Double Dare (17 page)

“Some of them, absolutely.” Unfortunately there were more questions and far too few answers. “Linda could be acting independently or in collusion with Kunz, Darcy.”

“Yes, she could be.”

“How long before we know who she called?” Heading back to Center Court, Maggie saw a teenager with spikes implanted in his head. He’d swear it was a fashion statement. She’d swear it was a cry for attention.

“A minute. Maybe, two.”

In the food court, Justin stood and stretched. A guy
from the housekeeping staff was making the rounds, collecting trash left on tables and stuffing it in a plastic bag. Maggie watched him, watched Justin watching him, and wondered if much slipped past Justin.

“It’s a rotator, Maggie,” Darcy said. “We’ve been through seven countries, so far. She’s dialed a freaking rotator.”

“Damn it.” Maggie couldn’t believe it. They couldn’t seem to catch a break with both hands.

“What does that mean?” Justin asked her.

“It means we won’t be getting a trace. It means Linda Diel’s definitely working against us.” Maggie walked to the edge of the pit. She glanced at the Olympians and the Special Forces playing with them. The guys were laughing and goofing around, but they were aware and cutting questioning glances at Maggie.

Giving them reassuring nods, she unclipped her walkie-talkie. “Will?”

“I’m here, Maggie.”

“I want constant observation on Linda. She goes nowhere, does nothing we don’t know immediately. You get a feed on her and, Will, get it now.”

“Sure thing. What about Barone?”

Barone? Hell, the real Barone couldn’t even be involved. It could be just Linda, working with Kunz and a Barone body double. “What kind of car does Barone drive?”

“A black BMW,” Will said. “He parks in the management lot, right outside the administration offices.”

Maggie started walking. “What’s the closest way to get there? Door Six?”

“That’s right. Level One, Door Six,” Will responded.
“Exit and then make an immediate right. His BMW should be directly in front of you.”

Maggie moved in that direction behind three generations of women exchanging candid remarks about which male movie star had the cutest butt. Personally, of those mentioned, Maggie’s vote went to Brad Pitt.

She stepped around the grandmother and cut down Men’s Row, glancing into store windows as she passed by them. Sir Scot’s was swarming with shoppers, but the checkout line for Handersham’s extended out into the thoroughfare. Maggie arced around it and saw a gorgeous camelhair sweater in the window at Breck’s. Two men standing outside were on Will’s security team. She returned their nods and kept walking. The exit door was straight ahead.

She pushed through it.

Cool, crisp air rushed over her and chilled her skin. Shivering, she looked around. It was dark now, but the area was well-lighted. Hanging a right, she walked straight ahead to the parking slot marked Mall Administrator.

No black BMW was parked in it. The slot was empty.

“I
don’t know, Darcy.” Maggie walked back inside the mall and went up to Level Two, uncertain what to think. “Barone—the real one—could be innocent and have bugged out because he was afraid. I wouldn’t cross that off as a possibility, considering he freaked about the lockbox codes being changed. Actually he’s been hiding out since then.” Anyone with sense would be afraid. He had to know that the clock was running out, too, which certainly wouldn’t inspire him to hang around. “He might have been taken away, or lured away, or, hell, he might not have been here at all. We could’ve been dealing with a double ever since Justin and I returned from Regret to Santa Bella last night. That’s when he began acting differently.” Frustration raced through her, tightened her chest and left a bitter taste in her mouth. “There’s just no way to be certain about this.”

“We’ve been doing frame comparisons on him between yesterday and today, and we’ve noted a significant number of inconsistencies, Maggie. That was a hell of a catch,” Darcy said. “Colonel Drake’s called in Morgan to take a look.”

Officially, Dr. Morgan Cabot was a psychologist and subject-matter expert affiliated with S.A.S.S. Confidential, a sister investigative unit also under Colonel Drake’s command but tasked with very different missions. Maggie’s S.A.S.S. unit had often relied on Morgan’s expertise and training. Maggie had relied on her even more so. She’d been terrific at helping her work through this business with Jack, which oddly didn’t seem as significant as it had for the past three years. “She’s the reason I caught them—her training.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her. She’ll be pleased staying awake has paid off.”

Maggie remembered telling Morgan she’d attend the training and if she could stay awake, she’d be back for more. Morgan considered that fair enough. Maggie had stayed awake and often on the edge of her seat, and she’d been back as often as Morgan held training sessions. Everyone respected Morgan’s opinion—even Kate—and God knew her respect was hard-won. “Has Morgan reported back to you yet with her opinion?”

“Coming in now,” Darcy said. “She says Barone’s verbiage isn’t consistent—both word choices and phraseology—and even more telling, his innate expressions and body language are significantly different. Far outside the perimeters defined as normal.”

“So we agree on all that. What’s her professional, bottom line? Is Barone really Barone, or is he one of Kunz’s body doubles?”

“We have no hard evidence that Barone was ever Barone. It’s possible we’ve dealt with the real Barone or that we’ve dealt exclusively with a body double. We just don’t know. But Morgan is certain that we’ve been dealing with two different men.”

Knowing it and hearing it confirmed were two different things. For a second Maggie’s legs went weak. She locked her knees and took in a sharp breath, her mind reeling. “You’d better compile a full-frame listing of every inch of tape we’ve got on him and get it to the Threat Integration Center STAT for high-priority review. Also, put out an APB on him, and personally alert the FBI agents working this case.” Whether he was himself or a double didn’t matter. Whether he was working for Kunz or he was Kunz’s victim didn’t matter at the moment so much as neutralizing the man. They needed him secured, not loose and able to create havoc.

“What about Linda Diel?” Kate asked.

Maggie weighed her options. “I want her secured, too.”

“She might make a further move that would help us.” Amanda added her opinion.

“No, I don’t think so. She dialed a rotator, not a GRID operative or Kunz’s operations base. That’s likely all she’s got. We all know that Kunz works in segments. He compartmentalizes assignments to keep even his own operatives working in the dark to secure his missions as much as possible. He wouldn’t empower someone on the inside, much less someone like Linda, with much of anything on the off chance that we picked up on them.”

“Maggie’s right. That is the way he operates,” Kate said. “He holds his cards close to the chest and never tells anyone anything they don’t absolutely have to know.”

Again Kate had surprised Maggie, backing her up. She rounded the corner by Macy’s.

“Maggie,” Justin interrupted. “I know you’re up to your ears in Barone, but something’s wrong here.”

She stopped, not sure where she was needed. “Where’s here, Justin?”

“Center Court, outer end. I’m with the Olympians and Special Forces, and I’ve spotted some trouble.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Poorly put. I
smell
trouble,” he amended himself. “Scents at the pit have been pretty vague. Now, all of a sudden, I’m getting blasted with apples and cinnamon.”

Maggie started running. “Kate?”

“Yeah, now I’m getting it, too.”

“Amanda?”

“Ditto,” she said. “I’m looking for a natural cause, but I’m damned if I see anything, Maggie. Mark, how about you?”

“No cause identified here. The scent is light near the stage, but it is discernable. Could be masked by all the smells coming from the food court.”

Maggie called Will and told him what was happening.

Will muttered. “I’m on my way down there. Every stair, escalator and elevator is jammed.”

“Where are you?”

“Freeman’s round. He saw someone trying to shove something through the net and called a code.”

“Why didn’t I hear it?”

Darcy answered. “You were special frequency just then. It’s not a problem. It’s been checked out. Just a wad of chewing gum big enough to choke a horse. Male teen. He’s been cleared and released.”

“Now, I’m smelling lime,” Justin said. “It’s really strong.”

“Me, too,” Kate said.

Amanda and Mark reported the same thing, and again Mark reported the scent as faint while the others tagged it overpowering.

“Damn it,” Maggie cut loose, hemmed in by shoppers slogging down the Level Two thoroughfare. “I can’t get through.”

“Stand by, Maggie,” Will said. “I’ve got a visual on you. We’ll take the shortcut.”

“What shortcut?”

Seconds later Will stood beside her. “This way.”

Maggie followed him in a run into the elevator.

They rode down and the door opened. He led her out, then shoved through the door marked No Exit she had seen several times earlier. Maggie recognized the little alcove between Security and Medical in the administration wing. On the plans, it was a shallow closet.

In reality the closet was an elevator. A small closet door was positioned beside it.

A chasm of fear cracked open in her. “Darcy, are you seeing this?”

“Yes, I am, damn it. It wasn’t on the plan, Maggie. It was just a utility closet on the plan.”

“That’s the way I remembered it, too.” Had this been the way Judy Meyer had been removed from the women’s rest room? Not one word had surfaced on her; she was still missing without a trace.

“Barone had the elevator installed about a month ago. Only mall management and security staff have access to it.”

Maggie walked back to it, looking for evidence Judy
Meyer had been in it. She glanced down at the floor inside the elevator. Something shiny caught her eye. Bending, she lifted the metal piece and examined it carefully.

“What is it?” Darcy asked.

“It looks like a valve off the snow machine.” Maggie gnawed at her lip with her teeth, concentrating. “Now why would that be in here?” Harry and Phil Jensen, the snow company’s owners, had no need for the elevator. They entered Santa Bella through Level One, Door One and walked straight to Center Court.

Will shrugged. “Maybe Mr. Barone insisted they be discreet and out of the way of shoppers, too.”

“Discreet about what? They never left Level One. What would they do on any other level?”

“No idea. But Barone is the only one who can grant permission for anyone to use this elevator.”

“Is he?” She recalled Linda and the Red Cross medical workers. “Darcy, is Linda in custody yet?”

“We’re looking for her, Maggie. She went out on a break just before you issued the order.”

“Outside the mall?”

“She said inside, but she’s not at Emerald Bay or in the food court. We’re still searching the restaurants for her.”

Will frowned. “She could have let Phil and Harry on the elevator. Linda acts as an escort around here all the time.”

She had escorted Lester Pinnella and his forensics team to the short-stack. Will paused a long moment, and Maggie saw the wheels in his mind turning in his eyes. “What’s wrong, Will?”

“I think we’ve got bad trouble. But not with Barone. With Linda.”

Maggie thought so, too. “It’s complicated because she’s in on the walkie-talkie communications with the security staff.”

“Actually, she’s not.” Will waited for the door to open. “I pulled her equipment early on.”

Maggie stepped off the elevator. “Why?”

He looked slightly uncomfortable. “Remember when she fixed up the Red Cross workers for us?”

“Yes.”

“That didn’t quite sit right. I figured if she worked for Barone and crossed him at the drop of a dime, she’d cross anyone else, too. If she’d needed convincing, I’d have felt better about it. But she suggested it right away, and that just didn’t sit right, so I unplugged her.”

“Well, thank God for your instincts, Will. I’m glad you followed them.”

“Under the circumstances, me, too.”

Maggie nodded at the door. “Put a guard on that elevator. No one uses it.”

Will issued the order and a skinny, redheaded woman about thirty, named Cindy Pratt, took the post. Maggie recalled Donald Freeman telling her that Judy Meyer and Cindy Pratt had taken shifts at the round near Grimes and Stokes.

“Maggie,” Justin said. “I’m smelling orange now. It’s stronger than the other scents were.”

“Darcy, get maintenance to check the heating filters.”

“We just did. They’re clear.”

Maggie and Will ran, rounded the Macy’s corner. A man stepped into Maggie’s path, shot out his arm. It slammed against Maggie’s throat. She flew backward, fell on the tile floor and skidded across its slick surface.

A barrel-chested man attacked Will, landed a powerful right cross to his jaw that lifted Will off his feet. He was out cold before he hit the floor.

“Will’s down. Will’s down. Two attackers.” Maggie scrambled, spun—and got hosed full in the face with pepper spray. She gasped. “Darcy? Help me. I can’t see!”

“Urgent assist. Urgent assist,” Darcy put out an All-Call for help. “Corner of Macy’s and Center Court, Level One. Will’s out. Maggie’s been pepper sprayed. Zero visibility,” Darcy relayed, responding to anxious queries. “Urgent assist.”

“Hold positions on Center Court.” Kunz would use this opening to launch the DR-27. “Darcy!” Maggie cried.

“Forget rules,” Colonel Drake insisted. “Go with your instincts, Maggie.”

“Number One is at three o’clock—four feet out,” Darcy said. “Number Two is hanging back—twelve feet at eight o’clock. Move right, thirty degrees and kick straight out, waist-high.”

Maggie did exactly what Darcy said, felt her foot collide with his body, followed rushed instructions to feign left, fall back, move in, jab, hook, kick and duck.

He clipped her chin, jabbed her shoulder, but failed to land a solid punch.

“Back off, you son of a bitch!” Justin shouted, swooshing by her and slamming into the man.

Maggie had no idea what happened then; she couldn’t see, couldn’t distinguish the flurry of movements sensed. “Darcy? What’s going on? What’s going on?”

“They’ve hauled ass, Maggie. Just disappeared off the monitor. Justin, too. He’s gone after them.”

“God, I hope he doesn’t catch them,” Maggie said, her voice shaking. “They’re pros.” She fumbled in her fanny pack for her eye drops.

“You got your wish. They’re outside, Darcy,” Justin stated.

“Thanks, Dr. Crowe,” Darcy said. “Relaying to locals.”

A man rushed up to Maggie, breathing hard and heavy. “Are you okay?”

“Justin?” Relief washed over her. “No, I can’t find my neutralizing solution. Help me.”

“Describe the solution. What’s it in?” He dug through the pack, his heaved breaths mixing with hers.

“Small, round, frosty-white. Green label.”

“Got it.” He pulled out the little bottle. “Tilt your head back.”

She did, and he held her chin, put the drops in her eyes that would negate the effects of the spray. “Damn it, that hurts.”

“I’m sorry. Any better?”

“Yes.” She blinked hard several times and her eyes finally cleared. “Thank you, Justin.” Her voice sounded ragged and raw.

“Thanks for trusting me.” He seemed pleased about that, but then worry tensed his face again. “You really are okay, right?”

She nodded. “My throat hurts, but I’m okay.” She rubbed at her neck, soothing the area clotheslined by that jerk, which would definitely be bruised, and looked around. Will was sprawled on the floor. A security guard bent over him. “Oh, God, Will!” She ran over, asked the guard, “Is he—”

“He’s fine, ma’am. Just getting his wits back. He took a hard fall. Cracked his head.”

“Does he need it checked out?” Maggie asked.

“Damn right, he does,” Kate chimed in, sounding worried sick.

“I probably do.” Will answered for himself. He grunted and grumbled and gained his feet. “But there’s no reason to check it now. I’ll do it later.”

“Will, no,” Kate’s voice insisted through her walkie-talkie. “You get Medical to look you over.”

“I’m okay, Katie. You’ve my word on it.”

He looked charmed by her fussing over him, and Maggie imagined he was. Will was a widower and he had no children or other living relatives. But it seemed he now had a Katie—and a Katie now had him. Maggie smiled.

“Damn it.” The befuddled expression left Will’s face and he frowned. “They got away from us, didn’t they?”

“Security picked them up outside,” Darcy said. “FBI will be taking custody of them momentarily.” Maggie relayed the message to Will.

“Do I dare hope we’ve gotten a break?” Maggie then asked.

“I wouldn’t,” Amanda said. “Thomas Kunz doesn’t give breaks. His backup plan to his backup plan just kicks in.”

Kate groaned her agreement, then added, “Mystery solved on the scents. The bakery near the food court busted the ban on adding scents to the vents positioned near their registers. We’ve been attacked by aromatherapy. Hot cinnamon buns and apple cider. Employee didn’t get the word.”