In Too Deep (27 page)

“Good guess,” she said.

“I told the team to do whatever they had to do to bring you in. Figured I could explain everything once I met with you face-to-face. I made it clear you were not to be hurt. But you ditched my men and we lost you again.”

“You set me up, damn it. You were dealing para-weapons out of Department A. You knew Max Lucan was getting suspicious, so you put that incriminating file on my office computer. As if I’d be dumb enough to actually use an office computer to keep a file that could get me fired or sent to prison. You don’t think very highly of me, do you, Julian?”

“You were set up, all right,” Julian said. “But not by me. Caitlin Phillips was the one dealing the para-weapons. She’s the person who installed that file on your computer.”

Isabella felt blindsided. “Caitlin?”

“My administrative assistant, remember?”

“Of course,” Isabella said, struggling to process the new information.

“She resigned and then she disappeared. We think one of her connections in the black market killed her.”

“I don’t understand.”

“After we found the file of para-weapons sales on your computer, Max and I tracked it back to Caitlin. But by then she was gone.”

Isabella frowned. “If you know I’m innocent, why are you looking for me?”

“Because you’re in danger. Listen to me, Isabella. Caitlin did one last deal before she was murdered. She arranged an acquisition for one of her clients, a South American drug lord. But the transaction was never completed because the broker got himself shot.”

“That would be Orville Sloan?” Fallon asked, as if he were only remotely interested in the answer.

Julian frowned. “You know about Sloan?”

“J&J is a detective agency, if you will recall,” Fallon said.

Julian sighed. “Right. Sloan was the broker Caitlin used. It looks like he was killed by a disgruntled client. It was bound to happen, sooner or later, given the nature of the profession. But the problem for us is the timing.”

“I’m assuming that means that the broker was shot after he had arranged for the delivery of the artifact but before he told Caitlin Phillips where the package could be found,” Fallon said.

“Yeah, that’s about it.” Julian turned back to Isabella. “Word of the missing artifact has hit the underworld. A lot of people are looking for it, including the drug lord and a certain black-ops agency. The agency wants that para-weapon found before the drug lord gets it.”

Isabella shrugged. “So?”

Julian cleared his throat. “Due to the rumors that circulated after you took off, a lot of people, including, we believe, the drug lord, think that you might be able to find the weapon.”

“Crap,” Isabella said. “Now I’ve got a drug lord looking for me?”

“Luckily I found you first. We have to recover that para-weapon and get it out of circulation. Once the drug lord realizes the Feds have it, he’ll stop looking for you because you won’t be of any use to him.”

“Nice theory,” Fallon said.

“For Pete’s sake, Julian, I can’t just pull missing stuff out of thin air,” Isabella said. “That’s not how my talent works. I need some kind of trail or a connection. Something.”

“Take it easy,” Julian said. “We know the general whereabouts of the weapon because we had a team following Sloan. But they lost him for a short time. When they picked him up again, they realized he no longer had the artifact. And then he got shot.”

“Where did he leave the weapon?” Isabella asked.

“Turns out the broker had a thing about old movies,” Julian said. “He went on a tour of the Vantara Estate. He had the artifact when he went into the mansion, but it wasn’t on him when he came out. We think he left the weapon inside.”

“You’re talking about the old film star’s house?” Isabella asked. “The mansion near Santa Barbara that’s open to the public for tours?”

“That’s it,” Julian said, grim-faced. “Ever been there?”

“No,” Isabella said.

“The house is an architectural monstrosity on the outside, but it’s even more over-the-top inside,” Julian said. “Dozens and dozens of rooms filled with an incredible amount of art and antiques. Sloan’s intention was to get safely away from the estate before letting Caitlin know exactly where he had hidden the weapon.”

Fallon thought about that. “Not a bad hiding place for a paranormal gun that in all likelihood won’t look anything like a real gun.”

“Tell me about it,” Julian grumbled. “I’ve sent people inside the mansion posing as tourists. I even got one of my hunters hired on as a night guard and had him take a look around. I went in myself twice. The mansion is crammed with antiques. It’s like the basement of a very large museum in there. Talk about a needle in a haystack.”

“Now you need Isabella to help you find the weapon,” Fallon said.

Julian looked at him. “We’re on the same side here, Jones. Arcane doesn’t want a potentially dangerous para-weapon falling into the hands of some drug lord who happens to have a little talent any more than the black-ops people do.”

“Agreed,” Fallon said.

“One way or another, we have to recover that artifact,” Julian said. “It’s the only way to guarantee Isabella’s safety. As long as the drug lord thinks she can find it, she’s in danger.”

Fallon looked at Isabella. “Your call.”

She folded her arms and looked at Fallon. “Do you believe him?”

Fallon opened his senses again. Points of light appeared on the multidimensional grid. Connections sparked and flashed, and the sector in which Julian Garrett moved was starkly illuminated in both light and shadow.

“I think he’s telling you part of the truth,” he said. “And I can call Max Lucan to verify.”

Julian looked at him. “You do that. Max will back me up.”

Fallon took out his phone, ran through a list of contacts and punched in a number.

“Lucan? This is Fallon Jones. Yeah, that Jones. I’m with a woman who used to work with you. Called herself Angela Desmond. Her name is Isabella Valdez now. One of your people is here with us. Julian Garrett.”

Fallon went silent, listening.

“Tell me about Caitlin Phillips,” he said after a while.

More silence.

“All right,” Fallon said eventually. “That’s it for now. No, I don’t know yet if Isabella will agree to look for the weapon. It’s up to her. Hang on, I’ll ask her.” Fallon looked at Isabella. “Lucan confirms the facts that Garrett gave us. He says the black-ops people do want the artifact and so does the drug lord.”

Julian looked at Isabella. “Satisfied? Do we have a deal?”

“I’ll look for the para-weapon at the Vantara Estate,” she said. “But no guarantees.”

“Understood,” Julian said. “Thanks.”

She narrowed her eyes. “But I’m with J&J now. If you want to hire me, you have to pay our fees. We charge for this sort of work, you know. We’re running a business here, not a philanthropic society.”

Julian did not argue. “Name your price.”

“Oh, we will,” Isabella said.

Fallon spoke into the phone. “We’ll take the case, Lucan.”

He closed the phone.

Julian cleared his throat and smiled at Isabella. “So, uh, I’ve never actually watched you work. Do you need to examine something that belonged to the broker to pick up the scent or whatever it is you do?”

“I’m not a dog, Julian,” she said.

Fallon did not say a word. He simply looked at Julian with a cold, unwavering stare. Energy crackled in the atmosphere.

Julian reddened. He closed his eyes briefly and then gave Isabella an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that I never really understood how you do what you do. None of us did. All we knew was that you were the best tech we’d ever had in Department A. But I was under the impression that when you searched for something that was connected to an individual, you liked to get a psychic reading on the person.”

“I’m a little touchy when it comes to how I work,” Isabella said. “You’re right. It would be helpful to have some physical contact with an object that the broker, Orville Sloan, also would have handled. The stronger his emotional connection to the item, the better.”

“How about his computer?” Julian said. “He had it with him when he was shot. One of the hunters I had tracking him managed to grab it.”

“That’ll do nicely,” Isabella said.

Fallon looked at Julian. “You can leave now. We’ll meet you at the Vantara Estate tonight. I’ll call you later with a time.”

Julian’s jaw tightened. “I don’t like the idea of leaving Isabella unprotected.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Isabella said. “I’ve been doing fine without any protection from Lucan for the past month.”

“The drug lord is serious,” Julian said.

Fallon looked at him. “So is J&J. Get out of here, Garrett.”

Julian hesitated, clearly unhappy. But he seemed to realize he could not win the argument. He left.

Isabella waited until the door closed behind him. She uncrossed her arms and leaned back against the kitchen counter, hands braced on either side.

“So Caitlin Phillips was the one running the arms-dealing operation,” she said. “I never would have guessed. But I suppose it makes sense. As Julian’s administrative assistant, she had access to all the data and records and connections that Julian had.”

“Maybe.” Fallon pulled out his computer and set it on the dining table.

“When I look at Julian, I see lots of fog, but then I see that when I look at you as well,” she mused. “Everyone has secrets.”

“What are you getting at?”

“I’m a walking lost-and-found department, Fallon, not a human lie detector,” Isabella said. “You’re the one who can assess the subtle details and spot tiny inconsistencies. Do you really think Julian is telling the truth?”

“He definitely wants to recover that device and he needs you to do it. No question about that.”

“But?”

“But I think he knows more about the nature of the weapon than he’s letting on.”

“Well, that’s no surprise.” She hesitated. “So Lucan really is working for a government client. And here I thought Julian was the one doing the illegal deals.”

“It can get complicated in the black market.”

Isabella was quiet for a moment.

“The beagle,” she said, perfectly neutral.

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That’s what Julian and the others used to call me behind my back when I worked for Lucan. Whenever one of the agents came up against a brick wall in an investigation, someone would say, get the beagle. She can find anything.”

“Beagles are born to hunt.”

She brightened. “Never thought of it like that.”

“Doesn’t matter now. You don’t work for Lucan anymore.”

“That’s true.” She looked around the trailer. Tears glistened in her eyes. “I guess I’m going to have to accept the fact that Grandma really did die of a heart attack.”

“I’m ninety-seven percent sure that your grandmother is alive.”

“What?”

He took the calendar out from under his jacket. “I think she left this picture behind because she knew that I’d be with you when you finally came here to the trailer park. She knew I’d recognize it. Your grandmother has gone to ground like the former intelligence agent that she probably is.”

“Are you telling me that Grandma once worked for some secret agency?”

He studied the picture. “Got a hunch she’s hiding out with an old colleague.”

“But that beach scene means nothing to me.”

“It does to me.” He held out the calendar so that she could read the caption beneath the photo.

“Eclipse Arch, Eclipse Bay, Oregon,”
Isabella read. She looked up. “Never heard of the place.”

“I have. Your grandmother is safe, but we can’t risk contacting her until this thing is over. She was right about one thing. Communication between the two of you at this juncture might put both of you in danger.”

“You said if my grandmother was alive, it would change everything.”

“Yes,” Fallon said. “It does.”

S
hortly before midnight, Isabella stood with Fallon in the night-darkened gardens of the Vantara Estate. They were not alone. Julian and the Lucan agent who was posing as a security guard were with them. They all contemplated the theatrically illuminated mansion. With its pastiche of Baroque, Renaissance and Iberian architectural elements, the ornate structure looked like a fairy-tale castle.

“Got to admit, those old 1930s film stars knew how to do over-the-top,” Fallon said.

Isabella smiled. “I like it.”

“Let’s go,” Julian said. Urgency and impatience crackled in the atmosphere around him.

“I’ve got the code,” the hunter said. “I’ll let you into the house through one of the side doors. I turned off the alarm system just before you got here. You’ll have the mansion to yourselves. You should be okay if you stick to pencil flashlights, but don’t turn on any lights in the main rooms. There’s not a lot of traffic out here at night, but the county cops run regular patrols every couple of hours.”

“I don’t need visible spectrum light to do my job,” Isabella said.

The hunter led them through a section of gardens steeped in shadows. He wielded a flashlight, but Isabella knew that he did not need it for himself. His preternatural night vision allowed him to move through the darkness as confidently as if the path were lit with floodlights.

He stopped at a discreetly concealed side door and punched in a code. The door opened. He ushered Isabella, Fallon and Julian into a hallway.

“Got the floor plan?” he asked.

“Yes,” Julian said.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” the hunter said. “I need to check in with company headquarters. Don’t want to break routine or they might send someone to check.”

He closed the door, plunging the hall into darkness.

Fallon switched on a pencil flashlight. Julian did the same. Isabella raised her talent.

There were always secrets aplenty in old houses and the Vantara mansion was no exception. Traces of psi fog swirled in the hallway. Layer upon layer of wispy mists indicated decades of small, private secrets that were nobody’s business but that of the individuals who harbored them. Isabella suppressed her awareness of the old radiation and concentrated on the newer mysteries. As usual in a space that had been well traveled, there was a great deal of fog, including some very hot stuff that she recognized as having been left by the hunter.