White Heat (33 page)

“Great to know tangos can masquerade as operatives and lock down the entire facility,” Dare said, angry He was a giant, a bear of a man, and an angry Darius was a frightening sight indeed.

Marc wanted him back doing what he did best. The man was wasted as a Control, no matter how good he was at that aspect of the business. He should be back in the field. But that problem was for another time.

“They didn’t,” Marc pointed out, dragging the coffee carafe across the table, and pouring himself the umpteenth cup of the day. “We made them before they hit the perimeter. At no time was Emily in any danger while they had her in the building. The tangos weren’t informed that the codes for lockdown changed three times a day. Doesn’t mean we couldn’t let it
appear
to work.”

“Bullshit.”

“We had them under surveillance at all times.”

“She’s not under surveillance
now,”
Darius snapped. “And before you tell me we have their flight plan monitored, we can’t see what the hell they’re doing to her
inside
that aircraft. We’d better be able to explain this to Aries or he’ll ream us all new ones.”

“Message received,” Marc told him. “But the end justifies the means, and you know it. Savage is a key player in Black Rose, and we have her in custody and being interrogated as we speak. Yet she
still
managed to grant her people access to this facility.”

“No,” Dare said dangerously “You granted them access to the facility.”

“Six of one. And since I’m the one the buck stops at, that’s my prerogative,” Savin reminded the other man. He didn’t owe his people any explanations for his actions. He’d taken a risk. That was his job. “I wanted to see what lengths they’d go to. If they wanted her dead, either of them was capable of snapping her neck in the first few minutes.

“They didn’t,” Marc pointed out. “And even if they’d
tried,
someone was close enough to prevent them from physically harming her. They were under tight surveillance the entire time. After trying their damndest to kill her, suddenly they appear to want Miss Greene
alive.
I want to know why. And, God damn it, I want to know
who.”

“Could be Black Lily:’ Darius offered. “But so far we have nothing, nada on this new group. Why did they suddenly pop out of the woodwork full grown to demand a billion dollars?”

“By four tomorrow.”

“Yeah. By four tomorrow.”

“We don’t know that these two yahoos are part of Black Lily. Jesus, we’re not even sure that there
is
a Black Lily” Dare was like a pugnacious dog with a bone.

“Yeah,” Marc smiled. “We are. Body scanning revealed they both have the black lily tattoo on their backs. Same as the rose faction. Who is in fucking charge?” I want
that
person. And these two were entrusted to break in here, a big fricking deal. They’ll lead us up the food chain. Unfortunately, Miss Greene is collateral damage.”

“Jesus, Savin,” Darius spluttered, in no way intimidated by who he was talking to. “Try telling
that
to Aries. As soon as he hears what you allowed to happen, he’s going to go in there and have your guts for garters for authorizing this, then he’s going to start reaming new assholes.”

“He has bigger problems at the moment.”

“Yeah,” Dare said grimly. “The tangos are planning to detonate a bomb somewhere in twelve hours. Aries thinks it’s the Vatican. That
would
take precedence.” Darius rubbed an enormous hand across his jaw. “When this all shakes out, Max’ll ask ... You’re tracking their flight plan. Where are they taking her?”

Marc hesitated. “Rome.”

“You BETTER BE SURE ABOUT THIS,ARIES,”ASHER DAKLIN MUTTERED as he, Max, and Navarro strode down the 218-meter-long nave of St. Peter’s Basilica. Even though they were only a few feet apart, the only way Max could hear Daklin was through his headset. They were like lemmings going against the tide as thousands of people swarmed in the opposite direction.

“‘One of the biggest sacred sites in the world’ was what they claimed. Could be any of a hundred
biggest.
I pick this one.” He wasn’t doing this alone. T-FLAC had called in everyone they could. Time was passing as millions of objects all over the world were simultaneously being searched for bombs.

They had people at the Seville Cathedral in Spain. In China, at the Giant Buddha of Leshan Temple. In Indonesia, at Borobudur, the largest Buddhist temple. Cathedral of Saint John the Divine in New York, as well as Temple Emanu-El, the largest synagogue in the world. In Russia, they were frantically searching the Church of Christ the Savior, and in Utah, the Salt Lake Temple. More operatives searched the largest churches, synagogues, temples, and churches in England, Thailand, Mexico, and India. T-FLAC had called in every local, national, and international law enforcement agency and all counterterrorist forces they could get their hands on to assist them on this worldwide bomb hunt.

Max’s gut told him the device was here in Rome. Here in the Vatican. Here in St. Peter’s.

“What if I’m wrong?” he said into his lip mic. “The Pope will run me out of town on a rail? I’m not even a practicing Catholic.”

“Some of us are,” Navarro pointed out.

Max spared a glance for the unhappy crowds being moved around them to the exits. Italian police and military personal had been activated to help with crowd dispersal and control. It was a daunting task moving thousands of people without causing a riot. Even the Swiss guards, in their ridiculous yellow-and-red costumes, were doing a great job moving people along. “Yeah, all these people who came in for the eleven A.M. Mass.” Tourists by the ton, locals, residents. The Vatican was wall—to-wall people, every one of whom had to be cleared to a safe distance. Just in case.

They were frightened, confused, angry, and irritated.

Not that he wasn’t sympathetic to their confusion, but Max was inclined to tell those weeping and wailing that they’d have a hell of a lot more to cry about if they and their precious church were blown to hell and back.

“Move it, people,” he muttered, wanting them out. Thousands of pairs of eyes were searching for the detonation device, sweeping every building, every nook and cranny, every painting. It would take more time than they had. Everyone knew that.

Inside the Basilica alone were forty-five altars to search, hundreds of priceless paintings to inspect and an equal amount of statuary. It was a daunting task. And that was just in the Basilica itself. The Vatican was made up of
dozens
of buildings, each holding thousands of works of art. Any one of which could be hiding the bomb.

Max switched to the open com. “This is Aries, people’ he said in fluent Italian. “We have five hours, seventeen minutes, and a handful of seconds to find our target. If you find anything— anything at
all
suspicious—contact me immediately. Good luck.”

“We’re all gonna need it,” Daklin said in his ear.

“Amen.” That was Navarro.

Eighteen

“BRING HER OUT OF IT. WE’RE ABOUT TO LAND. I WANT HER fully aware when we arrive.” Emily heard the words but her brain had a hard time focusing. The male voice sounded vaguely familiar, but when she tried to put a face to it, her thoughts slipped and slid just out of reach.

Whatever she was lying on was hard, and vibrated in time with the dull droning sound echoing inside Emily’s aching skull. Even the pinprick on her upper arm went barely noticed, although a part of her struggled to make sense of it.

She drifted off, feeling a tag of terror that seemed draped in gauze. She was scared of something. Someone. Who? She dropped into a void.

She woke up to find herself slumped in the backseat of a fast- moving car. Emily slitted her eyes, searching for landmarks.

A sign read: ROMA—FUIMICINO

Rome.

What the hell was she doing in Rome? Her memory of the who and how was perfectly clear right up until the bitch sitting beside her had given her that shot that had knocked her on her ass.

Still, being back in Italy was a plus. Not only did she have tons of friends in Rome, she knew her way around extremely well. All she had to do was figure out a way to get out of the car, and shed be home free.

“Why isn’t she waking up? Did you give her enough of the drug to bring her out of it?”
Now
the voice was familiar. Alistair Norcroft.

“She’s awake,” the woman said, sounding amused.

Emily opened her eyes and sat up. For someone who’d been drugged for at least ten hours, she felt surprisingly good. Thirsty; but other than that, fine. “Care to tell me what you think you’re doing kidnapping me?” she demanded without preamble.

“Ah, there you are. Thank you for joining us.”

“Did I have a choice? Where are we going, and why are you allowed out on the street without a keeper?” Emily tried to put a hand on the back of Alistair’s seat, then realized she was handcuffed with thin plastic cuffs. “Kidnapping is against the law both here and in the States. I presume you’re aware of that, but don’t care?”

Norcroft laughed. “You’re a delight.” He turned around, his elbow on the seat between them. “Do you have any idea what a charming pawn you’ve been to me, my dear Emily?”

“A little unfair not giving me my own pieces to move about.” The lights were synchronized, and every time Emily thought she might have a shot at escaping, the light turned green again. “Isn’t it just a masturbatory effort if you play alone?”

“Oh, you played, Emily. You just weren’t aware of it.”

“You’re the one whose been doing his damnedest to kill me?” The knowledge didn’t surprise her one bit.

Cocking his head, he pursed his lips. “You’ve proven to be a worthy adversary.”

“If you’ve been trying to kill me, then why am I here, still very much alive?” Unless the sick bastard was like a kid pulling the wings off a bug, killing it in increments. The thought scared the crap out of her.

“Anyone who had connections to Richard and his artwork had to die. You must see that. I couldn’t have anyone putting two and two together like Daniel did.”

“Yet here I am.”

“You’ll be my pièce de résistance, my dear.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. Not at all. “How did Daniel figure out what you were doing? What exactly, besides killing people left and right,
were
you doing?”

“Daniel Aries and I were great friends. You weren’t aware of that, were you?” Norcroft smiled, a toothy smile.

“And I’d care why?” Was a light ever freaking going to turn
red?

“Daniel
was the one who came up with the scheme. A brilliant man, I admired him enormously. At first he helped me amass an enviable collection of artwork. Then over the years he made copies that we sold on the black market. It was a lucrative sideline for both of us. And from there . . . Well, that story is for another time.”

Nice to know she’d
have
another time.

“Richard was a selfish, uncouth man.” Norcroft rested his chin on the hand he had draped over the seat back. “His humble beginnings showed in everything he touched. I tried to teach him about art, music, and the like. But he never got it. He was—”

“This isn’t that interesting,” Emily said cutting him off mid oration. “Can you skip to the end?”

“You’re an extremely rude young woman.”

“Thank you.” Their eyes locked. Emily felt as though a thousand spiders walked across her skin. She kept her gaze fixed on his anyway.

He blinked first. “I decided to immortalize Richard,” he continued. “Turn him from a curmudgeonly, selfish, white-trash ignoramus into an altruistic, God-fearing philanthropist.”

“And how did he feel about that?” There had to be a way to get out of this damn car.
Somehow.
And she had to be ready to take whatever opportunity was presented to her. Casually she moved her right foot, resting it on the bump in the middle of the floor. Her knee now blocked Norcroft’s view of her hands as she tried the door handle.

She wasn’t surprised to find it locked.

They’d have to open the door at some point, and she’d be ready. “Richard had no idea. I’m sure if he’d been aware of his surroundings, he might have had an opinion. But he was by that time a vegetable. I had to keep him alive a little longer than I’d planned because his board of trustees wanted to see him once or twice a year. Annoying and inconvenient, but I did what had to be done.”

“Then you killed him. What did his board say about that?”

Norcroft’s smile was bogeyman-under-the-bed scary. “He just flatly refused to see them. I was of course suitably distressed, but very helpful. They found that dealing with me was very much more to their advantage than it had ever been with Richard. They stopped asking to see him years ago.”

“Cut to the chase. Why did you have his art collection copied? Were you trying to defraud the insurance company? Keep the originals to sell? Have the last laugh? What?”

“Don’t jump the gun, dear Emily. That’s for the end of the story.” Alistair glanced at his watch. “Oh, we have a good twenty more minutes to fill before we arrive at our destination. Let me start at the beginning.” He twisted his body around a little more and made himself comfortable.

Pompous ass. Emily turned to look out of the window.
Via Ostiense.
Where were they taking her?

Was Max aware that she was no longer safely ensconced at T-FLAC headquarters? Would he show up to take her to lunch, say, and discover she’d been abducted from beneath his very nose? And wasn’t that nose going to be ticked off.

On the other hand, he was probably off somewhere doing his job and saving the world. It was hard to fault a guy who did save- the-world stuff. There was a reason the man had remained single all these years. Emily wanted to sigh. Trust her to fall for such an inaccessible guy.

“I’ll start at the beginning, shall I?” Norcroft rested his chin on the back of his well-manicured hand as they passed the
Colosseo Quadrato
on the right.

Emily slewed her eyes to look at him. “Why don’t you start at the end and work your way backward?”