Smokescreen, page 22
“It would lead him right to Taylor,” Brent finished for him. “I’ll call Amy and have her check with Steinert to see if Amici’s been picked up.”
“And can you have him make sure Taylor’s okay?” Quinn asked.
“Yeah. I’ll have him send someone over to check on her.”
“Thanks.” Quinn took a deep breath and prayed that Taylor would stay safe.
Brent nodded. “Are you going to be okay on this mission?”
“I’ll do my job.”
Brent stared at him for a long moment and then he nodded. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”
* * *
“We had an agreement,” Yusef Ben Marid said, his voice eerily calm.
Vernon Riesenour swallowed hard as he stared at the dark-haired, dark-skinned man in front of him. His voice wavered slightly as he spoke. “I told you, we had a minor delay. My associates assure me that everything will be resolved within the next day or two.”
“Surely you know what happens when people double-cross us,” Yusef said calmly.
“I’m not double-crossing you,” Vernon insisted, suddenly grateful that he had taken so many security precautions to protect his invention from falling into the wrong hands. “I assure you, everything will proceed exactly as we planned. I just need a couple more days.”
“A couple more days,” Yusef repeated and slowly nodded his head.
* * *
Vanessa pulled into the parking lot at the security gate by the main entrance to the farm, the CIA’s training facility. A guard was already standing beside the moving truck that was parked off to the side, and the driver was clearly not happy about something. He motioned to his clipboard, pointing irritably at it as the guard shook his head.
Vanessa crossed to where the guard was standing and asked, “Is this the truck?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
The driver turned to face her, his frustration now directed at Vanessa. “Are you the one responsible for diverting this shipment?”
“That’s right.”
“I don’t know what’s going on here. I’ve never had a shipment redirected two days before delivery. I’m going to need some kind of documentation, or headquarters is going to have my head.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Vanessa told him. She handed the guard a stack of papers. “Ride in with him and have everything unloaded at that location. I’ll meet you there.”
The guard nodded and then picked up his radio to instruct another guard to open the gate. Thirty minutes later, the few pieces of furniture Taylor had shipped home along with some of her personal belongings were unloaded at the loading dock for the main facility, and the driver was finally on his way, along with the authorization he had been so anxious about.
“What have we got?” Larry Steinert asked as he climbed the steps and looked at the recently unloaded crates.
“I don’t know yet.” Vanessa looked over at him, her eyebrows lifting. “Did you have any trouble getting on base?”
“Not at all. I flashed my badge, gave them my gun, and everyone was happy,” Steinert told her. “Except me since I had to give them my gun.”
“Yeah, they’re picky about that.” Vanessa fought back a grin as she thought of Quinn’s incident at CIA headquarters. “You ready to help me search all of this stuff?”
“You got it.” He nodded. “Where do we start?”
Vanessa held up the manifest. She glanced over it and read off a number sequence. “8076-2 is supposed to contain art supplies.”
“8074, 8069,” Graham mumbled as he read off the numbers painted on the sides of the crates.
“Here it is.” Vanessa put her hand on the top of a crate that came up past her waist. She grabbed a crowbar that was hanging on the wall and pried the top off.
“What have you got?” Steinert asked, moving closer.
Vanessa reached in and pulled out the first of a half dozen blank canvases. She motioned to one of the security guards. “We need all of these to go through x-ray. We’re specifically looking for anything that might be hidden in the frame.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“By the way, I got a call from my contact at NYPD,” Steinert said.
“And?”
“They went to pick up Gregorio Amici, but he’s disappeared,” Steinert told her. “He hasn’t been to work for the past three days, and it looks like he moved out of his apartment.”
“Great.” Vanessa shook her head. “Now what?”
“We haven’t found any indications that he’s left the country, but our best guess is that he’ll try to drive into Canada and fly out of there,” Steinert told her. “He’s definitely on the run.”
“How did he know that we’re on to him?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been wondering the same thing.”
The security guard came back carrying the stack of canvases. “These have been x-rayed. They all came back clean.”
“Are you sure?” Vanessa asked, surprised.
“We ran them through twice. There isn’t anything here but wood and canvas.”
“Which means Amici is probably out there searching for whatever piece they’re still missing, and we have no idea where it is.” Vanessa let out a frustrated sigh.
“But he thinks that Taylor does.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
* * *
Quinn felt himself plummeting toward the ground and concentrated on breathing normally through his mask that was providing him the oxygen he needed to survive at the high altitude. For the moment, he couldn’t think about Taylor, about the danger she could be facing. Instead, he counted off the seconds and then reached for the rip cord.
His body jerked with the force of the parachute opening, and his concentration shifted to the ground below. He had been the first to jump out of the high-flying aircraft, so he couldn’t see his other teammates to make sure their chutes had opened. Tonight that wasn’t his job. Instead, he was tasked with making sure their landing zone was safe.
Now that he was descending more slowly, he was able to unfasten his weapon from his vest and prepare for the worst-case scenario. The satellite images of the area showed their landing zone was clear or at least that it had been seven hours ago when the last photos were taken.
Quinn watched for movement, his finger on the trigger of his weapon. The night sky was dark, and the desert sand stretched out beneath him. They were aiming for the edge of that sandy expanse, fully aware that it was in the treacherous mountains to the north where they would find the chance to achieve their objective.
The ground loomed closer until, finally, Quinn secured his weapon moments before his feet touched down. He stumbled forward, fighting for balance as he started pulling his parachute in toward him. Moments later the rest of his squad was on the ground with him.
Together they rolled their parachutes up and buried them in the sand to hide their presence. Then they began the hike into the rocky pass toward Riesenour’s safe haven.
35
It was too easy. Quinn looked through his sniper scope from the top of the hill overlooking the house that Riesenour was supposed to be hiding in. There didn’t appear to be any guards posted outside, nor was there any sign of an exterior alarm.
Quinn shook his head. Something didn’t feel right.
He shifted to his infrared goggles and stared at the structure. Again, a feeling of uneasiness settled over him. Not a single heat spot.
“What have you got Quinn?” Brent asked.
“I’m in position, but it doesn’t look like anyone’s home. Are we sure about the location?”
“Intel said they had a positive sighting twelve hours ago.”
“Suggest we call for confirmation,” Quinn replied. “Were they tracking movement in the area?”
“Hold your position,” Brent responded. “Seth, check for updates.”
“Affirmative,” Seth said in his deep Southern voice. The night became silent once more until finally Seth spoke again. “Intel spotted a dozen men here earlier, but my infrared isn’t picking anything up.”
“It feels like a trap to me,” Quinn muttered.
“Even if Riesenour isn’t here, what about the computer?” Jay asked now.
“Seth, see if you’re close enough to get remote access.”
“Negative. We’re in a dead zone.”
“Tristan, you’re with me,” Brent said. “We’ll check out the building. The rest of you hang back until we give you the go-ahead.”
“Roger that,” Quinn said, even though he hated this part of the job. He wanted to get in there and see for himself why their equipment wasn’t picking up any life inside. In his mind there were only three possibilities: No one was home, some kind of reflecting shielding had been set up to fool their equipment, or whoever was inside was no longer breathing. Quinn wasn’t sure he really cared which scenario it was as long as he and his squad all made it home alive.
* * *
He loved her. It had been forty-eight hours since Quinn had said those words to her, and Taylor still couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the concept. Deep down, she wanted to know if he loved her as much as he had loved Emily, but the fact that he could say those three little words to her had to be enough. At least for now.
Taylor dabbed at the paint on her palette, efficiently transferring the paint from brush to canvas. Through her open window, she could hear the rain beating down on the pavement below and was grateful for it. The clouds had rolled in early that morning, and the impending storm had given her a reason to stay indoors. As anxious as she was to go to the beach and do some work outside, she knew she wouldn’t feel safe going out by herself.
Instead, Taylor had pulled out her sketches from her time in Arlington with Quinn and had immersed herself in her art. Already, the white columns of the Jefferson Memorial had taken shape, contrasting against the green of the grass and the blue of the Potomac River. A few more hours working on the background, and Taylor hoped she would be ready to set this one aside and start something new, perhaps the sunrise from the Lamberts’ back porch.
She stepped back and considered how she wanted the light to play off of the Washington Monument in the background. The heavy tarp that was spread out on her living room floor rustled beneath her. She had laid it down to protect the floor and had draped another thinner tarp over her kitchen table, which she was currently using to hold her supplies.
She was going to have to invest in a work table before long, but the frugal side of her couldn’t justify paying full price in a store when a yard sale find would do just as well. Maybe if Quinn’s mission was successful, she would feel safe enough to go shop yard sales again. Of course, that was assuming that Quinn’s mission had something to do with her missing paintings.
She had just started creating the Washington Monument in the back-ground when she heard a knock at the door. She fought against her natural instinct to just yell, “Come in.” Instead, she put down her paintbrush and palette and moved to look through the peephole. Her shoulders relaxed when she saw Riley standing outside.
Taylor pulled the door open, a smile crossing her face when she saw the grocery bags in her sister’s hands. “You’ve come to save me from starvation?”
“Something like that,” Riley nodded as she walked inside. “It’s nothing fancy. Just a rotisserie chicken and some potato salad.”
“That sounds great.” Taylor motioned to the kitchen counter. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to eat in there. The kitchen table is busy at the moment.”
“So I see.” Riley set the bags down on the kitchen counter and started unloading the food.
Taylor pulled some plates out of the cabinet and asked, “Have you heard anything?”
“From Tristan?” Riley looked over her shoulder at Taylor and shook her head. “Nothing yet. My guess is that we won’t hear anything for another day or two.”
“It’s hard waiting to hear, isn’t it?” Taylor asked.
“Yeah, it is.” Riley turned to face her sister. “I keep thinking it will get easier, but I don’t really think it ever does.”
“Leave it to the two of us to fall for a couple of Navy SEALs,” Taylor said, remembering all too well her sister’s struggles of learning to live with Tristan’s career. She couldn’t say she shared her sister’s phobia of being involved with a military man, but Quinn’s obvious concern for her safety made her wish he hadn’t been called out of town while she was feeling so vulnerable.
Riley pulled off a drumstick and put it on Taylor’s plate. “Can I ask how things are going with Quinn?”
Taylor couldn’t suppress the smile that bloomed on her face. “He said he loves me.”
Riley squealed with excitement and rushed over to hug Taylor. “Taylor, I’m so happy for you. And for Quinn. You both deserve to find some happiness.”
“Thanks.” Taylor returned her sister’s hug. “I just hope it won’t be long before we can find out what it’s like to spend time together without always looking over our shoulders.”
Riley nodded in agreement as she leaned against the counter. “You do realize that Quinn’s life doesn’t often fall within the definition of normal.”
“I know.” Taylor stabbed her fork into a piece of potato salad and took a bite. “But I kind of like that about him. Most guys go nuts with the kind of hours I keep.”
“Well, you never have been one to keep to a schedule.” Riley laughed. “What did Dad used to call you? A nonconformist?”
“That was just because he never could tell if I was going to bed at four in the morning or waking up at four in the morning.” Taylor grinned. “It used to drive him nuts when he’d get up at five to go for a run and find me out on the front porch with my easel set up, painting a tree or something.”
“I think his favorite was when you painted the deer eating Mom’s favorite flowers in the garden.”
Taylor laughed. “Yeah. They weren’t too happy that I didn’t chase them off.”
Through the open window, Max’s voice carried from below. “Hey, man. You can’t park there. Those spaces are for residents only.”
“Sounds like someone got on your manager’s bad side,” Riley commented.
“I didn’t think Max had a bad side.” Taylor moved closer to the window by her front door. “But I’m pretty sure Quinn talked to him before he left yesterday.”
“What about?”
“Quinn made me promise that I would check in with Max if I go out anywhere and have him check out my apartment when I come home.”
“I know Max and Quinn are pretty good friends,” Riley told her.
“I got that impression.” Taylor nodded and looked outside. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and Max was now standing in the middle of the parking lot, his T-shirt and board shorts contrasting against the visitor’s designer suit.
“That guy looks like . . .” Taylor said, more to herself than to Riley. Then recognition dawned. Taylor shook her head, trying to make sense of why Gregorio Amici would be standing in her parking lot arguing with Max. Then all of Quinn’s warnings came flooding through her mind. “It couldn’t be.” She backed away from the window and tried to stem the panic rising up inside her. “How did he find me? I was so careful in New York.”
Alarmed, Riley stepped toward the window. “Who is it?”
“Gregorio Amici. He’s a buyer for a gallery in New York.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Normally, but no one knows that I live here, not even my agent.” Taylor reached out and pulled Riley away from the window. “Quinn thinks Gregorio may be one of the people behind all of this stuff that’s been happening.”
Riley’s eyes widened, and she started for the door. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
Taylor reached out to stop her and shook her head. “Not that way. He’ll see us.” Taylor rushed to the security panel and hit the panic button. Sirens sounded immediately. She turned and grabbed her bag off of the table, gripping the side of it to make sure the gun Quinn had given her was still inside. “Come on.”
“What are you doing?” Riley asked, even as she rushed after Taylor toward the hallway and into her bedroom.
Taylor slammed the door closed and locked it. She then reached into her bag, fumbling around until she managed to pull the gun free. She held it out to Riley. “Here. You’re a better shot than me.”
Riley’s eyes widened. “How can you be sure this guy is after you?”
Before Taylor could answer, they heard the crashing sound of a door being forced open.
Within seconds, the sound of gunfire filled the air followed by total silence.
36
Tristan gagged the moment he reached the door. The smell of death saturated the air. The pungent scent of blood and decay combined with the absolute stillness of the night. Tristan could only think that he was glad Quinn wasn’t the one here right now. He could sense the tension in him, especially since they had yet to receive any kind of confirmation of whether Gregorio Amici had been apprehended yet.
As much as Tristan had hoped that someday Quinn and Taylor would recognize their obvious attachment to one another, he wished now that it hadn’t happened quite so soon. He didn’t even want to consider that Taylor might not survive the danger facing her. Their lives would be forever altered, both for him and Riley as well as for Quinn. And Tristan remembered all too well what it was like to see Quinn’s life fall apart. He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing it happen again.
Tristan looked through the window. The scene before him only punctuated the stark reality. The people they were dealing with were cold-blooded killers.
“What have you got?” Quinn’s impatient voice came over his headset.
“The reason we aren’t seeing any heat spots. They’re all dead.” Tristan adjusted his night-vision goggles, his stomach clutching as he viewed the carnage spread out before him. It appeared as though someone had come in with an automatic weapon and shot everyone in a matter of seconds.
“How many?” Quinn asked tersely.
