Pure Dynamite (14 page)

Adam had discovered the hard way what that meant. When he'd first been approached for the assignment, he'd jumped at the chance to get back in action; back on track career-wise. Until he heard the job involved going undercover in prison.

His first instinct had been to refuse. Except Ethan had been persuasive, promising the job would only run a week or two, max. And more, he'd offered Adam a personal favor: information that would clear his brother's name.

Then Ethan had shown his true colors and left Adam inside the prison for three months. Was that because he'd been too busy glad-handing? Or had he been purposely delaying the bust to maximize publicity? While Falco was well known in political circles, he was unknown in the private sectors. Bringing the McEdwin clan to justice would make him a household name. The type of hero a presidential campaign needed.

"Well, when you talk with Ethan," Stan continued, "find out what the hell I'm supposed to do with all this intel I'm gathering. He gives me free access to every system in the world then won't return my phone calls."

Adam knew Stan wasn't exaggerating by much. A computer genius and former CIA contract agent, Stan had helped Ethan create an extensive criminal background for Adam. If anyone checked he looked like a genuine felon right down to the fingerprints. And Willy McEdwin would have him thoroughly checked.

If they ever connected with Willy, that is. Lyle's contact thus far had been only with Nevin.

"Does any of this intelligence hint at the McEdwins' whereabouts?" "Mmm, maybe." Stan's voice dropped. "I'm trailing a large shipment of plastic explosives I think is destined for the McEdwins."

"How large?"

"Fifty kilos."

"That's over a hundred pounds." Adam gripped the phone tighter.

As part of his inducement to convince Adam to take the job, Ethan Falco had claimed to have inside knowledge that Willy McEdwin was planning another bombing. A big one to mark the twentieth anniversary of his wife's death. A hundred pounds of C-4 would more than fill the bill.

"How sure are you it's for McEdwin?" Adam asked.

"Right now, I'm not. The supplier is waiting on payment. I'm hoping to trace it and confirm."

"How the hell did you find this out?"

"Got lucky."

Lucky? Right. More likely Stan had been snooping in somebody's computer files. Adam knew the other man's background included a stint as a hacker. Stan was damn good at what he did because he had an insatiable appetite for boldly going where he wasn't supposed to.

"Listen, I've got a much tamer request for your abilities." Adam pulled Renata's cell phone from his pocket and gave Stan the number. "Can you reroute service so I have my own phone to use? And mask it so it can't be traced to her cell phone?"

"That's not exactly legal."

"Has that ever stopped you?"

"I'll see what I can do. In the meantime, keep the C-4 info under your hat. If I'm right and the shipment is for Willy, I want all the credit. If it's for someone else, I
can still leverage the information with my other connections and get reassigned."

"Just don't jump ship until
I'm
clear." Outside of Ethan, Stan was his only contact on the task force.

Adam hung up, but just as he lifted the receiver a second time, he heard footsteps. Swearing, he turned and found two men had crept up close enough to grab him.

Renata watched the door, wishing Adam would return. She didn't like him; didn't like the situation she was in. But being left tied and helpless, with Lyle, was worse.

Once Adam left, Lyle's demeanor shifted Hyde-like. He'd made several crude remarks and hinted his strength was greater than he'd let on.

She glanced back, found him still staring at her. She couldn't hide her shudder of revulsion.

He tried for a smile and failed. "You want to know how long it's been since I was alone with a woman? Nine months, fourteen days. Before I left, my girlfriend gave me a helluva blow job. But I bet you could do better."

Renata ignored him, turning her head.

"You do know what a blow job is, don't you? I drop my pants, you hit your knees and suck till I say stop. Really no blowing to it. 'Course you being a fancy- schmancy doctor, you probably never heard it called that before."

When she didn't respond Lyle coughed. "Am I scaring you, Doc?"

She met his stare. That was the last thing she wanted him to think. Yes, she was quaking inside, but she didn't want him to know.

"Scaring me? No. Disgusting me? Yes. But then you don't sound any different from most of the other street punks we see in here."

"Punk?" Grimacing, Lyle rolled onto his side and slowly started to ease his good leg off the table. "Let me show you just how different I am. Do you have another scalpel?"

Adam nailed the first man squarely in the jaw. He went down. His partner leaped back and drew a handgun.

Adam didn't move. The men were cops. Feds, he guessed, but not FBI. He had two choices. Rush the guy with the gun and risk getting shot, or surrender and explain the situation before they radioed the collar in. Except what could he tell them? He was sworn to the highest level of secrecy. On paper, it appeared that Adam—under his real name—had resigned from the FBI. Stan was the only person besides Ethan who could even verify his story.

The man on the ground groaned and rolled onto his feet, holding his jaw. Adam noticed neither man made an attempt to call for backup.

"Ethan Falco sent us," the man with the gun said. He seemed in charge.

Adam felt a momentary relief. He should have known Ethan would keep his own men close. There would have been multiple tracking devices on the first car, which they'd been forced to abandon along with most of their supplies. Which meant there had to be a tracking device on the cell phone he'd left with Lyle. These men must have been watching the clinic and followed Adam to the pay phone.

Adam held up his palms. "I was just getting ready to call, but I'm out of change."

"Tell him that." The man thrust a cell phone forward. It was already ringing when Adam pressed it to his ear.

A man answered. "Falco here."

"I just nailed one of your men. Too bad it wasn't you."

"Look, I know you're pissed—"

"Pissed doesn't begin to cover three months in prison."

"Hey.
Whatever it takes,
remember? Now tell me what the hell's going on down there. Why haven't you called in before?"

"I haven't exactly had a lot of privacy. And I've had my hands full trying to make certain Lyle didn't die from the bullet he took."

Ethan let loose with a string of curses. "If that kid dies ... we lose our shot at nailing Willy."

"I have no intention of letting Lyle die. And neither does his brother."

"You've made contact with the family already?"

Adam relayed his conversation with Nevin, including his insistence that they bring Renata along. "I don't want to involve the woman any further."

"Never thought I'd hear myself say it, but I have to agree with McEdwin on this one. Keeping Lyle alive is our top priority. Do what you have to and make the woman cooperate."

"Including abducting her at gun point?"

"With the right spin, no one will hold that against you."

I'll hold it against myself,
Adam thought. "Spoken like a true politician."

Headlights flashed as a car approached.

"Someone's coming." The other man snatched his cell phone back. "Gotta go."

The men ducked to the side of the building. Adam dove behind them just as a car rolled up to the corner stop sign.

It was a patrol car. The black and white unit cruised slowly down the street then turned and disappeared from sight. A second unit followed.

"They're probably getting ready to search the area," Adam said. "I've got to go back."

"We'll be in touch."

Adam raced back to the clinic. Ethan's men being this close bothered him. If the McEdwins were nearby, too, and spotted Ethan's men, it would blow everything.

On the other hand, Ethan's men would be someone Adam could safely entrust Renata to when the time came to get her to safety.

Inside the clinic, he found Lyle struggling to sit up on the exam table.

"What the hell?" Adam snapped. "Are you trying to make your wound start bleeding again?"

Sweat beaded on Lyle's upper lip. "I was trying to make myself comfortable."

Adam looked briefly at Renata, noted her distress. Something had passed between these two while he was gone, but there was no time to pursue it.

"I just spotted two patrol cars. We need to get out of here fast."

"Damn!" Lyle made a phone call, left a message.

When the cell phone rang a few seconds later, he grabbed it, relief and panic evident in his voice. "Nevin! This place is crawling with cops. Adam wants to leave the clinic, using the doctor's car."

There was silence, then, "Got it. A white Buick
LeSabre. Jessup's Truck Stop, Yanceyville. Don't forget clothes and painkillers. Can't wait to see you, too."

Lyle ended the call. "He's leaving a car north of here."

"Where are we headed from there?"

"He won't say over the phone. Instructions will be in the car. He'll call again after a short black-out."

"A what?"

"Black-out," Lyle repeated. "It's a trick the old man taught us. He won't use the same phone number more than two or three times, then he waits twenty-four hours before activating a new one."