the leaves of a plant sitting on the large glass desk that dominated one side of the room. After another minute of seemingly aimless searching, she closed all the window blinds.

“Do you want to frisk us?” Jo asked dryly.

The young woman took a seat in a black leather armchair and folded her hands across her lap. “Please . . . sit down,” she responded, ignoring Jo's inquiry.

Caylin plopped onto a long sofa. “Don't worry, we would know if someone were observing us.”

The young woman looked doubtful. “One can never be too careful.”

“Are you satisfied that the coast is clear?” Theresa asked.

The so-called informant smiled. “Yes, I'm sure now.
And I'm sorry to appear so paranoid . . . but I don't think I need to tell you what kind of stakes we're dealing with here.”

“We're well aware that the stakes are high,” Caylin answered quickly. There was no disputing
that
point.

“Good. Then we all understand each other.”

Caylin was relieved that this girl—whoever she was—seemed as concerned with safety as the Spy Girls were. And she looked friendly. Caylin could usually spot a phony smile, but this one seemed genuine.

“I hope you are all enjoying your time in Rio,” the young woman said calmly, as if the four of them had just sat down to participate in a tea party. “Our city offers many beautiful sights . . . not the least of which is our male population.”

“So we've noticed,” Jo answered.

Again the stranger's pretty face grew serious. “I'm thankful to all of you for being here—but I'm afraid I don't even know your names.”

The Spy Girls exchanged a quick glance. Part of Caylin wanted to be totally honest with their paranoid hostess.
She seemed completely sincere and trustworthy—but as the girl herself had stated, one could never be too careful. Jo nodded in silent agreement.

“I'm Jacinta,” Jo said, extending her hand. “And my friends are Corinne and . . . uh, Trixie.” She paused. “For now, I think first names are enough.”

The stranger grinned. “And even those are not your real names, I presume?”

“What's your name?” Theresa asked, dodging the question.

“I am Diva—first name only.” She paused. “Now, I am guessing that the three of you would like to know a little about my situation.”

“That's why we're here,” Jo confirmed. “Tell us everything you can.”

Diva leaned forward in her chair and looked each of the Spy Girls in the eyes. “Drugs—and the crimes associated with drugs—have ruined my family,” she said softly. “My father is in grave danger.”

“Go on,” Jo urged. “We're listening.” Her face softened; clearly Diva's words were affecting her deeply.

“This club looks wonderful on the outside,” Diva continued. “People dance, laugh, enjoy the drinks and the music.” She stood up and walked to the window, then peered through the blinds. “You all feel safe here, yes?”

“Yeah,” Caylin agreed. “However. I'm guessing there's a pretty major ‘but' coming.”

Diva nodded. “This place is actually filthy with crime. The big boss of the most powerful drug ring in Brazil oversees El Centro.”

“Uh, wow . . .” Theresa glanced around the office, then back at Diva. “What does that mean—exactly?”

“Information about the drug trade comes in and out of the club every single day. It's Underground Zero.” Diva fell silent, allowing the girls time to absorb her statement.

Caylin felt yet another surge of adrenaline course through her veins. Could Diva be for real? If what she said was true, then all four of them were proverbial sitting ducks. And from the expressions on Theresa and Jo's faces, they were thinking the same thing.

“Should we really be sitting here discussing this, Diva?” The slight tremble in Jo's voice belied her calm
exterior. “Frankly, it doesn't seem as if we should be here
period
.”

“We have every right to be here,” Diva countered. “This is my office.”

“You work here?” Theresa asked.

Diva smiled. “I don't just work here. El Centro is mine. I own it.”

Caylin sank into the cushions of the leather sofa. This new piece of information put an unexpected twist on the mission. Diva's information was certainly explosive—and more dangerous than Caylin had ever imagined.

•  •  •

“I say we pack our bags and head back to the States,” ­Theresa suggested to her fellow Spy Girls. “Our training hasn't prepared us for anything this intense.”

As soon as Diva had revealed that she owned El Centro, Jo had asked her to step out of the office so the girls could converse in private. This thing was seriously sticky.

“What do you think, Cay?” Jo asked, although she already had a feeling that Caylin was going to jump on the let's-run-like-the-wind bandwagon.

Caylin frowned. “If everything Diva says is true, we can assume that she's in business with this drug lord. I don't know how much we can trust her as an informant.”

“Her motives are seriously doubtful,” Theresa added. “I mean, if this dude goes down, who knows what happens to El Centro?”

“Not to mention the fact that the club was very likely built with drug money,” Caylin pointed out. “Diva owes her livelihood to the Big Boss.”

Jo sighed. She couldn't refute anything that Theresa and Caylin had said. But there was something in Diva's eyes that Jo responded to. She had recognized Diva's pain and desperation, her fervent wish to extricate her family from the clutches of the drug trade.

“I think we should stay,” Jo said firmly. “I haven't been in Diva's exact situation, but I know where she's coming from.”

“I don't know, Jo. . . .” Theresa bit her lip. “I mean, Jacinta.”

“Drugs and crime killed my own father. I know the anguish these people cause and the power they wield.”
Jo lowered her voice. “It's likely that Diva
can't
get out from under the hold of the Big Boss. Putting him in jail, where he can't hurt her family, is her only hope.” She paused.

“In other words,
we're
her only hope,” Caylin said.

“If we can help her bring down the drug lord, she can save her father and get her life back. If I were in her place, I would do whatever it took to accomplish that—no matter how dangerous it was.” Jo was quiet as they all considered their dilemma.

“I guess we're going to have to give it a shot,” Theresa said finally. “We'll do it in memory of Mr. Carreras.”

“I'm in.” Caylin walked to the door of the office. “Shall I invite Diva back inside?”

Jo nodded. Well, that was that. They would leave Brazil victorious—or in body bags.

Diva strode into the room and put her hands on her hips. “So? Will you help me?”

“We're all in this together now,” Jo assured her. “We'll do whatever it takes.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much.” Diva beamed. “I
don't know exactly who you girls are, but I'm glad you showed up.”

“So what's next?” Caylin asked. “We need a plan—a good one.”

Diva nodded. “To pull off an effective sting operation, our story has to be airtight.”

“Here's the deal,” Jo explained to Diva. “As far as you know, the three of us are filthy rich American debutantes, out to expand our fortune by getting into the drug trade.”

“We're rebelling against our parents and lusting after a taste of the glamorous life,” Theresa added excitedly. “We love danger, adventure—”

“I get the picture,” Diva said with a laugh. “And I think it's a perfect cover. I mean, who but spoiled American brats would have access to so much cash?”

“Not
all
Americans are shallow,” Caylin reminded Diva. “Some of us care about more than money.”

“Well, luckily for us, money is the
only
thing the boss cares about.” Diva took out a pad and pen and began to take notes. “Now, we must decide what kind of offer you girls will make.”

“Um, ten thousand dollars?” Theresa suggested. “That should buy the Big Boss enough cocaine to theoretically ruin the lives of every member of a small town.”

Diva snorted. “Ten thousand is small change to these men, Trixie. I'm going to suggest that you offer him five hundred thousand dollars to start with.”

Jo gasped. “Five hundred
thousand
dollars? Are we discussing American dollars?” She had never even conceived of that much money in one place at one time.

“Whoa . . . that's a lot of moolah,” Caylin whispered. “Even for three rich debs.”

“But Diva is right,” Theresa said. “This man is probably used to trading millions of dollars' worth of cocaine at one time. If he's going to take us seriously as investors, we have to be in his league.”

“Yes, now you understand.” Diva smiled, her cheeks flushing. “If anyone questions the source of your income, you can say that you just came into the money from your trust funds, yes?”

Jo had to admire Diva. She was both smart and fearless—two of Jo's favorite qualities. For the first time, she
began to feel confident about the mission. Thank goodness Diva thought the Big Boss would be interested in a straight cash investment. The trio wouldn't have to purchase drugs directly from anyone. Phew! Even if it was for a good cause, Jo didn't want to be on the receiving end of
any
amount of
anything
in the “this is your brain on” department.

“Half a mil it is,” Jo said decisively. “What next?”

“I'll mention to the boss that you girls were around, looking to get into the business. I'll let him know that I have every reason to believe that working with you would be profitable.”

“Do you think he'll bite?” Caylin asked.

Diva nodded. “The man is greedy. He won't let this opportunity pass him by.”

“It's imperative that we meet with him personally,” Jo said. “That's the only way we can ensure that the sting will work.” She wasn't going to risk another lack-of-evidence case. Jo wanted to make a hundred percent sure that the creep got what was coming to him.

“I'm sure I'll be able to set up a meeting between you and the big boss . . . eventually,” Diva allowed.

“What do you mean, ‘eventually'?” Theresa asked.

“The man himself won't meet you face-to-face until you're approved by some of his underlings. If they give you the go-ahead, he'll invite you to his home.”

“Underlings?” Jo pictured heavyset thugs with greasy hair and huge gold chains. Double gross.

Diva wiggled her eyebrows. “Believe me, that will be the most fun part of this adventure. The guys who work for the boss are . . . well, extremely attractive. And they'll take you to the most happening places in Rio.”

“Hmmm . . . sounds interesting,” Caylin said. “Do they like blond Americans?”

“I don't need to remind you two that the guys in question are dangerous
criminals
,” Theresa piped up. “There will be no romantic encounters. None.”

Leave it to Theresa. “Absolutely. No romance. Now . . . do we have plan A?” Jo looked from her fellow spy girlies to Diva.

“Yes, it's a plan,” Diva answered. “Shall we shake on it?”

As Jo gripped Diva's hand in her own, she uttered a silent prayer. They needed all the help they could get.

•  •  •

“What
time
is it at The Tower, anyway?” Theresa stifled a yawn as Caylin dialed Uncle Sam's private phone number.

“Who cares? Early, late . . . Uncle Sam never sleeps.” Jo had kicked off her high heels and was stretched out on one of the luxurious oriental rugs that covered the floor of the living room.

“Kind of like us,” Theresa commented. The short nap she had taken on the plane seemed a lifetime ago. But the girls wanted to share their information with Uncle Sam before they retired to their rooms. Staying in close and constant touch with The Tower was their best safety guard.

“Good evening, Spy Girls.” Uncle Sam's voice came over the speakerphone. “Were you successful tonight?”

Caylin leaned toward the phone. “We met with the informant. She seems to be on the level.”

“And you all agree on that score?” Uncle Sam asked. “One can never be too careful.”

The girls giggled. “That's exactly what she said,” Theresa told him.

There was a pause. “So the informant is a female. Interesting.”

“You're not going sexist on us, are you?” Jo asked him.