Heat Seeker (43 page)

Myron nodded. “I’m not as young as I once was,” he
breathed out regretfully. “That job is for a younger man. As I expressed to Warbucks, what we need is our own personal broker. A man we can trust to hold our secrets, and one whom our clients will trust to verify the products and ensure their legitimacy.” He looked between Bailey and John. “If this is a position you’d be interested in, then Warbucks will approve your contract for the job and meet with you to verify the acquisitions and discuss the terms.”

Bailey barely managed to hold back the rush of adrenaline that surged through her. This was the break they had been waiting for. This was what they had worked toward. So many years, and so many deaths, and the end was now within reach.

“Terms can be discussed.” John finally nodded thoughtfully, cautiously. “That would require a great amount of trust from both parties, Myron. As well as a much larger cut. By associating as a retainer of sorts, I’d have to be extremely careful to ensure other interests weren’t affected, and if they were, I’d be forced to drop those clients. That could cost me.”

Myron grinned at the information. “You’re a superior businessman,” he commended him. “That’s pretty much what Warbucks expected from you. He’s preparing his offer. The two of you can discuss terms and percentages after you’ve had a chance to inspect the acquisitions for auction.”

John nodded again, his expression, his entire demeanor thoughtful. “I’ll look forward to that meeting then.”

Myron rose slowly to his feet. “You and Bailey will come alone,” he informed John. “No security. You’ll have to trust that Warbucks considers you important enough to provide for that. The meeting will take place tomorrow night.”

John rose slowly to his feet. “He’s expecting a lot of trust for very little in return,” he stated.

Myron inclined his head in agreement before turning to Bailey. She could see something in his eyes, a tiredness, a wariness that warned her everything wasn’t as calm as Myron wanted them to believe between himself and his employer.

“Bailey has extended her trust and has been rewarded countless times in return. Haven’t you, my dear?” he asked her.

“Many times,” Bailey agreed, even as she hated acknowledging it.

“Very well,” John finally said, though it was apparent he wasn’t comfortable with it. “I’ll accept Bailey’s trust in this.” His arm went around her back once again as he pulled her close. “We look forward to the meeting.”

“Very good.” Myron smiled again before rising and moving to Bailey.

Gripping her hands, he stared down at her fondly. “I watched you grow,” he said softly. “I didn’t always agree with you, but I must say, you’ve turned out to be a fine young woman. One I have the highest respect for.”

He bent, kissed her cheek, then moved away from them.

“I’ll see my own way out,” he stated. “Good night.”

The door closed behind him seconds later.

Emerging from the connecting room, Travis stared at John and Bailey curiously. John moved to the dresser, pulled the electronic listening device detector from the drawer, and went over the area Myron had been in.

He found two devices he’d left in place. Drawing Bailey over to the door, he indicated that they keep their voices low.

“Call the boss?” Travis asked softly.

John nodded. “We don’t have much time. Get it together.”

Bailey moved away from him as Travis retreated to his room, her gaze returning to the door before moving to the position of the listening devices. Myron had been smooth, very smooth. She hadn’t even noticed him placing the bugs on the chair and beneath the little table that separated it from the love seat.

Turning back to John, she watched him with a strange sense of regret. It was almost over. Almost. Twenty-four more hours and they would achieve both their goals. Warbucks would die.

Would John Vincent then “die” as had Trent had, leaving her forever?

She told herself she was prepared for this, but as she stared back at him she realized that no preparation could have steeled her for it.

They had one more night together. It would have to last forever.

BAILEY HAD PROMISED HERSELF
over the past two weeks that she wouldn’t regret the end of the mission. She wouldn’t beg John not to leave her, she wouldn’t hurt either of them with anger or recriminations. She had built her memories. She had loved him with everything she had inside her. She had given him every part of her heart, her soul. She hadn’t held back. She hadn’t saved enough of herself to go on, and she knew it.

The next evening she dressed in jeans, a heavy sweater, and hiking boots. A long leather jacket was laid out on the bed. A search of the garment would reveal nothing, but she knew where the weapons were. A small knife here and there, but no gun.

They were to go unarmed, and there was no way hide a weapon other than the smallest and most inconspicuous.

Such as the derringer in the heel of her hiking boots. That was the best she could do. The other heel held ammunition. She could possibly get by with it. She was damned sure going to try.

John was dressed similarly. Jeans, a heavy sweater, boots, and a long black leather jacket.

At least they could be tracked. Several skin tags dotted her bare skin, just as they did John’s. The small trackers had only a few seconds of activation, just enough to pinpoint their location for the backup team that would move in once Warbucks
was identified and the missiles verified. How they would know that, she wasn’t certain. She knew it had something to do with the watch Travis had given John earlier. Hopefully, it would work as it was supposed to.

They were to take no cell phones, Raymond had told them earlier that day. No communication devices at all. This was a meet, greet, and verify. They would see the missiles again when the auction took place in seven more days.

This was a gesture of trust and goodwill, plain and simple, as far as Warbucks was concerned. As far as Bailey was concerned this was the end of Warbucks’s little game. Once the night ended she and John would be dead, or Warbucks would be.

“Ready?” John glanced at her before looking at his watch. “We have ten minutes to meet Myron and Raymond in the garage.”

She pulled her coat from the bed and shrugged it on, wishing she had a dependable weapon for that last bit of added security.

“Ready.” She glanced out the window to see the heavy snow falling outside. She wondered if the weather would make tracking more difficult.

John hadn’t been able to describe the safeguards he and Travis had in place. Travis had left an hour before, his cover being orders from John to begin work on the transportation lines they had already prepared for the sale. It was a reliable story, and one that neither Myron nor Raymond had questioned.

Moving from the bedroom, she felt John’s hand against her lower back as they descended the back stairs to the hall outside the kitchen, then walked the short distance to the heavy metal door that led to the garage.

The four-by-four Hummer limo was waiting for them, warmed and running, a driver and guard standing by the doors.

“Mr. Vincent. Miss Serborne.” The driver nodded as John helped Bailey into the back where both Myron and Raymond awaited them.

The two men were silent as the limo pulled out into the falling snow, following the driveway that curved around the cabin, cut through the small valley, and merged into the main road.

“I think you’ll be very pleased with our acquisition, John,” Myron stated as the limo began to gather speed. “It’s the culmination of a lifetime of connections and contacts. Warbucks has found that most men and women, even the most patriotic, will do anything to cover their human weaknesses. Everything is for sale, if you simply know that weakness.” Myron seemed almost paternally proud of Warbucks’s ability to procure America’s ultra-secret weapons.

“What makes a man weak can also make him undependable,” John reminded the other. “Warbucks has been incredibly lucky as well.”

“Yes, Lady Luck does often smile down on him.” Myron grinned fondly. “As though he’s blessed.”

Or cursed
, Bailey thought.

“Warbucks will meet you at the warehouse,” Raymond stated then. “You’ll verify the product before your meeting with him in case you have any questions.”

It was all very business-like, very civil. Bailey was once again amazed at how normal criminals could sometimes seem. As though it never once entered their mind that they were breaking the law, or that they were responsible for lives lost. All that mattered at the end of the day was that almighty dollar and how many of them could be accumulated in the shortest amount of time.

“Transportation routes have been laid out for you,” Myron said. “The routes we have in place are exceptionally secure. You’re more than welcome to use those, or you can use your own. But once the missiles are in your possession, Warbucks is no longer responsible for them.”

John inclined his head slowly. “I’m well aware of that, Myron. Travis is gathering our team together now and preparing for transportation. If your lines are better than ours, though, I’d be more than happy to accept your generosity.”

Myron gave a quick, brief nod of acceptance, his expression approving, as though he were staring back at two well-behaved children.

The bastard.

“The missiles were definitely a coup,” John stated. “How did he pull it off?”

Myron’s smile was filled with pride now. “As I said, some men will do anything to ensure that their weaknesses are hidden. Warbucks came across a rumor that a particular general enjoyed a rather perverted sexual taste. He managed to acquire pictures of the man partaking of the act, showed them to him, and then requested the information he needed to acquire the missiles.”

Bailey felt John’s bicep as it tightened behind her head. A dozen soldiers had been severely wounded and several had died when Warbucks had acquired the weapon. Myron spoke of it as though it were something to be proud of, rather than the heinous act it was.

As the Hummer moved through the heavy snowfall, conversation waned into an almost comfortable silence. Bailey was plotting, planning the acquisition of a weapon. She knew John would be doing the same. Weapons would be the first priority.

If John’s plan succeeded, then the team backing him would be in place within minutes of their arrival at the warehouse. Once the weapons were verified and Warbucks identified, the eight-man team backing John would move in.

It was John and Bailey’s job to acquire weapons and restrain Warbucks.

As John’s fingers played with her hair along the neck of her jacket, she felt the skin tag on her arm activate and begin to heat.

The sensation lasted for two minutes, the heat building to a pinprick burn before easing away.

“Warbucks has been hoping to bring you back into the fold for many years,” Myron mentioned as he pulled a flask from his jacket, opened it, and drank from it. The scent of aged whiskey drifted through the back of the limo.

“I was never out of it,” Bailey stated. “I was merely rebelling for a while.”

“As all children do.” Myron nodded as he returned the flask to his pocket.

Bailey caught the concerned look Raymond shot John. There was something not quite right here. Not dangerous, but not right. The hairs on the back of her neck weren’t standing up in warning; rather, they were tingling in distrust.

As the Hummer approached the city, it turned off onto another paved road and headed around the back of Aspen. Bailey had a pretty good idea where they were going now.

The warehouses had been abandoned ten or fifteen years before. They were still standing, still sturdy, but heavily guarded.

The tracking tag on her collarbone heated as they passed through the guard post. Military-erect, weapons held ready, the guards were impassive and cold.

They were mercenaries, she thought; she knew the sort. Icy-eyed, merciless, bloody. She might even have recognized that one.

The limo pulled through the warehouse yards, moving to the very end of the row of half a dozen huge buildings.

“He doesn’t have a regular security force?” Bailey asked. She could see several other mercenaries milling around.

“He doesn’t need one,” Myron told them as the Hummer pulled into the open door of the last warehouse.

They pulled in a few feet from another Hummer limo. Four guards stood around the vehicle, watching them coldly, intently.

“We’ll check the items up for auction first,” Myron stated, his voice strangely hollow as he turned back to Bailey.

Bailey nodded, watching him carefully as she felt John’s arm tighten around her.

The door opened and Myron got out. As Raymond followed he turned back and glanced at her before nodding slightly.

They were checked for weapons immediately. The guards
were chillingly polite, well trained, and thorough. Finally, they nodded at Myron.

“Move back.” He waved the guards away as he held out his arm to Bailey and John. “Come along, children, let’s check out the newest toys up for sale.”