Chapter Sixteen

“Let me get this straight.” The man known as Digger was pacing in his library, having left his office to conduct business too volatile to be open to detection. “You burned down her house. She hasn’t shown up. There are police and fire investigators all over the place. And we’re still no further ahead than we were before.”

Mr. Green popped a Tums in his mouth. At this rate they’d become the staple of his diet. “It was a calculated risk.”

“Calculated risk?” Digger’s voice rose at least ten decibels. A vein at the side of his neck bulged and throbbed, and his skin color was a dangerous shade of red. “That’s what you call this unbelievable disaster?”

“We discussed this with you,” Green began.

“No.” Digger banged his fist on his thigh as he walked. “You talked. I listened. I told you it was a stupid idea. You explained to me why it would work. Instead we’ve created a page one news story that could lead to all kinds of other things.”

“They won’t find any trace of arson,” Green assured him, mopping his forehead with his handkerchief.

“They damn well better not.” Another silence stretched. “I’m tempted to tell you to get yourselves back here, but I think you’d better stay around another day or so, just to see what shakes out. Someone will show up to handle things for the elusive Miss Wilding. I want to know who it is and where they came from.”

“We’ll handle it,” Green promised.

“Better than you’ve handled everything else so far,” Digger warned. “I should have had you eliminated after the first fiasco.”

The call disconnected.

On the other end Green paled as he snapped his own phone shut.

“I take it he’s not too happy,” Brown guessed.

Green glared at him. “I’d say that’s a masterpiece of understatement.” He turned back to the television. They’d seen the bit on the fire at least a dozen times. Now the local news was on, giving it full coverage, interviewing everyone who could put two words together. At the moment they had the arson investigator on, and Green leaned forward to catch his statement better.

“We aren’t finished going through everything,” the man was saying. “There are still too many hot spots. But our first determination is that faulty wiring was the cause. We have to take a closer look to be sure.”

“The police have said no one was home,” the reporter commented. “Is that true?”

“At least we haven’t found any bodies yet. But we also haven’t heard from the owner.”

The reporter turned full face to the camera. “Hear that, folks? If anyone knows the whereabouts of famous author Faith Wilding, please ask her to get in touch with the fire department at the number on your screen. Miss Wilding, if you’re seeing this, it’s urgent that you contact the authorities.”

Green punched the Off button on the remote, and the images disappeared. Yes, Miss Wilding, where in the fucking hell are you?

“Do we go home, then?” Brown’s posture and tone were good signals of how little that prospect appealed to him.

“No. We get one more chance. Come on, let’s get out of this room for a while, and I’ll tell you what we need to do.

* * * * *

Tess looked at the two men who arrived to do sentry duty, rolled her eyes, and whispered to Faith, “Take all the time you want. What a couple of hunks.”

“Tall, dark, and deadly,” Faith agreed, and indeed they were.

Well over six feet, with jet black hair and eyes the color of coal, they had a grim, lethal look that said, “Don’t mess with me.”

Rick explained that, like Troy, one of them had been a medic and was well qualified to take on Joey’s care.

It took only minutes to load everything into the helicopter, despite the rain that wouldn’t let up, and then they were lifting off, fighting the winds that came in over the ocean and swept up the cliffs, settling down at last as Ed found a smooth pathway. They’d chosen to have him fly rather than Mike because someone needed to be on point with the copter, and Mike was needed on the mission.

Faith found the big Bell Ranger surprisingly quiet, considering it had been stripped down inside to a bare shell. It had none of the acoustical cushioning of the fixtures on the trip up. Instead, the space was taken up with firepower, comm gear, other items like NVGs, which she learned stood for night-vision goggles, wet suits, and instruments that could read heat signatures. Faith tried not to look too hard at the stash of medical supplies and the litter stowed at the back of the cabin. She prayed hard that Mark would still be alive when they found him to make use of those things.

It seemed barely minutes had passed before they were back in the hangar where they’d landed and up in the Gulfstream, this time the larger one. They were now sitting around a table in the cabin, looking at the maps in the center. Dan had plotted the course to Peru, and he reviewed it for them one more time. “We’ll go down the Atlantic coastline,” he told everyone, “until we get to Panama. There’s a place there we can refuel, then cross over to pick up the western coast of South America.”

“Can we get to where we’re going in this plane?” Faith asked. “I’m sorry. I’m sure that was a stupid question.”

Dan cracked a smile. “Not at all. The helo can’t go as far as we want without refueling too many times. That’s why we’re taking the Gulfstream to a place not far from where we figure Mark’s being held. There will be a helo there waiting for us.” Don’t worry. We’re fine.”

“And after that?” Mike prompted.

“Iquitos is in the very north of Peru, kind of hugging Columbia and Bolivia. It sits right on the Amazon.” He poked at a mark on the map. “This is as close to pinpointing the camp as Joey and I could come. We’ll cut in at Chiclayo, then pick our way along the Amazon.” He folded the map. “Miss Wilding.”

“I really think you should call me Faith.” Her smile was shaky.

“Very well. Faith. Once we’re in the marked area, we’re hoping you can make contact with the captain and maybe get a few more clues as to where he is.”

“I’ll do my best.” She wet her lips.

“Did the call to your aunt help?”

“Let’s hope.” She closed her eyes and called up the conversation.

* * * * *

“Oh, my dear,” Vivi had said. “You are so unprepared for this.”

“I know, Aunt Vivi, but I don’t have a choice. I need your help.”

“All right. Let me think a minute.”

Faith waited, curbing her impatience.

“All right, you will need to do more visualizing. Is it working for you?”

“So far, until that last episode. I think he tried to build a solid shield between Mark and me.”

“Let’s work on that, then, because this force of evil will try to stop you. Close your eyes and visualize a row of parabolic shields around you. Can you do that?”

Faith closed her eyes, lulled by Vivi’s soothing voice.

“Fine. Now, make sure they’re turned away from you, so any energy bounces back to the interloper. Whatever he sends your way will come right back to him.”

“Okay.” She clasped her hands. “Now what?”

“Next. Remember the stone walls we taught you how to build mentally?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Go ahead and build it inside the parabolic reflectors. On the wall is one opening, a narrow pipe hole, and you are to imagine Mark right there. Only he will be able to get through that hole.”

“It’s working!” Faith swallowed her surprise.

“Good, good. Now we’ll do one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I will have Emily and Sarah come over, and we’ll form a docile energy circle, creating an unbreakable ring and transporting it to you.”

Faith’s eyes flew open. “Can you do that?”

“We’re going to try. About what time do you think you’ll be arriving at your destination?”

Faith checked with Dan and passed along the information.

“All right, dear. We’ll set the alarm to be ready.”

“Thank you so much, Aunt Vivi.”

Vivi’s voice dropped slightly. “Don’t be afraid, Faith. The spirits will guide you. I promise. Now start practicing.”

* * * * *

She was now sitting in close quarters with four men she hadn’t even known forty-eight hours ago, heading off to a country she’d never been to, on a mission some might call hopeless, praying as hard as she could that she could do her part and get Mark out safely. She leaned back in the chair, closed her eyes, and tried to make everything around her a blank.

Establish your boundary-type shields first.

She heard Aunt Vivi’s voice as clearly as if she were sitting in the cabin next to her. She could visualize her aunt sitting at her kitchen table, fiddling with her teabag, dunking it in a cup of hot water. Her brow would be furrowed in concentration, but as she inhaled the light fragrance of the lotus tea, it would smooth out and she’d close her eyes, centering herself. For one fleeting moment Faith wished herself back in that familiar kitchen, embraced by the warmth of Vivi’s presence. Then she pulled up her mental big-girl pants. Mark needed her. More than that, they loved each other wish a deep and abiding love. She had to make sure they had a chance to build a life together.

Faith called up a remembered image of a parabolic reflector and imagined herself lining them up in a circle, convex side outward, so any negative energy directed toward her would rebound to the sender. Next she visualized dark gray bricks floating to the circle and aligning themselves one on top of the other, row after row, until they reached the top of the reflectors.

In her mind she saw herself sitting down in the middle of the impenetrable circle and focusing on one spot as Vivi had said. The place where only Mark could reach her. In an instant a hole appeared, about the circumference of a household plumbing pipe. In the shimmering light that drifted through it she saw Mark’s face as she’d last seen it, smiling, affectionate, sexually replete.

Her heart tripped in its rhythm. This just had to work. She wanted a lifetime with him like that fabulous weekend. She would do whatever it took to help these men pull this off. And now, with her shields in place, the tension gripping her body began to ease.

“Faith?” Rick shifted over to sit next to her.

“Yes?”

“Are you all right? You looked a little spacey there for a minute.”

She smiled. “I’m fine. Just following my aunt’s instructions and mentally preparing myself.”

“I still wish you hadn’t insisted on coming along,” he grumbled.

“But I did, and I’m here.” She studied his face. “Don’t worry about me, Rick. Focus on Mark. I promise you I won’t be a liability.”

One corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. “No, I don’t think you will. But promise me, if things start to get hairy down there, take cover and don’t do anything foolish.”

“Believe me,” she grinned. “You are looking at one bona fide coward.”

He gave her a penetrating look that seemed to see all the way inside her. “No, Faith Wilding, I think you’re wrong. I think you are one very brave, very courageous lady. Mark Halloran is one lucky bastard.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t know what else to say.

Mike, who had been talking on his headset, looked over at her. “I just had a call patched through from the attorney we sent to San Antonio. He’s on site and scoping things out.” His expression was grim. “Sorry to tell you this but your house is a total loss.”

Faith forced back the automatic tears. “Like you said before, all that burned are things. I’m still alive.”

“That’s the most important thing. He’s got someone else on site with him, nosing around, watching for anything that catches his eye. Whoever did this is sure to come back to the scene of their crime, especially since you haven’t shown up.”

“Thank you for taking care of this,” she told him.

He shrugged. “It’s what we do.”

Then he went back to what they’d been doing for the last several minutes, all of them—checking their guns for perhaps the hundredth time. And in the midst of this unbelievable danger, her life falling apart in shreds around her, she suddenly felt very safe.

* * * * *

“I can’t believe they burned her damned house down.” Gregorio was pacing in his office, a neat trick since the room was barely twelve feet square. “These people are animals.”

Frank Ryan sat on a metal folding chair, holding his third cup of coffee of the day. “It also speaks to the fact that someone very high up is pulling the strings. No one else would dare take this kind of chance.”

“You’re right.” Gregorio ran his hand over his military haircut. “But who the hell can it be?”

“Sit down and let’s go over this step by step. We’ll list everyone who had any knowledge of the mission and check each one out.”

They started with Rick Latrobe, the source of the tip but crossed him off at once.

Ryan looked at his watch. “I promise you by now Rick and his band of merry men are on their way to Peru to pull off another one of their miracles.”

They checked off each and every person who’d had to be contacted as the information made its way up the ladder. No one got a pass. Ryan wasn’t ready to delete anyone else until they had proof positive there was no way they could be involved. That included office staff, too.

Finally Ryan sat back and threw his pencil on the pad he’d been writing on. “Do you still have that computer guy attached to you who can even find out where Santa Claus lives?”

Gregorio couldn’t help but smile. “You mean Sgt. Delray? Yeah, we couldn’t live without him. Why?”

“Get him in here. We’ll want him to dig around in some files that aren’t actually accessible under normal circumstances. And threaten him with assignment to Easter Island if he opens his yap.”

“You realize if some of these people find out you’re digging into their personal business, we could be assigned to Easter Island.”

Ryan’s smile was grim. “Better than letting them get away with it.”

* * * * *

Green and Brown had changed from their suits to casual clothes and now were trying to blend in with the gawkers standing in front of the ashes of Faith Wilding’s house. The thrill seekers were easy to identify, as were the media and the firemen still spraying hot spots. A man in turnout gear stood to one side, a clipboard in his hand, in deep conversation with a fortyish man in a dark suit.

“The guy in the gear has got to be the arson investigator,” Brown observed, “but who’s the dude in the suit?”

“A good question,” Green answered. “One we need an answer to.”

“Not that we can just walk up and ask him,” Brown pointed out.

“He acts like he’s in charge of something. Maybe from her insurance company.”

They stood there watching, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, avoiding the attention of the media. Something about the man in the suit bothered Green, but he couldn’t say just what. Whatever it was gave him an uncomfortable itch. As surreptitiously as possible he took a picture of he man and his license plate with his cell.

“He’s leaving,” Brown pointed out. “Should we go talk to the investigator?”

Green gave him a pitying look. “And say what? Who’s that man you were talking to? I’d guess they’re looking for anything or anyone suspicious right now, and we sure don’t want it to be us.” He speed-dialed a number on his phone, spoke briefly to the person who answered, and sent the photos he’d taken. “They’ll get right back to us. Meanwhile try not to attract attention.”

His cell phone rang five minutes later. The conversation was brief, and when he hung up his face was white.

“What?” Brown asked. “Who the hell was that guy?”

“His name is Roger Addison.” Green wet his lips. “He’s an attorney.”

“So?” Brown chuckled. “Are you afraid he’ll sue you?”

“Listen to me, you asshole. There’s no information about him on the web. Our boss had to do some fancy hacking to find out about him. He’s related to Dan Romeo.”

“And he is?”

“The head of Phoenix. And all the information stops there.”

Brown began to sweat. “Digger said he was afraid Faith was with them. You know what that means?”

“It means Phoenix has probably gone after Halloran and plans to finish the job his unit started.”

“That’s right. It also means we need to get the hell out of here and back to DC. The roof’s about to fall in.”

* * * * *

“Are you calling Peru?” Winslow asked. He’d switched to brandy, hoping to settle his stomach. Hoping he wouldn’t throw up or pass out as he absorbed Digger’s news.

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not? You need to warn them?”

“And then what, you idiot?” Digger was practically shouting. “Let him know how badly we’ve fucked up? Do you have a death wish?”

“Phoenix will wipe them up,” Winslow whispered. “All of them.”

“You’d better hope so. Otherwise they’ll be coming after us.”

Winslow took a healthy swallow of the brandy. “So what happens now?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m going to make damn sure my tracks are covered and plead ignorance of anything that comes up.”

“But what if they find out . . . I mean, the money . . .”

“It would take an unusual forensic accountant to track my money. I hope you’re set up the same way. Go through your personal papers and make sure you haven’t left any tracks. Oh, and Winslow?”

“Yes?” The sound was like a death rattle.

“I wouldn’t plan on running for office again, if I were you. Just in case.”