White Mountain (35 page)

“Good morning, Jack.
 
I hope I’m not calling too early.”

“No, sir.
 
I was up.
 
In fact, I was up most of the night.”

“Burning the candle at both ends?”

“Ross broke into Isabella Abbott’s room last night.”

“Was she harmed?”

“No, and he got away.”

“I think it’s time we got a tem in there.
 
Did some serious searching in the mountains.”

“Yes, sir.
 
I concur.”

“I’ll have them there before the day is over.
 
You’re in charge.
 
Tell them everything you know, but stay on-site at the hotel.
 
Until we know why Miss Abbott is the target, I doubt it will be safe to leave her alone.”

“Yes, sir.
 
I already told her as much this morning.”

“You’ve already talked to her?”

Jack hesitated briefly, then spoke.

“She spent the remainder of the night in my room, sir.
 
I felt it was safer guarding her here, since Ross gained entry into her room with a key.”

“Remember what you’re about, Dolan.
 
Don’t get business mixed up with anything personal.”

“Well, it’s too damned late for that, sir, but I’m handling it.
 
That’s all I can say.”

“Damn it, Dolan, that’s against policy and you know it.
 
It taints the investigation.
 
If this goes to court…”

“So far, sir, the only crime that I even suspect these me of is faking their own deaths.
 
Yes, they assumed false identities, but they’re well thought of in the community, and a couple of them founded a fertility clinic here that seems to be thriving.
 
There was no record of anything of value going down in the plane but the men themselves.
 
No missing money.
 
No government secrets.
 
And, according to the latest info I got from Quantico, they have not profited in any way from living under their assumed names.
 
They don’t draw social security or Medicare or anything one would normally expect from men of their ages.
 
As far as I can tell, they were seven men who quit who they were to become someone else.
 
I don’t know why our Soviet friends were so interested in Frank Walton, or why Ross tried to get Isabella, but unless the old men start talking, we aren’t going to find out.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because they’ve reached the age where the threat of death is no help in making them talk.”

“Hmm…then maybe you’ve just answered your own question as to why Ross tried to get to Isabella Abbott.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“Maybe our Soviet friend wants some answers, too, and figures the best way to get to the men is through her.”

Jack shoved his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“Yes, I’ve already thought of that.”

“Well fine, but you’re too close to the situation.
 
Now put some distance between you and the woman so your brain has something to think about besides her, okay?”

“Okay.”

I want this man alive.”

“I’ll do my best.
 
Oh…I almost forgot.
 
I got some interest info from Quantico.”

“Like what?”

Every one of the doctors who supposedly went down in that plane was working on similar medical research.”

“What was it?
 
Chemical warfare?”

“No. Oddly enough, they were all researching DNA…you know, gene manipulation geared toward curing disease.
 
From what I learned, they were pretty far ahead of the times for the sixties and seventies.
 
And that’s not all.
 
Right before they all disappeared, there were reports that their grants were being pulled and their studies were going to be over.”

“So what are you saying?
 
That you think they faked their own deaths out of something like spite?”

“I’m not drawing any conclusions.
 
I’m just telling you what I know.”

Jack heard the director’s frustrated sigh and knew just how he felt.

“Sir…short of arresting everyone, with no evidence to back up the arrests, we’re doing all we can.”

“All right, but remember why you’re there.”

It was an indirect order for Jack to back off from Isabella.
 
He head, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to obey.

He hung up and clipped the cell phone to his slacks as he headed out the door.
 
It had been almost an hour since he’d seen Isabella, and it felt like forever.
 
He took the stairs at a jog.

Isabella saw him coming down the stairs.
 
When the mere sight of him made her heart skip a beat, she knew she was lost.
 
He wasn’t at all like the men she’d grown up around.
 
No blue jeans, no Stetson, no cowboy boots.
 
He didn’t chew tobacco or drive a pickup, and she was assuming he didn’t own cattle or several thousand acres of ranch land.
 
But his soft, southern drawl made her weak with longing, and his mouth made her think shameless thoughts.
 
His body was long and lean and hard as a rock, and he made love to her like a thief, stealing her sanity and, finally, her heart.

“Jack…I’m here,” she called.

He turned toward the sound of her voice, and when he reached her, he picked her up off her feet and swung her around where they stood.

Isabella gasped and then laughed aloud, causing several diners’ heads to turn.

“You crazy man.
 
Put me down.
 
People are looking.”

“Let then watch,” he growled, and then centered a swift kiss o her lips.

“What happened to you?” she asked, when he finally put her down.

“Nothing.
 
I just missed you.”

“I have to go to the hospital at eleven and bring Uncle Thomas home.”

Jack thought of the impending arrival of the search team and figured he still had some time to spare.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Thank you.
 
I would appreciate it.”

He grabbed her by the hand.
 
“Come on, honey.
 
One thing at a time.
 
First we eat, and I’m starved.”

Isabella went where he led her—because she wanted to go, and because it was a good reason to put off the inevitable confrontation with her uncles.

As they passed under the painting, Jack glanced up.
 
The Mona Lisa smile on the first Isabella Abbott’s face was haunting.
 
She knew all the answers, but she was in no shape to tell.

As they walked on past, he wondered whether even if she was still living, she would be any more cooperative that the uncles had been.
 
He doubted it.
 
She had to be the lone woman from the photograph taken at the plane.
 
Whatever was going on, she’d known about it, and she’d taken the knowledge to her grave.

Maria Silvia’s heart was pounding as an orderly wheeled her into surgery.

“There’s our girl!”

She turned her head and saw her doctor’s eyes smiling at her over his surgical mask.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked.

Tears rolled from the corners of her eyes.

“I have been waiting for it all my life.”

“Great.
 
We’re ready to go, too, so I want you to relax.
 
This team is the best, and what we’re going to do has been done here thousands of times before.
 
Now, I want you to relax and let us do the work.”

“Okay,” she said.

“And no more tears,” David said.

She closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry.

“No more tears,” she promised.

She felt a prick in her arm, and then everything went gray.

It was three o’clock in the afternoon when the front doors of Abbott House opened with a bang.
 
Delia looked up just as a half-dozen men swarmed toward her.
 
They were backpacked and booted and dressed in camouflage gear.
 
And they were all packing guns.

She hadn’t been on the premises when the break-in had occurred, but she’d heard all about it.
 
Fearing more of the same, she ran toward the office, calling Isabella’s name as she went.

Isabella was up to her eyeballs in monthly reports when she heard the panic in Delia’s voice.
 
She bolted from her desk, meeting the little desk clerk at the door.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Delia pointed.

Isabella looked over Delia’s shoulder.
 
More than a dozen men were standing in the lobby, and she knew who they were looking for.

“You finish the workman’s comp report and I’ll handle this.”

“It’s a deal,” Delia said, and shut herself in the office.

“Gentlemen.
 
Welcome to Abbott House.
 
I’m Isabella Abbott, and I’m guessing you would be looking for Jack Dolan.”

“”Yes, ma’am.
 
Agent Travis at your service.”

“Will you be needing rooms?” she asked.

“No, Ma’am.
 
We’ll be on the mountain.”

“It gets pretty cold up there this time of year,” Isabella warned.

“Yes, ma’am.
 
A sure sign the snakes won’t be out.
 
I hate snakes.”

Isabella grinned.
 
“Make yourselves comfortable, and I’ll tell Jack you’re here.”

She called his room, but he didn’t answer.
 
Frowning, she hung up the phone and then headed for the stairs.
 
Even after she knocked twice, there was still no response.
 
She turned the knob out of habit, assuming that it would be locked.
 
Surprised when it turned in her hand, she pushed the door open a few inches and called out.

“Jack!
 
It’s me!
 
Are you decent?”

When there was still no answer, she opened the door a little wider, and as she did, heard the shower running in the bathroom.
 
Hesitating, she started to go back out and then thought of the men waiting downstairs.
 
Jack would want to know they were here.
 
He’d been waiting for them most of the day.
 
She stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

“Jack!
 
Hello!”

No response was forthcoming.

Rolling her eyes at her own audacity, Isabella started toward the bathroom, calling his name as she went.

Jack was rinsing the shampoo out of his hair when he thought he heard someone call out his name.
 
Stepping back from the spray, he listened for a few seconds, but heard nothing.
 
Shrugging, he finished rinsing out the suds and then turned a couple of times beneath the jets to wash the shampoo off his body, too.
 
He turned of the water and then shoved back the shower curtain.
 
Isabella handed him a bath towel.

“You didn’t lock your door,” she said.

He took one look at the blush on her face and grinned.

“Subliminal messaging,” he said, as he wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower.

“The search team is downstairs,” she said.

He started unbuttoning her blouse.

“We don’t want to get this pretty blue shirt wet.”

Isabella’s eyes widened.

“Jack…we can’t do this now.
 
They’re downstairs and they’re armed, for God’s sake.
 
Delia nearly came undone.”

“The only thing that’s coming undone are your clothes,” he whispered, and slid a still wet hand down the front of her breast.

The fluid warmth of his touch was as erotic as anything Isabella had ever felt in her life.
 
She sighed, unwilling to argue with him anymore.
 
All she wanted was Jack.
 
On her.
 
Inside her.
 
Now.

When he backed her toward the bed, she picked up the phone.
 
Without looking, she dialed the office.

Delia answered.

“Delia, tell the men that Agent Dolan has been detained.
 
Send them to the dining room.
 
Feed them anything they want, on the house.”

“All right, but don’t you—“

Isabella hung up.