Uneven Exchange (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

PHONE HOME

Drug Enforcement Administration

National City, California

Kevin

The shrill ring of the telephone broke Special Agent Kevin O’Neil’s concentration. Frustrated by the disturbance, he abruptly snapped up the receiver and responded with a curt “Yeah?” before quickly adding, “O’Neil here.” He could instantly hear the delay of a long-distance telephone call.

“Hey, SAC.” Conner emphasized the acronym for special agent in charge. “It’s me, Reeves,” he shouted more loudly than necessary. The agent’s voice echoed, as if he was in a large, empty space.”

“Conner, keep it down,” Kevin heard Armando caution in the background. “Remember our neighbor.”

“What’s up?” Kevin asked.

“You are
not
going to believe this.” Conner lowered his voice. “We may have found Daniela Santiago’s twin sister.”

Kevin bolted upright. “Twin sister?” he asked. “To my knowledge, she doesn’t have a twin. Have you been hitting the tequila?”

“I’m not kidding, SAC. And no, I haven’t been drinking. Not even a beer. But Mando and I sure did hit the jackpot. I’m telling you, this woman we discovered really looks like Daniela. Maybe it’s one of those separated-at-birth things.”

“I think you’ve been watching way too much television.” While speaking, Kevin grabbed a blank pad from the side drawer of his desk and reached for a pen. “But seriously,” he continued, “if what you’re telling me is true, I can only imagine the possibilities.”

“I know. Mando and I have been planning nonstop. We—”

“Conner, hang on a sec. I can tell that Scott will need to hear this too.” He punched the red hold button and then the extension marked
S. Riggins
. “Scott, if you’re in there, pick up on line one.” Without waiting for a response, Kevin returned to his call. “Okay, Conner, let’s have it.”

“Riggins here.” The assistant special agent in charge picked up the line.

“We’re on with Conner. He’s got news about Daniela.”

“Hey, Riggs,” Conner said. “Okay, as you know, we have Daniela Santiago under complete surveillance. Even this morning, right before we left for Cozumel, she was still in her condo here in Cancun. Then, less than two hours later, we see this female that looks just like her, only with blondish-brown kind of hair instead of black. It’s unbelievable! From what we can tell, they look pretty much like identical twins.”

“Who is she? What have you found out about her?” Kevin asked, then unconsciously printed Daniela’s name on his notepad.

“We followed her to the Mayan Sun condos, and leave it to Mando,” Conner said, “he’s going out tonight with the condominium manager who gave us the lowdown.”

Growing impatient, Kevin pressed, “Tell us, then. Who is she?”

“Her name is Alexandra Callet. She was one of the first buyers in the complex about three years ago. Now for the best part. Miss Callet lives in San Diego! According to the manager, she comes to Cozumel, always alone, about four times a year.”

“San Diego?” Kevin asked while scrawling the information. “Do you have anything else?”

Almost sounding disappointed, Conner responded, “Well, so far, that’s it. We wanted to call you as soon as possible.”

“No, I’m glad you did,” Kevin told him. Then, in a more authoritative voice he said, “I don’t know how he can keep track of all their names, but tell Armando his hot date is going to have to wait. You guys better take the very next flight home. I assume everything’s in place with Daniela?”

“We’re all finished,” Connor responded, a smile in his voice. “Audio is set. Visual is set. Phones are tapped. There are three cameras, set on Motion Detect, covering every corner of the living room, dining room, and kitchen. We decided to give her some privacy and left out the bathrooms and bedrooms.”

Scott jumped in to ask, “How did you handle the audio?”

“The audio is combined with the video for any conversations in the condo,” Conner explained. “She has a land line, like most people since the cell service can be spotty. The tap on that phone feeds directly to you guys. We cloned her mobile and can listen from either of our phones.”

Kevin stopped writing and increased his focus. “Great job as always,” he said. “I’m sure you all realize this could prove to be a great opportunity. So let’s make the most of it by moving quickly.” Still talking over the phone, although their offices were next door to one another, Kevin fired instructions at Riggins. “Scott, run a skip trace on our target and get me everything that has ever been printed on this little lady. I want it all, an O’Neil special.”

“I’m on it.”

“And Conner, you two hightail it home.”

“Will do, SAC.”

Kevin stood to stretch his legs. “Okay, gentlemen, are we all clear?”

“Clear,” Conner and Riggins responded in unison.

After ending the call, Kevin walked to the file cabinet and pulled out two six-inch-thick folders labeled,
The Magician: File One of Two
, and
The Magician: File Two of Two
. He returned to his seat, dropped both files on top of his desk, and began scanning their many sections. Picking up the second file, Kevin then turned to the section labeled
Daniela
and reached into a large pocket-style envelope to withdraw an eight-by-ten photograph.

Daniela’s beauty was captivating, her look so vulnerable.
How could she be related to someone as evil as Santiago?
He desperately believed Daniela knew nothing about the violent crimes her brother had committed. Kevin even refused to use her last name and always referred to her simply as Daniela. He could not bear to relate the name of Santiago with someone so pure and innocent.

Kevin looked down, grimacing.
Am I losing control?
As the special agent in charge, he understood the importance of remaining detached. Kevin knew he could not allow Daniela to affect him. Unfortunately, though, she had. From the first moment he met her, Kevin felt an attraction and worried it would cloud his judgment. Even now, as he tried to look away from her haunting image, he found his gaze glued to her picture as he lost himself in the night they first met.

Black tie looked good on Kevin. The formal look of a tuxedo added a striking contrast to his handsome ruggedness. At least that’s what his wife, Casey, said to him while adjusting the cummerbund around his taut waist. At first, Kevin hadn’t realized how upset Casey was until she raised her head to straighten the angle of the bow on his tie. The look in her eyes said it all.

Casey always worried about Kevin’s work, especially when he went out on undercover assignments. However, this assignment incited a different set of emotions. It involved a woman, and he had to dress formally. How many times had he complained when Casey asked him just to wear a tie? Every time they went to a wedding, she had to fight him on his choice of attire. Ties reminded him of work.

Thinking that involving Casey might make her feel better, Kevin had asked for her help with the tux. Unfortunately, the pompous ass at the tuxedo rental shop quickly thwarted his efforts. “What will madam be wearing on this formal occasion?” the little moron had asked. Plus, he wouldn’t leave it alone when Casey tried to explain. “What type of business dinner doesn’t allow wives?”

I should have walked out
, Kevin thought. “No, I should have punched him,” he announced loudly. He laughed at the thought of the scrawny, petite man taking one on the jaw and suddenly became somber, realizing Casey’s worries had been justified.

With impeccable timing, two good-looking and very wealthy bachelors entered the charity gala at the precise moment everyone had taken their seats for dinner. Several carefully distributed hundreds earlier in the day secured them reserved seats next to Señorita Daniela Santiago.

Using assumed names, Kevin and his then partner, Enrique Hernandez, stood confidently behind their chairs during the introductions to their other table companions. Daniela was the third to be introduced. In all his years of marriage to Casey, Kevin had never looked twice at another woman. Yet when he took Daniela’s soft, delicate hand, he’d needed all the strength he had just to let it go.

Kevin interlocked his fingers and rested his forehead on his palms. While staring at Daniela’s image, he wondered how this woman had come to affect him so greatly. With a deep, soul-searching sigh, he slowly walked over to the half-full pot and filled his mug with stale, lukewarm coffee. He then returned to his desk and leaned in to pull the short chain on his lamp. Kevin raised Daniela’s photograph to the light while deciding whether to call Casey.

He lifted his mobile and punched in his code to unlock his phone, then scrolled through the missed calls. Two were from Casey. She had called without leaving a message. While still holding the phone, he considered sending a text but immediately dismissed the thought. His fingers hovered within inches of the glass screen as the inner turmoil raged. Kevin knew he should call her. He also knew he was tired of arguing, and the only way to ensure they didn’t argue was to refrain from talking.

Still hesitant, Kevin decided against calling and returned his phone to the top of his desk. Shaking his head, he half whispered, “This is going to be one long night.”

CHAPTER THREE

THE BOYS ARE BACK

After hearing the elevator stop on his floor, Kevin looked up from his work to peer above the rim of his dime-store reading glasses. He rubbed his stubbly chin as Armando and Conner emerged from around the corner.

“Hey, SAC!” Conner called as they walked toward the open door. “You look like crap,” he announced with his usual boyish enthusiasm. Though nearing thirty, Conner Reeves could easily pass for a teenager. He even dressed the part by wearing one of his many baseball caps with the brim reversed, catcher’s style.

The two agents reached the doorway of Kevin’s office and stood side by side within the frame. Armando, at five feet eleven inches was a fraction shorter than Conner. He narrowed his coal-black eyes and scrutinized Kevin’s rumpled appearance before announcing, “Sorry, boss, but this time I’ve got to agree. You do look like crap.”

“I’ve been working all night. What are your excuses?” Kevin reached across the desk and pulled the short chain to click off his desk lamp. He had meant to turn it off hours before, when sunlight had first flooded the room.

Armando swiftly ran a comb through his straight, black hair, and then he looked down to inspect his attire. “There’s nothing wrong with my appearance,” he announced while straightening the collar of his salmon-colored golf shirt. “But Conner, as usual, is another story.”

Conner’s brow creased. “What?” he asked, pouting as if emotionally wounded. “I don’t see anything wrong with what I’m wearing.”

“I know. I know, Conner,” Armando interjected while laughing. “I’ve heard it before. You take great pride in planning the perfect outfit.”

“Well, I do.”

Armando grabbed the hem of Conner’s aqua Hawaiian shirt with a surfboard pattern, then pried and tugged at it before asking, “How hard was it to pick this shirt?”

“It’s not only the shirt,” Conner combated. “I have it layered,” he teased.

“Wow.” Armando’s tone sounded sarcastic. “It’s layered over a white T-shirt, no less! That must have been hard. Plus, what’s up with these jeans? Could they be any baggier?”

Conner tried to grab the side of Armando’s jeans before saying, “At least mine aren’t spray-painted on.”

“Were you both planning on discussing fashion while standing in the doorway all day, or did you want to come in and get caught up?” Kevin interrupted.

“I just want to be next to Mando and his beautiful brown skin,” Conner replied.

“Reeves, get in here.” Armando dragged Conner into the room. “Sorry again, boss.”

“Yeah, SAC. Sorry.” Conner grabbed one of Kevin’s two side chairs, spun it around, and sat with one leg straddled on each side. He used the chair back as a chin support.

Armando remained standing as he peered at the stack of papers piled on Kevin’s desk. “What have you found out?”

“Only her life story.” Kevin pushed some papers on the top of the pile aside, searching for one in particular: a recent credit card application, complete with a photograph. He also had a copy of Alexandra’s driver’s license but preferred the clarity of the credit card photo. Holding it up, he said, “Here’s your girl.”

Armando took the application and held it out for Conner to see. He read aloud, “Applicant’s name, Alexandra Cole Callet. Address, 734 Bay Bridge Drive, Coronado, California.” He glanced at Kevin and asked, “This address confirmed?”

Kevin nodded as Armando continued reading the telephone number, Social Security number, and work information aloud.

Leaning his chair closer to Kevin’s desk, while balancing it on the front two legs, Conner began rummaging through the pile of additional information. There were copies of her birth certificate, insurance forms, credit reports, loan applications, tax returns, phone bills, college transcripts, real estate deeds, and more.

“I take back everything I said about you,” Conner confessed. He adjusted his cap and scratched at his tobacco-brown hair. “Well, not everything. You do look like crap, but you have been busy. I’m impressed.” He looked to his partner. “We’re impressed,” he corrected. “Aren’t we, Mando?”

“Yeah, boss. You’ve done a good job.”

Kevin reclined in his executive-style chair and crossed his thick forearms. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate the praise, but most of the credit goes to Riggo. He burned up the computer all night.”

As if suddenly aware of Scott’s absence, Armando asked, “By the way, where is Riggs?”

“Yeah, where is that ASAC?” Conner asked, now using the acronym for assistant special agent in charge.

“I sent him home to get some rest.” Kevin stood to stretch before adding, “And that is what we all should do. I’ve been confined to this office for the past eighteen hours, and stale coffee and dried-out donuts are no longer going to cut it for me.”

“Yum,” Conner said. “That sounds better than plane food.”

“You can say that again,” Armando added. “I’m starving!”

“No time for breakfast, huh?”

“Breakfast? We didn’t stop for anything,” Conner explained. “We took the six o’clock from Cancun to Houston, hopped on the red-eye from Houston to San Diego, then drove straight here.”

“Well, I’m glad to see you obeyed orders. Now, obey some more and get out of here.”

“No way, boss,” Armando said. “If we leave you here alone, you are going to get sidetracked all over again. It’s exactly like you said. You need to go home too.”

“You’re right. I do.”

“Did you talk to Casey last night?” Armando pried.

Kevin exhaled loudly. “No, unfortunately I did not. And yes, she called,” he said, anticipating Armando’s next question before it was asked. “I just didn’t take the time to call her back. Crap! Why do I always do this? I don’t know, with the mood she’s probably in, maybe it’s not safe to go home.”

Armando lifted the telephone receiver and held it out for Kevin. “Find out before you get there. Call her now.”

Tempted to heed Armando’s advice, Kevin reached for the instrument, then hesitated. “No, I better face Casey in person.” His short laugh was nervous. “At least she won’t be able to hang up on me.”

“Instead, she’ll be able to throw things at you,” Conner volunteered.

“Gee, thanks, Conner. Fortunately, Casey’s not the throwing kind.”

Conner rose from the chair and gripped Kevin’s shoulder firmly. “Then that’s good. But remember, you can always camp out at my place.”

“Thanks. I appreciate the offer, but hopefully I won’t have to take you up on it.” Using his fingers, Kevin attempted to comb through his matted hair. Over the years, his natural blond color had darkened, and ribbons of silvery gray were beginning to collect at his temples. Abruptly, he stopped to ask, “What morning is this anyway?”

“Saturday,” they answered in unison.

“Saturday? Good. At least the kids should be home,” Kevin offered. “If my phone behaves, maybe we can spend a wee bit of time together.”

“A
wee
bit?” Conner mimicked Kevin’s Irish jargon.

“What can I tell you? My grandfather’s voice lives on. Now, out of here, you two. I’m right behind you.”

“How about Alexandra Callet?” Armando asked. “Are you set on a plan for her?”

“Not set, but close. The main obstacle is whether
she
will choose to cooperate, and that is something I definitely need to discuss with her in person. She’s booked on a flight home tomorrow morning, and I imagine she’ll go into the office Monday. Let’s take the rest of the day off today and all day tomorrow. First thing Monday morning, I’ll make contact with Miss Callet to test the water. You and Conner check the weekend recordings of Daniela, and then we’ll all meet up.”

“Sure thing. We’ll be in bright and early Monday morning,” Conner said. He then glanced sideways at his partner and asked slyly, “Won’t we, Mando?”

“Hey, don’t worry about me. I’ll be here.”

Conner’s laughter echoed down the hallway. “Yes, but in what condition?” he asked. “Especially after SAC has given you the weekend off.”

“Listen, Conner. You worry about your own love life, or lack of it! I can take care of myself.”

Unable to resist, Kevin interjected, “That you can, Armando. Maybe too good.”

“Not you too, boss,” Armando whined. “I get enough abuse from the boy.”

“Ha!” Conner grunted. “Let’s go, Romeo,” he said, motioning to the door.

Armando remained standing by the desk, waiting for Kevin. “Come on, boss,” he urged. “I know you. If you don’t leave with us now, you’ll get stuck here for another couple of hours.”

“Okay, I’m coming.” Kevin grabbed his jacket, felt his pocket for car keys, and left with them. During their ride down to the basement garage, he asked, “Do either of you need a lift home?”

Conner answered, “No, but thanks. We’re all set. I picked Mando up on the way to the airport.”

“Yeah. We’re in the Cherry Bomb,” Armando said, referring to Conner’s candy-apple-red Mustang.

“Oh, you must feel like walking,” Conner threatened.

Before Armando could respond, the elevator door opened. He and Conner said good-bye to Kevin and headed for Conner’s classic car. Kevin smiled at their playful bickering, each harassing the other about his choice of lifestyle.

Armando lived in a downtown loft that was within walking distance from the heart of the Gaslamp District and less than three miles from San Diego’s main airport, Lindbergh Field. The Gaslamp District, a previously run-down section of town, had rapidly been transformed into one of the city’s major attractions. Fine-dining establishments, jazz clubs, and coffee bars had replaced the low-life porn shops, creating a nightlife scene befitting Armando. When not on assignment, he spent many an evening prowling the area.

Conner lived in the vicinity of Mission Valley, about ten minutes from downtown. Unlike his partner, he yearned to settle down. Almost as a gesture of stability, Conner recently purchased his own condominium. Armando was quick to point out, however, that Conner was still not engaged.

The O’Neil family lived farther north in the beach community of Cardiff-by-the-Sea. Without realizing it, Kevin had methodically driven home and made all the correct turns along the way. He pulled into their driveway, turned off the engine, and remained seated. He shuddered inwardly at the thought of another confrontation with Casey. The divorce rate for the Administration had just hit a record high, and Kevin feared she was losing patience with him. He prayed it wasn’t too late for them.

If Casey will give me one more chance, I’ll try harder this time. I will really make an effort.

Kevin exited his truck with clenched fists and a spirit of determination. Fueled by his strong Irish will, he quickly paced up the path leading from their driveway to the front door. One way or another, he planned to convince Casey of his dedication to their marriage. He pulled open the screen, paused briefly to inhale a deep, strengthening breath, and attempted to turn the knob. The door was locked.

“Damn,” he mumbled.

Impatiently, he rang the bell while fumbling through his ring for the correct key. Neither key worked. After trying and retrying each one, Kevin remembered giving Randee his front door key when she had lost hers. His frustration peaked as he restarted his truck and pushed the remote to open their garage door. At least his key to the kitchen door worked.

“Casey, you home?” Kevin called out to the vacated house. After checking for a note and finding none in the usual place by the telephone, he wearily climbed the stairs to take a shower. “Now what am I supposed to do?” he groaned.

The cool pounding water felt great on his tired body. Completely lost in thought, Kevin mindlessly soaped his face and began shaving. How many times had he and Casey attempted to shower together? They could never agree on the water temperature. She always shrieked over how cold he liked it, and he teased that she liked her water hot enough to boil chickens. During every attempt, and after a playful battle with the hot and cold faucets, they either laughed and gave up or turned off the water and made love on the wet floor.

Kevin’s heart ached for his family as he toweled himself off, combed his hair, and splashed on Casey’s favorite aftershave. He then looked around their bedroom, eyed the bed, and wondered if he should take a nap.

“Better not,” he announced to the lonely house, deciding it best to keep his body clock on schedule. Instead, he slid his muscular legs into a clean pair of shorts and pulled a white T-shirt over his damp hair. Aimlessly, he then meandered back down the stairs.

Kevin considered calling Casey’s cell phone but figured it best not to bother her. Instead, he decided to pour himself a glass of sun tea and wait for his family on the back patio. Filled with remorse for not calling her, Kevin hung his head as he walked slowly toward the refrigerator. In plain view on the door, a fluorescent-green flyer caught his attention. It listed Randee’s soccer game schedule and indicated the Cardiff-by-the-Sea Stars were playing the Del Mar Dolphins at noon. The digital clock on their microwave read 12:17.