Chapter Twelve

By the time her flight landed in San Antonio, Faith felt as if every nerve in her body had been unwrapped and sandpapered. There was no message on her cell phone from Eric Latrobe, and the more she thought about her meeting at Fort Bragg, the madder she got. Time was spinning out of control, and she was powerless to stop it. Maybe if she could at least figure out where in Peru Mark was . . . No. Who the hell was she kidding? She had no way to mount a rescue operation. She had no contacts, no resources.

And she didn’t think Trey Winslow would stick his neck out for her. It wasn’t just that he put his image and position before anything else. She’d learned that during her first interview with him. No, it was something else. Trey wasn’t one ever to get his hands dirty with something that might spray blowback on that carefully constructed political career.

But who the hell else was there? All through the plane ride she’d racked her brain for a name, a contact. Anything at all. A place to start.

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear,” Tess said when she pulled up outside baggage claim, “but you look like shit.”

“And thank you so very much.” Faith fastened her seat belt, then leaned back and closed her eyes. “Could I please wake up and find out it’s last week instead of today?”

Tess was silent while she negotiated the exit traffic. “You know,” she said once they were on the interstate, “we’ve known each other a long time. I’d like to think by this time you felt you could trust me with whatever it is that’s dragging you down.”

“Oh, Tess.” Faith pressed her fingers to her temples. “I’m not sure I’d even know where to begin.”

“Why don’t you just lean back and relax for the moment. We’ll pick up the food and get to your house. I’ll show you what I’ve found digging around on the Internet. And maybe that will shake a few things loose from you.”

Faith had seldom been so glad to arrive home. She put her laptop on the floor next to her overnighter and tossed her purse onto the little hall table.

“I need to check my email and answering machine before I do anything. Abby’s probably going crazy. I haven’t answered any of the messages she left on my cell phone so there have to be a ton of them here.”

“No. Go shower, we’ll eat, then you can play catchup. Give yourself a break.”

Faith showered and pulled on shorts and a T-shirt while Tess set out the food. She called Abby and soothed her anxieties, then allowed herself to be distracted from any messages that might be waiting for her. However, she resisted Tess’s efforts to get her to eat before looking at what the latest research had uncovered. She was too edgy and too anxious to see what the Internet had turned up. They sat at the kitchen table, sharing sweet and sour shrimp and cashew chicken while Tess dug the printed sheets out of her briefcase.

“Okay. You said to focus on Peru, so I Googled anything with Special Ops related to it.” She chewed on a crisp noodle. “Of course, as you can imagine, all I found was whatever they approved for release after a mission. These guys have been active against the drug cartels in the countries all along the Andean Ridge. Here.” She pulled out a printed map.

“How recently?” Faith asked. “How new are the news items you found?”

“The last story was about two months ago. And you can figure that’s well after the fact.”

Tess continued. “So then I tried to figure what other kinds of things go on down there that would merit covert operations, something that would be the basis for a good plot for you.” She slid another sheet to the top of the pile. “This wasn’t connected to Special Ops, at least in specific stories. But there’s growing concern about the rise of Al Qaeda in Peru. Experts—whoever they are—claim they’re stepping in to fill the terrorist void left by the decline of Shining Path and one other group, a smaller one. Faith, this stuff scares the shit out of me. Surely you aren’t thinking of getting involved in this.”

Faith pulled the paper over closer to her, ignoring Tess’s words. “This says they’ve been responsible for small terrorist actions but their activities are escalating. The assumption is they’ll use this is a launching pad to move north through the rest of South and Central America and up to the states.” She sat back in her chair. “Jesus.”

“Jesus is right.” Tess quirked an eyebrow at her. “Is this what you were looking for?”

“Maybe more. We need to find out if Delta Force, the army’s Special Ops division, would be sent down there to handle anything like this.”

But I know they would. That’s why Mark and his team were there. And these people are known for horrific torture. Oh, God, Mark. I need help here.

“Faith.” Tess put her hand on Faith’s arm. “I know how you immerse yourself in your stories. Do not go off to Peru where you are very likely to get yourself killed.”

But Mark is there. If I don’t do something, he’s the one who’ll be killed.

“All right. I can see you aren’t paying one bit of attention to my warning. Why did I think you would?” Tess refilled their cups with hot tea from the ceramic pot. “But I’ve done my part. Now I think it’s time for you to come clean with me. Why the sudden change of plot? Abigail has to be having a fit.”

Faith laughed, the first taste of humor she’d had in two days. “Abigail’s fits are legendary, but she gets over them.”

“But you have a reason for this, Faith,” Tess insisted. “I know you too well.”

Faith stared at the woman she’d worked with for ten years now. Tess was more than an assistant. She was a friend, a confidant, a one-person support group. But in all this time Faith had never revealed anything to her about her special abilities. Or The Lotus Circle. Or how Aunt Vivi had helped her all these years. Somehow she’d always had the feeling Tess would look at her as too weird, and it would fracture a wonderful friendship.

But now, maybe she was left with no choice. She’d gotten nowhere at Fort Bragg, and no one else would believe one word of what she had to say. She pushed the remains of her food around on her plate, trying to find a starting point.

“Just let it out, Faith.” Tess leaned toward her. “Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than keeping it inside. And maybe I can help.”

Refilling her teacup, Faith took a calming breath and began her story.

* * * * *

“We won’t get shit out of Fort Bragg.”

Rick stomped into the cabin seconds after the helicopter set down and tossed his sport coat on a chair. He wanted to wring someone’s neck with his bare hands. At the same time, he understood the frustrating position Colonel Ryan and Major Gregorio were in, but that didn’t solve the problem. No, that would be left to Phoenix to do. And damned soon.

“I take it the visit didn’t go the way you expected?” Dan asked.

“Actually, it did. That’s the problem. I wish I could blame those guys, but someone on top is sitting on this whole thing.”

Rick related his conversation with the two officers almost verbatim, doing his best to control his own irritation with the political red tape that hamstrung them. He wanted to blame someone, but logically that would be the traitor who’d leaked the mission. So he simply passed along what had been said and waited for a response.

Dan handed him a cold drink. “Joey was awake for a while, a bit more lucid, and able to give us some more information. Let me show you. Here’s Iquitos, where they landed.” He bent over the map on the table, his finger tracing a line to a spot marked with a pen.

“Wasn’t the helo drop there a little dangerous? The noise of the bird alone would have warned these people someone was coming.”

Mike, who had been standing to the side, shook his head. “Iquitos is a port on the Amazon. That means there are a lot of places for water landings. The helo dropped them and a Zodiac at night far enough downriver from the target spot. They moved up while it was still dark, ditched the boat, and set up the comm gear at the extraction point.”

Dan picked up the thread again. “By the time the helo would return it wouldn’t matter who heard them. Except the tangos were ready for them. Joey said he got into the position he was to hold, the others moved forward, and all holy hell broke loose.”

“Okay.” Rick’s finger moved over the surface of the map. “Next question. If this was a temporary spot, where’s their permanent encampment? It has to be someplace they could train, also.”

“That’s the rub,” Mike answered. “There’s about five different spots an hour or two away from there. We have to figure out which is the one. And do it quickly.”

“Yeah.” Troy walked in from the bedroom. “Joey’s very uptight about what kind of hell they’ll be putting Halloran through. They’ll want to know who told about this meeting so they can do their own cleanup.”

“One more thing.” Dan’s jaw was set, and a muscle jumped in his cheek. “There was someone meeting with the tangos, I think the real target of this little exercise.” He looked around the table. “The meet was to conduct business with the Wolf.”

The tension in the room ratcheted up several notches. The men knew the Wolf too well by reputation. The most prolific arms dealer in the world, he was the supplier to every terrorist group with the bucks to pay him. In Central and South America, drug money provided an endless bank account to purchase an inexhaustible supply of weapons. He alone had been proven to have supplied the firepower in the worst of the Al Qaeda attacks as well as to have armed the rebels in several third-world countries. In South America he sold to both the drug cartels and the guerillas, creating circumstances that put the government troops at risk on two fronts.

Whoever talked about him did so in whispers. Disloyalty was, in his mind, the worst crime of all. It was rumored he’d personally shot his own wife because he thought she’d betrayed him to one of his enemies. He would go to any lengths to learn who had told the US government about his meeting with El Serpiente. If he thought Mark Halloran could tell him, hell would be a more pleasant place for the captured soldier.

Mike broke the tense silence. “We have to get this going ASAP.”

“But not until we have every bit of information,” Dan told them, “and know exactly what we’re doing. It won’t do Halloran any good if we get shot, too.”

“I’ll boot up the Dragon and get everything I can,” Troy said.

The Phoenix and the Dragon were Chinese good-luck symbols and seemed appropriate for their organization. Dragon was their very sophisticated computer system that had the ability to tap into anything anywhere.

“Remember, guys,” Dan went on. “This is why Phoenix was formed in the first place. To do things the government can’t even consider—off-the-books missions that need doing. And to service corporations that aren’t able to go through normal channels. That’s never been truer for us than right now.”

“Rick.” Mike looked at the tall man staring through the bedroom door at his brother. “Did you get hold of that woman yet?”

“Negative. We’ve been exchanging voice-mail messages.”

“Do it,” Dan told him. “I have an itch at the back of my neck that tells me she’s more involved in this than just someone looking for an interview.”

“You think this is someone who knows Mark? Why wouldn’t she use his name?”

Dan shrugged. “Could be he never discussed us with her. Why would he?”

“I guess for the same reason all he told us about the woman he’s lost his mind over is her nickname. The less anyone knows about his life, the harder it is for anyone to get at him. He’s all about keeping people safe.”

“Well, now it’s time to take the lid off the pot. Find out who she is. She could be someone trying to get information on us and find out if we’re going to do exactly what we’re planning.”

“That would mean someone’s actually admitting they pulled the switch on this.” Mike’s voice was heavy with anger.

“We could sit here and speculate all day,” Dan commented, “and get nothing done. Troy, set up the Dragon and ride its tail. Rick, talk to this woman. Mike, you and I will go over this map again with Joey and expand what we know as soon as Troy gets something for us.” He rapped his knuckles on the table. “Let’s do it.”

* * * * *

The day had not gone well for Mr. Brown and Mr. Green. They’d done a few things they thought would give Faith Wilding at least second thoughts about whatever she was up to, but they all depended on her being home, which hadn’t happened yet. They needed her to check her email and answering machine. And their boss didn’t think too much of their plan. Too many holes, he said.

Now his voice was pounding in Green’s ear.

“What you want to do takes far too much time. We can’t wait to see if you frighten her. And from what I’ve learned about her, she’s one determined bitch, anyway. Get it done.”

Green laughed, an unpleasant sound. “We can’t exactly walk up to her house and shoot her.”

“Be inventive.” The voice was nasty. “That’s what I pay you for. And while you’re sitting on your asses there and making empty gestures,” the voice snapped, “I promise you she’s stirring the waters any place she can. Get her out of it before someone takes her seriously.”

“How do you know they haven’t already?” Mr. Green asked.

“So far we’ve only got kicking and screaming from one source, and I’ve gotten it squashed. All the way down the line. We’re keeping as tight a lid on this as possible, but there’s always some rogue out there who wants to be a Boy Scout. And I certainly don’t want her connecting with Latrobe’s brother.”

“You’re sure that’s who made the snatch?”

“I feel it in my bones. Right now I just see it as a former military person who’s overreacting to those negative reports about Walter Reed. Wants to keep his brother close and doesn’t trust anyone. We need to make sure that’s all it is. That somehow this woman hasn’t gotten to him.” The voice was like a sharp icicle.

“I thought you could find out anything about anyone,” Green said resentfully.

There was a long, empty silence. Green thought maybe the other man had hung up when the hard voice spoke again. “There are some people who know the government so well they can protect themselves from it. Unfortunately.”

Well, well. The great man has found a pie he can’t stick his fingers in.

“So what would you have us do?”

“We know she flew back to San Antonio today. Go there. Dispose of her, and I mean dispose. Forget your stupid plan. Let people think she’s still traveling. Figure out how to accomplish that. Call me when it’s done.”

“But—”

“Don’t give me any more of your crap. Quit stalling and do it. And I don’t want it coming back to me, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.” Green snapped his phone shut and stared at it. He felt a major case of indigestion coming on. He was about to do something for which he was long out of practice, and mistakes would not be tolerated.

“Well?” he partner asked, impatient with the whole thing.

“We’re out of time. His Highness wants this taken care of right now and all evidence swept under the rug.”

Brown snorted. “Easier said than done. Doesn’t he know that?”

“He doesn’t care.”

“So what do we do?”

Green popped a Tums in his mouth. “We get on a plane and go to Texas.”

* * * * *

“That’s quite a story.” Tess finished the last of her tea and wiped her mouth very carefully with a paper napkin.

“But not one you believe,” Faith commented, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Was this where she and Tess would part company? Where her friend would say she couldn’t work for someone this crazy? On the other hand, she hadn’t leaped up from the table, a look of total disbelief on her face.

“On the contrary. I know a lot about psychic powers. My grandmother had them.”

Faith’s eyes popped open. “She did?”

“Yes. She could sense things before they happened.” Tess balled her napkin and threw it on the table. “The family blamed her for a lot of things that weren’t her fault because of that. I wish she’d had something like The Lotus Circle to help her. She could have used the support.”

“Aunt Vivi and her friends have been lifesavers.” Faith sighed. “I don’t know what I’d do without them. And they’ve really helped me with this situation.”

“So all those attacks you’ve had, or whatever you want to call them, have been you empathizing Mark’s pain?”

“Yes. God, Tess, I know he’s in agony. I can’t even begin to imagine the kind of torture he’s going through. What I feel is just empathetic pain. His is the real thing. I don’t understand how he’s even holding on.”

“He’s strong, kiddo. Men like Mark outdo us all.”

“Yes, but where do I go from here? I have to get help from someone.”

Tess began clearing away the debris of their food. “Your friend, Senator Winslow, couldn’t help you?”

Faith made a sound of disgust. “Trey Winslow won’t do anything that would compromise his image or his position.”

Whatever Tess was going to say next was interrupted by the ringing of the cell phone, which Faith had placed on the counter.

“I’ll check your emails,” Tess mouthed and headed for the den.

“Miss Wilding?”

Faith frowned. The voice was unfamiliar. “Yes. Who is this?”

“Rick Latrobe.”

“Rick?”

“You seem to know me as Eric, but I haven’t used that name since I enlisted.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Thank you for calling me back.”

“What can I do for you?” There wasn’t a note of friendliness in his voice. Ice would have been warmer.

Faith clutched the phone. “I-I’m a writer. You may have seen some of my books.” She rattled off some of the titles. “I’m working on a new one about Special Ops, and I was told you might be able to provide me with some information about how the missions are run. I strive for accuracy as much as possible.”

She could feel the chill racing through the connection.

“Can I ask you exactly who gave you my name?” His voice sounded like an executioner’s might—cold, sharp. Emotionless.

No, because my friend found you by hacking into secret databases.

“I’m not sure I remember at this moment,” she waffled. “I’ve been talking to so many people.”

“I see.” Pause. “What is it, exactly, you’re looking for?”

“I actually have a lot of questions. About how things are run, how the—I believe they’re called units—are put together. What happens if a mission goes bad. Perhaps if you tell me where you are, I can fly there and we can meet. Lunch or dinner on me.”

“I see.” The chill escalated, but something more had been added in just those two words. Suspicion.

Faith waited through the silence on the line.

“Sorry. I’ll have to think about that. I’m a little busy at the moment. Perhaps if you could be a little more specific, I could suggest someone else.”

No, no, no. It has to be you.

She was losing him. “Actually, you came so highly recommended I’d prefer to work something out with you. Where are you right now?” she persisted.

“I sense something behind this that’s a little more than just research for a book.” His voice still had that frosty edge. “Otherwise anyone might do, right?”

“I—”

“Miss Wilding. Or whoever the hell you are. Can we just cut to the chase?” If the voice was cold before, it was lethal-sounding now. “What is it in fact you want from me? What’s really going on here? You haven’t made this many calls to me just for some interview. There are resources all over the place you could contact.”

“Mr. Latrobe. Rick. I—”

“Faith?” Tess’s voice from the den. Panicky. “Faith, you need to come here right now.”

“Could you hold on for just a moment?” she told the disembodied voice on the other end of the connection. “Just one second. Please.”

She hurried into the den where Tess had booted up her computer and was checking her emails. A message in large type filled the screen.

DROP YOUR STORY. DON’T TALK TO ANYONE ELSE. THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING. NEXT TIME YOU’LL BE DEAD.

“Oh, my God.” The words fell out of her mouth on a gasp. She dropped into the chair in front of the desk, hands shaking.

“Hello?”

She’d actually forgotten the man on the phone. “Oh! I’m sorry. I . . . Mr. Latrobe. Rick. I can’t talk to you right now. Is there a number where I could call you back in a few minutes?”

“Something’s wrong,” he guessed. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Her voice sounded false even to herself. “I just have to hang up right now.”

“Miss Wilding? Listen.”

“I told you. I have to go. I have . . . my email . . . I just . . .” She couldn’t stop stammering.

“Email?” The tone of his voice had changed. “What kind of email?”

“I can’t . . .” She let out a shaky breath. “I have to check this out.”

“Don’t hang up.” He snapped the words as a command. “I’m going to assume you know who I really am so we can cut through all the bullshit. Has someone sent you a threatening email?”

“Y-yes.”

“Leave it. Don’t touch it. I’ll be in San Antonio first thing in the morning. Whatever’s going on, will you be all right until then?”

“I don’t . . . I guess . . .” Would she? What did this email mean? Was someone even now watching her house?

“I can have someone there in ten minutes if you’re in immediate danger.”

Was she? No, the email was just a warning. She had a little while before the threats would become physical, didn’t she? Didn’t people like whoever this was always give warnings first?

“No. Thank you, but I don’t need anyone right now.” She hoped that was true.

“Lock your doors. Set your alarm.”

“I-I don’t have an alarm system.” But I sure wish I did now.

The silence that followed was so heavy Faith could almost feel it reach through the connection and wrap itself around her.

Then Rick said in a measured tone, “You don’t have an alarm system. Well, isn’t that just great. All right. Then definitely check all the locks. Windows, too. Don’t answer the landline. I’ll call your cell when I get in.”

“What is it you know that I don’t?” She tried to stifle the fear overtaking her. “What’s going on, and why is someone after me?”

“I’ll explain when I see you. But first you can answer some questions for me, and we’ll see where we go from there.”

The line went dead. Faith stared at it before hitting the End button. Then she leaned forward, toward the computer.

“Can you tell where this came from, Tess?”

She shook her head. “It says Admin, but that could be anyone. It’s got to be a false IP address. Call Andy. He can find out for you.”

“No. Not yet.” She couldn’t pull her eyes away from the screen.

“Well, you can believe you’re rattling someone’s cage. And badly, if they’re resorting to stuff like this.” Tess snapped her fingers. “You haven’t checked your answering machine.”

She pushed the button next to the blinking red light that showed fifteen messages waiting. As predicted, several were from Abigail Loudon. Two were from her publicist about a book tour. There were some from her parents wondering when she’d be home. Even one from Andy that made her sit up and take notice.

“Curiosity got the better of me, Faith,” his nasal voice droned on. “Most of the stuff I found I can tell you when you call, but you should know that Mark Halloran spent a lot of down time with Joey Latrobe, his brother, and their friends. Someone who should know—and who’ll deny they ever told me—said there was even an offer on the table to join Phoenix when Mark’s current hitch was up.”

“What?” Faith’s eyebrows rose nearly to her hairline. That was a shock.

“Uh-huh. Play this one close to the vest, please.”

If what Andy said was true—and she had no reason to doubt it—Mark surely had mentioned her to them, so why hadn’t they recognized her name in connection with his? Because he only referred to her by her nickname? More than likely. Mark was very closemouthed about things like this. Part of his “keep things separated” philosophy.

The last message made the blood drain from Faith’s face.

“Consider this warning number two, Miss Wilding. Stay out of things that don’t concern you, or you could be out of them permanently.”

“Faith, you have got to call the police,” Tess insisted.

“No. No, no, no. How will I explain this?” She ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it off her face. “I just need to get through until morning. Rick Latrobe will be here in the morning. Then we’ll discuss it.”

Tess threw up her hands. “Fine, but I’m staying here tonight. No way am I leaving you alone.”

“Okay, okay.”

She gathered up all the papers from the kitchen and locked them with her other notes in the wall safe in her den. Upstairs she found an oversize T-shirt for Tess to sleep in and clean towels for her. Then she climbed into bed, but her mind was too restless for sleep to come.

Tidbit.

Mark? She sat bolt upright in bed. Oh, Mark. God, are you all right?

Hanging . . . on . . . love you . . .

Me, too, soldier. I’ll get you out of this, I promise.

Careful . . . messages . . . intercept . . .

The other telepath. He was right. Especially if Rick Latrobe turned out to be an answer to her prayers. She couldn’t inadvertently give anything away.

Okay.

She waited for a response, but all that surrounded her was black silence. Then the pain hit her again, so sharp and swift it took her breath away. Sweat broke out on her skin as she tried to ride it out. Eventually it eased enough for her to stumble to the bathroom and find some aspirin.

When she lay down in bed again she was shaking from head to tow.

I’ll get you out, Mark. I swear it.

She finally fell asleep with her cell phone in her hand, 9-1-1 already punched in, and a sharp carving knife on the nightstand next to her bed.