Elite Operatives: Demons Are Forever Part 15

Heather took a deep breath to steel herself before she opened the door to her brother's room. She never knew what to expect on her visits. Some days, Adam looked pretty good, all things considered. And he'd sounded strong and like his old self that morning on the phone. But too often in recent weeks she'd arrive to find him in the midst of another crisis: weak from vomiting, or with his hands, feet, and face so swollen she barely recognized him. And increasingly, she'd arrive to find him numbly incoherent because of the drugs he was taking.

However he appeared, she had to remain upbeat and positive.

She forced herself to smile and went inside.

Today was a good day. Adam was sitting up in bed watching television. His color was normal, and he was devoid of the IVs that seemed a semi-permanent fixture in the room. He grinned when he saw her and flicked off the set. "Hey, H." She kissed him and pulled up a chair. "Hey, Bro. You're looking great."

"Ate a big lunch," he reported. "And they actually agreed to let me order pizza tonight. Delivery guy will be here in a little." Adam had lost a third of his body weight in the last year because he so often had trouble keeping food down. Any time he had an appet.i.te was welcome news.

"Extra cheese?"

* 121 *

"Of course. Now, fill me in. What's happening in the outside world? How did you meet my favorite author?" Brett. Heather couldn't stop thinking about her. She'd told her brother very little, except that she'd run into the woman who created Landor the Demon, and she'd promised to give her an autographed copy of the next issue. "I met her at a club when I was out with a couple of girls from work." She told him most everything about that night, except how attracted she was to Brett and how she couldn't stop thinking about her. But her brother knew her well and evidently sensed there was more to the story than she was letting on.

"Why don't you give her a call?" Adam asked.

"First of all, I don't have her number, and second, I don't want to push. How desperate is that?"

"Desperate? You sound like I asked you to call her for a date." Heather's cheeks warmed. "Yeah, well-"

"So she did ask you out."

"No, she offered a signed copy."

Adam picked up the last issue of Landor the Demon from his bedside table. She knew he'd read it many times, but it was still in pristine condition, kept in a plastic sleeve. "Funny how I a.s.sumed the author was a dude."

"That's pretty s.e.xist."

"Come on, H, you know better. It's just that whenever I Googled the name Cooland, nothing showed up except for his...her works and an article about how the author never does public appearances or signings. No Web site, no pics, nothing. So I a.s.sumed it was some huge, pimpled-a.s.s guy."

"Not the case. She's a very attractive woman." He looked at her curiously. "Do you wish she'd asked you on a date?"

"What's up with all these questions about my love life?"

"It's just that...well, you never seem to go out with anyone.

Last time you mentioned a girl was what, two or three years ago? I don't know, H. Can't be normal for an okay-looking woman to go without...you know."

* 122 *

"s.e.x?" If only Adam knew the only thing not missing from her life was s.e.x. The wrong kind of s.e.x-meaningless encounters with men, purely a means to support her brother's needs. And working for Direct Connect had crushed her need to get close to another woman. Not only because she feared they would find out about her secret life, but also because she'd have to eventually explain and deal with the consequences. s.e.x was once an exciting way to express emotions, but it had turned into an obligation, a duty that left her feeling drained and often disappointed in herself.

Heather seriously doubted she could ever get intimate with anyone again and not feel as though they could see right through her.

How could they resist thinking of her without attaching a label that fit what she did? Prost.i.tute. Hooker. Wh.o.r.e. What she did wasn't who she was, but how could anyone ever believe that or want to stick around long enough to find out the truth? "I'm too tired to even think about s.e.x, Adam."

"But I'm not just talking about s.e.x. It's like you don't hang out with anyone but me. Don't get me wrong. I love you and your company, but ever since Dad died, you've deprived yourself of a life. I know I'm to blame for the most part-"

"Stop that. I love you and I want to take care of you."

"I know, H. But you need to take care of yourself, too. Putting your life on hold is only making me feel like a complete loser. It's not what I want and it's not what you deserve. I know you need more. Unless, of course, you've decided to join some kind of freakish cult."

"I just don't have-"

"Oh, my G.o.d," Adam said with feigned shock. "You have.

You've gone all-"

Heather laughed. "Cut it out. It's simply a matter of not enough time. I want a career and that has priority right now."

"Since when does one exclude the other? I'm not saying you need to get married or look into artificial insemination. I'm just talking about a date."

"And this has nothing to do with getting an autographed Landor the Demon?"

* 123 *

"Maybe a little." He smiled. "But you said yourself, she's a knockout."

"And very charming. And smart. And funny."

"And give me a break." Adam rolled his eyes. "Go out with her already."

"She hasn't called," Heather said.

"She will."

"Oh, really?"

"Who wouldn't? You're a catch, and not just because you're my sister."

"I'm flattered, your Greatness."

"You should be. Now where the h.e.l.l is the delivery dude? It's been twenty-"

Someone knocked on Adam's door.

Heather smiled and got out her wallet. "Looks like he heard you, your Highness."

Greenwich Village, N.Y.

Next day, November 20, 5:30 p.m.

Chase crept along in b.u.mper-to-b.u.mper traffic, her frustration growing with each yard of progress. The drive between Heather's home and workplace had become a metaphor for their mission. They were getting nowhere fast in their effort to track down Heather's mysterious john or determine whether she was involved in the transfer of money to Andor Rozsa.

Jack was even more on edge. She was chain-smoking at every opportunity-outside the acute-care facility last night, during the routine surveillance at Heather's apartment afterward, and again this morning. And while they'd sat all day at the restaurant again watching Heather's building, Jack had stepped outside for a cigarette so many times she'd lost count.

Her cell rang as she waited at a red light a block from their hotel.

* 124 *

"Same old, same old," Jack reported. "She's changed into her sweats and T-s.h.i.+rt and poured herself a gla.s.s of milk."

"I'm about to drop off the car. I'll see you in five." When she joined Jack in the surveillance van, Heather once again reclined on her couch watching the news. Chase settled back for another night of non-productive waiting, but almost immediately, Heather's phone rang.

She and Jack leaned forward at the same time, both staring at the monitor. Because the call came on Heather's cell and not her landline, they could hear only her side of the conversation.

"I'm here, Margaret," Heather said after checking the caller ID. She listened for a few seconds. "That's...flattering, I guess.

But I don't think I can do four nights a week. Did he say why the sudden increase? Dario's never wanted me more than once or twice at most."

Another silence as she listened.

"Just talking?" Heather looked confused. "Did he say what he wanted to talk about?" More listening. Then, "I guess I can't argue with that. It is a lot of money. Okay, I'm in. When's the first appointment?" She listened some more and frowned. "All right.

I'll be there." She got up off the couch and went to get a pen and notepad from her desk. "Read me off the full schedule, will you?" As they watched, Heather jotted down several things on the notepad, but the camera was too far and at the wrong angle for them to see what she was writing.

"Got it. Thanks, Margaret." After Heather disconnected, she stuck the notepad in a desk drawer.

"We need to get her out of the house," Jack said.

"I know," Chase replied.

"Well, what are you waiting for? You have her number."

"I am aware of that," Chase replied. If she asked Heather out, Jack would be free to get Heather's schedule for Dario. They'd been on the case for days and this was their first break. They needed to get a look at this guy and approach him one way or another.

But Chase didn't know how comfortable she felt about seeing Heather again. Not because of what she did, but because Heather * 125 *

made her uneasy and she couldn't understand why. Chase had been with plenty of call girls, and being around one should be second nature by now, but Heather made her feel exposed. Something in her eyes, something Chase couldn't put her finger on, made her look too untainted and untouched.

Heather was exactly the kind of woman Chase had avoided for years. The last time she'd allowed herself to become involved with one, it had cost the woman her life.

Chase had been working deep cover at the time, within an Italian mob family led by Dom Marco Stellari. Stellari himself was not her target; she was after an elusive Russian arms dealer Stellari did business with. Interpol had been unable to locate the man and had asked the EOO to find him and make him disappear.

Even with Chase's considerable skills, it took seven months to earn Stellari's trust, but once she did, she was accepted as part of the family. She practically lived at the dom's New York penthouse, waiting for her opportunity as more months pa.s.sed. But the Russian arms dealer kept to the shadows, using emissaries in most of his business dealings, so nailing down his location was difficult.

What she hadn't counted on was Regina, the dom's daughter.

She was seven years younger than Chase and notoriously straight, but so sweet and bewitchingly beautiful Chase had trouble keeping her mind on her mission. As they spent more and more time around each other, the chemistry between them built, until Regina confessed she wanted them to live out the fantasies she'd been having about her.

Chase did her best to stay away, virtually ignoring the girl for weeks. But Regina persisted, and eventually she succ.u.mbed to her flirtatious advances and they wound up in bed. Though she'd dated boys, Regina was still a virgin and, like many virgins, fell for the first person she had s.e.x with.

Chase fought her feelings even after they slept together but eventually got too tired of fighting. She allowed herself to feel, and fall, and soon they were secretly inseparable. Their romance consisted of surrept.i.tious rendezvous and stolen moments, until one day, Regina had told her she wanted them to run away together.

"Just leave and live . "

* 126 *

She was torn in the beginning, but as more weeks pa.s.sed and her feelings grew, Chase began to tell herself that maybe it was possible. She could take Regina away from all the corruption and danger surrounding her father and give her the life she deserved.

After long thought, she told Regina that after she completed an important job for the dom, they'd disappear together.

Not long afterward, the Russian arms dealer finally agreed to a face-to-face sit-down with the dom. Chase, as his right hand, would also be there. She contacted Montgomery Pierce to inform him the meeting was imminent and that she'd call back when she knew the time and location. Other EOO ops would move in to take care of the arms dealer so the Italian mob would never know she was involved.

On paper, their plan was a good one. But no one antic.i.p.ated the lengths the Russian would take to protect himself. He gave them only ninety minutes' advance notice of the time and meeting place, and the abandoned warehouse was in Brooklyn, which gave them little time before they had to leave. Chase had no opportunity to pa.s.s the info on to the EOO.

Still, she was optimistic it was the break they'd been waiting for. Maybe she'd be able to put a tracker on the arms dealer. The guy was so elusive, getting to see his face at all was an achievement.

The Russian, a shrimp of a man, was already at the warehouse when they arrived. He had two men with him and five other a.s.sociates positioned strategically throughout the warehouse, which was filled with rusted machinery and steel drums. The dom had brought an equal number. The sit-down started out fine, with the Russian and Italian mob boss facing each other across a cheap wooden table.

Then all h.e.l.l broke loose when federal agents burst in with guns blazing.

The Russians and Italians scattered, firing back and taking cover. As Chase dove behind a piece of heavy machinery, she glimpsed a familiar figure among the feds. The last person she expected or wanted to see. Regina.

Regina saw her, too. Though one of the feds tried to stop her, she ran straight for Chase and managed to join her without getting hit by the crossfire. Bullets whizzed around them in a deafening * 127 *

noise. The Italians were shooting, the feds were shooting, and the Russians evidently thought the mob had set them up, because they were firing at both the feds and Stellari's people.

Chase had few options. She couldn't shoot at the Italians because she'd blow her cover and they'd kill her, and she couldn't shoot back at the feds because that would be unethical. Her priority at the moment was to get Regina out of there. She tried to cover her with her own body, looking for an opportunity.

She spotted a door at the side of the building and decided to make a run for it. Chase grabbed Regina's hand and told her to stay low. They were almost there when shots started coming from behind the huge barrels. Chase couldn't see who was firing, but she was sure it was the Russians who'd taken cover.

She started to shoot back, covering them both as Regina ran ahead, but a bullet hit Regina before she made it to the exit. She lay on the cement floor, a dark circle of red blossoming on the center of her pale-yellow blouse, as more bullets zinged by Chase's head.

More Russians were hidden behind the machinery surrounding them, so Chase fired back with her Colt 1911 as she dragged Regina behind a stack of metal drums. In no time, her gun was empty.

Chase put Regina's head in her lap and caressed her dark hair away from her forehead. Regina kept whispering she was sorry, she only wanted to help. She said the feds had threatened to arrest her father and his a.s.sociates-Chase included-unless she told them where the meeting with the arms dealer was going to be. If she cooperated, they promised to arrest only the Russian and his men.

They'd leave the rest alone.

G.o.d, she was so innocent. As she lay dying in a puddle of her own blood, Regina was only concerned that Chase forgive her and that they be together. "Promise me you'll take me away , " she'd kept saying. Chase held her close and cried out of love and fury. Cried until she heard a familiar voice, from very close.

She peered through a crack between the barrels where the shots had been coming from and stared straight into the face of a stranger who sounded exactly like Jack. No. This can't be. But the voice was unmistakable.

* 128 *

She studied the woman closer. Her facial features were different, but even in the dimly lit warehouse, Chase recognized too many other commonalities for it to be mere coincidence. Height and weight. Build. Mannerisms. The shape of her face. The color of her hair. Even her trademark black clothes and weapon of choice: a Glock 34. It had to be Jack. As Chase watched, she crouched behind another stack of barrels, her focus on the shootout.

Chase hadn't seen her earlier. She didn't know what shocked her more, the fact that Jack was alive or that she evidently worked for the Russian arms dealer. None of this surreal mess made sense.

Jack was standing here before her, and Regina lay dead in her arms.