| |
Downtown Singapore Mainland
Alina glanced at her watch and pressed the button for the twentieth floor. Her messenger bag was draped across her body and she adjusted it absently as the elevator doors slid closed. She was late. When Hawk texted her to meet him for dinner, she was on a bus, returning from a fruitless trip into one of the more remote corners of the island. She was striking out with all the addresses she pulled from the Embassy yesterday. Viper didn’t know what Charlie was looking for, but none of the men she had found thus far warranted any interest. Just the opposite in fact.
And yet, she must have rattled someone. Alina frowned as the elevator rose swiftly and silently. The local man who had been trailing her all day was nothing if not persistent. Who was he?
The elevator came to a seamless stop and the doors slid open. Alina stepped out, glancing around, and her eyebrows rose. Instead of the hotel restaurant she was expecting to see, she found herself standing in a lushly carpeted hall with suite doors widely spaced apart. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, quickly texting Hawk.
Do you want me to guess?
She started to the right, glancing at the nearest door and noting the number. She was half-way down the hall when her phone vibrated in her hand.
Last one on the right.
Alina shook her head and strode to the last door in the corridor. She opened it and stepped through, glancing around as she closed the door behind her softly. She was standing in a spacious living room suite with a couch and two chairs arranged around a modern glass coffee table. On the far side of the living room, sliding doors fronted a large balcony and she could see Hawk standing outside, his hands on the stone balustrade.
Alina moved forward, pulling the messenger bag over her head and dropping it onto the coffee table as she passed. A glance to the left revealed wide double doors open to show a king sized bed in the master bedroom. She shook her head again and stepped out onto the balcony.
“Let me get this straight,” she said. “You got a balcony suite in a completely different hotel just to have dinner?”
Hawk turned to look at her, a grin spreading across his face.
“The room service comes highly recommended.”
Viper caught sight of his rifle case near the edge of the balcony and everything was suddenly clear. The only question was, why was she here?
“In that case, how can I refuse?” she murmured.
On one side of the balcony, a chaise lounge overlooked the pool beside the hotel. On the other end were two wrought-iron chairs and a table for any guests who preferred to eat their meals outside. A set of unlit candles sat in the center while two wine glasses and a bottle of wine were off to the side. The highly glossed wall of the hotel acted as a mirror, and Alina caught sight of herself in the reflection as she walked toward the table.
“If you’re working, why are we having dinner?” she asked, glancing at the wine.
“I don’t know if I will be working,” Hawk answered readily, turning back to look over the city. “It depends on whether or not the target cooperates.”
Viper glanced at him, then at the high-rise hotel across the street. She pursed her lips thoughtfully, but remained silent. Their jobs were their own, and his was none of her concern.
“Is this your idea of showing me the city?” she asked, joining him at the balustrade. “I’m not sure it lives up to the hype.”
“Don’t underestimate me,” Damon murmured, his eyes dancing.
Alina bit back a grin and glanced up at the man beside her. She was having more fun than she’d had in years, she realized with a start. Things were certainly more interesting with him around.
“Oh, I never do,” she murmured. “When is dinner?”
He glanced at his watch.
“It should be here any minute.”
Alina watched him as he turned and went over to the table to pick up the bottle opener next to the wine.
“Good. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“Neither have I,” he admitted, pulling out the cork. “Any luck with the ex-soldier?”
“Not yet.” Alina walked over as he poured the red wine, accepting one of the glasses from him. “I’m working on it.”
“Here’s to a speedy resolution.” He raised the other glass in a toast.
Alina smiled and drank.
Stephanie dropped her purse and keys onto the dining room table and turned to go down the short hallway to her bedroom. She wasn’t back to work yet, but she had just spent the whole morning in the office cleaning out John’s desk and fielding questions from co-workers. Her boss Rob was unusually understanding and took her out to lunch before she headed home, John’s personal effects in two boxes in her trunk.
Stephanie kicked off her heels and dropped onto the side of the bed, exhausted. The thought of simply laying down and going to sleep was almost irresistible, but after a moment, she got up again. Going to her dresser, she pulled out a pair of jeans. Hiding from it wouldn’t change anything. John was gone. Nothing was going to change that.
Angela gave her the name of the attorney handling John’s will as promised, and Stephanie had left a voicemail for him this morning. She still had to call his mother and advise her of the existence of a will. That was a call she wasn’t looking forward to making. While she had always liked Mrs. Smithe, there was no denying the past few phone calls with her had been rough.
After changing into jeans and a tee-shirt, Stephanie went back to the dining room. She was just heading into the kitchen to get a soda when her cell phone rang inside her purse. She sighed and reversed direction.
“Hello?”
“Hey Sunshine,” Blake’s voice greeted her. “How’s it going?”
Stephanie smiled despite her melancholy mood.
“It’s been better, but I’ll get through it. How are things in DC?”
“About the same, actually,” he said. “You first. What’s going on?”
“Nothing serious. I just got back from cleaning out John’s desk.” Stephanie turned to go back to the kitchen. “Just a long, emotional morning. How about you?”
“My house was broken into last night.”
Stephanie gasped.
“What happened?”
“I took Buddy for a walk late last night and while I was gone someone broke in and planted a brick of heroin in my closet.”
“Wait...what?!”
“Yeah,” he said grimly. “Luckily I installed cameras last year after your Black Widow broke in and left a gun on my dining room table.” Blake paused. “Actually, now I think about it, no one seems interested in stealing from me. They all just want to leave me presents.”
Stephanie choked back a laugh and pulled a can of soda from inside her fridge.
“Not a bad problem to have,” she murmured, “although, I’m not sure I’d call a brick of heroin a good present. Were you able to ID them?”
“The guys at the office are reviewing the video now. None of the cameras picked up a clear image of his face. He had his hood pulled up, so I’m not expecting much.”
“What did your boss say?” Stephanie asked, going into the living room and dropping onto the couch. She propped her bare feet up on the coffee table and sat back. "Do you have any idea who would want to set you up?”
“I’ve got a few, but who knows which one’s right, if any,” he replied. “We’re waiting to see what happens with the anonymous tip we’re sure is coming.”
Stephanie shook her head, staring across the living room thoughtfully.
“The Casa Reino Cartel seems like the most likely culprit,” she said slowly. “You’ve been a thorn in their side for months.”
“I think they would just put a bullet in me.”
“Oh, please don’t say that,” she muttered. “I can’t hear that right now.”
“Sorry,” Blake apologized. “Hey, how do you feel about dogs?”
Stephanie blinked at the sudden change in subject.
“They have four legs and go outside to poop,” she said.
Blake laughed.
“That’s it?”
“They generally have good noses?” Stephanie offered, at a loss. “I don’t know. I’ve never had a dog.”
“Would you be opposed to my bringing Buddy up with me?” he asked. “Given the turn of events in the past twenty-four hours, my boss agrees it might be a good thing for me to work out of the Philly office for a few days. I’d rather not leave Buddy here again so soon after the last trip.”
“Will he want to come?” Stephanie asked, glancing around her living room.
“I don’t know. Let me ask him.” Blake sounded amused.
Stephanie laughed.
“Well, I don’t know how dogs are! Angela’s cat gets very stressed out if you try to take her out of her house,” she said. “How do I know dogs aren’t like cats?”
“Dogs are nothing like cats,” he assured her. “Trust me. He’ll be fine.”
“Do I need to get anything? Bowls? Food?” Stephanie asked, resigned.
“I’ll bring all that. Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“When are you boys descending?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Ok. Let me know when you think you’ll get in,” she said, “and keep me posted about the situation down there.”
“Will do.”
Stephanie hung up and dropped the phone onto the cushion next to her. Suddenly, the day looked a little brighter. She didn’t question it. She just accepted that Blake coming up made her happy. Well, Blake and his pit bull. She looked around the small living room again.
This was going to be interesting.
Senator Robert Carmichael glanced at his phone and surreptitiously slid it back into his pocket. He was seated in his chair on the floor, listening to the roll call vote winding down. It was not a highly publicized vote. It was expected to follow party lines and, as such, the President was expected to sign it into law within the next few days. All in all, not a very interesting day at the office, but a required one nonetheless. Once it was concluded, he could leave the Capitol Building and head to his favorite restaurant for a late lunch. There he could give some thought to the situation he suddenly found himself in.
A frown crossed his face. He wasn’t sure when this enterprise went so drastically off the rails, but he suspected that it was around the same time Special Agent Blake Hanover began questioning what really happened to that FBI agent in New Jersey last week. Until then, everything was running along smoothly. Everything was on schedule and he was slated to make an absolute fortune on the stock market. Then it all went sideways somehow. Within the space of a week, Robert had two dead street racers, one of which was an FBI agent, and he was watching his guaranteed windfall from a calculated stock purchase disappear before it was ever realized. Just like that, months of planning went down the drain.
Even then he could have recovered with little damage if it weren’t for Dominic DiBarcoli’s sloppy handiwork. The frown turned into a scowl. The man had simply become too arrogant for his own good. Dominic thought he was invincible, when nothing could have been farther from the truth. Witness him getting stabbed to death outside the Willard.
Robert pursed his lips thoughtfully. While he hadn’t arranged for that particular incident, he had to admit he was a bit relieved to read about it in the paper the following morning. Someone had very obligingly taken care of Dominic for him, making that one less thing he had to worry about.
The vote came to an end and Robert stood up, nodding to a colleague as he moved toward the closest exit. Now he just had to worry about Blake Hanover.
That was decidedly trickier. Why was he so interested in the death of Special Agent John Smithe anyway? Robert shook his head as he moved out of the chambers and into the wide corridor. How did they even know each other? John Smithe worked out of the Philadelphia office and Blake worked in DC. There was no reason for their paths to have crossed at all, but they obviously had. Blake was in New Jersey last week questioning Dominic about the whole thing. That was a problem, and a big one.
Blake Hanover had made a name for himself in the short time he’d been in DC. He was respected in the law enforcement circles, and he was a damn war hero to boot. Hell, he was awarded the Bronze Star. He wasn’t some random over-achieving agent who could be bought with money or promises of promotion. He was a man who, by all accounts, lived his life by a code of conduct most had forgotten existed. He was a damned Boy Scout.
Robert’s lips tightened. Getting to Blake Hanover was tricky, but not impossible. He’d already laid the groundwork. By tonight any standing Special Agent Blake Hanover had in this city would be questioned. Once his reputation and character were tarnished, it would be a simple matter to roll up any doubts anyone might have as to the death of John Smithe in New Jersey. Once that was removed, there would be no reason to look twice at the death of Dominic DiBarcoli. More importantly, no one would think to look at what, exactly, Dominic had been doing when he met his Maker, or who he was doing it with.
That was the main key. Robert had to ensure he was as far removed from Dominic DiBarcoli as possible, and that meant removing anyone who could conceivably connect the dots back to him.
Robert stepped outside into the sunlight. Not only had he lost a fortune, but if anyone ever connected him to Dominic he would lose his position in this town, and possibly even his seat in the Senate. He had come too far to have everything stripped away from him over the little matter of a few dead men who should never have been connected in the first place.