Elite Operatives: Demons Are Forever Part 28

Claude knocked twice, loud enough to be heard at the back of the cottage. When a minute went by with no response, he knocked again, even louder, and called out, "h.e.l.lo? Is anyone home? I'm with the village police department, and I'd like to speak with you for a moment."

He heard a distant, muted sound from within. It almost sounded like a shout of some kind, but he couldn't make it out. He tried again. "h.e.l.lo? Are you all right?"

The loud click of the bolt startled him, but he regained his composure before the door opened. A man with dark hair and a beard, dressed in crumpled trousers and a work s.h.i.+rt, stood before him, taking in Claude's uniform with interest. "How can I help you, Officer?" the man asked in heavily accented English.

* 214 *

Claude responded in English. "I'm sorry to trouble you so late, sir. But your neighbors were concerned that you haven't been seen much since you arrived and wanted me to make sure everything was all right." When the man scowled in annoyance, he added, "We're a small community, and we look out for each other." Just then, Claude heard that muted shout again. Louder, now that the door was open, and it sounded like a woman's voice. He looked curiously past the homeowner, but could see no one else inside. "Do you live alone, sir?"

"That's just my radio," the man replied. "I left it on in my workshop. I appreciate your concern, Officer, but I'm fine, I a.s.sure you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I was just about to turn in." He started to close the door, but Claude put a hand on it to stop him.

"I'd like to come in and take a look around, if you don't mind," Claude said. Something wasn't right about the man's haste to get rid of him, not to mention the odd shouts, punctuated by silence.

"Is that really necessary?" the man asked, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.

"It won't take long."

The man hesitated for another few seconds before he opened the door and stepped aside. "If you must." Claude entered and took in his surroundings. The place needed maintenance badly. A draft of cool air came from the ancient windows, and a long crack marred one of the walls. Not surprising, really-he couldn't remember the last time anyone had lived here.

"I can't place your accent," Claude said as he went from the living room into a bedroom, the homeowner trailing behind him. "Eastern Europe?"

"Croatia."

He next came to a bathroom and storage closet. Nothing seemed unusual. "May I have your name, sir?"

"Josip Klaric. Really, Officer, is this necessary? I'm a very private man, and I don't value-"

"I'm almost through. I appreciate your indulgence." As he headed into the kitchen, Claude heard another shout-louder now, and he could make out the word for the first time. Help. It * 215 *

was coming from the bas.e.m.e.nt, and it didn't sound like any radio program he'd ever heard. "I'd like to see what's downstairs," he said as he turned toward the homeowner.

Claude registered the odd smile on the man's face a split second before he saw the flash of something large and metallic coming at his head. He had no time to react.

New York Heather spotted Brett and Jack waiting outside her apartment building while she was still a block away, returning home from a workday that had been anything but productive. She was too preoccupied with the previous night's events and her upcoming trip to China to do much more than the minimum her job required, and her exhaustion from little sleep was rapidly catching up with her.

Before they'd departed, Brett and Jack told her they'd be back the next night to prepare for her phone call to Dario, but she hadn't expected them to be waiting for her.

Brett stood at the base of the steps, a small duffel in her hand, and Jack was next to her. Both watched Heather approach.

She'd been nervous all day about having to contact Dario, and the fact that both women were anxious for her to make that call didn't help her nerves. Was she crazy to do this? Gigi was most likely beyond saving, yet she had volunteered to help two complete strangers by joining a murdering organ thief. Was her life in such a dip she'd do anything for a rush? Doubtful. Heather had never been the adventurous type, and aside from Direct Connect, her life had consisted of comfortable flat lines. So why had she agreed to help this organization? Was it revenge for what Dario did to Gigi? Maybe.

Heather hoped her anger would be enough to fuel the courage she'd need to see this through.

"Hi," Heather said to both women as she pa.s.sed them and headed up the stairs, avoiding eye contact with Brett as she unlocked the door. She was still very uncomfortable with the truths Brett * 216 *

knew about her. No wonder Brett had seemed nearly appalled at the idea of their meeting being a date. Heather's worst angst had finally become reality, and she was afraid she was just about to step into a situation that would give her a brand-new kind of horror.

Brett and Jack looked eager to get started, and their disregard for her feelings irritated her.

"No second thoughts?" Brett asked as she entered the apartment.

"Plenty, and constantly, so let's make this call before I change my mind."

"Heather, you have to be sure about this."

"I feel like I'm about to lock myself up in a cage with a lion.

I'm afraid, okay?"

"Fear is a good thing," Jack said. "It means you're not stupid."

"I'm glad you noticed." Heather hung up her coat as both women stood waiting just inside the door. "I called Ma.s.simo. He found Dario's number."

"Ma.s.simo?" Brett asked.

"Yes. It was still where Dario left it." Heather wasn't sure why, but Brett was smirking like she was very satisfied with herself. "Are you going to hover all night?" she asked them.

The two women looked at each other. "Dibs on the chair," Jack said as they walked farther into the living room.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Heather asked.

"Scotch," Jack said.

Heather poured a gla.s.s of Johnny Walker Black and grabbed two cans of Diet c.o.ke. She set the can down on the coffee table in front of Brett. "Gla.s.s?"

Brett smiled. "I'm fine. Thank you."

Heather handed Jack her Scotch and then sat crossed-legged on the floor beside the armchair. Sitting beside Brett on the couch would be too distracting right now, not to mention uncomfortable.

"What do I have to do?"

"You're going to start by telling Dario you had second thoughts," Brett said. "He knows you're doing it for the money, so sound like that matters. Ask him how much he's going to pay and say you want it up front."

* 217 *

"Okay." Heather cringed that Brett knew how her job went.

"Let him know you'll want time to yourself to shop and do some sightseeing."

"So I have an excuse to meet you if necessary."

"Correct. And it will be necessary," Brett replied.

"Got it."

"We still have no idea where in China. See if you can get him to reveal that."

"Okay."

"Also, I know you're in no mood, but try to sound upbeat. Like he's going to get his money's worth."

Heather sighed. "Anything else?"

"That's it for now," Brett said. "Once you talk to him and we know it's a go, we'll take it from there."

"What happens then?"

"I'll show you how to contact us, how we can contact you, how to place bugs-just in case we can't get in to do it ourselves-and how to wire yourself."

"I'm going to wear a wire?"

"Only when you're out with him," Brett replied. "We can't risk you wearing it in the room just in case..."

"I don't intend to..." Heather looked away. "Entertain him."

"It's still too risky."

"I get it." Heat rose to Heather's face.

"I'm going to show you tonight how it's done and where to place it." Brett looked away. "We'll get into more details after you make the call."

Heather started to rise to get her phone, but Brett put her hand up to stop her.

"Do you have a private number?" Brett asked.

"No."

"Can I see your cell phone?"

Heather reached for her purse and gave her the cell. "What's wrong?"

"Use this to call him instead." Brett brought up one of the menus on the phone. "I'll hide your caller ID so he can't see your * 218 *

number. He'll see it if you use the landline. Don't give him any more info than he already has."

"I'm surprised he gave me his," Heather said, "since he's so careful about his ident.i.ty."

"It's a throwaway. He'll use that number and phone once and toss it," Jack said.

Heather took a deep breath to calm her racing heart and dialed Dario's number. "Should I turn on the speaker?" Brett shook her head. "If he's as paranoid as I know he is, he'll pick up on it. You can always hear the difference." Dario greeted her before Heather could say a word. "h.e.l.lo, Heather." Apparently Jack was right, and she was the only one he'd given that number.

"Hi, Dario."

"I was expecting your call. I take it you have agreed to my offer."

"Why are you so sure?" Heather wanted to smack the smugness out of his voice.

"I'm positive you wouldn't have called had you decided to decline."

"I'll do it, Dario, but I have one question and two conditions."

"You want to talk business. How quaint."

"First of all, how much money are we talking here?"

"You will be paid two thousand per day, for the four days." Heather nearly gasped at the amount. "I can deal with that." She tried to sound nonchalant. "I'd like the money up front."

"Agreed. And your conditions?"

"I want time for myself to shop. Do some sightseeing. I don't plan to sit in the room all day and wait for your return or a dinner appointment."

"You will have plenty of time to do as you wish. I never intended to confine you."

"And you never said where we're staying. I want to be able to leave my brother some information, just in case he can't reach me by cell. He's my priority, as you understand, or I wouldn't be doing this in the first place."

* 219 *

Brett gave her a thumbs-up.

As Dario replied, Heather wrote down Beijing at the Park Hyatt and pa.s.sed the paper to Jack, who was nearest. Jack glanced at it and gave it to Brett, while gesturing to her to make a phone call.

"I'll pa.s.s this on to my brother. It looks like we have an agreement." Heather's palms were moist and clammy. This dangerous idea had just turned real. What if she couldn't pull off this Mata Hari stunt?

"I'm thrilled," Dario said. "I will send someone to collect you at your home tomorrow morning at six."

"I'll be ready." Heather hung up, no longer able to tolerate his voice.

She must have looked as sh.e.l.l-shocked as she felt, because Brett's expression went from serious to sympathetic. "You'll do fine."

"Tell me what I need to know. I have to pack."

"Let me make a call first, to arrange our transport and accommodations." Brett got up and walked into the kitchen.

While Brett made her call, Jack began briefing her, first making sure Heather memorized the number where she could reach both of them. Brett sat back on the couch a few minutes later and dug into the small duffel. She pulled out a round device about the size of a watch battery and held it up. "This is how we'll be able to locate you. Once you're there, we'll give this to you, and you'll hide it in the lining of your purse. You can't take it now, because of security if you're on a commercial flight."

"Okay."

Next, Brett retrieved a similar device from the bag. "This is a bug. In other words, a listening device, so we can hear what's going on in the room." She got to her feet and stepped away from the couch. "Let me show you how to place one." Heather followed her to her desk and watched as Brett peeled a piece of thin plastic off the device, exposing an adhesive, then affixed it firmly to the bottom of the desk, near the back. "Now you try it." She gave another small mic to Heather. "Always plant them near places where you think conversations take place."

* 220 *

"Got it." Heather sighed. "I can't believe I'm doing this. At least you're not using cameras."

Brett and Jack looked at each other. From their expressions, they seemed to be actually considering it.

"That's out of the question and completely embarra.s.sing," she said firmly.