Читать книгу Undercover Nightingale - Wendy Rosnau - Страница 9

“The men in this screwed-up world are always going to run it, baby doll. No sense fighting what you can’t change. But a woman can survive if she can cash in on a man’s weaknesses. He’s got two, his belly and what dangles between his legs. So learn how to cook, and how to ride a man with confidence. Take it from your mama, the bills don’t get paid going to church and keeping your legs crossed. That was a joke, baby doll. Crossed…get it?”

A smile surfaced on Allegra’s face. For months she had been struggling to remember pieces of the past. But Bonnie had never left her.

Her mother had found a way to survive in a world that had dealt her a going-broke hand. Allegra had been six when her father had left them. He was a selfish man who never should have had a family.

The bitter truth had turned Bonnie against men, but it hadn’t stopped her from using them to pay the bills. When Allegra turned sixteen, a fancy-dressed lawyer paid her a visit the morning after her mother died. It was then she had come to realize just how much her mother had sacrificed—Mama’s will allowed her to be buried in style, with enough left over for Allegra to go to college.

The trip up the coast had all been about Bonnie’s wisdom. Allegra had been conditioned to survive. It had been how she’d lived all her life.

That’s why she’d seen to the cooking over the past four days and focused on Filip’s belly. What dangled between his legs, however, hadn’t been addressed yet. Filip had made no attempt to touch his woman. He hadn’t taken her to his bed, or come to hers.

Although she would have been as flawless and efficient in bed as she was in the kitchen—thanks to Bonnie’s education—Allegra felt relieved that she hadn’t been put to that test. Not yet anyway.

The morning of the fifth day they reached Zadar on the coast of Croatia. They had sailed into port before noon, and immediately come ashore. Filip took her shopping to buy her a coat—he said it was snowing in Budapest.

It was the first time he’d mentioned where they were going.

By late afternoon they’d arrived at a secluded airstrip, and minutes later they had boarded a plane and it had taken off.

“If anyone asks who you are, you will tell them you’re my woman.”

Filip had left Lazlo and Matyash to come and sit next to her. Allegra had been staring out the window. She turned to look at him. “Am I your woman?”

“I have no need for a woman.”

“Then why are we playing this game?”

“You don’t want my protection?”

“I’d just like to know why you’re giving it.”

“Call it a gift.”

“You’re not known to be a gift giver.”

“A woman who speaks her mind, and is not afraid of me…” His eyes searched hers. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in the company of such a strong woman. No wonder he chose you.”

“You know?”

“Why you were at Nescosto? Of course.”

“Can you tell me? Yurii never shared details. He said I’d know the extent of the mission when the time came.”

“There is no reason to alter that. For now you are my woman. That is the only game you need to concentrate on.”

He pulled a gun from his pocket and handed it to her and Allegra took it. The small-caliber Beretta Tomcat wasn’t a favorite of hers, but right now having a weapon of any kind made her feel better.

She slipped it in her coat pocket as he leaned close and whispered, “I’m told that you can hit anything you aim at. Even wearing a blindfold in a blackout. But that’s just one of your talents. Cyrus says he’s never seen a woman as resilient as you.”

“You clean up well, Mr. Kelly. You no longer look like an alley rat living in the bottom of a Dumpster.”

Ash let the comment roll off his back. A haircut and new clothes didn’t change a man, but he was curious as to why it had been on the top of Stillman’s list once he’d arrived in Paris.

He’d flown in yesterday afternoon, and as he’d entered Stillman’s office at the SDECE, the man had been wearing a grin as wide as the Atlantic. Stillman had given him a list of errands to attend to before morning—a haircut and new clothes. A facial and manicure—he’d never had either in his life.

He relaxed into the backseat next to Stillman as their driver changed lanes and picked up speed.

“For this mission you’re going to have to return to your old life, Mr. Kelly. Or should I say, Señor Toriago?”

Toriago…

Sonofabitch. Stillman knew his true identity.

Ash refused to let the sick feeling in his gut surface on his face. A weaker man would have surrendered to the noose that had just been placed around his neck, but a weak man was a dead man. He wasn’t afraid to die—had never been afraid—but Stillman’s announcement threatened something more precious than his own life. If he knew Ash Kelly was Marco Toriago, then there was a good chance he also knew the truth about his family.

He said, “Ash Kelly agreed to work for the SDECE. Not Marco Toriago. He died eight years ago.”

“Yes, I know how the story goes. You died in a Mexican prison along with your father. We both know that fabrication was the handiwork of Adolf Merrick. The legacy your father left behind is ready to be reborn, and with it, you, twice as disreputable as you were in the old days. At the moment I have no need for the Ashtray, but I do have need for his notorious counterpart.”

“This isn’t what I agreed to.”

“You agreed to work for me in whatever capacity I require. You agreed to that to save Onyxx. A loyal gesture. Does that mean Marco Toriago has grown a conscience?”

“I said, he’s dead.”

“I hope not, for your sake and your family’s. I am curious how Merrick managed it, though. The head of a famous drug cartel’s son turned special agent. What did he promise you? Refuge for your family? New identities? Freedom and a happy ending for all if you sold your soul to him?”

“My family isn’t a part of this.”

Ash had meant to keep his voice even, but he’d failed, and like the snake he was, Stillman struck quickly.

“On the contrary, I’d say that your family has been the driving force behind everything you’ve done since Merrick pulled you out of that ghetto prison. Now then, let’s get down to business. Your plane leaves within the hour for Budapest.”

“What’s in Budapest?”

“It’s where an important delivery is about to take place. One you are going to intercept. The courier is Filip Petrov, and Casso Salavich is his destination. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. He’s an untouchable who has his fingers in more dirty deals than we can count.”

Ash knew who he was. “And what will I be intercepting?”

“A top secret disk was stolen from the SDECE. For security reasons, the disk was treated with an acid solution that would scramble it in twenty-four hours if it was exposed to air. It was also encrypted. I’m not sure if you’ll be looking for another disk, or if it will be a hard copy.”

“Is there a chance the acid wiped out the disk before the data was stripped?”

“I don’t think that happened.”

“Why?”

“Because Filip is on his way to Salavich, who is a master decoder. Filip wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t carrying the information on him. He has it, some form of it, and within days it’s about to be decoded.”

“What’s on it?”

“The SDECE’s security codes. All of them. Your job is to recover it before it’s decoded.”

“From Casso Salavich.”

Stillman smiled. “Normally that would be difficult, getting close to a man who never leaves his house without an army of bodyguards, but the good news is, he’s being challenged by a number of his enemies who would like to take control of his drug trafficking operation. As you well know, the demand to stay on top in the drug business is a heavy burden. At present he is looking for more power, and a way to prove himself kingpin.”

Ash listened, knowing where this was headed.

“You’re going to be his salvation and lift his burden by going into business with him. At least it will appear that way, a viable cover for you to infiltrate his operation and recover the stolen data when it arrives.”

“That’s it? Recover the data?”

“Not quite. There’s still the matter of who stole the disk.”

“Do you know?”

“Oui. At the time I wasn’t aware of it, but there was a traitor among us at the SDECE.” Stillman released a heavy sigh. “I have reason to believe it was Jazmin Grant.”

“Then your problem is solved. Grant died at Nescosto.”

“There’s no proof of that. Just because you blew Nescosto sky high doesn’t mean everyone died. Filip Petrov managed to survive.”

“And Chanler?”

“Chanler is dead. But Grant… She’s the best agent I’ve ever worked with. That’s why she was able to fool me.”

“I’m an explosives expert, not an assassin.”

“I don’t want her dead. I want her brought back to me alive. I want to know why she betrayed me. She’s the only one who can answer that.”

“Why the game? Why didn’t you just come clean with Merrick? We could have worked together on this.”

“And have it on record that the SDECE has been negligent, and that one of their own is a traitor?”

“Were you negligent?”

“My only fault was trusting Grant’s reputation, her years of loyalty, and giving her a second chance when I should have buried her.”

“A second chance?”

“The past doesn’t affect your mission. Recover the data and then find Grant.”

“And where will I find her?”

“If I knew that, I would already have her in chains.” Stillman handed Ash a sophisticated cell phone. “I’m sure you’re familiar with one of these. Everything you need to know about Salavich and Grant can be accessed in the database. You can also find my private number in there under my code name, Artus. And here’s a watch with a sophisticated explosive device you might need should you find yourself in a tight spot.”

“If I’m back in the drug business I’ll need merchandise.”

“Tell Salavich you have a billion dollars worth of premium ice to sell for starters. Give him some bull about scheduled monthly deliveries. You’re the expert on that, so it’ll be your job to entice him into your deception. I’m confident you’ll save the SDECE before it’s compromised, and before you have to deliver on your promise to Salavich.”

“I’ve been out of the drug business for eight years. Don’t you think Salavich is going to be suspicious?”

“Your job is to convince him otherwise. If Merrick hadn’t come along when he did, you would have finished out your sentence in that Mexican hellhole, then gone back into business. Big business. The Toriagos never did anything small.”

“But he did come along, and I didn’t go back.”

“And now that makes you a man of respectability?” Stillman snorted. “I have a list of your atrocities, so don’t pretend that you’re a changed man. We never shed our old skin completely, Toriago, and your status at Onyxx proves that. You’re a drug-dealing ex-con who traded one prison for another when you agreed to become one of Merrick’s elite marauders. This mission isn’t any different from those you’ve done for Onyxx, except that you have a new jailer. Me.”

“You overestimate my talent, Stillman.”

“Perhaps you underestimate it. You’re Estabon Toriago’s son. The most ruthless drug lord in Mexico, ever. Like father, like son?” Stillman glanced down at Ash’s feet. “I thought I told you to get rid of those old boots. You’re trying to impress a billionaire.”

“My boots stay, Stillman. It’s the one part of Marco Toriago that never died.”

“Let’s hope there is more left of Toriago than a pair of worn-out cowboy boots. You’ve been given a limitless bank account. Dress the part and convince Salavich that money is what drives you. Convince him you’re back in business. Big business.”

“And if Salavich doesn’t bite?”

“He’ll be wary at first, but an alliance with Estabon Toriago’s son…” Stillman’s grin was back. “Even the most cautious criminal wouldn’t be able to resist going into business with the son of a legend.”

“And if Salavich decides to kill me instead?”

“Then I’ll concede I was mistaken about you, and I’ll send my regards to your family.”

The car sped into the parking lot at the Paris airport. Ash got out and Stillman followed. The driver popped the trunk and Ash grabbed his one piece of luggage.

“I’ve seen to everything you’ll need. Passport. Money. Credit cards. You have a suite at the Corinthia Grand Hotel Royal in Budapest. Good luck.” Stillman patted Ash on the back. “You’re once again in the drug business, Mr. Toriago. Let’s hope, for your family’s sake, you still remember how to play the game.”

An hour later Ash found his seat on the plane in first class. Before the flight took off he located the minitransmitter inside the cell phone. He dropped the pill-size electronic bug on the floor and crushed it beneath the heel of his boot, then found the one in the watch.

So much for Stillman keeping track of him. He intended to see the mission through, but without his jailer tracking his ass.

He skimmed the file on Salavich, then moved on to Jazmin Grant’s profile. He studied the photo, read her stats. Stillman’s blond beauty was five-seven, weighed one-twenty-five, had brown eyes, a nice rack and great legs—she could have made a fortune as a stripper.

The striking blonde reminded Ash of the old days. If he’d seen her in a bar in Mexico, Marco Toriago would have definitely singled her out of the crowd and paid any amount of money to get her naked.

But it had been years since he’d played hard and partied even harder. He wasn’t kidding when he had told Stillman that Marco Toriago had died in prison eight years ago. He wasn’t the same man, but somehow he was going to have to resurrect the dead to play this game and win.

On the flight Ash brushed up on his Spanish, and four hours later Marco Toriago exited the plane in Budapest and made two phone calls. The first one went to Casso Salavich to make an appointment to discuss a business proposition. Prepared to be put off, he was surprised when Salavich invited Estabon Toriago’s son to his bastion on the Danube for drinks at four o’clock the next day.

The second call he made to Girona, Spain. After talking to his mother and learning all was well, he asked to speak to his cousin.

Naldo was anxious for a change in scenery, so he invited him to Budapest.